#so in a desperate attempt to continue i grab anakin's hand and take him to the other room. where apparently there's my brother.

[sukugo]

got COCKBLOCKED in my own HOUSE (both literally and figuratively 🤔)

[missmimieux]

you are more than you know CH.6

A/N: Hi everyone! So sorry for the delay. I just got back from vacation and school just started so I’m very busy. I’m excited for you all to read this chapter ☺️ I hope you all like it.

Summary: Darth Vader and Reader finally confront each other and absolute chaos ensues.

Pairing: Darth Vader x f! Reader, Mando x f! Reader

Warnings: dark!ani, angst, fluff, risqué situations, use of Y/N, abuse, nicknames like “good girl, bunny, little one”, dom/sub dynamics, death, public embarrassment, crying, guns

…

His golden eyes shone through the dusty air almost as brightly as the saber pointed at you. His robes were flowing gracefully behind him, he looked like a god. You tried to steady your ragged breaths but you couldn’t control the heaving of your chest. His laugh broke through the rushing wind and hit your ears with a brush of sincerity. He retracted his saber and held out his hand to help you up. It reminded you of the end of each sparring session the pair of you shared. You scrambled backwards, using his moment of pause to recollect yourself, come up with a plan and stand up. Your actions wiped the almost kind expression off of Anakin’s face, and it was replaced with a harsh, cold facade. “I’ve missed you, bunny.”,you ignored the desire to roll your eyes and spoke, “Why do you feel the need to do this? To kill me? Why can’t you just treasure what we had and move on?”. You were genuinely curious, you had no idea why he so desperately wanted to take you with him. You realized the two of you had been circling each other as you had in training, falling back into your old habits. He put his hand to his heart and stopped walking, “I love you Y/N, I need you, I need you every day. I need you forever.” You nearly choked.

…

The pair of you slowly made your way around the ring, never breaking eye contact. He spun his saber in anticipation for the fight ahead. You laughed at his habitual ticks. You thought you knew him so well. You spun your saber in jest, mocking his predictable action. His laugh echoed across the empty, dark sparring room. You were on a high from your first victory on some back water planet. You had assumed you would have the night off, in celebration, but Vader had other plans. He insisted you needed to improve your hand to hand combat skills, he felt your performance was unsatisfactory during the day’s battle. “You fought valiantly today, my love.”, his voice was so overbearing in the quiet room. You dropped your head in embarrassment from his compliment. “But your over confidence keeps you from making strides in battle.”, your step faltered at his correction. You felt ashamed, as though you had disappointed him. “I’m sorry, my lord. My only goal is to appease you.”, you leaned forward, bowing to express your sincerity. He laughed once more, “Stop groveling child, and fight.”. From your bent over position you looked up to his mask and gave him a mischievous smile. You rushed towards each other, both of you refusing to secede ground. You felt him reach through the force to get a strong grip on your arm, he pulled you towards him. “Never forget the force. Use it to your advantage.”. You nodded and he let you go. You continued to fight and you felt him falter. The pause in his attack caused you to react abruptly, you reached through the force and grabbed his ankle, causing him to trip as he advanced towards you. You seized the opportunity and pinned him to the ground, your saber pointed to his throat. You smiled wildly, thinking you had bested him. Almost as quickly as he fell, he overpowered you and flipped you over. Your chest was pressed against the floor and you felt a blaster brush against your back. Half of you feared for your life, while the other half felt a rush of excitement, not knowing what to expect from him next. “Y/N?”. You turned your head in an attempt to look at your master, “Yes, my lord?”. He let out an amused sigh at the name, “You know I love you, right?” You nodded hastily. “Do you trust me?”, he continued. His questions confused you, never one for such vulnerability. “Of course!”, you replied, almost insulted. He hummed in approval. You heard him engage the blaster and you went ridged. “Silly girl. Thinking you could beat me.” he laughed patronizingly. He dug the blaster further into your back, “Still trust me baby?” he asked sweetly. You softly nodded. Instantly, Vader ripped the blaster from your back and shot the practice dummy in front of you. The echoes rattled the room. You felt your legs jump as you struggled to control your fear. “How bout now, padawan?”, you sucked in a breath and nodded again. He flipped you over and straddled your hips, “Open your mouth.”, your brow furrowed, suddenly panicking about what his words insinuated and your inexperience. He heard your thoughts and said “Just fucking open it!“. You stuck your tongue out and he replied with a brief “good.” You hadn’t realized but you were gripping his leg out of fear, you felt his muscles flex under your hand and you quickly ripped your hand away, fearful you’d been inappropriate. “Shut up. Your thoughts are practically bouncing off these walls.”. You wanted to cry from embarrassment, but surprisingly, not from fear. You really did trust him, and you knew he did everything for a reason…no matter how unhinged. He shoved the barrel down your open throat and you choked around it, eyes growing wide. The room was silent. He waited patiently for you to respond to his aggressive action. You didn’t react. A smile crept on to his face. “You’re so perfect.” He removed the blaster from your mouth and you gasped for air. He brushed the hair from your face, in awe of your trust in him. “I love you Y/N, Maker, I need you, I need you every day. I need you forever.”

…

You were stunned, unable to string a coherent sentence you just stood there, with pleading eyes. You could see the emotions bubbling in his stomach, anger and frustration increasing as your circling continued. His face twisted into something unrecognizable. “I created you. I forged your body from the fires of Mustafar and your mind from the stars. You came to me…so malleable, begging to be perfected in my image. I simply couldn’t resist, can you blame me? Look at you.” His smile was so sweet, it almost made you cry. For so many nights, you had laid awake, thinking about your master, falling asleep and dreaming about that smile. You wanted to run and hug him, feel his warmth for the first time. You knew better than to go running though, that’s exactly what he wanted. “So weak and naive, I could smell the desperation rolling off of you the second I first laid my eyes on you. You wanted to be with me. You needed it. I fulfilled your wishes…and now look at you. The world has turned you against me, you don’t even know what you want anymore, do you?” You were stunned and frightened by his words. They sounded deranged but his tone was so calm. He’s just trying to get to you. Ignore him. You told yourself. He laughed, he knew he had you right where he wanted you. “I struck a nerve didn’t I, baby?”, you balled up your fists in an attempt to hold on to your last bit of sanity. “You know deep down, that everything I’m saying is true. We both know. So just admit it. You want me. You want me so badly, you’re aching for me.” You rolled your eyes back, trying to keep in the tears. “You’re so lost, bunny. You’ve strayed too far from me. You belong in my arms, why can’t you just accept that?” . You shook your head. I don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore. Anakin nodded, hearing your thoughts. He slowly walked towards you, expecting you to react, but you didn’t. You stood stiff as a board, staring at the bright blue sky. He stopped about a foot away from you and stared at you. “It’s funny isn’t it?” He gestured to his surroundings, and you understood what he meant. You looked at the ground as he continued. “…To end it, where it all began.” you gave an exasperated laugh and nodded. He spoke again. “I was born here too, you know.”. Your head shot up to look at him, bewildered. “See, Y/N? It’s fate. You belong to me.” He rested his hands on your arms and you shivered from the touch. He spoke once more. “From the moment they killed me, you’ve been lost and confused. Deep down you know why, but let me tell you to your face… You can’t handle this galaxy on your own, you don’t know how. It’s not your fault…you aren’t made for this life, bunny. You need someone to take care of you, that’s why you follow that Mandalorian. But he’s not me, is he? He’s doesn’t satisfy your needs, does he? I know you realized a while ago that, no matter how much you try to get away from me, you can’t. I’m a part of your soul, and that part has been missing for a while now.” Anakin held your face and smiled, “This feels right, doesn’t it, bunny?” You nodded and leaned into his touch. You started crying and he held you tighter. You both sensed other beings nearby and your eyes shifted over to the ship to find your Mandalorian and two other people staring at the pair of you.

You felt so embarrassed, having Mando see you like this. You looked at your feet in shame and Anakin tilted your head to look at you. Anger was once again gracing his soft features. “I’ll kill them.” your tears kept coming. “please. don’t.” You said softly. You pushed off of your master and backed away. Anakin grabbed your face again, and with force. “I’m coming back for you, Y/N. Don’t you dare forget how complete I made you feel today, I won’t let you.” A slight wave of relief washed over you as you realized Anakin was too scared to kill you in front of Mando and his friends. You and Anakin made eye contact as tears spilled out of yours. His gaze, so close to you, felt like lightning in your tummy. He knew the power he had over you, and he planned to manipulate that power to the best of his ability. Anakin laughed at your visible pain, dripping off your chin. He leaned into your face and dragged his tongue up your cheek, catching the salty tears as they freely rolled down. He hummed contently as you shook in fear. You looked over at the group and watched Mando try to lunge towards you, but the other Mandalorian held him back from running. Anakin pulled away and followed your line of vision to the group and moved around your body so your back was to his chest, facing the trio. He wrapped an arm around your throat and asked, “Think your Mandalorian’s jealous?”. You stiffened, feeling guilty for allowing Anakin put on this show in front of everyone, and embarrassed by your own weaknesses. Realizing you weren’t quite ready to leave this life behind, you elbowed Anakin in the ribs and sprinted towards the group. Your master tried to grasp the ends of your robes but to no avail. You refused to stop running until you were safely behind the group. You watched as Anakin paced angrily on the sand. The green Mandalorian turned to you and said, “So that’s the big guy, eh?”, you nodded, out of breath. The woman spoke next, “Looks pretty scrawny to me.”. You let out a guttural laugh at the unexpected comment. “I wouldn’t underestimate him if I were you.” said the green armored man. His comment confused you, it felt as though he took the words right out of your mouth, but you refrained from mentioning it, considering you had more pressing matters at hand. You hadn’t noticed the lack of Mando’s presence in front of you. You looked up to find him rushing towards your master, almost reaching him. “Mando, no!” you screamed. As he approached Anakin, the sand kicked up, causing the Sith to fade from view. Your master gave the Mandalorian a patronizing smile and a brief nod in your direction before fading into the dusty wind.

[deniigi]

Please have some Skywalker Babies + Uncle Rex.

----

Title: skittles

Summary: Padme dies, but Anakin doesn't turn and as a result ends up with two little ones who are, naturally, adopted by the 501st--well, Leia is. Luke keeps getting stolen by a filthy thief.

------

Rex has the twins for now. He has never felt terror like this before. He can’t stop checking over his shoulders for threats to their teeny tiny persons.

In his humble opinion, it should be illegal for humans to be born this small. He ran it past Ahsoka recently and she agreed, but she also provided intelligence that the twins’ size was not necessarily average for their species, either.

The other brothers helped him investigate this. They all gathered round and put the holonet searches on the projector so that they didn’t have to smash buckets over a datapad screen to be educated. Their search for ‘newborn natborn human baby’ was rewarded with images upon images of reddened tubies with big, round bellies and curled up limbs.

They did a new search for ‘2 weeks, natborn human baby’ and were rewarded with even more pictures, to which they held the twins up next to and found them wanting. The twins’ proportions were all wrong, their limbs were too skinny, their faces pinched. The babies on the holonet didn’t have hair, but their baby girl did.

The conclusion was that the research was inconclusive. Further, it was interrupted by the resident thief coming in to take his chances. Cody told them later, upon returning their baby boy, that they were better than this. Kenobi wasn’t slick. They needed to stop letting their guards now.

He said all this while ignoring the way the baby boy burrowed into the side of his throat and made smacking noises.

Such a strong man, that Cody. He is, unfortunately, not available now even though Rex has both twins and a heart attack waiting to happen.

The Thief is nearby. Rex can sense him. He heads back the way he came.

 --

The baby girl, who has a name, but Anakin is too heartbroken to speak it, fists her hands at Rex and shakes them as if to threaten him into compliance. He does not know how to help her understand that he has not taken the blanket off her face out of malice, but rather to keep her from suffocating. She is angry with him regardless. She is often angry with him and endlessly crying when he does not put her exactly where she wants to be exactly when she wants it.

The thief calls her a princess, and so everyone else has started doing the same in lieu of her name. The child is bound to grow up thinking her name itself is ‘Princess’ at this rate. Ahsoka has been trying out different titles for her, but she doesn’t respond to them in the same way.

For all that the princess is royalty through and through, the baby boy is thoroughly a commoner. Catching him awake is a miracle. Part of that is because his waking hours are spent with the Thief, since Kenobi has decided, for some mysterious reason, that this child is his favorite of all in existence. He will not be separated from this child and when he is, he gets crafty in his attempts to get him back.

The princess does not like Kenobi. At all, period. He touches her and she screams and reaches her stubby hands for Rex. If Rex is not available to be screamed for, she will wail until her father comes to stuff her in his tunic.

Anakin is fine to hold the princess, but he cannot look upon the baby boy, even to feed him. He looks so much like his mother. It is a struggle for everyone—except Kenobi. Rex wonders aloud to Ahsoka if Kenobi will raise the boy on his own and a moment of silence fills the canteen.

Ahsoka throws herself from the room and goes sprinting for the masters’ quarters.

 --

 The twins are tested for Force Sensitivity and it becomes abundantly clear why Kenobi continues hoard the baby boy against all sense and wisdom. He is described by the jedi as a ‘sun’ in the Force. The princess too, but her presence in the Force blends in with her father’s until she is gazed upon in Rex’s Force-empty grip.

Only then is she, too, declared a star.

Twin stars, they are called.

‘Kenobi, put that down,’ the boy is named. ‘Kenobi, give that back,’ is his middle one.

The first time Rex sees the baby boy awake, he is startled by how blue his eyes are. His sister’s are dark, but his are light like water at the base of a waterfall. He makes a little sound and turns his heavy head to the side to blink at Rex’s forearm.

He is the older of the two, but the Princess is already overtaking him in weight. Kenobi has been scolded for this. In return, he locks everyone out of his quarters.

 --

 The twins are two months old when they stop being blinky-maggots and turn into smiley ones. Anakin cannot put the princess down or she will scream until she is blue in the face. As such their dedicated General can be found with his arms full, slowly banging his head against the nearest hard object.

He calls her ‘Leia.’ Princess Leia.

The baby boy is ‘Luke.’ Just Luke.

Anakin spends his time these days bouncing Leia and on the hunt for his son. He walks like a zombie towards Kenobi’s door and plasters his back against it. He slides down and tries desperately not to fall asleep at the bottom.

He will not let Rex take the princess when he’s in this state. He wants only for Kenobi to open the door so that he can fall back onto his floor and demand his son. Kenobi never gives him his son back. There is no longer any question that baby Luke is Kenobi’s child. The fact that he’s been produced by Anakin and Padme is a footnote in the broader history being made here.

Kenobi will, however, take Princess Leia, too, if left unsupervised. She still hates him—more than ever, really, but he doesn’t mind. He likes to lay the twins out together so that Leia’s jerky fussing will ruin Luke’s sleep cycles.

Kenobi is a man with no respect for the law in these parts. More jedi masters have to step in to get him under control. Master Koon takes the most pity on Anakin and gives him both of his children. The masters and the clones watch him stagger up with both babies and drunkenly return to their quarters.

A note is made to check on all three of them in fifteen minutes.

 --

 The twins, at 6 months old, have developed even more distinct personalities and hair. So much hair. Ahsoka puts Leia’s hair in pigtails and Leia will scream if anyone tries to adjust them or if she feels that they are falling out of shape.

Rex’s hands were once clumsy around ring-sized rubber bands. He is now an expert. He is such an expert that he can even make the occasional one stay in Luke’s slippery hair, which, of course, invokes an expression of betrayal in Luke that is so comical, Rex can’t see it without being brought to tears.

Luke hates him for this. He whimpers for his father—no, not that one. The good one.

These days, Kenobi is a cat who has gotten the cream.

The boy called him ‘dada’ before he gave the name to Anakin, and Kenobi nearly lost his life for it. He regrets nothing. He is technically barred from being around Luke, both by the other jedi and by Anakin specifically, but rules are things for other people in Kenobi’s world.

Anakin threatens him with bodily harm at every opportunity that he is not holding his daughter upside down.

She enjoys this. This is not just a daddy-thing to her either; she expects everyone to carry her like this. If not feet-to-the-sky, then at least draped over an arm, face-down like a sack of flour. She hums the way a cat would purr.

 --

 At nine months the babes are mobile and it is the worst thing that has happened to Anakin besides Padme’s death. They are not effectively mobile, but they are professionals at grabbing things and hauling themselves up to their chubby feet. Leia holds onto the fingers of anyone she can get and makes every brother who passes her walk her on their feet to her chosen destination.

Luke is a little slower.

He can get to his feet, but what he wants is to bounce there. If anyone tries to hold his hands, he clams up and falls down and doesn’t get up.

Anakin has begun negotiating with Leia to be more like her brother. She laughs at his face in great peels when he does this. She finds his serious expressions hilarious and wants to cuddle him anytime they appear which is great for domestic time and not so great for council or state meetings. Anakin has taken to appearing before these people with Leia latched around his ankle. Only her, though. Luke can’t bear being in the presence of so many bodies at once. He becomes overwhelmed and handles the pressure by going to sleep. Or crying.

For Kenobi, of course.

And when Kenobi is not around, they all may as well go start digging their own graves before the guilt propels them to do it anyways.

Luke is not a big crier. Anakin can’t understand him. They’ve had many conversations about telling adults when he needs things, all of which Luke elects to ignore in favor of trying to eat bugs and dig in sand.

The latter is the greatest sin that Anakin can dream of.

--

I just think that, given the opportunity, Obi-Wan would be the best grandpa ever and by best, I mean he would see his chance to have a baby and Anakin would end up chasing him around going ‘he’s MY mistake and MY responsibility, you crusty old fucker, give him back’ while Obi-Wan talks to Ahsoka about how nice the weather is.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Hi! Could you do 7 or 21 of the angst prompts for Obi Wan and Ahsoka please?

Hi! Thank you for the prompt (from these prompts)!! And yes, I can do both actually! Here ya go:

---

“You are so stupid.”

The words are dry — at least, Ahsoka hopes they are dry enough to hide the very real fear lingering behind them.

“Thanks,” Obi-Wan says between clenched teeth, obviously not hearing the full emotion behind Ahsoka’s sentiment. He is sitting across from her in the co-pilot’s chair — a bundle of bloodstained robes and tightened shoulders as he breathes through the pain. She shoots him another glare while she digs through the medkit, searching for a set of tweezers.

“Going after a bounty hunter who was carrying a slugthrower,” Ahsoka mutters. “What were you thinking?”

“Well, I—”

“No, don’t answer that,” Ahsoka says, raising her hand. “I already have the answer. You weren’t thinking.”

“Now hold on,” Obi-Wan pants. “We couldn’t let them capture the senator now, could we? We had a mission.”

“Yeah, and you made me stay behind and guard the other senators.”

“It was a very important task,” he says defensively.

“You made me their babysitter because you knew that going after Bane was dangerous. You knew and you went anyway.”

“To be fair,” Obi-Wan says, “he’s never used slugthrowers before.”

“And so what? You didn’t think he’d actually use it on you?”

“I was cautiously optimistic.”

“Look where that got you,” Ahsoka says, shaking her head. She continues rifling through the medkit until she finally finds a set of tweezers and a small scalpel. Obi-Wan eyes both items warily.

“I need to get a better look at the wound before I do anything,” Ahsoka says, trying to keep him calm, despite her current anger at him.

“Alright,” he nods, looking like he’s trying to reassure himself.

Ahsoka cuts through the fabric of his tunics and his undershirts and pulls them away. Underneath, a circular wound mars Obi-Wan’s skin. His muscles are tight, instinctively clenching in a vain attempt to ward off the pain.

“Hmmm.”

“What?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I have good news and bad news.”

“Do share.”

“The bad news is the bullet didn’t go all the way through. The good news is that it looks like it didn’t go too deep, so it shouldn’t be too hard for me to get it out. I won’t be needing this.” She sets the scalpel aside.

“Well, as long as there’s good news,” Obi-Wan sighs. “Though I suppose there was never a silver lining without a dark cloud behind it.”

“No, I suppose not,” Ahsoka says, offering him a sympathetic smile. “I need to get this out. You’ll get an infection if I don’t.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says, resigned. “Let’s just get on with it then.”

Ahsoka takes a deep breath and relies on the Force to steady her hand. She presses the tweezers into the wound. A harsh breath escapes Obi-Wan’s lips, but he does not cry out. Ahsoka takes that as a sign to keep going. She pinches the bullet between the tweezers, but she slips and digs the metal deeper into the torn-up flesh.

Obi-Wan gasps and pulls away from Ahsoka.

“Sorry!” Ahsoka exclaims.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan pants, blinking back tears that had pooled in his eyes on reflex. “Just keep going.”

Ahsoka nods and goes back in with the tweezers, but Obi-Wan flinches back. Ahsoka tries again, and he recoils to the side.

“Stop that. Hold still,” Ahsoka says, exasperated.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just not used to this kind of wound”

“Yeah well… that’s what happens when you go after a bounty hunter who is openly wielding a slugthrower.”

“Alright, I get it,” Obi-Wan says, deflating slightly.

“I don’t think you do,” Ahsoka grimaces. “Now for real this time. Stay still.”

Obi-Wan nods tightly, while Ahsoka hones back in on the wound. She gets the tweezers around the bullet once more, and this time, they don’t slip. Slowly, she maneuvers the bullet out of Obi-Wan’s flesh until it clatters on the floor with a metallic ringing sound.

Ahsoka stares, frozen in place as the wound bleeds openly. Obi-Wan’s blood runs down his side now that there is no bullet to dam up its path.

“Oh,” Ahsoka says dumbly. “I always forget that slugthrower wounds don’t cauterize.”

“Yes, well, they don’t,” Obi-Wan says. Ahsoka glares at him. “Go get a needle and thread, I’ll put pressure on it.”

Ahsoka hands him a semi-clean rag and he presses it to his stomach. His breaths become a little more ragged.

“Hang in there Master,” Ahsoka says as she finds a sewing kit. She measures out a length of thread and cuts it. The eye of the needle is tiny and she struggles to get the thread to go through it.

“Maybe we should have prepared the needle before we took out the bullet,” Obi-Wan observes dryly.

“Why didn’t you tell me to do that?” Ahsoka asks, her voice going higher in pitch as she desperately tries to thread the needle.

“I was preoccupied, you know, with being shot.”

“That is your own kriffing fault and you know it,” Ahsoka retaliates.

Ahsoka calls on the Force to steady her hand once again. Finally, the thread obeys her commands and pushes through the eye of the needle. With deft fingers, she ties it off.

“Ready?”

From his tight nod, it is clear that Obi-Wan is not ready, but he knows as well as she does that there is little time for hesitation.

“Alright,” Ahsoka says, trying to keep her voice sure and even. “I’ll be quick.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan says.

Ahsoka is true to her word. She finishes the stitches in a manner of a few minutes. By the end of it, Obi-Wan is pale and sweating, but gratitude shines in his eyes.

“Done,” Ahsoka says after she ties off the end of the thread.

“Thank you Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ll be sure to come to you the next time I’m shot.”

“You’re impossible. Absolutely impossible. You know that right?”

“Well, Anakin is actually—”

“I’m not talking about Anakin, I’m talking about you,” Ahsoka huffs, suddenly feeling irked by Obi-Wan’s casualness. Now that he has been stitched back together, she has time to feel the anger starting to flood her bloodstream.

“Ahsoka…”

“Everyone thinks Anakin is the reckless one, and maybe he is, but when he’s not around to be the reckless one… Well, it’s like you don’t care if you live or you die.”

Obi-Wan looks down at his bloodstained hands. “Of course I care.”

She stops messing with the medkit and looks Obi-Wan dead in the eyes. “Then why are you always so reckless huh? Do you ever think about what would happen if something happened to you?”

“Life would go on without me, Ahsoka. If it’s the will of the Force…”

“Do not bring ‘the will of the Force’ into this. I’m talking about when you pull stunts like this.”

Obi-Wan is silent — the smooth-talking negotiator finally at a loss for words.

“Master,” Ahsoka says quietly. “If you died… I would be devastated.”

“Ahsoka…”

She doesn’t let him continue. “My feelings aside, think about Anakin. Do you know what would happen to him if he lost you? I can’t watch him go through that for a second time.”

Obi-Wan pales and Ahsoka isn’t sure if it’s from the blood loss or the words she is mercilessly volleying at him. She continues anyway.

“It would almost be worse than losing you. I know how to let go, but he… I don’t know what he would do if he lost you. He can’t… that can’t happen again.”

“I want to tell you it won’t.”

“Then tell me.”

“I can’t,” he says, his jaw tight with either pain or sorrow. Perhaps both.

“Please, just…”

“No. I will not make you a promise I can’t keep. Not while we’re in a war. Not ever.”

“Then promise me something else,” Ahsoka insists, grabbing his hand in hers and looking him directly in his ocean blue eyes.

He looks at her wearily. “What?”

“Promise you’ll stop being so reckless,”

“What did I just say about making promises I can’t keep?” Obi-Wan grins. Ahsoka lightly smacks his shoulder.

“Promise me you’ll try then!” Ahsoka amends.

“I’ll try,” he laughs. “I promise.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan stands up but has to steady himself on a leather handle affixed to the ceiling.

“I would love to continue this conversation,” Obi-Wan says, his voice starting to slur ever so slightly. “But I think I need to lie down. Or throw up. Or both.”

Ahsoka grimaces and hands him a canteen. “Drink,” she says. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“Need to lie down,” he repeats.

“Drink, and then you can lie down.”

Obi-Wan nods and takes a few sips from the offered canteen. He passes it back to her before curling up on a small bunk just outside of the cockpit. A slight shiver racks his frame and Ahsoka grabs a blanket and lays it over him. He hums in contentment.

“Are you going to be okay until we get to the temple?” Ahsoka asks nervously.

“Yes. The adrenaline’s just wearing off and the blood loss is catching up with me. I’ll be okay.” Ahsoka stares at him a moment longer. “I promise,” Obi-Wan adds on.

“You better keep that one.”

“I will.” A pause. “I am sorry,” he says. “I didn’t want to scare you. And I didn’t want to get shot.”

“I know,” Ahsoka says. “Just get some rest. We’ll be home soon.”

[nevertheless-moving]

Phantom Past Drabble

Directly taken from this au by @willowcrowned that rapidly devolved into a delightful back and forth. 

Obi-Wan blinked rapidly, trying to clear the spots from his vision as the sudden white light faded.

“What was that?” Anakin asked, bewildered.

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but the snarky response caught in his throat as a hauntingly familiar room came into focus.

Anakin's voice dropped to hush, “This looks like—“

“—the Theed generator complex, I know.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Anakin, what was the one thing we weren’t supposed to do?” 

“Touch anything.” 

“And why, do you imagine, we are here?”

“I didn’t even touch it!” Anakin said defensively.

“Oh no, you just knocked it over and kicked it into a wall-”

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin interrupted.

“What?” he tore his gaze from the spot he had last held Qui-Gon to look up at his Padawan. Anakin was staring slackjawed down the hallway.

“Qui-Gon?” Anakin breathed out, startled.

“Padawan?” The man said uncertainly, ignoring Anakin to stare intently at the familiar, yet oddly-armored man before him.

“Master?!” came the muffled yell from Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, desperately bouncing in an attempt to see what was happening.

“Maul.” hissed the elder of the two mysterious warriors, ignoring everyone else and unnerving the Zabrakian.

Who were these intruders; how dare they disrupt the Sith’s carefully laid trap? How could they possibly know his identity? They didn’t quite look like Jedi, but they did wear lightsabers openly on their belt. Maul hesitated, not sure what threat to face first.

“You’re looking rather well, have you been working out?” The one-who-knew-Maul’s-name made an odd hand motion at his younger companion, then ignited a brilliant blue saber. The darkly clad young jedi grimaced before drifting to the wall, lighting his saber in a defensive guard. 

Maul had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but decided to interpret it as a threat; the hand motion must be their attempt to strategize a trap. He would take the youngest challenger first, before killing his master.

The ray-shields began cycling open, and Maul charged.

“Of course it’s hard to tell with all the clothing in the way, but you must be doing lunges, at the very least.” Maul ignored him, but the comment startled Qui-Gon enough to make him hesitate.

Obi-Wan intercepted Maul’s charge with ease while Anakin skirted around their fight to join Qui-Gon, gently pushing him back into the hall.

“Obi-Wan said to protect you. Master Qui-Gon, you have to stay back”

Qui-Gon bristled, drawing up to his full height. “I don’t know who you think you are, but Obi-Wan is my padawan, and I intend to protect him from the Sith your…companion is facing alone.”

Anakin straightened as well, glare easily crossing the scarce few inches separating them. 

“Maul’s an expert at tripping up multiple enemy combatants, especially in a confined space. One-on-one, my master can easily beat him. I don’t like leaving him to fight alone anymore than I do, but you’ve gotta trust me on this.” 

The ray shields began cycling closed, and Qui-Gon lunged.

Anakin grabbed him in a bear hug before he could get far. Qui-Gon was forced to stumble back, narrowly avoiding being sliced in half. At the same moment, young Obi-Wan all but crashed into them. The three awkwardly teetered in place, clinging to one another and leaning wildly to avoid brushing the burning walls. 

They stumbled apart, doing their best to put space between them in the narrow chamber. 

“What’s going on? Who are you?” the padawan demanded. “Come now, I know you can do better than that” the Master dueling the Sith teased playfully on the other side of the shield. The Sith growled in response.

“It’s me! Anakin Skywalker! Don’t you recognize me?” he said grinning. “Wow, I almost forgot how baby-faced you were without the beard.” he poked at the young man’s cheek, who flinched back, startled.

Not giving them any time to process that, Anakin continued. “We were in this old temple and one of us might have knocked over this weird rock and the next thing we knew it we were here! I don’t know if we time traveled or if this is some crazy force vision but either way, wow, you are kicking Maul’s butt.”

Maul was forced to leap over the center pit to retrieve his lightstaff. “Don’t worry, everyone struggles to keep It up sometime.” Obi-Wan quipped. Maul growled in response.

“You’re…Ani. And that’s…me.” The padawan confirmed flatly. Anakin’s unfiltered sincerity and startling coiled force presence made it hard to doubt the otherwise insane claim.

“Does he normally do this?” Qui-Gon asked faintly.

“Do what?”

Maul managed to temporarily push Obi-Wan back with a desperate kick. “Much better, my dear. There’s that fighting spirit!”

“That!” Qui-Gon said, gesturing emphatically.

Anakin’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Does he… not flirt when fighting? Is this a new thing?” 

Qui-Gon just got a pained look on his face instead of answering, so Anakin turned to the younger Obi-Wan. He shrugged helplessly in response, “I don’t…think so?”

“Huh.”

[x-childish-x]

obi wan x femreader fanfic idea where they go with padme to mustafar to confront anakin. after force choking padme, anakin’s like “you turned her against me! now i shall take away what you love most” and at first obi wan’s confused, “what i love most?” then he realizes anakin’s talking about reader. reader starts to be force choked by anakin and then obi wan says prompt #22 from the main prompts.

What You Love Most

Pairing: Obi-Wan x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: force choking!, angsty Anakin, fluff, soft!Obi-Wan, Padme dies

Word Count: 1,476

A/N: Hello lovely Anon! This was really fun to write, and was such an incredibly interesting idea! I really hope you enjoy this and that it's what you wanted. Thank you so much for the request! Feedback is ALWAYS appreciated and welcomed! (e/c): eye color

Summary: Anakin tries to get revenge for Obi-Wan "turning" Padme against him, and you're both left to deal with the aftermath of the Sith's decision.

(gif not mine!)

You glanced toward C-3PO before rushing out of the ship after Padme. You watched as Anakin wrapped her up in his arms, your arm slowly twitching back towards your lightsaber, but you forced yourself to remain calm. Padme was your best friend, you knew you couldn't harm Anakin while she was still here, but everything Obi-Wan told you made it extremely tempting.

You stopped a few feet away from the pair, listening silently, and at the mention of Obi-Wan's name, Anakin's gaze flicked up. His eyes landed on you. His glare was so intense it left you feeling nauseous, feeling like Anakin thought you shouldn't be alive. You gave a soft nod of acknowledgment to the younger boy, your face neutral as he looked back to Padme.

As Anakin's speech continued, you felt yourself getting more riled, the idea of justice getting hard to keep away. Padme turned her head, using her peripheral vision to ensure you were still behind her as she slowly backed up, realizing how crazy Anakin was beginning to sound. Your hand locked around your lightsaber hilt as Anakin yelled at Padme, the urge to protect her taking over your body, not causing you to spare a glance back at Obi-Wan, who had now made his presence known.

"You're with him!" Anakin growled, "You brought him here to kill me!"

"Anakin, stop!" You yelped as he began force-choking Padme.

You went to unleash your lightsaber, prepared to battle the new-come sith, but you felt the force wrap around your waist and begin yanking you back. Obi-Wan's yell for Anakin to let Padme go filled your ears as you realized Obi-Wan was pulling you further away from the deranged boy. He was trying to protect you, pull you out of the line of fire.

A cry escaped your lips as you watched Padme fall. Obi-Wan flinched slightly at your cry, standing in front of you in an attempt to shield you from Anakin.

"You turned her against me!" Anakin screamed, his eyes filled with rage, "Now I shall take away what you love most!"

"What I love most?" Obi-Wan questioned, watching Anakin slide off his robe.

Anakin's eyes locked on you, watching you fight against the force around your waist, trying to get to Padme as tears streamed down your cheek. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, immediately filling with anger and panic as Anakin raised his hand and your gasp filled the air. Your hands fly to your throat, desperately trying to get away from the force on your neck, as the force on your waist drops, and you try to gasp for air.

“If you don’t let her go right now, I swear I will break every bone in your body," Obi-Wan practically growls as he yanks off his robe, his hand flying to his lightsaber.

Your vision is beginning to fill with spots. Your body is panicking, going into fight or flight mode as it tries to keep you alive. Anakin, the little boy you helped Obi-Wan train, is trying to kill you. You realize, as Obi-Wan's eyes meet yours, your hands feel numb now, and your legs surely wouldn't hold you up if it wasn't for Anakin's force around your neck.

Without wasting another second, Obi-Wan lunges at Anakin, shocking his old Padawan, who didn't expect his Master to make the first move. The shock makes the younger boy let go of you, and you crash to the ground, a wretched gasp for air leaving your lips. Tears begin to rush quicker down your cheeks as you struggle to gain focus again, your vision completely blurry as your ears just barely register the sound of lightsaber's clashing together. You struggle, trying to crawl to Padme at the very least, but instead, the darkness consumed your vision before you could.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

You groaned slightly at the feeling of your body being moved, jostled awake by the movement. 

"I'm sorry," Obi-Wan's voice whispered, his eyes locked on your face in worry.

Your eyes slowly fluttered open, "Obi-Wan?"

You winced. Your voice sounded terrible. Cracking and hoarse, you sounded like you'd screamed for hours, making Obi-Wan frown, "Yes... I'm here."

"Don't..." You winced again, your throat burning, "Leave me."

Obi-Wan nodded. The distraught look on your face was more than enough to have him cradling you in his lap as he flew to Master Yoda. You'd fallen unconscious again, and although your force life was strong, Obi-Wan was immensely worried about you. He handed you off to Bail Organa, rushing back onto the ship to get Padme. 

The next time you awoke, you felt significantly better than the last time, and you smiled as R2-D2's beeps filled the air. Looking down, you spotted the droid at the side of your bed, whistling and beeping far too fast for you to understand, as you were still learning binary. 

"Good morning, sleepy," Obi-Wan teased, a smile on his lips as he entered the room.

"Morning," You mumbled back. Your voice sounded much better but was still sore, making you wince, "Thanks for saving me."

Obi-Wan walked further in, coming to sit on the side of your bed and grab one of your hands, "They said your throat will still be sore for a while."

You nodded, squeezing Obi-Wan's hand as a desperate feeling filled your body, "Where is Anakin? And Padme? What happened? Where are we?"

"Calm down," Obi-Wan smiled, projecting calming feelings through the force to you, "Anakin's... he's gone. I had to... he couldn't be saved anymore."

You frowned, squeezing the man's hand once more as you pushing comforting feelings to him, "I'm so sorry, Obi... I know how much he meant to you."

Obi-Wan simply nodded, nodding his head, "(Y/n)... Padme's gone... she passed during labor."

You gasped, your eyes widening in horror as you looked away from the older man. You supposed Anakin's visions had been correct. Padme was sentenced to die, but Anakin had never realized he was the reason she died in all his visions. Tears filled your eyes as Obi-Wan shifted, standing up.

"She... she left something for us-- for you. She asked if you would..."

You scrunched your eyebrows, confused by Obi-Wan's sudden nervousness. He quickly left the room before returning with a small bundle of blankets in his arms. Your eyes widened as Obi-Wan walked closer, and you realized what was inside the bundle of blankets.

"She had twins. They're being separated for safety, but... she asked if we'd take care of him, of Luke," Obi-Wan spoke softly, leaning down to show you the sleeping baby boy in his arms.

You reached out, taking the small baby from Obi-Wan, scooting over to allow the older man to lay beside you, "Normally I would expect to be married, hell even have at least gone on a date, before having a baby."

Obi-Wan smiled slightly, knowing you felt honored that Padme had asked you and Obi-Wan, "That could be arranged."

"Is it true?" You rasped, gently brushing Luke's tiny baby hair with your fingers. Obi-Wan hummed, watching you in awe, "That I'm what you love most... as Anakin said. Is that true?"

Your eyes flicked up to Obi-Wan, and he immediately felt himself smiling, getting lost in your beautiful (e/c) eyes. How could he not be in love with you? He grew up with you in the temple, trained with you, went on missions with you, and it was always you. Even his old master, Qui-Gon Jinn tried to get you two together, but Obi-Wan had always insisted there was a code to follow. But... not anymore. 

"Of course, you're what I love most," Obi-Wan smiled, "I have been since you slammed me to the ground on my first day of lightsaber training."

You laughed lightly, looking back to the baby in your arms as you smiled, "I love you too... it scared me, knowing I couldn't help you against Anakin."

Obi-Wan flushed. The idea of you worrying about him made him frown. He turned, lightly kissing the top of your head as he had many times before, only this time it was different, "There is never a need for you to worry about me." 

You sighed, knowing Obi-Wan wouldn't admit that he'd been scared of fighting Anakin also, "So, it's just us three now?"

"Just us three. I was thinking, we could go to Tatooine, build a life there, raise Luke."

You smiled, sure this wasn't what you wanted. No, you wanted Anakin and Ahsoka bickering over who could hold one of the twins. And you wanted Padme here, watching everyone coo over her babies. You wanted to be teasing Rex about his armor scaring the children. But... this would do. This, just you and Obi-Wan and Luke, was more than perfect. As long as you have Obi-Wan by you, you knew you could handle anything thrown your way.

[disast3rtransp0rt]

Prompt list: 75–“I have secrets you don’t know about!”

been saving this one for a rainy day

modern au, oh my god they were roommates, accidental confession

---

"Leave me alone," Anakin huffs, attempting to slam his bedroom door in Obi-Wan's face. He just wants to run away for a moment of peace, wants to hide from the handsome older man whose entire fault this is, anyway. Unfortunately, in his haste to escape Obi-Wan's presence, Anakin fails to notice that his roommate's foot is still blocking the door from closing all the way; it isn't heavy, but Anakin isn't weak, and the wood collides with the side of Obi-Wan's well-polished oxford with a loud thunk.

Obi-Wan bites his lip and takes a step back, balancing his hip against the short bookshelf that takes up half the hallway. He's clearly biting back tears of pain as he fucking apologizes and starts to hobble away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude on your personal space. I'll just get-"

"I'm so sorry!" Anakin darts forward, falling to his knees against the threadbare carpet. He holds onto Obi-Wan's hip with one hand in order to keep him balanced and uses the other hand to lift his roommate's injured foot into his lap. He's careful not to jostle Obi-Wan too much even as words tumble hurriedly from his mouth, "Let me look at this! I'm sure it's going to need to be elevated for most of the afternoon. I'll grab you some ice and an ACE bandage and get you set up on the couch. I can make you tea and put on a movie if you want, whatever you want. Do we even have an Ace bandage?!"

"Anakin-"

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Obi-Wan. In fact, that's the last thing I'd ever want to-"

"Anakin!"

The younger man freezes in the middle of removing Obi-Wan's shoe, slowly raising his eyes up to meet his roommates'. The older man is still clinging desperately to the bookshelf, but his other hand reaches to tuck a stray curl behind Anakin's ear.

"What's got you so upset, dear one? You're usually more willing to talk to me about the things that bother you."

"I can't say."

"You say an awful lot of things on any given afternoon, Anakin. It's okay if you're not comfortable telling me, I won't pry. I just want to make sure you don't feel alone if you're hurting."

Anakin will never deserve Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not in a thousand years, and yet he years. He aches. He wakes up in the middle of the night near tears and desperate just to hold the other man for a moment nearly three times a week. "I have secrets you don't know about."

"Oh, like the fact that you're in love with me?"

"Wh-What?" Anakin blinks stupidly, Obi-Wan's shoe dangling from one hand. His roommate seems apologetic as he explains.

"You didn't text Kitster last night when you were drunk with the other engineering grads," Obi-Wan flushes from his neck to his hairline. Anakin suddenly needs to know where that blush originates from. His chest? Lower? He swallows thickly as the older man continues. "I got a very long, only mostly intelligible text from you last night about how much you enjoy the colors of Hotty-Wan's eyes."

"Oh- Oh no..."

"And how you find my backside... I think the words you used for my backside were enchanting and hypnotizing. Quite lovely compliments, although I wish I'd have gotten them on purpose and from a far more sober Anakin."

"Wh- Huh?" Anakin is totally lost. Is Obi-Wan really saying... Is his unrequited crush of four years finally admitting...

"I love you," Obi-Wan leans down to collect his brown leather Oxford from Anakin's loose grip. "I have loved you for quite a long time now, and we can discuss the imminent changes to our relationship and co-habitation a little later. For the moment, darling, would you mind terribly getting me some ice? You go to the gym about four times a week and my instep is probably turning purple."

"Of course, yeah, I uh... I love you too. And I'm really sorry for hitting you with a door."

"All's fair in love and war."

[missgirlnoname]

//okok Anakin has made his return. 😏//

DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY

Dom¡ Anakin x reader

Warning: Daddy kink, rough play, overstimulation, Hair pulling, fingering, Choking kink.

(Y/n's) POV

"I think it's safe to say the little stunt you pulled earlier today was not okay. Don't you think?"Anakin asked, his tone eerily calm, yet sounding like that of an almost patronizing father scolding their child. A firm hand found itself resting upon your right shoulder. While the other lay atop your head, gently caressing your (h/c) tresses, Anakin's fingers were threading through it lightly, in a nurturing, almost loving fashion. But you knew better, this was anything but a lovers warm touch. There was a captivating, controlling notion behind it. He felt his relatively passive outlook towards your foolish actions were what scared you the most. His ability to assert his dominance over you in a properly mature manner; this was the one thing that ever truly concerned you, made you feel that you'd much rather prefer an outburst of rage and seething jealousy. To elicit a common reactor of most men and women, that normal blinding ascendence, anger and or feeling of deceit. Any of these factors were a hundred times better than Anakin's ways in coping with your negligence, disrespect, and flirtatious being. Your insubordination never ceased to go unnoticed by him. You were like a map, Anakin could read you every which way. He could see right through you, although Anakin could sometimes never anticipate your every move. For you, he was like a time bomb; and you knew just what made him tick.

"(Y/n) when I ask you a question, I expect an answer. I always expect an answer." chided, Anakin. Rather timid, actually. Attempting to respond, you could never find the proper words. It was infuriating  how he made you feel tongue-tied without having to do much. Always at a loss for the right thing to say.

While in deep thought, you had not noticed Anakin's hand slide further up and around your neck, his fingers gripping lightly, so not as to suffocate you. A startled gasp escapes your lips as you feel him crank your neck backwards, giving you an upside down view of his gorgeous features. His perfectly chiseled face looked down on you. His eyes, once a crystal blue, were now a pitch black sea consumed of darkness. A dark hunger, a lusting.

You began to tremble in slight fear beneath him, your steady heartbeat quickening. He could feel it. Hear it, what with your continued state of absolute silence.

"Oh little dove, don't go mute on me now." He cooed, mockingly. "You know what you did." More and more, your anxiety grew; heavy breathing now turned into light panting that would surely continue to increase by the minute.

Slowly, Anakin bent forward, bringing his face directly next to yours; his plump lips brush against your earlobe, sending goosebumps all over your body.

"You. know. what. you. did." He repeated, punctuating every syllable" And (Y/n), I want to hear you say it." Anakin whispered, in an almost menacing tone, as he then proceeded to nibble along your cartilage. This little action brought upon a muffled moan from you, one which you had so desperately been trying to suppress as he scolded you. Why did you like it. Love it. You didn't want to like it. He shouldn't have this affect on you. But somehow he did, it enraged and excited you simultaneously.

After what feels like an eternity of frozen time. You feel large hands grip your forearms tightly, bringing you to your feet. Without warning, your small body was shoved forward; now roughly pressed up against the vanity, one that stood quite tall in the shared bedroom Anakin and yourself had been occupying. The only thing louder than that Furniture piece thudding back against the wall from your tiny frames forceful impact, was the uneven intake of breath coming from the both of you. It was not only that of an exertion, but an inhabitant of a voracious hunger, of anger. The panting of desperation.

Anakin held you in place with his left hand, while his right made its way up the valley between your breasts, until it once again reached to wrap around your neck in a possessive embrace.

"I'm not one to repeat myself (Y/n).

So tell me. why is it that your in the position you are right now?" He said. Right as his face found shelter, nestled along the curve of your neck.

His body pressed firmly against yours, you shuddered faintly at the feel of Anakin's hard member. That too, made itself quite known. Not another word was said as he began trailing wet kisses down the side of your throat. Fingers press harshly into your sides 1..2..3 times. This was his signaling a warning to you; speak when spoken to. And right now, he demand you explain your every foolish action of the day.

Where would you begin?

"I'm-I just-I wanted-." Was all you could muster. Anakin did not tolerate the fumbling of words. Even though he found your incoherent babble precious, at other moments amusing. This was not one of those times. At the speed of light, his hand clamped around your jaw forcing your head to the side, both of you finally making direct eye contact. As you expected, the windows to his soul were still a pitch black abyss of lingering lust; an eager dominance swam in those captivating irises. One you had been all to familiar with, staring it down numerous times as the man before you had thrust in and out of your sacred walls.

Mocking a defeated sigh, Anakin's eyes held yours in a deadlock through the vanity mirror. Although he enjoyed watching you shrink back quietly, not able to speak. His patience for such behavior, had its limits. "Alright then...I'm sorry my dear (y/n). Truly I am." says Anakin, a fake sincerity evident within his voice. His eyes, that which held very little playful undertones; had now been swallowed up completely by the endless abyss. His ocean blue orbs, now ink shaded, had become thin slits peering at you from the smallest of crevices. "You brought this upon yourself, little dove. You've forced my hand." He adds, cynically. Before you knew it, the top layers of clothing you had on vanished in an instant. In nothing now but your (f/c) lingerie. vulnerable and in somewhat of a sedated trance, you continued to stare Anakin down through the vanity, not once letting your eyesight slip away from his, then again you were unable to look away even if you so desperately desired to. He held you in place with not only his hands or lean body, but his gripping gaze. It just wouldn't let you go.

His hands began caressing up and down the curves of your body, now and then he'd reach around to feel your supple breasts behind the thin lacy material. You could feel your heart pound against your rib cage, as tingles shot throughout your entire being. Anakin's lips brush along your neck, feeling the delicious thrumming of your pulse. He could sense your fear and delight. "Your enjoying this aren't you? All of it." He cooed. His hands traveled down towards your lower region, fingers skimming at the hemline of your panties. Shivers. An electricity ran up your body like never before. You did.

"Please..."

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you, little dove?"

"T-touch me..."

A deep, throaty chuckle escapes his lips. Retrieving his hands, Anakin leans closer to your ears.

"Why..give me one good reason?" He replies, taking a pause at each word. With no shame, no humiliation; you grabbed hold of Anakin's hand, clinging to it tightly while dragging it back to the one special place you found needed it. Only this time, you pushed his long, hard fingers passed the brim of your undergarments, sliding it across the silken wet folds of your most precious gem. At this, you shudder pleasantly; a fire set a flame within you as a clouded haze consumed your entirety.

You needed him, and you needed him right now.

"I deserve to be taught a lesson, don't I? Teach me a lesson, daddy. One I won't soon forget." Your voice had stopped shaking, now possessing a new found confidence, a sultry sweet essence. You knew it'd drive him crazy, then again. Was that not what you wanted in the first place?

(SMUT)

Before you knew it, Anakin had released himself from the confines of his trousers; aligning his member at your entrance, quickly ramming himself within the drenched vulva. A serious of groans stumble from anakin's lips, all the while you whimper in pure ecstasy.

“I-that f-feels so-.”

“You can never finish a proper sentence, can you dove?” Grins, Anakin;

his hands hold your curvy hips in place. Tightening his grip. Harder, rougher, faster he went. Their were no signs of stopping, he’d go on chasing his delicious release, ever so desperately. Certainly that did not mean he’d cease his attempts at driving you towards the edge, so close, simply to pull you right on back.

You’d never felt such an excessive amount of pleasure in your whole life. No one. Men nor women, would ever be able to bring you the gratification Anakin never abates to give you. Minutes pass and their it is. The stirring; a sensation your all to familiar with. A pressure increasing oh so rapidly in the pit of your belly. You feel as though your body is straining, fighting to latch hold of its sexual liberation. It grows and yearns until it is absolutely unbearable.

“Oh-g-god ye- please l-let me.” Again, your abilities to form a sentence are rendered incomprehensible. You find yourself pushing back hard onto Anakin’s long, swollen cock. At this, he grunts in a pleasurable anger. One hand finds its way into your luscious locks, the other clasps around your neck squeezing lightly. “What exactly are you asking of, pet?” He, scoffs; then proceeds to pull your head back against his broadly defined shoulder. You were so painfully close. Then suddenly, you weren’t.

Anakin halts his fierce movements, his aching manhood still deep inside your Blessed cavern. Gazing at you through the mirror, a smirk expands across his face; eyes still dark with an insatiable need. As you manage to control your heavy breathing, you turn your head to look at him. He could see a pleading look on your face

“I w-want t-to cum, sir. Pl-ease let me.” You beg. As pathetic as it was, you had not a single care left for your dignity to stay intact. Nothing was of importance, except feeling Anakin pummel into your soaking cunt.

“Tsk-tsk”

“My sweet little girl, do you think I’m doing this to please you? No, not at all. If anything, only one of us will come out of this fully satisfied.” Anakin, hisses. His one hand releases it’s hold on your neck, only just enough to push you closer against the vanity. Spreading your legs wider, arching your back further. “You’ve yet to explain yourself, young lady.” He growls, his fingers threading harshly between the strands of your hair. “I just wanted your attention, daddy.” You whimper. All the while, you attempt lowering a free hand down between your legs, wanting to brush your petit fingers along your engorged clit. You needed to be touched, fucked, anything.

However, this little action had only irritated Anakin all the more. Another growl emits from deep within him. Hastily, he grabs hold of your sides once again, pushing past your slippery walls. You scream out in delight while grabbing hold of Anakin’s biceps, nails digging deeply enough to break skin. Low guttural moans spill past his lips here and there.

“My attention, huh?” He grunts. His hips now ramming viciously into yours, it feels as if though you might break. Did you care? Force, no! He could ruin you completely for all that mattered. As each second passes, his thrusts quicken rapidly. Low groaning and loud whimpers were all that could be heard within the enclosure of the large bedroom. Sweat beaded both yours and Anakin’s hot skin. His hands groped your breasts, pinching the hardening nipples beneath the thin fabric of your brazier; your hands reached up to yank his hair harshly. Something you knew drove him insane. Although you hated to admit it, watching him fuck you senseless like this through the vanity, turned you on more than you could ever imagine. Still, you did not wish for him to know such a thing. You turned your head away from the sight of you two in the reflection of the mirror. Anakin, however, was simply not having it.

“Oh no you don’t.” He says, harshly gripping at your chin, forcing you to look back at the bare figures through the looking glass. “Don’t you dare look away, little girl.”

Over and over again, just as you were about to approach your orgasm. Anakin would pull you back from it. This frustrated you immensely. Tears began to brim at the corners of your eyes.

“Whatever is the matter, precious?” Asks Anakin, mockingly. He knew what.

“Pl-ease d-d-daddy! I need to cum. I’m s-sorry.” You cry out, right as you feel him brush against your g-spot. A fast interaction, but it still shot nerves throughout your body. The tears now streamed down your face. Still, as he notices this, not an ounce of guilt travels through Anakin. Well, perhaps a there might be a sliver of regret. Yet, he still maintained his ground. Another few seconds pass, when he finally stills within you, pulsating violently before coming inside of your needy Canal. You follow not to far behind, ready to quell the aching sensation between your thighs. It never comes. You never come. You tremble, not from an outpouring of orgasmic aftershocks, but of complete overstimulation. You look Anakin dead on, a dangerous glare so fierce washes over your beautiful (e/c) eyes in a silent rage.

He pulls out of you rather quickly, making you weak at the knees from such prominent sensitivity. Though seeing this, he grabs hold of you, hoisting you up to a standing position. Your legs wobble incredibly as you try to find your balance.

Another sly smirk finds its way upon Anakin’s deceitfully stunning face.

“There are other ways of getting my attention, darling.” He starts to say. Leaning the both of you closer to the vanity mirror, gradually pushing aside the tuffs of hair that clung to your face from pure perspiration. Before walking away. He looks back at you with just as much intensity as you did him.

“Purposefully flirting with the Jedi’s in training, is not one of them.” He adds, grinning maliciously.

AUTHORS NOTE:

Jesus Christ! I’m son sorry this took so long to post. I wanted to do it sooner, but I was swamped over with school assignments and work. I really hoped this would come out nicely, but it’s really bad. I’m so sorry! I tried, I really did. 😭

Tags 🏷 🥺💕

@haydennation @haydens-moles @anakinswhore @anakinswhore @silvereddaye @princessxkenobi @lily-paddd @sydney @sithmyass @please-buckme @anakinskywalkerswhore @psychettaxo

[edgeofn1ght]

Let Him Not Hate Me

Post-‘Deception’ arc gen obikin • 4.8k words • Read on ao3 instead

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On the evening of his full return to the Temple, Obi-Wan deposited his belongings in his apartment, and changed quickly, eager to get out of the garb of a bounty hunter and back into the familiar, comfy robes of a Jedi. He looked around and sighed, grateful to be home. Nearly everything was just as he had left it, right down to the tea cup and kettle next to the cooker where they always were, ready to be used—just as if he had never ‘died.’

Both he and the Council had planned on his return, after all.

There was, however, one exception: his bed wasn’t made quite the same way he knew he had left it, and his top blanket was missing. There was only one person it could have been...

Anakin.

He was also the one person Obi-Wan had been looking for since his return, but he was nowhere to be found, and their bond was shut tight. Which wasn’t at all promising. He desperately wanted to see him, hear him, speak to him...touch him. He could only assume he did not want the same, otherwise he would have found him immediately. But Anakin had been quite incensed the last time they spoke.

In a last ditch attempt at locating the man, he visited the refectory during dinner, scanning the room carefully from the periphery, trying to avoid curious eyes. There, he had finally seen him from a distance—he seemed to be in some deep conversation with his own padawan. Sensing his presence, Anakin turned and they locked eyes briefly, but he barely acknowledged him and continued his conversation with Ahsoka, eventually turning his back towards Obi-Wan. That was clear enough.

So Obi-Wan had gone to the transformation chamber alone to get back his old face—or, as close to it as he could get—then made his way back to his apartment and waited, hoping that Anakin would stop by. He never did.

Then the next morning, he had gotten word the knight had left early for a mission in the Outer Rim. And had done so without saying goodbye.

It had been twenty eight days since Obi-Wan had returned to the Temple. Twenty seven since he had last seen Anakin.

#

After the transformation, Obi-Wan avoided his own reflection for nearly a day. After staring at Rako Hardeen for so long, he didn’t want to look in the mirror and still see him. But he was just as wary of the ‘new old’ face he'd find staring back at him. It had been years and years since he had been completely clean-shaven or had short hair—he really didn't know if he could handle looking like a padawan once more. He knew, logically, he wouldn't look the same, but in his less self-assured moments, he still felt the same—even going so far as to wish he still could ask for some of his old master’s guidance, as harebrained as it could be sometimes.

He recoiled slightly when he finally saw his face—gone, thankfully, were the harsh red facial tattoos and the too-angular jawline, but his completely bald head and beardless face remained. Mace was right, he had been rather ugly. He chuckled to himself as he stroked his jaw and chin, missing the sensation of his beard against his own fingertips, then tilted his head back and forth, up and down, taking it all in. This was actually worse than being a padawan.

It would all grow back—of course it would—but he'd need some patience until then.

He found himself suddenly wondering what Anakin would think. Would he like it at all? Or would it remind him of when they first met—of all they went through on Naboo and after…? Or instead, would it be a constant reminder of the Hardeen mission and what had transpired between them?

Not that it mattered much when he had no idea when he'd see him again. Perhaps all his hair would be grown out by then.

Then there was the matter of if Anakin would even want to talk to him. And if he didn’t want to even talk to him, then he’d certainly not want a gentle touch, a kiss, or anything more than that.

Obi-Wan rubbed his hand back and forth across his bald dome and frowned. He leaned in closer and narrowed his eyes, taking in the lines around his eyes and his mouth. How long had they been there? Were they always so prominent? Like the moles and scars on his face that were also more visible without any hair to detract from their presence.

He never thought of himself as particularly vain (he’d call it more fastidious), but as he stared at his reflection, he found himself briefly unhappy. He could probably stand never having a beard again, but he needed hair—Mace could pull it off, he could not.

He backed away from the mirror, straightening his tabards and suddenly realized it wasn't his lack of hair that made him unhappy—it was just hair, you’re being ridiculous. No, it was Anakin and the way he had snubbed and completely avoided him, then left.

But time and the war went on.

He had his own missions, tasks, and meetings, and his hair grew until his head was covered in a short, soft fuzz, the sandy-blond color that he was told glinted red in the sunlight. It was a bit shorter now than when he had met Anakin, and his beard a scratchy stubble.

He stroked his chin as he made his tea one afternoon, wistfully thinking about how Anakin would probably complain about kissing him now, about how rough and scratchy his face would be. He found himself wishing to even have a chance to hear him refuse.

He eventually managed to talk to him twice in the near-month he had been away, but it was very brief and clinical, necessary conversations about the mission and the war. There was no time for any kind of explanation, and there certainly were no kind or soft words—even as friends. Their conversations were stiff but thankfully civil.

Obi-Wan found himself aching with the void.

#

On the twenty-ninth rotation since he had bade Hardeen farewell, he finally felt a tug on their bond. So light and quick it was, he almost missed it. He looked up from his datapad and out the window to the bustling Coruscant skies. Before he could stop himself, he hesitantly sent back a wave of comfort, I am here. Wherever Anakin was, Obi-Wan would always be there, always ready to meet or talk. He wasn't sure if Anakin would outright reject it, but he had to try.

He jumped up from his couch when he finally felt the younger man’s presence close by, and turned just in time to see the door slide open. Anakin stood in the doorway fully dressed in his usual dark Jedi robes, his long dark cloak wrapped around him. His hair was a bit longer and slightly wilder than it had been the last time Obi-Wan had seen him, no doubt he was due for a trim. The most concerning were the darker circles under his eyes, and Obi-Wan wondered if he had slept at all since he had been gone. But none of these things were as out of the ordinary as the facial hair he was sporting.

Obi-Wan had seen him attempt to grow a beard a few times, but Anakin had always given up fairly quickly and shaved, complaining that it itched too much as it grew. The stubble he wore now made him look older than his 22 years, and it added a certain rakish charm. In that moment, it amused Obi-Wan to think that perhaps he would be confused for the padawan out of the pair of them.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin breathed out, not moving from his spot in the doorway. Just saying his name felt like an impossible thing.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan replied softly, unsure of what else to say.

They kept their eyes locked on each other as he took a single step in, finally clearing the door so it would shut. As he stood there, he clasped his hands in front of his stomach, and Obi-Wan knew he was fiddling with his fingers under the voluminous sleeves.

"You're home." Home. That's what Anakin had always felt like to him, and the Temple had felt emptier lately without him there. But did he feel the same way? Or had their relationship been irreparably harmed?

"Yes," came the curt reply. Anakin's eyes shifted around the room, as if taking it in for the first time despite it being something of a second home to him for well over a decade. He shifted from foot to foot.

"I'm glad," Obi-Wan smiled tenderly but remained in place. He was afraid of moving and spooking the younger man.

Without any sort of acknowledgement, Anakin slipped off his cloak and hung it up on the hooks by the door. Right next to Obi-Wan’s. Right next to the cloak Anakin had given him one Life Day—a fine cloak woven from the best material Tatooine could provide. He shouldn't really have a favorite possession, but it was his favorite cloak.

"How long are you--"

"I don't know, " Anakin said, brusquely, cutting off Obi-Wan’s innocent question.

We need to talk, he wanted to say. I missed you, I love you, he wanted to say more than anything. Instead: "You have a beard."

"You don't."

Obi-Wan huffed, rubbing at the short stubble one again. "Well it isn't for lack of trying, I assure you."

"I thought you were dead." Anakin said, going straight for the bantha in the room as he took several more steps in. Obi-Wan remained firmly in place. Then more softly, barely above a whisper, "I buried you, Obi-Wan."

"Anakin…" He didn’t know how to finish that sentence. He grabbed the hem of his tunic between thumb and forefinger, then curled his socked toes into the rug as an anchor. He exhaled. Anakin didn't give him a chance to finish it.

He swayed backwards, barely holding ground, as his former padawan launched himself bodily at him, circling his arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck—even though he was several inches taller. Obi-Wan held his arms up, hesitant to even touch until he heard the sob, then he wrapped them around Anakin's back, pulling him into a warm embrace. This was home.

He reached up and stroked Anakin's wild curls with one hand and breathed out, "I've missed you." He turned his head and pressed a kiss to the side of Anakin's head, inhaling his scent. He must have come straight off the cruiser without taking time to clean up—he smelled like dirt, sweat, and stale recycled air, but underneath, unmistakably his Anakin.

He ran his hand soothingly up and down Anakin's back as he cried. He wasn't noisy, but Obi-Wan felt every shake and dramatic intake of breath.

When the crying subsided a bit, Obi-Wan pulled away, and Anakin kept his head bowed as he wiped at his eyes and nose. As he bent his head to look at him, he put a finger under his chin to tilt it up. "Why don't you go get cleaned up and I'll make us some tea?" Anakin nodded slowly, still not lifting his eyes to look at Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan reached up and cupped his jaw and rubbed his thumb across his bearded cheek—it was a strange sensation on his Anakin. He smiled to himself when he noticed it was patchy in places. Anakin finally looked up at him, red-rimmed blue eyes made glassy and bright with tears.

"I'm not sure about the beard," he said with a grin hoping it would bring Anakin a little smile, too. But he just stared at him, eyes roaming across his face then to his hair. Obi-Wan could feel the scrutiny and braced himself for the comments.

Anakin wordlessly reached up and gently ran his hand through Obi-Wan’s hair. His eyes fluttered shut. Anakin ran his hand back and forth a few times, enjoying the feeling of the soft, short spikes under his palm, then finally dropped his hand, unconcerned about the beard. "I'm not sure about the hair."

Obi-Wan opened his eyes. "Well, I assure you, I'm working on that, too." That finally earned him a slight smile from his dear friend, even though they were still tiptoeing around each other and the issue at large.

Anakin sniffled once more then walked over to the couch and sat to pull off his boots. He let them fall where they may then stood again and made his way to Obi-Wan’s fresher, discarding items of clothing as he went. Obi-Wan sighed as he bent to pick up the boots and moved them underneath his cloak. He didn’t know where they would go from here, but this was a start.

#

Anakin had left the door to the fresher open which usually would have been an invitation, but Obi-Wan saw it now, at the very least, as Anakin not completely shutting him out. For that he was grateful. Forgoing the tea for the moment, he pulled off his own boots, and laid down on his bed, listening to the gentle noises of the shower.

While Anakin was gone, Obi-Wan had had ample time to think and meditate on what he wanted to say, but now that he was back, he was finding it difficult to know where to start.

At first, he found himself frustrated that Anakin just took off before they had a chance to talk. And hurt. Especially that he took off without a simple goodbye. Anything could have happened to either of them. But he didn’t want to begin with an accusation.

He couldn't promise not to take any more clandestine missions, and he wouldn’t apologize for taking this one—his duty had demanded it and they had saved the Chancellor. He knew Anakin would have done the same, especially as the Chancellor was his friend, even if he couldn’t admit it. But he was sorry that he had to fake his death to do it.

He and Ahsoka had had a good, long talk about it, and in the end he had felt closer to her than ever. Even though she was Anakin's padawan, he always felt so keenly that he, too, was personally responsible for her and cared for her as such. He had been proud of her accomplishments and achievements as she grew right before their eyes.

He had also taken time with Commander Cody, who understood better than anyone what Obi-Wan had to do for the mission. Obi-Wan had been sorry to learn that Cody and the 212th had been sent off on another mission before Obi-Wan’s ‘funeral,’ but Cody had never truly believed it anyway, and thus went about his own duties, positive that he'd see his friend and general again. That had made Obi-Wan feel somewhat better.

Obi-Wan was drawn from his reverie when Anakin coughed lightly from where he stood leaning in the doorway to the fresher. He was clad in black sleep pants and nothing else, arms crossed across his muscular chest. His hair looked darker than usual as it hung limp and damp around his face. Obi-Wan glanced at him from where he lay relaxing, one arm tucked behind his head. He could have waited in the living room, but he had preferred to stay close by. Still, the distance between them felt chasmic.

"Feeling better?"

Anakin hesitated then shrugged one shoulder, “A bit.” Then he rubbed at his jaw. "I think I want to shave though."

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows, surprised he hadn't just done it while he was showering. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Well if you'd still like some tea, I can go--"

"I want you to shave me." Obi-Wan didn't know why the request startled him, but it did. He looked up and considered the younger man, who just stood there and stared at him.

"Oh?" Was the only reply he could manage.

Anakin turned slightly to head back in the fresher then beckoned Obi-Wan over with a tilt of his head. "C'mon, old man, make yourself useful." Obi-Wan smiled at the endearment and made his way towards Anakin.

#

Obi-Wan was alive. He was here and real and whole. For a little over a month, he had dreamt of Obi-Wan being killed in a myriad of ways with Anakin always left holding him in his arms, feeling his life and light leaving him. Even in his dreams, their bond severing was a painful thing. So he had kept it shut tight in order to not feel a thing—good or bad.

He hadn’t felt his master’s warmth since he had ‘died,’ and he missed it. It was more accurate to say he felt bereft. He hadn’t realized how much he had relied on it being a part of him until he no longer had it.

He had not handled Obi-Wan’s death well, not at all, but how could he? Nor had he handled it well when he found out Obi-Wan was alive. Or when he had explained the mission.

Then he saw him in the refectory at dinner and knew immediately he still needed time. Seeing that bastard’s face in Obi-Wan’s clothes was too much to handle, so he ran away to the Outer Rim. He knew it was Obi-Wan then, but he wondered if that face would forever haunt his dreams.

He had spent time talking to Captain Rex and his own padawan while he was away, but he was still far from forgiveness. He tried to meditate, but he had never been very good at that in general. He was always better at it when Obi-Wan was within reach anyway, when Obi-Wan could envelop him in his own warm Force signature. He struggled to control his emotions and feelings no matter what he did, and found his thoughts always returning to his old master even though he wanted to forget and move on.

In his worst moments, he vacillated between never wanting to see him again and never wanting to let him out of his sight.

And now, with Obi-Wan sitting right in front of him, he wanted to gather him into his arms. But he couldn’t imagine touching him again. He wanted to kiss him until he had covered every inch of skin and his own lips were chapped red. He wanted to yell at him until he could no longer use his voice. He wanted to sit down on his couch with him and suffer politely through a holodrama and a cup of tea. He wanted to spar and fight, get Obi-Wan on his knees, begging for his mercy—and his forgiveness.

He didn't know what to do or say. He felt frozen with indecision.

So instead, he merely stood between Obi-Wan’s spread legs as he sat on the counter of his fresher, slowly applying a worked lather to his jaw with his calloused fingertips. Anakin fought to keep his eyes open under Obi-Wan’s touch. He had missed it, dreamt about it, craved it; he had been a man wandering the desert for the last month, and Obi-Wan was his oasis.

His arms hung uselessly at his sides, unsure what to do with them. Normally his hands would have been all over Obi-Wan, touching him anywhere he would allow, but now he was uncertain. He carefully watched the older man's face as he tilted Anakin’s chin to the right, then slowly dragged the razor across his jaw, scraping away the layer of shaving cream there.

Obi-Wan was concentrating so hard on not cutting Anakin that he felt he had more of an opportunity to stare openly at his master's beloved—even now he was still his most beloved—face. Even as different as it was.

He was just grateful it was his face.

He looked so unlike the fastidious Jedi Master, Councilor and High General he'd become in the last couple of years. It was throwing Anakin off that he actually looked so much like the padawan Anakin had met aboard the Nabooian cruiser as they hurriedly lifted off Tatooine 13 years ago. The same soft blue eyes, the same length hair, the same dimpled cheeks and chin no longer hidden behind a beard, the same mole on his forehead, except… Now his eyes were lined, the corners crinkling when he smiled; his temples—though the hair was still shorn so short—were noticeably grey. There were also some new dark circles under his eyes, and when he pressed his lips thin in concentration, there were lines at the downturned corners of his mouth.

When had his master gotten old?

Perhaps that wasn't fair—he was only 37, nearly 38, but the war was aging him. These sorts of missions were aging him. The war was aging all of them. None of it was fair.

Whereas he could barely look at him before, he now found himself unable to look away from his still mostly beard-less face. He was so very handsome, he always had been, but his beard did hide his lovely visage. Obi-Wan was deep in concentration trying not to cut him, but he very selfishly wanted those blue eyes on him.

Anakin lifted his hands and set them gently on the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs and squeezed lightly, waiting for the reaction. Obi-Wan startled and nicked the cheek he was shaving which caused Anakin to hiss.

"Anakin!" Obi-Wan put the razor down quickly and grabbed the towel next to his leg. Anakin didn't remove either hand, despite his bleeding cheek. He liked too much the feel of muscle flexing under his hands as Obi-Wan shifted around. Obi-Wan curled his left hand around Anakin's neck then pressed the towel to his cheek with his right. "I'm so sorry, my dear. You startled me."

"S’ok," Anakin replied, careful not to move his mouth much because of the shaving cream. He was not the least bit concerned about a tiny nick when they all came home with new scars after every battle.

But Obi-Wan’s eyes were finally on him just like he wanted. Anakin held his gaze for what felt like an eternity until Obi-Wan looked away again to check the cut.

Anakin slowly slid his hands up Obi-Wan’s thighs until they came to rest on his hips. He stroked his sides with his thumbs, realizing how much he actually missed his touch. Look at me, he sent across their bond. Obi-Wan's eyes locked with his again, and if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have missed the way Obi-Wan tensed.

Not too long ago, he was sure this was lost to him forever. He'd never see, touch, or kiss his face again. Never hold him. Never hear his own name on those lips, whether it followed a scold or a whispered 'I love you.' And now here he was, sitting in front of him, as real as anything else—solid under his fingertips—but he was afraid he was a mirage or a ghost.

Obi-Wan finally removed the towel and looked down to rinse the razor in the sink. He hesitated briefly before bringing the razor back to his face and continuing. He continued to take in Obi-Wan’s face as he concentrated—every line, freckle, thread of grey in his barely-there beard and hair. When Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes, Anakin wanted to press kisses to the crinkles at the corners of his eyes.

"I take it there's something on my face?" Obi-Wan broke the silence as he rinsed the razor once more. He looked back at Anakin and huffed a laugh at his half-shaved face. He slowly and carefully dragged the razor around Anakin's mouth, down his upper lip then his chin. With the shaving cream finally cleared from around his mouth, Anakin felt it was safe to talk.

"No, nothing so awful as that." He reached up and gently stroked the corner of Obi-Wan’s left eye with feather-light fingertips. "Just wondering when you got these."

Obi-Wan hummed, his smile fading. "I surely couldn't tell you, it feels like one day I just woke up and they were there."

When Obi-Wan moved to rinse again, Anakin leaned forward quickly and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek right below his eye. Obi-Wan watched him while he used his thumb to wipe off the shaving cream he left behind.

"Sorry, I-- I just wanted to do that." He looked down, sheepish, feeling ridiculous. Obi-Wan felt like a stranger. And he hated it.

"There's no need to apologize," Obi-Wan said as he lifted his chin and finished shaving the last few patches. He cleared his throat, "Actually… I assumed you wouldn't want to anymore." He finally took the towel and wiped down Anakin's face to clean off the last bit of shaving cream. "There."

Anakin frowned as their eyes met once again. Obi-Wan's were warm but sad, and Anakin didn't know what to say. They both needed to say things, but not even the famed ‘Negotiator’ had the right words to say.

Anakin leaned to the side to look in the small mirror, his hands moving to wrap around the tops of Obi-Wan’s thighs once more, not ready to let go. He tilted his face side to side to check Obi-Wan’s handiwork. "Not bad." Obi-Wan huffed and Anakin fixed a warm gaze on him again. He moved around Obi-Wan and turned on the water to clean his face. Obi-Wan stayed in place until he reached out and tucked some wayward curls behind his ear, gently pinching his earlobe before removing his hand completely.

"Your hair is getting quite long, too—do you want me to trim it?"

Anakin finished rinsing his face and stood, grabbing the hand towel to dry it. He pulled it down his face roughly, then looked down at Obi-Wan who was staring up at him, a tender but inscrutable expression on his face. "No, I don't want you to trim it, you don’t like it?”

"No, no, I like it," Obi-Wan shifted as if he was about to get down but Anakin placed a hand on his shoulder—he wasn't through with him yet.

He pushed Obi-Wan’s knees apart and repositioned himself between them. He cupped his jaw with one flesh hand, one metal hand, gold-tipped fingers lightly grazing his ginger beard. They watched each other for what felt like an eternity, then he leaned forward and pressed his newly-shaved cheek against his master’s. Obi-Wan remained still—Anakin's cool skin was like a balm against his own warm skin. He rubbed his face gently against Obi-Wan’s then switched sides to do the other cheek. He finally felt the muscles in Obi-Wan's face pull into a smile.

"And what are you doing, my dear?" He asked, fondness creeping into his voice. He always loved playful Anakin—whenever he got a chance to be that way.

"I'm letting you feel your handiwork. Don't you think it's nice?"

Obi-Wan hummed again, "I suppose it's alright." Anakin pulled away quickly in mock offense. Obi-wan chuckled as he reached out and toyed with the drawstring on Anakin's sleep pants, his smile fading once more. Anakin's fingers twitched against Obi-Wan’s cheek. "Anakin, we have to…" Obi-Wan started but was cut off by the press of cool lips against his own. No fire or want, just soft but hesitant tenderness.

Despite the hesitancy, the familiarity and nearness of Anakin was what he had missed the most. Anakin pressed gentle kisses to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his greying temples… But Obi-Wan wanted him still closer, needed him even closer. He placed his hands on the warm skin of his hips and pulled, which encouraged Anakin to wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s back. They pulled at each other until their chests were pressed together. Obi-Wan sighed at the feel of that enveloping, solid warmth.

Anakin finally pulled away and straightened to his full height which allowed Obi-Wan to lean forward and tuck his head under his chin. It felt so nice to hold and be held once again.

“I missed you, I missed this,” Anakin said quietly. More than you can ever know, went unsaid.

“As did I,” Obi-Wan mumbled into his chest. “Please don’t leave again without saying goodbye.” He felt Anakin nod rather than say anything.

Anakin wanted to say the same, but the words were stuck in his throat. Their conversation could wait a little while longer. The tea could also wait. Right now, Obi-Wan was alive and in his arms, and he would never let him go again.

[damn-stark]

The Jedi Master

Chapter 2 of Unfrozen

Summary: You once were a General and Jedi Master fighting against separatists alongside the clones, the next, darkness clouded over and life passed in flash, and before you knew it you’re waking up with no memory running for your life.

A/N- next part, I hope you all like it!!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Since Poe and Rey were tied, what I’m going to do is let you all choose which you like more as the story continues and chemistry’s unfold!!!

————

“So this is our key? A Jedi Master?” Finn asks Rey in a horrible whisper. Your drift your gaze up to the trio and pull your hands from your head, looking to Commander Dameron as his gaze remains on you.

“Do you have a starfighter?”

Commander Dameron blinks in surprise, not expecting you to speak, he shifts in his seat and shakes his head. “Have you seen the ship we’re on? Doesn’t really fit a starfighter now does it? Plus it seems like you may have some type of amnesia, you can’t fly.”

You sit up straight to stand to your feet, looking to the end of the hall and feeling the strong urge to not do as he says and attempt your sudden made up plan. “I can fly, I need to go save my Commander. You heard what they said, they have him.”

Rey stands up and gets in your way as you attempt going out to search for some sort of escape pod. “I can’t let you do that. You can’t, you don’t know if they’re lying—”

“I do,” you remark with a cold gaze. Even if you didn’t have an idea how, you knew. “Search your feelings, citizen.”

Finn beside her looks between the both of you with his eyes peeled and Commander Dameron steps in. “We can’t go back on just a hunch.”

“And he’s my Commander, I leave no man behind.” You interject sharply. “And it’s no hunch, they said it, aren’t you paying attention?”

The Commander sighs and nods, grabbing your shoulder to attempt and assure you. “I understand that, trust me, but getting you back to our base alive is our priority. If you go back there's a possibility that you’ll get killed.”

You step back away from him and begin to pace as you think of a plan.

“Plus, if it’s you they want, they won’t kill your Commander,” Rey continues, “they’ll use him as bait. Besides don’t you want to remember your past first?”

You stop your pacing and lift your head to look at her, frowning and letting out a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Well I can help, but only if we go back to base.”

You hum and sit back down to put your head in your hands again. “At least please tell me what year it is? I,” you pause and swallow thickly at the feeling of a sharp pounding pain in your head, more memories flash, but they’re like if you were looking at someone else’s memories. It was all surreal. “I can’t remember.”

The three of them look at one another and commander Dameron answers for all of them with a sympathetic look featured on his face. “It’s thirty-four ABY. It’s been fifty four years since the fall of the Republic and jedi order.”

Your frown deepens and it seems that at the mention, at the knowledge of how many years have passed your headache heightens. You cover your whole face with your hands and tilt your head down, part of you wants to cry, but the other part doesn’t know why exactly. Your head was in thousands of pieces with only small fragments of it pieced together.

“General….Heart, is it?” You hear Finn's voice ask. You proceed to look up and meet his dark gaze, at that moment seeing another vivid flash of someone else.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around and a smile instantly widens on your face at the sight of Anakin Skywalker, your best friend; you see he mirrors your gesture and you both rush towards one another to meet each other halfway with a big, warm bear hug. “Ani! Haha. It’s so good to see you!”

Anakin pulls away and his grin widens as you two begin to pace around each other in a circle, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the whole universe. “And it’s so good to see you! Damn, it’s been so long! Wow! Look at you! Jedi Master and all!”

You grin and just shrug, “what can I say? But look at you! Look at your hair!” Your eyes scan his shoulder length light hair and you can’t help but giggle at the memory of his previous cut. “It suits you.”

“What can I say?” He mocks you, both of you finally coming to a complete stop in front of each other, still sharing the same gleeful look. “But you, wow, I’m so proud. Turned Jedi Master at nineteen. You’re the youngest Jedi master, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s no problem, it was a year ago, I’m over it.” You assure him.

Anakin rests his hands on his hips and his grin falls a bit, but not completely, his childlike joy still remains. “What is it your clones call you, General Heart is it?”

Your smile turns shy, and you nod, “yep, it’s silly, but they insist on it, so I’m letting it slide.”

“Well, General Heart not to brag, or anything, but I was the youngest Jedi knight to become a general.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely,” Anakin says smugly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “So I guess we’re both making history.” He begins to approach you and wraps his arm around your shoulders to walk you to the briefing room. “We’ve definitely come far, I never imagined becoming war Generals so young.”

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and agree with his statement. “Nor I.”

Your eyes widen and tears sting your eyes, you look away from Finn and grab onto your chest as this sudden heart aching pain starts within you. Hundreds of memories flash through your mind, all having to do with that same young blue-eyed, brunette that just suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly remember his name and what he meant to you, you acknowledge your name from that memory but even that seemed insignificant at the time. You hear the three people before you begin to worry over your current state, but you block them out as the memories of Anakin Skywalker just resurface.

Just the memories that had to with him and nothing else.

“Anakin….” you mouth, feeling the subtle taste of salt in the corner of your lips.

“Did you just remember something?” You hear Rey ask in a concerned tone.

When you look up to her, you make sure to wipe away your tear before speaking. “Uh, yes, my name and a friend.”

“Oh...what is your name?”

“It’d be pretty ridiculous to ask if either of you had knowledge of my friend, would it not?” You ask desperately avoiding her question.

“Uh, depends what friend.” Commander Dameron answers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Again they look at one another and share a look you couldn’t understand, when they turn back to you, Rey suddenly has this assuring look on her face that is basked by the yellow light from the hall beyond the cockpit door. “We’re almost at base, it’s best if General Organa helps you with your questions, she’s much more reliable than any of us could be.”

You nod slowly and grip onto your knees as you reveal your name. “My name is Master Y/N L/N.” You offer them a kind smile.

“Oh well it’s very nice to meet you, Master y/n l/n,” Rey formally greets you with her hand extended out towards you.

You look at it and wrap your hand around her forearm. Which confuses her slightly, leaving her a little stunned and unable to think of what to do until a couple minutes later where she does the same. You pull away after a few seconds and stand up to take Finns arm and then Commander Dameron’s; who seems a little starstruck now. He has his lips parted and keeps his hand on your forearm longer than the rest had.

“I, I just want to say that I’m a big fan,”

“Huh?” You quirk your brow and look at him nervously.

He draws in a deep breath and then swallows thickly before releasing his breath and explaining. “You may not remember, but you’re actually a very amazing pilot, my mother used to look up to you, she would tell me so many stories of you and Anakin Skywalker.”

“Oh,” you grin, feeling a warmth begin to burn under your cheeks, “well I’m very flattered.” You use your other hand to grab his forearm with both hands and just suddenly become very flustered. “Thank you,” you pull your hands away and rest them on your hips, “I’m very honored, as well as proud and upset because I can’t rub it in my friends face.” You smirk, “regardless, thank you.”

“No wonder you seemed so familiar,” Commander Dameron added with a more confident smile.

You look to the other two who just look at the commander with a teasing look, and before they could say a thing, the same blue and white droid as before rolls before you and beeps before showing a hologram screen of a scoreboard that read, “Skywalker v L/N.”, and had a line in the middle that each side kept a score of ten tally marks. You narrow your gaze on it and can’t help but grin brightly at the memory. “Ah, yes I remember now, Ani and I had a racing competition going on, we restarted every couple of months because he couldn’t handle not being the best pilot in the galaxy or whatever he called himself.”

The droid remarks your comment and you laugh for the first time before glaring at him. “Don't make me throw you out of this ship you old fried machine, because I will. Anakin isn’t here to stop me.”

The droid goes on a burning ramble and you recall your relationship with this droid and just ignore him and sit back down to look at the three people just watching your interaction. Rey chuckles, but still looks at the droid with concern. “Wow, I’ve never heard him swear, it’s new.”

You scoff, “new is understatement.”

“Well,” Commander Dameron sighs as he turns to the control board, “enough of that, the ship should jump out of hyperspace in three, two and one.” He jumps on the pilot seat and maneuvers the ship down to a beautiful, green jungle planet that soon showed a small hidden base on the ground, hidden amongst all of the greenery. When the ship lands you can’t help but feel a tight stomach churning feeling, or as if something was going to happen. You walk out as normal as possible, you disguise your nerves and walk through the tiny base, seeing the stares and hearing the murmurs. It’s not until you walk inside a building does your gaze focus on one person, on the General they were speaking of.

Upon sight of you she dropped what she was doing and approached you and the four walking beside you. You studied her and noticed she was very small, old and pretty, yet her determination was unmistakably reconzible. Her brown eyes locked on your eyes and her eyes widened a bit as her face turned paler, as if she was seeing a ghost. Once you all finally came to a stop in front of one another, she managed a warm assuring smile that matched her greeting. “Master y/n l/n, welcome.” She grabs your hands and her gaze turns more sympathetic, “everything must be so confusing at the moment, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that we can help with any of your concerns.”

You tugs your lips into an understanding smile and nod. “Thank you, General. And as far concerns, I have plenty,” you swallow thickly and sigh, “I can’t seem to remember a lot of my past, I’ve been getting some memories back. Piece by piece, but there's still a lot I’m missing.”

The General nods and walks you further into the base. “Well to ease some confusion, I’m General Leia Organa Skywalker.”

You drop your smile and a new wave of confusion spills all over you. You blink and freeze in your spot. “Skywalker?”

“Yes,” she confirms, turning to face you as the others watched curiously, “you may have known my father, Anakin Skywalker.”

A faint smile tugs on your lips and you nod, “yes, he was my best friend, he was like my brother, and,” you suddenly cut yourself off and stare blankly at the ground as the memory slams into you. “And I knew your mother too. She was a good friend too,” tears well in your eyes and your voice sounds shaky, “you-you’re their child. I knew of you, of course you were only a fetus before, but I knew of their secret. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

The general's face expresses different emotions, but she ends up smiling softly. “And it's an honor meeting you. I’m sorry for what happened, to be thrusted into such a new place, a new year, everything must feel like a crazy dream.”

“Yeah, just about,” you nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

“And I’m sorry to put you in distress, but it seems the force has brought you here for a reason. The galaxy is yet in another war and we need your help.”

You frown and keep your gaze downcasted. “Hmm.”

“And before I go into much more grave detail, I think it’s better if we ease your mind and help recover what you've lost.” Her gaze drifts to Rey beside you and she gives her a small nod, “Rey if you could, please.”

“Of course.” Said girl responds kindly, turning to you and offering a warm smile, “we’ll find more peace outside, I can take you somewhere.”

With no choice in the matter you follow after her, leaving the two men and the General behind; walking back out to the blazing sun and the humid jungle air. Even if you knew it was impossible, part of you searched for something slightly familiar, a face mainly. But nothing, you were surrounded by new unfamiliar people. All from a different generation apparently, all just purely new.

“We can stop here,” Rey spoke up, breaking you from your train of thought and stopping in a clear spot. Proceeding to turn to you with a sweet and assuring smile, “I’m just going to need you to clear your mind and meditate. I’m going to just help you remember, heal you in a way.”

“Okay,” you nod, looking down at the new change of clothes she had let you borrow before straightening your shoulders and closing your eyes to take in deep breath, breathing them out and clearing your mind, falling into a deep state of meditation. Not feeling as her fingers gently touch the side of your temple and she slowly begins to use the force to ease your confused state; to heal what was damaged and reel back everything that had been lost in the inner corner of your brain, bringing back a huge wave of emotions that used to be well put away. Causing a pain and disturbance within you.

“Something doesn’t feel right, I sense a disturbance in the force.” A new pain shoots through your head and you fall to your knees, screaming and hearing voices and other shouts, feeling a heartbreaking pain and a breakaway.

“Execute order 66.”

The order passes over your head as you’re on your knees in pain, all you could say was just. “No...Anakin.”

The heartbreaking pain finds its source and the face of your longtime friend fades through your mind and displays an unfamiliarity in his now yellow sith eyes. As hard as you try to hold on and just confuse it as some trick, the blue eyes that belonged to Anakin were gone. You were left suffering until it was too late to notice what was actually happening around you.

“General General run! Get out of here!”

“Ahhhh!” You scream out and fall to your knees, grabbing onto your chest and crying out in pain and heartbreak as everything resurfaces and you remember yourself, remember your time before it froze. Literally.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Rey exclaims as she falls on her knees before you, grabbing your hands and trying to help ease your situation.

You fall on your hands and knees and cry out to the ground. You punch it and punch it as if that was going to do anything. You last in your own little secluded, painful and heartbreaking world for a while, until you could grasp what was currently happening, where you were, what time you were in. You speak up hoarsely and unintinally startle Rey. “I remember, everything,” you croak out, slowly picking up your head to look at her with your bloodshot eyes. “The force, it kept me alive when I fell in the ice,” you sniffle, “my commander pushed me to save me and I pulled him down with me. The force kept us alive.”

Rey’s eyebrows knit together and her light eyes search you for her response. She’s caught lost, unable to find the exact wording to help you. She can only seem to cup your shoulder and try to share an assuring look. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I feel like there's nothing I can say.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure her before you clear your throat and push yourself to your feet, “I understand. Thank you for helping me,” you express kindly, grabbing her hand and failing to smile, “I appreciate it.”

You drop her hands and then begin your mission and walk past her, hearing her quickly catch up. “Wait, Master, don’t you want to know more? I know a way you can talk to your previous master, talk to any master and...Anakin Skywalker—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off sharply, “don’t say that traitors name again.” You whirl around and glare at her, “don’t you dare.”

Rey stops in her tracks and looks at you stunned and mouth agape, gasping at the new sudden change at the mention of his name. She wants to apologize, but you walk off towards General Organa before she could.

“General.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I need a ship.”

“Wait,” she blinks, “what?”

Your gaze drifts to Commander Dameron and Finn behind her and then slides back to her. “Rey helped me remember what I had forgotten and now I need a ship to rescue my friend. My commander.”

“But, we—”

“And I understand you need me help,” you cut her off in a cold tone, “but I need to save my friend before I can help. Your fellow soldiers promised and I promised my friend I would help him. What kind of General would I be if I can’t keep my promises?”

“Master, l/n, I know you’re desperate, but there's still much you have to learn, to know before you go running off.” General Organa tries to calm you down, “I can help, you’re struggling, you’re confused and hurting. Please wait until everything makes sense.”

You fist your hands and shake your head, “no, I can’t, but I'll hear you out after.”

“You’ll hear me out?” She questioned with a pointed gaze.

“Hmm.”

General Organa looks at Rey behind you and then at the two behind her before looking back at you with a sigh. “Fine, but I can’t let you go alone.” She turns to Commander Dameron and her face softens, “Poe, I know I may be asking a lot, but I trust you to fly her to her location and bring her and her Commander back. All of you.” She turns to Finn and Rey with the same look.

“I don’t need help,” you interject, “I can fly myself.”

“You could,” General Organa says as she turns back to you, “but I need reassurance that you’ll return, I need you.”

You look to a ship parked a few feet behind you and then return your gaze to her, adding a feigned smile and a lie. “I will.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- again depending on the interactions with Rey and Poe you guys can choose which ship you like better :) Rey and him tied so I feel like choosing as the story proceeds would be fun.

[writing-is-thorapy]

Angstpril Day 29: Going Dark

Yes, I know it’s Day 30, but guess what? I had zero time to write this yesterday so here ya go. I’m very excited about this one, so I hope you enjoy!

CW: Canonical Child Death

The war is over. 

The war is over. 

Ahsoka can hardly believe it. After years of fighting, years of needless death and destruction, of blood, sweat, and tears, of hopelessness and anguish, the battles were done. 

She’s being summoned back to the Temple immediately, along with the other Jedi. 

And yet… she isn’t really a Jedi anymore. 

All in all, she’s unsure what to feel. On the one hand, there’s a sense of tremendous relief. But on the other… she barely remembers how it felt to live in times of peace. What will she do? Does she want to return to the Order?

That last question, she decides, will wait for another time, when the war’s end has truly sunk in. 

However, Ahsoka does know that she wants to see Anakin again—not only so that they can really discuss things, but because of Maul’s words, which hover over her like a storm cloud. 

He was simply trying to get a rise out her, she decides. His declarations of Anakin’s role were pure nonsense.

She refuses to acknowledge the fear and foreboding lodged in her gut. 

%#%#%

An hour or so out from Coruscant, a sharp pain erupts in her head. Screams of agony and horror echo across the galaxy as thousands and thousands of lights flicker out and die, each one as agonizing as the last.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

Desperately, she attempts to reach out to Anakin, and is relieved to find him alive, though his presence is more clouded than usual. 

Then she tries Obi-Wan… and can’t find him. 

She tries again.

And again.

Nothing. 

He’s gone. 

Ahsoka chokes down the sobs that threaten to burst forth. She can’t panic, can’t break down. Not yet. She needs to figure out was has happened, and must remain calm and focused like she has been taught.

She blocks out the Force, blocks out the pain, and settles in for the longest hour of her life. 

%#%#%

The Temple is on fire.

Huge and thick clouds of smoke billow out the top of the looming ziggurat as flames engulf the sacred halls.   

Ahsoka feels her heart shudder, her breath catch in her throat.

The last time she saw the Temple on fire, she was expelled from the Order. 

Taking a deep breath and summoning her confidence, she flies her ship to the Temple hangar bay. 

%#%#%

The Temple feels like death.

As Ahsoka sneaks through the side entrance, a wave of anguish hits her, nearly bringing her to her knees. She steadies herself and continues on, noticing the dead bodies, both Jedi and clone, that mar the Temple halls. 

Did the clones kill the Jedi? Why? 

Ahsoka steps inside the Council Chambers. 

Dead bodies litter the floor, and it takes her a second to realize that they are the bodies of younglings, each marred by a single saber wound. 

In the middle of the room, a lone figure stands, shrouded in a dark cloak with the hood up. In front of him, a larger body lays unmoving, but Ahsoka is unable to tell who it is.

The individual seems to sense her presence, for they whip around to face her, hand near the lightsaber on their belt.

It’s Anakin—but not.

The Anakin she knows always wears his heart on his sleeve, unlike the expressionless disposition she sees before her. 

The Anakin she knows doesn’t have golden, glowing eyes. (Sith eyes—but no, he can’t—)

The Anakin she knows would never condone such atrocities, let alone participate. After all, she thinks, who else would have done this? 

Not Ventress, who was off doing… whatever she’s doing. Not Dooku, who was killed by Anakin, or Grievous, who was killed on Utapau. Not any of the Jedi.

“Anakin?” She says, a note of hysterical incredulity in her voice. “Did… how…”

“The Jedi tried to overthrow the Republic, Ahsoka,” he responds, voice flat, not a hint of relief at her presence, not a hint of the warmth that was present only days before. “They had to be destroyed. They were traitors.”

“T-traitors? Anakin, the Jedi would—they would never! And-and the younglings? I… What would Obi-Wan think?”

“It doesn’t matter what he thinks,” Anakin snaps, eyes burning with fury. He shifts to the side, his cloak swishing around his ankles, revealing more of the dead body before him.

Auburn hair. 

Light cream robes. 

Blue-grey eyes—that now stare sightlessly ahead.

Oh Force. 

“How could you?” She shouts, unable to stop the tears from flowing down her face. Not even her very worst nightmares, her greatest fears, could compare to this. “How could you kill him?”

“Obi-Wan was a traitor!” Anakin roars in response. “He tried to kill me!”

“He was your Master! He was my Grandmaster! You guys were-were the Team! You were-you were brothers!”

“HE WAS NEVER MY BROTHER! He never cared about me! I was nothing but a tool to him!”

“You know he cared! Nearly every time I was around you two, I could tell. Anyone could.”

“And yet he stood against the Republic. He stood against me.” Anakin brandishes his lightsaber and points it at Ahsoka’s neck. “So you can either join me, or end up like him.”

Looking into his yellow eyes, the glow only accentuated by the dark bags under his eyes, she realizes that Anakin is completely serious.

She may very well die by his hand.

Ahsoka’s heart shatters as she realizes Maul was right all along. 

She has very little to lose—the Jedi are dead and gone, her Grandmaster is dead, and her Master is dead in every way that matters.

She might as well die among family. 

Ahsoka takes a deep breath and meets Anakin’s eyes. 

“I won’t join you.”

Disbelief and betrayal flicker across his face before giving way to anger. 

Anakin raises his lightsaber poised and ready to strike. He starts to swing for her neck and she instinctively closes her eyes and flinches, waiting—but nothing happens.

She opens her eyes to him lowering his weapon, gaze flicking over her shoulder.

“Traitors aren’t granted a dignified death by lightsaber,” Anakin smirks, the expression painfully reminiscent of happier times, simpler times (and isn’t terrible, she thinks, that moments in between and amidst relentless war and death are the ones she looks back on with fondness?). “They’re executed by a firing squad.”

Ahsoka whips around and is immediately bombarded by blaster bolts, fired by men who were once willing to die for her.  

(She hadn’t even noticed the blue paint on the armored bodies that littered the Temple halls.)

She doesn’t even have a chance to ignite her sabers. 

She looks up at Anakin, her Master, her brother, her executioner, and notices the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

With the last of her strength, she reaches toward Anakin, whispering, “you… promised…”

Ahsoka dies with an outstretched hand.

%#%#%

He stares at her fallen body, riddled with smoking holes. He feels the sharp pain of the broken bond, of the death of his Padawan, but quickly dismisses it. She was a traitor and was punished as such. 

Darth Vader grabs her lightsabers and walks out of the Council Room, thoughtlessly stepping over Ahsoka’s corpse.

[lifblogs]

do a oneshot about anakin ft a lot of padme's back ;) maybe some fun times with them and that backless dress after they're married

Okay, so I’m gonna level with you, anon. This really came across as a demand, especially since I didn’t state I was taking requests, so there is an etiquette that was lacking. However, this idea was fantastic, and I’m in a fun Anidala mood anyway, and I know you didn’t mean anything by it. Besides, this fic was fun. Please enjoy!

War Will Tear This From Us

1753 words

read on ao3

Padmé’s breath was labored as Anakin slowly began to undress her. Even after their time spent in Varykino on Naboo after the Battle on Geonosis, giving Anakin time to heal and grow used to his new mechno-arm, he still struggled. But Padmé knew he didn’t want her help with this, that he wanted to do it all on his own.

But maybe—

No.

She inhaled deeply—so deep in fact that she felt as if she needed more air—when Anakin finally managed to have the intricate lace of her wedding dress start sliding off of her. This was all new to her, but it was a newness that she wanted to explore with him.

Her back still bore scars from the Nexu during her attempted execution, but Ani didn’t seem to care. His fingers—both skin and metal that was warming to her touch—brushed against the raggedness of them. The scars would fade in another week or so with proper treatment, but for now they were real, and they were a reminder of what they’d faced together. She trembled from the care of which he caressed her, heat running in liquid trails down her spine.

“Ani…” she breathed, not sure what she had even been planning on saying.

She could tell he was smiling, could hear it in his voice when he asked quietly, “Yes?”

“Shouldn’t we undress together? I want to see you.”

Her cheeks reddened at this admittance, the entirety of this relationship so new to her. Yes, she’d already had her first kiss, and she had been close with Clovis, but after all she’d been through, she was married, and to Padawan Anakin Skywalker. She couldn’t calm the fluttering in her stomach or the soaring in her heart. The light in her seemed to grow even as the burning sunset faded over the lakehouse.

“Well let’s just make sure this dress doesn’t get in the way of you taking my clothes off.”

Again she found herself taking in far too much air. Part of her wanted to hold her dress up over her chest as it began to slip off of her body. Anakin, noticing her tension, pressed himself up against her and caressed her arms.

“We can wait,” he said. “Though the images I have in my mind of you… I can barely stand it.”

For a few moments they just existed together, bodies moving in tandem with their breaths. She could feel the strong, racing beat of his heart through her back.

“No.” She turned to him, and did hold up her dress, just so it wouldn’t slip around her legs and entangle her. With one hand she reached out to run her fingers through his short hair, and then caressed his face, holding his chin. “We’re married, and I’m choosing to do this with you, not because I have to as your wife, but because I want to.”

“Then why so tense?”

Testing him, she ran her hand over his body, and found him tense as well, though slightly more relaxed than her. His pupils grew larger from her touch, and this close to him, she was beginning to feel a hardness in between his legs, pressing against her stomach.

“Don’t pretend you’re not nervous too.”

At that, something in him seemed to snap and release, and she was swept up into his arms. They kissed, a kiss that sent liquid fire down in between her legs, and he tugged the rest of her dress off. Something about being bare before him while he was still in his Jedi tunics and tabard tugged at that wildness inside her. Her nipples peaked, and she found herself moving her body against his, in ways she didn’t know it could move or even wanted to, as he brought her over to their bed.

Anakin was gentle about laying her upon it, but there was nothing tender about the way their mouths came together again and again with the force to bruise.

Oh stars, this was her husband. How had any of this happened? How was she so lucky to reconnect with that boy from Tatooine?

During their decade apart she would wonder what he looked like as he slowly became a man, and now, she wasn’t at all disappointed. He was tall, toned, and now possessed a strength about him that made her want to melt, and with a face so handsome it broke her heart. He was melting into her too, so in love with the angel from the stars who’d wished for his freedom.

Anakin’s mechno-arm found her waist, and he hissed in a breath.

Padmé smiled. “How are those electrostatic fingertips working for you?” she asked.

He squeezed, clearly amazed that he could still touch and feel. His kiss-swollen mouth was open in awe. “Just wonderful.”

Anakin took this time to survey her body, and she was faced with all those dreams he’d had of her, all those thoughts he’d tried banishing with his training, all the things he had tried to keep buried. All of it burned like warming and steaming ice in his blue eyes, and Padmé was sure she was flushing down to the roots of her hair.

He caressed, and, wanting more, she slowly began to open her legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he told her.

“I assume you are too underneath all those robes.”

“You really want to see me naked, don’t you?”

Padmé was breathless as she answered, “Yes.”

So Anakin stepped back, and began to undress for her. Padmé immediately leapt off the bed, completely unashamed by her nudity now, and the ways in which her body moved. She reached for him, slapping his left hand away from his belt.

“I want to do that!” she snapped.

It turned into a war to see who could get his clothes off faster, leaving them giggling. The fight ended with Padmé on top of Anakin on the bed, legs spread over his muscled thighs. He’d just finished kicking off his loose-fitting pants that she had done the honors of untying the laces of, and for some reason she still had his belt. Jokingly, knowing she could explore and play with him, she made to tie the belt around his wrists.

His grin was lecherous.

“Padmé, you don’t want to do that.”

She leaned in, kissed his nose, and asked, “And why not, Jedi?”

“Because I can do this!”

On this, he grabbed the belt, and used it to pull her off of him. He twisted her onto her stomach. Her surprised scream turned into a moan as he pressed against her. Oh, he was hard, and Padmé wasn’t sure since she didn’t have any other measurement to refer to, but he seemed so large. The hot length of him throbbed against her ass. Then that strange, but welcome sensation became a myriad of pleasure as he began to kiss her back, holding her hips all the while.

“What is with you and my back?” she got out, voice low and throaty. 

The laugh that had been building in her throat died as he kissed her topmost scar. That cut had been the longest, the deepest, and it was still sore. But his touch there brought something new to her body. Not pain. But care, pleasure. It brought tears to her eyes.

“It’s beautiful,” he responded, sounding drunk off of her. And Padmé herself was getting drunk off of his voice, his touch, feeling his thighs against hers, closing her in.

She got up on her forearms, and twisted, reaching back, grabbing him by the back of his neck as he leaned in. Even while twisted in a slightly awkward position, Padmé couldn’t stop herself from marveling at the sight of her husband, naked above her. Each muscle had a soft gleam in the dimming light, proving just how hot he was, how much he wanted this. The promise of sweat and movement left her practically drooling, and she shifted against him, moaning with want.

“I love what I see, too.”

They kissed, and then he ever so gently extricated her from him and made her face forward again.

“Stay still.”

“Oh, so you’re going to command a senator?”

“I serve the Republic,” he answered. “But I’m detached from it, so, in a way, I can do as I please.”

“In your dreams. Besides, if there really is going to be a war, you have to follow my orders since you’ll be directly serving the Senate.”

“I thought that was a dictatorship.”

“Fine, then do we vote that I can give you orders?”

“Of course.” Anakin gyrated against her, leaving Padmé even more hot and wanting, moaning beneath him. He went on, “And what are your orders, my lady?”

She pressed back, trying to shove him off of her, but it didn’t work. Instead, it left Anakin holding himself up with his core, running his hands over the front of her body. Their motions turned into a wild thing of desperate, dry-humping, and Anakin’s left hand finding the wetness in between her legs.

“That you stop this nonsense, and fuck me already,” she growled.

“As long as I get to take you from behind first,” Anakin negotiated.

Padmé didn’t even care in which way they came together. They had all night to explore each other, and right now she just wanted him inside her, even while a part of her wondered how he’d even fit.

“Blast, I don’t even care,” she breathed. “Just figure out how to get in me.”

“Can I have help?”

She giggled, realizing that he was as clueless about her body as she was about his—maybe even moreso.

Rolling her eyes, she relented, “Sure.”

Anakin let out a victorious whoop of joy and then continued to lavish her back with kisses, even beginning to lick her. All the while, he lowered himself down her body, and she lifted herself up, ass in the air, ready for him to learn her.

Anakin was an eager Padawan, and with desperate and humorous fumbling, he eventually managed to fill her. With her back pressed against his muscled torso, his cock in her up to his balls, she realized she wanted to experience this for the rest of her life. He held her as he took her, and Padmé gripped his arms, even the mechno-arm.

This was her life now. This was her husband. And for now she didn’t spare a thought for the war that could tear it all away.

[multi-obsessed-fanfic-writer]

A Love Song (Anakin x Reader)

Author’s Note: I know I have a couple of requests to get to, but I had a spark of inspiration thanks to @anakinlove and her reblog about Anakin being able to sing...so y’all know I had to hit you with some angst. But I’m kinda happy with how this turned out?? Idk, I like it. (It could also be terrible I really don’t know) Anyway, as always, requests are open! And I’m always happy to receive feedback from you guys! Thanks so much and I hope y’all like this <3

Requested?: Nope! But it was inspired by that post about Anakin being able to sing. Thanks again Lili :)

Summary: You always found comfort in Anakin singing you to sleep after missions.

A Love Song

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: a small bit of fluff at the beginning? but mostly angst. a lot of angst. and canon-typical violence (and a major character death)

You’re not sure when it started. It must have been after a mission one night a couple of years ago when you were having nightmares. However, since then, after every mission, Anakin has made it his duty to sing you to sleep. You’re not complaining, his singing voice is beyond beautiful and it always found a way to calm you. So, you’d return the favor every once in a while, but it wasn’t the same. Anakin’s voice was special, and you loved that you were the only one he truly shared it with.

“Anakin, love, sing me to sleep?” You smile at your husband, laying down in your bed. You and Anakin share an apartment on Coruscant that both of you try to make it to as often as possible. Since you’re both Jedi, it’s occasionally hard to find time for each other that isn’t sneaking around at the temple. That’s risky business. But for you, it’s all worth it to be with Anakin.

“Of course, darling.” Anakin smiles softly at you and climbs into bed. Then he starts his song.

He sings this song to you every time you ask him to lull you to sleep. It’s a sweet tale of love that he learned when he was a boy on Tatooine. You’re pretty sure it’s sung in Huttese, the common language on Tatooine. Whatever it is, though, it’s beautiful.

Soon enough, you’re fast asleep in Anakin’s arms. He was just as exhausted after your mission you just got back from together, so he sets his head on top of yours and lets himself drift off as well.

~+~

“Anakin, there’s another squad of droids coming in on your left!” You alert your husband as you battle three droids in front of you. Obi-Wan and two other clone troopers are fighting alongside you and Anakin, but the situation isn’t looking good. This was supposed to be a simple recon mission when you got ambushed and everything went south.

“(Y/n), on your right!” Obi-Wan alerts you. You slash through the droid in front of you and heave your lightsaber to your right, slicing through another one.

“Thanks!” You huff out, continuing your assault on the droid army surrounding you. Aside from the two clones left alive, the rest of your clone squad had been taken out. It pained you to see their deaths, but you have to keep fighting despite the casualties. 

“Ah!” You hear another clone go down behind you. You let out a heavy groan, killing three more droids in one movement. You look over to Anakin for a moment, just to make sure he’s alright, when you see that he’s struggling. He’s dealing with four droids in front of him, not seeing the one coming up from behind.

“Anakin!” You yell, jumping behind him and blocking the shot. He deals with the droids in front of him and turns around to see you block it just in time.

“Thanks, (Y/n)-” He puffs, seeing you still in shock.

“Ah-” You look down to see that a blaster shot managed to hit you in the stomach. You look back up to see that there was not just one droid coming at Anakin from behind, but two. And even though you deflected the first droid’s shot back at it...you did not manage to block the second.

“(Y/n)!” Anakin’s eyes go wide as he reaches the same realization, seeing your lightsaber clatter to the ground. You see him leap forward and angrily plunge his lightsaber through the droid that hit you. You clutch your stomach, stumbling back a step before falling.

Before you hit the ground, Anakin has caught you and is now cradling you in his lap. He’s kneeling on the ground, one hand covering yours on your stomach as the other one comes up to cup your cheek. You feel tears prick at your eyes as you try to recover from your shock. Everything seems slow and muffled. 

You take one hand and set it on his cheek, not quite sure what’s happening. You know you’re dying, but it’s not happening like you thought it would.

He grips your hand against his face, the tears starting to pour. He abandons all caution despite Obi-Wan being right behind him still fighting. He grabs your hand and presses it to his lips, kissing it and hoping beyond all reason that he can make this just go away.

~Your perspective~

Everything is quiet. You can’t hear anything, not even Anakin as you try to read his lips. You think he says something along the lines of ‘medic’ and ‘now’ but you can’t be sure.

You feel your eyes grow heavy and you think maybe you should just close them. That would make everything easier, right?

Yeah.

Anakin’s hand on your cheek brings you back to reality, forcing you to lift your eyes to look at him again. He’s saying something else that you can’t discern so you take the moment to commit his features to memory. So that you can always remember him, even in death. You see how red his eyes are and the tears that don’t seem to stop coming. You see how his lips tremble. You wish you could just kiss it all away. You want to see him happy one last time, but you know that it’s beyond wishful thinking for you to want that.

“Anakin…” You murmur, rubbing your thumb on the back of his hand weakly.

“Yes?” You don’t hear him, but the familiar word spills from his lips.

“One...last...song?” You whisper, your glassy eyes pleading to him. He’s silent for a moment, just staring at you in his arms. You know there’s a battle going on around you, but it all seems blocked out as you just stare into your husband’s eyes for the last time.

All of the sudden, your ears fill with the haunting melody that has comforted you for the past two years at least. You relish in the moment, letting the song wrap you in its warmth as the beautiful words flow from his mouth to your heart. Everything else seems so small, so unimportant, compared to Anakin and his voice right now.

A smile starts to form on your face as you continue to bask in the presence and song of your beloved. Your beloved Anakin. His song still seems to calm you in the darkest of days, even in death. 

And as the song seems to wholly wrap you up in love and warmth just like his embrace would, you choke out one last phrase to him.

“I love you.”

And then the world around you goes dark.

~3rd Person POV~

Rage is the only thing that fills Anakin as he lunges toward the droid that shot you. He rams his lightsaber into the droid, immediately turning around to look at you. He sees you fall and his instincts kick in, going to catch you before you hit the ground. He cradles you in his arms, his rage quickly melting into despair. He kisses your hand in a desperate attempt to keep you awake and alive.

“Medic! I need a medic now! She needs help!” He screams, sobbing into your hand that’s placed delicately on his cheek. He’s afraid that if he even holds you too hard, you’ll break right in his arms.

“Anakin, our medic is dead. We don’t have reinforcements coming, we have to retreat when the ship gets here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Obi-Wan grunts behind Anakin as he continues to fight. 

Anakin looks back down at you to see your eyes start to close and panic kicks in. He brings a hand to your cheek, eyes widening and more tears spilling out.

“No, no, no- stay with me, (Y/n), please stay with me… We just have to wait for the getaway ship, you hear me? Please, just stay with me until I can get you help. I need you. You can’t leave me yet, I love you. I can’t live without you,” He sobs, gripping your hand like it’s your lifeline. He closes his eyes and just rocks back and forth. If he can just hold tight enough, then you’ll never leave him. Right?

“Anakin…” He hears you murmur from below him. His eyes shoot open and he sees you gazing at him with such love it breaks his heart all over again.

“Yes?” He asks, not being able to hold back the broken half-sobs that tumble from his mouth as he watches you die.

“One...last...song?” You request, your voice barely above a whisper. It hits him like a bag of bricks as he stares at your barely-breathing form and he can’t help the sob that tears from his throat.

He tries to gather as much of himself as he can, just to comply with your last wish. Your dying wish.

So he does. He starts his song, the old tale of love from Tatooine. His voice seems to travel throughout the space, and for a moment the battle raging on around him seems to still. He feels like the eye of a storm. Tranquil for just a moment as the world around him seems to be destroyed.

He watches the smile slowly form on your face as the two of you just stare at each other with undeniable love filling your eyes. And as the song nears its end, he hears your voice for the last time.

“I love you.” 

And then you’re gone. And so is his spirit.

He cries harder, closing your eyes in reverence before clutching your limp body even closer to him. He whispers sweet nothings to the cold body in his arms. 

“I love you so much...I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you,” He whimpers into your robes. 

He stays there, in the middle of the battlefield, holding your body to his as the men around him fight the droids away from his moment.

“Anakin, come on! We’re retreating!” He hears Obi-Wan’s voice above the static that fills his head. He doesn’t move, just sits still with you in his arms. Maybe the droids will take him, too. Maybe he can be with you again in the afterlife.

“Sir, come on. Please.” A clone lays a hand on his shoulder. This ignites a fire in Anakin.

No. You wouldn’t want him to just stay and await death. He needs revenge.

Brushing the hand off his shoulder, he stands up and lays your dead body in Obi-Wan’s arms.

“Anakin, what are you-”

Before Obi-Wan can finish, Anakin has launched himself into the droid army and is killing as many droids as he can.

“Sir!” The remaining clone yells.

“Anakin, we need to go! This is not the time!” Obi-Wan yells, torn between grabbing his friend or keeping you in his arms. He looks down at you, grief holding him in its clutches. He eventually has to tear his eyes off of you in guilt.

Anakin continues his rampage into the droid army, and it seems for a moment like he’s completely untouchable. His rage has heightened his ability and he slices through the droids like they’re absolutely nothing. 

Obi-Wan watches as Anakin starts working himself to death. There are too many droids, as another army has just arrived, and after a while, Anakin starts to slow down. Obi-Wan recognizes the signs. Anakin is getting tired, but he’s not going to stop. 

He won’t stop until he’s dead. Not if he has a choice.

Obi-Wan delicately sets you in the clone’s arms and gives him a solemn look. 

“If we get overrun by droids, get to the ship. Take (Y/n)’s body, she...she deserves a proper burial. Please,” Kenobi asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer before he charges into the droid army. 

He fights off droids as fast as he can, trying to make his way to Anakin. Anakin is in the center of the fight, still working himself past his breaking point as he kills every droid around him that he can.

“Anakin, we need to go! Now!” Obi-Wan demands, trying to grab Anakin’s arm. He wrenches it away from his grasp.

“No! They must pay!” Anakin growls, almost not sounding like himself as he continues his slaughtering of the droids.

Obi-Wan wonders if he would be doing the same if the droids were people, the thought slightly terrifying him.

“That’s it!” Obi-Wan yells, using the force to blast back the droids in a circle. He grabs Anakin’s arm and starts to run toward the getaway ship.

“No!” Anakin protests, trying to go back to the fight. Obi-Wan’s grip is too strong, however, and Anakin is too tired after everything.

Obi-Wan and Anakin meet the clone in the getaway ship and they take off. Anakin turns around to face Obi-Wan, his eyes lit up with a rage Obi-Wan had never seen before.

“You should have let me back out there! I need to get revenge for what they did to-”

“Anakin, revenge is not the Jedi way-”

“I don’t care!” He screams. There’s a tense moment of silence.

“Don’t say that, Anakin…” Obi-Wan trails off, hurt seeping into his words.

“You’re heartless,” Anakin accuses, “you never even cared about her!”

Obi-Wan stills for a moment before casting a forlorn glance at your body on the floor that’s covered by a tarp. 

“Never accuse me of that. I just watched one of my best friends die and the other one almost kill himself. Anakin, I’m trying to save your life as much as her loss pains me.” Obi-Wan mutters, looking back over to Anakin. Anakin sees the fresh tears starting to paint his cheeks, which forces Anakin to come to reality with the situation. His anger is no longer aiding anything, as there is nothing to attack here. Obi-Wan is not the droid army, he should not hold the same anger to him. But why does he still feel so much pent up rage?

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” Anakin breaks down, and Obi-Wan hugs him tightly. 

“She loved you, Anakin. Enough to die for you. Don’t let her sacrifice go to waste,” Obi-Wan whispers to Anakin as the two of them cry together. Neither of them touches the subject of the love between them, as it doesn’t seem to matter to either of them at this point. Their shared grief, although one more painful than the other, keeps them silent on the matter. 

And for a moment, everything finally seems tranquil.

But there’s a darkness now planted in Anakin, and it won’t stay small for long.

~~~~~

Tags: @anakinlove @official-hitmxn @rowley-with-ackerman @spideyboipete

[kyberphilosopher]

Tʜᴇ Nᴇᴘᴇɴᴛʜᴇ

part ii of ‘the Caim’. 

word count: 4790

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.  Nepenthe... (n.) one that brings a pleasurable sense of forgetfulness, or the erasing of an unwanted memory.

It felt better than last time, at least. 

No, it wasn’t perfect. Nothing was ever perfect when it came to wartime- least of all emotional well-beings. But you had once been at the lowest of all points, and now you could say otherwise. Now, at least, your emotional state was better than others. Better than comrades, friends, and those who you dearly missed without even being allowed to. 

You had known it was a silly thing to do from the very beginning. For one, it was against the code you had sworn to uphold and heed. You knew the Jedi would never have approved of what you allowed to take place, but the sincerity of it all had admittedly clouded your judgement. Secondly, it was simply ridiculous enough of you for encouraging it to begin with. It was even more ridiculous to continue to cling onto what had happened, all within the confines of a slim, onyx box. 

The parchments were fragile from time, but protected from how well you’d treated them. You’d been sure not to crinkle the pieces anymore than you’d needed to. Even taken extra care in not smearing the ink when your thumbs were rubbing over top of it. With a rather unrealistic fear of the papers turning to dust at the very mention of the air, you rarely took them out to see with your own eyes. 

But what in the wide open galaxy could’ve been so precious, someone would never take them out out of fear of oxygen? 

Treasures from your worst time, of course. From Umbara, when you had been called to fill in for General Kenobi and Skywalker on a month long mission in retaking the shadowy world. It hadn’t taken long for you to lose any notion of spirit to exhaustion. Your body and soul had turned sour with a dull ailment, as if you were dressed in the feeling of dry throat. But, of course, you had been prepared to ride this feeling out until the end of your task. 

And then something had made it far more bearable. First only a little, then a lot. 

No, you were never able to prove it. But you knew. And in return, Rex knew that you knew. Whether he noticed your demeanor and mood or not was irrelevant. What mattered was that the man had taken time out of his rather busy schedule to write you small, but simple, declarations of his admiration for you. It was probably the nicest things anyone had ever done for you, and the Captain had done it purely out of his own golden heart. 

So, that was what you kept in the box. Notes from the man who had touched you deeply, and therefor carried you to the end. 

You hadn’t seen Rex since the second siege of Umbara- the mission you’d been involved with. But that was about five months ago now. You had already returned to your own battalion, returned to your own battles, returned to the people who were already counting on you. You still saw Anakin and Obi-Wan fairly often, even aided the latter in a space battle against Grievous. Other than that, you worked with General Plo Koon in guarding the skies. And all was well.  

You never asked about Rex. Though you desperately wanted to inquire of his health, it would’ve been too off putting for both your colleagues and your own men. After all, nobody knew what had transpired between the two of you. And even then, neither you nor the Captain acknowledged it. So it wasn’t like you had much of a right to any concern for him anyway. You weren’t his lover, or even his friend. You were a superior, and it was not much allowed to act as though there was anything more to it. 

Though as your fingers ghosted over the last slip of paper he had written to you, a certain fondness was hard to deny. 

“ᴜɴᴛɪʟ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ, ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɴʏᴡʜᴇʀᴇ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ ᴍʏ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ, ᴍʏ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ.” How were you just supposed to forget that? Though you supposed that must’ve been the mans intention. He hadn’t wanted you to forget it, even if it was a bit of a distraction to both of your duties.

With a slow exhale from your nose, your thumb strokes the corner of the parchment a final time. Then, you fold the paper back up, stack it up in line with the other pieces, and carefully place them back in the black box. You only have to lean over in your sitting position to place the box under the shelf you call your bed. Once you sit up again, you’re met with the boring gray walls of the inside of a Venator. And without realizing it, the last thing you think of before you lay down for sleep, is how you’d much rather be looking at a certain Captain instead. 

You would get your wish.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*. 

You grip the table in front of you as your ship jolts. Overhead, lights lining the ceilings and walls flash red like sirens. A few of the officers and men around you stumble as well, and you just know a trillion more problems are arising. 

“C’mon Plo...” you urgently hiss under your breath. “Hurry up, please.”

As if on cue, you watch his star-fighter spin outside the bridge window, closely followed by a spray of enemy shots. A low trill from in front of you grabs your attention instead, and you raise your head to meet your fellow Jedi.

“General Y/N?” Anakin inquires importantly. “Are you there?”

Another shake runs through your ship, causing your knuckles to pale from the intensity of holding on. “I’m here,” you answer. “Our forces are overpowered. General Koon won’t be able to hold out for much longer. I suggest we-” another shake of your ship. “I suggest we pull back.”

General Skywalker nods his head firmly, then looks around with darting eyes. “We’re coming out of hyperspace now, General. Whether or not we’ll be in one piece is up for debate, though.”

You raise an eyebrow in question. Your fellow Jedi know your lack of speaking enough to understand that this quirk is encouraging them to explain. “We’ve been... badly damaged. Admiral Yularen is out cold. If we stay on this ship, we’re done for.”

You nod as you get the message. “Understood,” you say, and the hologram disappears. “Open up the hanger and lower rear shields. Prepare for incoming escape pods,” you say to one officer. As he nods his head curtly, you raise your communicator to your lips and turn to the bridge window. “You hear that, Plo?”

“Affirmative,” the Kel Dor answers through blasts. 

“As soon as everyone arrives, I want us in hyperspace,” you say to your Admiral. 

It only took three moments before the giant window you looked out to was painted with blue and white streaks, and then a tunnel of indigo. A slow breath escapes you as anxiety quietly builds inside. Skywalker’s plan went horribly. He’d known the Separatist ships had outgunned you and Plo this time, but he insisted you hold your position. You had attempted to warn him against this, but clearly to no avail. Now you’re down a ship, Yularen, and several men. Not to mention all the shots your own cruiser had taken. 

“Plo,” you say into your communicator, slowly. “Do you read me?”

Silence. 

“Plo?” 

“I’m here.” You exhale in relief at the sound of his voice. “I’ve met General Skywalker in the hanger bay. They have wounded.”

“I’m on my way.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

“General Y/N!” Anakin exclaims. His notorious smirk is creeping against the edge of his lips, and his hands are outstretched to make his words all the bolder. Despite his warm greeting, clones are being carried away in stretchers all around him, and your once clean bay is now streaked with skid marks. 

“I have to say, this is one of your worse landings,” you tell him once you enter earshot. Unlike the man in front of you, you were not one to shout your half of the conversation from across the room. You nod once to General Plo as he passes you by.

“Yeah, well, I improvised.”

Clearly, you think as you watch a Clone remove his helmet and gasp for air. 

“We lost a whole squadron of men,” Anakin continues. “Yularen was injured while we were out flanked. And Obi-Wan...” Anakin sighs and squares his jaw. “Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

What about Rex? You resist the urge to scream. Instead, you say, “I can cover you for this one.”

“No,” the man says quickly. He folds his arms somewhat bitterly, though you know it’s not directed towards you. “No. It’s my mistake.”

You’ve barely opened your mouth before someone else steals your attention again. Behind you, a distorted voice rings clear and true. “General Skywalker,” it calls, and your heart gives a great pound, even though you’ve heard the voice over a thousand times today.

You shift your body so you’re half facing the voice. You watch a trooper in blue marked armor march up to where you and your comrade stand. Helmet scarred with tally marks... Blasters on both hips... The appearance only confirmed what you had already known. 

Coming closer, Rex lifts his hands and removes his helmet from his head, revealing his face. 

Maker, had he always looked like this? Or was this a trick of your brain from a new addiction to him?

Bleached hair cut close to his head, striking features and golden eyes. Angular as ever, but symmetrical nonetheless. You hadn’t really experienced attraction much in your life. The Jedi code kept barred you from it, and you hadn’t much of a desire to really seek it out. But you had spent so much time wondering about the man that when you saw him again, even after all this time, you knew at once that not only was Rex attractive, but you were attracted to him. 

“Ah, Rex,” Skywalker says in turn. “Good to see you’re in one piece. I was just about to mention you to our host here.”

You watch the Clones pupils dilate as he bites the inside of his right cheek. Although you’re feeling the same amount of both excitement and anxiety as he is, his discomfort means more to you. In a quick but meaningful attempt to quell his rather put-on-the-spot feelings, you speak first. 

“Captain,” you say steadily. “I’m glad to see you well.”

What a poor thing to say. Could you truly not have thought of anything better to say to the man?

“How are the men?” Anakin asks from beside you, nearly making you jump. You’d momentarily forgotten where you were, and the fact that other people just so happened to exist. 

Rex dips his head. You can see the weight of stress against his shoulders, and a darkening shadow within his eyes. In the pit of your own stomach, a prick of guilt and empathy sparks. Is this how he had felt seeing you in such a state? Had it truly felt this jarring?

“They’re... heavily injured,” the Captain answers. A thumb rubs against the side of his helmet like a ghost, just over the tally marks. “We’re still counting the casualties.”

“If you’d like to help your men...” Anakin trails off. 

Rex snaps back to attention, his voice as clear and strong as any soldier. “I would. Will you be alright without me?”

“Rex,” Anakin assures with a lighthearted smile. “We’ll be fine. I’ll contact you if we need anything.”

Rex is sure not to make eye contact with you again as he goes. He silently questions Skywalker a few seconds longer with his large, amber eyes. Then he puts his helmet back over his face, turns around in uniform fashion, and heads to assist Kix in the corner. 

You knew how dedicated of a man he was before. He had his conflict, but he always put it aside for the greater good of those around him, meaning he was selfless as well. Rex remained hardworking and level headed, which didn’t surprise you much, but still. He impressed you with how he walked and talked and treated other people, you being one of them. Focused, diligent... there was so many things you could say about him. All of them flattering. Instead, you muttered:

“He always was a good man.”

“Well he hasn’t changed much since you saw him,” Skywalker elaborates. “I was hoping to promote him to Commander this year, but I doubt it will happen now.”

Your eyebrows furrow slightly as you turn back to your fellow Jedi. It’s a silent question of ‘why? what makes you say that?’.

Anakin takes a small step forward, which allows you to inhale his scent. It’s an intimate act, though not in a sexual nor romantic way. It’s an intimate act of secrecy, and you’re sure to give him your full attention in the coming moments. 

“Rex tends to... self deprecate.”

Your first instinct is to be somewhat offended on the clone Captain’s behalf. But your mind is quick to quiet this instinct, giving way to the logical answer. 

Skywalker isn’t wrong. Though his phrasing may not be the most accurate, it gets the point across. Rex does self deprecate. He shares the loss with everyone as if it were his own. As if he were responsible for the failure or wrongdoing whether he really was or not. And, sadly, most of the time he’s not. But he’ll never see it that way. 

The Captain considered all the men lost on this mission his fault. Anakin could offer Rex the position of Commander all he wants, but the clone would never accept after a mission like this. 

You turn back towards his direction. Rex crouches down next to his medic friend, occasionally nodding his head solemnly. Even now, in a state that tugs on the edges of your heart, he looks pretty. 

“How long do you expect to stay?” you ask with focused eyes. 

“I don’t know,” the Skywalker says with a sigh. “But you don’t mind if my men stay here while me and Obi-Wan do some recon, right?”

“No,” you answer slowly, the idea solidifying as you watch the Clone push himself to his feet. “Stay as long as you need.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You wrote it out carefully. The grip around the pen was tight and secure, and the letters that bled from it were tiny and neat. In an age where holopads ruled the galaxy, you’d almost forgotten what your handwriting was like. It was nice to remember. 

Writing was simple. It was more peaceful than holding a lightsaber, and you didn’t destroy anything through your hands movements. When the letters appeared at your will, you could imagine a life where they did this all the time. A life on the countryside maybe, or the beach. You’d heard Scarif was beautiful often. Maybe there?

The feeling of sullen peace doesn’t last long. As soon as you finish your statement, you’re back to being a Jedi knight. It saddens you in it’s own way, but you tell yourself it’s for the best, as you usually did. Then, you read your gift over in your head.

ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴍᴀɴ.

It didn’t seem like it was enough, so you flipped the parchment over to the other side and wrote more. 

ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ.

And you meant what you had written, too. Rex, like any other Clone, didn’t deserve the guilt that war brought. He didn’t deserve the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, but he had to bear it anyway. Maybe your little words with alleviate some of it for him, just as it had for you. 

I slip the paper between the folds of your robes. At nightfall, you creep into the darkness, a messenger of your own terms. 

You knew that Rex had received and read your offering. The moment yours eyes met, it was done for. 

You weren’t going to act out. Your face didn’t change in the slightest. Rex’s, however, has shifted his eyes into a widened state, and his lips are parted as he realizes what you have done. Whatever doubts he had about it were now quelled, for at first he had assumed it was a simply a kind soldier. 

Instead it was you, the Jedi he had thought about every day since first sight. 

Slowly, you raise your breakfast bread to your lips. Your teeth break through the little cloud of dough, savoring the dry taste. Rex seems to be paralyzed on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even seem to recognize that he’s in public, in a sea of clones and officers who would be able to read the look on his face if they squint enough. 

You hold the man’s stare for a few seconds longer. Then you turn away, just in time to catch Plo and Anakin approaching you. 

“General,” Anakin greets. You bow your head in recognition. 

“We received a transmission from General Kenobi and Windu this morning,” Plo booms. “They’re on their way to support us best they can, but they estimate they won’t be here for the next three days.”

Three days. You have three days to calm Rex’s nerves. 

You swallow down your bite of bread before you respond. “Any news of the enemy?”

“None so far.”

“We should send out scouts in all directions,” Anakin steps forward. “We have to locate Grievous before he escapes again.”

“He could’ve already jumped into hyperspace by now,” you urge. “Unlike him, we may not have that fuel. Not until Obi-Wan gets here.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex found the second note that evening. 

He’d already struggled to push the first from his mind, but now his head felt like it was filling with clouds. What should he have focused on? Your lingering scent on the cards? The cleanliness of your handwriting? The fact that it was from you? For him? Maker, he hadn’t even said thirty sentences to you, and he was already drunk with love. 

Not infatuation. Not lust. Love. 

With a shaky hand, the soldier purses his lips. He bends over in his blue painted armor. He feels the paper against the fingertips of his gloves. At once, he feels you too. He can’t turn it over fast enough. 

ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ, ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ. ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟꜰ ʜᴏɴᴇꜱᴛʟʏ- ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴀʟʀɪɢʜᴛ? ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ.

Rex’s throat dries fast. The light in his ambers eyes resembles the embers of a fire, alive and awake with the spark of a promise. But the man knows there may be more, and he turns the parchment to the other side, nearly giving himself a paper slice. 

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ᴅᴏ, ʀᴇx.

It’s you. This confirms it. 

You’ve addressed him by name now. You’ve made it solid with the motion of your wrist and the ink of a pen. So how does Rex respond? Confront you directly? No. You’re his superior. Rex isn’t even fully sure he’d have the courage to do that yet. Lead his men into battle? Any day, no problem. Speak to you, with your piercing eyes and your analytical mind? His tongue would tie itself before he’d be able to get any words out. 

Should he write a letter in return? That’s not how this works. Rex remembers he’s out of paper at the moment anyway. He can’t talk to Anakin about it without getting you in trouble. Confiding in his brothers would’ve only led to frustration, lame advice, and court marshals. That’s not an option. 

The only other path is simple: no confrontation at all. Rex rides out the wave of your words until you split paths again. You disappear to do whatever it is Jedi do, and the Captain is forced back into having to find ways to inquire about your wellbeing to Anakin without seeming unnatural. 

But that doesn’t totally seem like an option either. 

Unknown to the man, you sit on security cameras. You watch as he stands outside the doorway of his barracks, clutching the note close to his chest, before you head to your sleep. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Rex is happier the next morning. 

His broad chest is puffed out further than before. It’s not noticeable for most people, but it’s noticeable for anyone who’s memorized the walk and posture of their lover. The same goes for the corners of his lips, which aren’t as dragged downwards as usual. His eyes are bright from a well rest. 

He is physically healthy. You can only hope his head is beginning to follow suit. 

You write him one note, which is read before lunch time. A simple:

ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴍɪʟᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ɢʟᴏᴡ.

Which you could swear resulted in softer expressions on his part throughout the day. No smiles. The atmosphere was too grim and crowded for a full, cheery curve. It’s a bit of a shame, because you meant your words. The thought alone of Rex grinning in sheer joy is enough to make you want to grin too. Still, you understand. Disappointment and understanding tend to go well together. 

After overseeing some construction, you receive a cut along your palm. It is sharp and deep, and the crimson blood seeps into the crevices of your fingers. Despite the stinging, you offer little outside reaction. You are quick to carry yourself to the infirmary. 

Rex leaves the infirmary at the same time. 

You tell yourself you won’t turn to look at him. But then you hear him speak “General, are you alright?” and you abandon your internal swear. 

The promise of seeing his face is too tempting. You turn smoothly, meeting his eyes. “Yes,” you tell him, as if nothing ever existed between the two of you. “I’m alright.” Then your brows crease together. “Are you?”

Rex takes a split second to respond. He is distracted, trapped in his own thoughts thanks to you. “Oh- yes, General. I was just, ah, visiting Jesse. Some friends of mine were injured in the crash, sir.”

Your gaze softens considerably. Your next lines come out without thinking, but they flow as freely as a stream regardless. “You always were a kind man.”

Which isn’t a bad thing to say to anyone, by any means. But in relation to you and him, it feels like a big step. The words sound like something that should’ve been kept in between the folds of paper, and left by the side of a door. 

Both Rex and yourself tense up at the exact same time. Eyes widen, shoulders square. 

But Rex is true to his nature. “And you always had quite the way with words, General,” he says. The end of his sentence is capped with a clipped up smirk, and a charismatic glint in his eyes that is too raw to be untruthful. 

So the Captain finds another letter addressed to him that day, right before bed. 

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ᴄᴀʀɪɴɢ.

And on the other side, 

ɪ'ᴅ ɢɪᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ɢᴀʟᴀxʏ.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

And then it’s the last day that you’ll be together. The day you’d been dreading. The day you’d been putting off. 

You hadn’t meant to get so attached. It goes against your training, your code, everything you’ve sacrificed yourself for. But you’re too far in now. You are absolutely star struck, invested, and trapped in a rabbit hole created by Rex himself. Not that you blame him. You’re glad for it. You could be happy like this. 

You don’t want to lose him. Therefore, a line of thinking pops into your intelligent little brain. It wouldn’t solve all the problems. In fact, it would probably create more. But it would be binding. It would be official. You could escape. 

You wanted to. You wanted to go forward with your line of thinking. But Maker, it was a leap. Would it be worth it?

Yes. If you had to answer now, the answer would be yes. 

An entire section of your brain was dedicated to mulling it over the entirety of the day. Even as you commanded your troops, signaling and training and clutching the end of the holotable with your bandaged fingers, about seventeen percent of your brain power was stuck on the future. 

The answer was reached at the very last moment. 

As Obi-Wan emerged from hyperspace, along with several fighters, your mind went blank. And then the blankness washed away, and all you could feel was the simplicity of a crackling fire, the waves on a beach, and the promise of safety. You imagine yourself writing every day with pen and paper, creating whimsical works for yourself and your lover. There is nothing but peace. No war, nor responsibilities. Only the beach, the parchment, and Rex. 

Rex. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Your lover already received what he had assumed would be the last letter from you. He’d seen it in the morning. It was simple and sweet, and while it didn’t do much to soothe himself from the thought of parting from you, it had made him feel warm inside. 

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ. ɪ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ'ᴠᴇ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ, ꜱᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴋɴᴏᴡ.

So you can imagine the way his dark eyebrows knit together at the sight of another. 

Perhaps it was an accident. The Captain had been returning to his quarters to gather whatever belongings he’d left inside before transferring over to Obi-Wan’s cruiser with General Skywalker. No. That was a ridiculous thing to think. You were simply immune to making mistakes. 

Rex bends over. Again, his black gloved hand stretches out and clasps the parchment up. He is always careful with it, as to not crinkle the memories and sentiment wrapped within. Like you, he is sure to keep everything you send to him in either a box or an envelope for future reference. 

Your last note is not a statement. It is not a compliment to be taken at face value. It is a question, a proposal. It is a leap of faith. 

You got your answer the next morning. Before loading himself onto the transport, your Captain is sure to meet your eyes. You step forward with one foot, searching for any signs. And for the first few seconds you are concerned that he has answered with a simple ‘no’, but then you realize that he is simply teasing. Something you’d have to get used to, it seems. 

Rex gives you a smile. A soft one, but a sincere one. His right hand reaches up, and pats against his armor, right over his heart. He does this one, two, three times, before slipping his handsome face inside his helmet, and disappearing behind the visor. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

You are married on Obi-Wan’s cruiser. General Koon sends you over the next day to obtain information in person instead of holograms for fear of bugs and spies. And, yes, you were true to your mission. 

But where no one could see you, you met Rex in a humid hallway. The lights were dimmed and near glowing red, but the area was totally cleared out. Neither clone, nor Jedi disturbed the lovers, whose shadows were looking into each others eyes.

Rex has your hands in his. They are rough, and a reminder of how you observed them and thought he had stood out at first sight. He still has the scar on his palm, though this time you have your own to match it. This time, you also match in terms of jewelry, for both of your left ring fingers are tethered by simple, silver bands. 

The kiss that sealed the idea was chaste at first. You hadn’t known what to do, though it hadn’t taken you long to through that thought to the wind. Kissing Rex felt good, even if you had nothing to compare it to. It was the kiss you had been waiting for, and the tongue prodding at your lips had only confirmed your suspicions that Rex was an adventurous man. 

And so, in the hallway where the lovers met, all was well. 

At least until Order Sixty-Six came. 

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

finally. 

might edit though, but i always say i’ll do that and then don’t. 

Taglist: @omg-we-really-doo​ @chokemeanakin​ @anakinswhore​ @haztory​ @fanficsforheartandsoul​ @kit-jpg​

[tanyawritesstories]

Caged | Anakin Skywalker x Reader

I've had this fic sitting for a while so it was time I published it. Setting is: Anakin meets the Admiral's wife and falls for her. @anakinswhore I know I've told you about this so here it finally is 😊

Word count: 4,629

Warnings: fluff, blood, mentions of smut, intimate touching, fighter crash, space battles, I suppose I should put infidelity too

•••

The sound of the ship’s guns fueled your feet to run faster. The adrenaline was already pumping through your veins and you weren’t even in a ship yet. You continued your mad dash to the bridge of the Resolute, dodging pilots and officers, a smile plastered on your face. You finally reached the doors, stopping to smooth your dress and fix your hair. You didn’t want to look like you’d just been running half way across the ship at full speed. You took a few breaths to try and calm your nerves, once convinced you looked proper you entered the bridge. Your eyes widening at the scene through the massive viewports. Your feelings were a mixture of horror and awe. There was a huge battle going on outside, pilots on both sides firing nonstop blasts of red and blue energy. Clone officers were scurrying around communicating with the pilots outside and providing a constant stream of information to Admiral Yularen who stood giving orders and observing the chaos. You walked closer to the viewports, mesmerized.

“Darling what are you doing up here?”

You turned to see your husband walking to your side. “I just wanted to see what was going on,” you explained, “Is there any way I can help?”

Admiral Yularen reached you and took your hands in his, “I’m afraid not, my dear. The men have this under control.”

Just as he finished saying that the force of a ship blowing up a little too close to the viewports shook the bridge. You grabbed onto your husband's arm and he put his arms around you in a protective way.

“What’s going on out there?” He asked. “We’re losing men, sir,” a clone officer reported. Your husband slowly let go of you once he made sure you had your footing. “Get General Skywalker up here!” He ordered. “Right away, sir.”

“I can help,” you chimed in. “It’s far too dangerous,” he answered, crossing the room. You followed him, “Wullf, please. You know I can help, let me help,” you begged. “There is no need,” he said, turning to you, “Skywalker will be up here soon and he can manage it.” “But what if he’s not enough,” you suggested.

“Trust me, my dear, he will be.”

Just after that the bridge doors opened again to reveal a man clad in dark Jedi robes, messy brown hair and striking blue eyes.

You had never met Anakin Skywalker before, in fact this was the only time you were allowed on the war front. You had heard your husband talk about him, from the way he talked you could tell that Skywalker must be somewhat of a pain in the ass. But your husband did respect him and the fact that he got things done, even though he may not like the way he goes about getting them done.

“Ah, General Skywalker, just in time, we’ve got quite a mess on our hands,” Wullf addressed the General. “I can see that Admiral,” he said with an amused look, “I assume that means you need my help to clean it up.”

“If it’s not too much trouble,” your husband said sternly, you could tell he was irked. You bit your lip and looked away to try and keep yourself from laughing as you stood at his side. “Well, it won’t be easy with the small amount of pilots we have left, but I’ll do my best,” Skywalker affirmed. You couldn’t keep quiet this time.

“See, that’s how I can help! My fighter is in the hangar, I can easily jump in and help lessen the number of droids out there,” you rambled. Your husband gave you a stern look and you shrunk back a little. “And who might you be?” Anakin asked with a smile. Wullf put an arm around your back, “General, allow me to introduce my wife: (Y/n) Yularen. (Y/n), this is Jedi General Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin reached out his hand and you took it, he brought your hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. You couldn't be much older than him, quite young to be married to the Admiral who was much older than you. “A pleasure, m’lady,” he said. Your cheeks flushed slightly at his actions, “The pleasure is all mine and call me (Y/n) if you don’t mind.” Anakin nodded in acknowledgment. “Are you a pilot?” He asked. “One of the best in my opinion,” your husband answered, “She has quite the reputation on our home planet, but I thought it best for her safety to keep her out of the war.”

Your face hardened and you looked away again. You knew Wullf loved you but he was keeping you from using your natural talents to help save lives, something you desperately wanted to do. It felt wrong that you just sat in your comfortable home all day knowing there were people out there fighting and dying to keep you safe. Not to mention your husband putting himself at risk too. That was why you had begged and pleaded with him to bring you along on his latest campaign, an idea he wasn’t too fond of. You had listed all the reasons you had behind wanting to and promised you wouldn't get in the way but you would help wherever you could. After pestering him for three days, he finally relented and let you come along.

“I think you made a wise choice, Admiral,” Anakin stated. You rolled your eyes. Great, another person who thought you were some damsel in distress who couldn’t hold her own in a fight. “However,” Anakin started, your attention being drawn back to him “Considering the circumstances I would be very grateful for her assistance.” Your husband’s jaw dropped, “You can’t be serious? It’s a war zone out there! She could be killed!” You stood in front of your husband and put your hands on his chest in an attempt to calm him down.

“Wullf, I’ll be fine. Did you forget that I was the one defending our property and myself from pirates and bounty hunters while you were gone? Have I ever failed? Have I ever been hurt?”

He sighed, “No, you haven’t. I just wish there was some way I could protect you.” “You can,” you smiled, “I’ll be flying outside, you know what my ship looks like, you can keep an eye on me.”

“If it’s any consolation, Admiral, I can send my padawan out there, she can keep an eye on your wife,” Anakin offered. He looked between you and Anakin, making up his mind. “It would make me feel better, yes. Alright, you can go, but be careful,” he warned.

A huge smile spread across your face and you threw your arms around Wullf’s neck. You pulled back and gave him a big kiss on the lips, his eyes widening in shock as he tried to process your reaction. You pulled away before he could even think of kissing you back and ran to the door,

“C’mon no time to waste, let’s go!” Anakin watched you run to the door, his eyebrows high up on his face, just as shocked as the Admiral at your outburst. He turned to face the stunned man. “She’s your wife?” He asked with disbelief. “C’mon Skywalker no time to lose, the men need our help!” Anakin smiled and joined you at the door. “Don’t do anything reckless!” Wullf called. “No promises,” you and Anakin replied at the same time. You both laughed before running out the door, leaving your husband shaking his head and already regretting his decision.

You ran alongside Anakin as you both dashed to the hangar. He was a little surprised that you could keep up with him considering you were wearing a baggy floor length dress. A dress, how were you going to fly in that?

“I don’t know how you’re going to fly in that,” he addressed, looking at your dress. You stopped running, Anakin stopping a few feet ahead of you. “No worries,” you said. You undid the back of your dress and let it fall to the floor, revealing the pilot jumpsuit and gear you had been wearing underneath it. Anakin stared, impressed. You picked the dress off the floor and threw it into a nearby maintenance room. “Good to go,” you said and began running again. He watched you run for little before catching up with you, he liked you a lot already.

You were about halfway there when Anakin tapped the comm device on his wrist. “Ahsoka, I need you in the hangar.” A spritely voice responded through the device, “Already there, master. The last of our pilots are heading out.” “Good, I’ll be down there soon.”

You and Anakin made it to the hangar and he led the way over to a couple of Jedi fighters. There was a young Togruta girl talking to a high ranking clone in blue armor who promptly ran to his men after she motioned to them. You and Anakin approached and she turned to face you.

“Are we all set, Ahsoka?” He asked. “Yep,” she chirped, she noticed you and curiously looked you up and down. “This is (Y/n), Admiral Yularen’s wife,” Anakin introduced. “I didn’t know the Admiral was married,” she replied. “Neither did I but according to him she’s quite the pilot and she wants to help, I need you to keep an eye on her.” Ahsoka looked taken aback. “Hey, why me? If she’s as good as he says she is can’t she look out for herself.” Anakin’s eyes narrowed at her for a second, “I’m sure she doesn’t, but I promised the Admiral we’d both keep an eye on her.” She crossed her arms, “ok.” You liked her, she reminded you of yourself at that age.

“Don’t worry about me Ahsoka, I can handle myself,” you assured. “I’ll see you out there.” You began jogging to your ship and Anakin soon caught up to you. “Mind if I take a look at your ship? It won’t take long.” You agreed and jogged to your ship.

It was an interesting looking thing, definitely customized. It held the same shape as his Jedi fighter but with three extending wings on each side, there was a blaster cannon at the end of each wing. There was a green and orange astromech on the front right side just above two holes that looked like they were for missiles.

“Wow,” he said, “Where’d you get it?”

“I made it,” you answered. “I took parts from about 50 different ships and threw it all together to make this beauty. Three wings on each side, the top and bottom ones flare out, the middle one is stationary,” you moved to the back of the ship and Anakin followed you. “This compartment down here contains droppable bombs and seismic charges.” “Where did you get weaponry like this?” Anakin questioned. “When your husband is in the military it’s not too hard,” you informed him with a smirk. You moved to the front, “The holes here are for missiles, tracking torpedoes, and occasionally Ion shot. And, of course, you have my R9 astromech in front.”

Anakin was impressed, beyond that, hearing you talk about your ship with knowledge and admiration was incredibly attractive. More so, it was hot. He wondered for a moment how you ended up marrying someone as boring and serious as Admiral Yularen when you were so clearly his opposite.

“An R9, huh? Where did you come by one of those?” You placed your hand on the droid's head. “Traded an old ship for him, he wasn’t in the greatest shape when I got him, so I polished him up, added some new parts and now he’s good as new.” You said proudly. Anakin crossed his arms and smirked at you, “Impressive, can’t wait to see you in action.” He winked at you and took off to get in his own ship.

You found yourself blushing again and you climbed into your ship. The cockpit closed and you powered up the ship by pressing a number of buttons and switches. You opened your comm channel and could hear the other pilots communicating. You raised your dual steering handles and the ship lifted into the air. With a turn and twist you were shooting out into space. You flipped a switch and the wings on your fighter fanned out, the guns were ready to go. The battle came to you the second you were out the hangar doors, you swerved and dodged avoiding the bullets being shot your way. The familiar tingle of adrenaline started coursing through your veins making the hair on your arms stand up.

Go time.

You thrusted the handles forward and rocketed into the fray. “The cavalry has arrived, boys,” you heard Anakin say over the channel. You smirked and picked out your targets heading for two vulture droids that were chasing another pilot. You pulled up behind them and easily shot them both down, picking out four more targets. You swept under the pilot you saved and sped to take down the others. After taking out at least a dozen droids in only a few minutes, the clone pilots had noticed you.

“Who is that?” You heard one of them ask. “It’s (Y/n) Yularen at your service, thought you boys could use some help out here,” you answered. “It’s appreciated, sir,” another pilot answered. Ahsoka and Anakin kept a lookout for you though you were proving you most definitely did not need it.

~~

It had been at least an hour and you were no closer to winning. You had shot down 76 droid fighters but they just kept coming. "We need to take down those enemy cruisers or we'll never win this battle," you said.

"If you have any ideas let us know!"

You quickly thought of something you hoped would work. "Bridge, patch me through to the Admiral," you requested. "On it, sir." After a couple seconds your husband's voice came over the comm, "(Y/n), you doing alright out there?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I have an idea on how to take out those cruisers." There was silence on the other end, "I'm listening." "Ok, my seismic charges will blow through anything. If I can get close enough, I can drop a few and take out one of the cruisers."

"Tell me you're not serious," he replied, "That's a death wish!"

"No," you bargained, "I can get past their defenses and take one out, I know I can!” “(Y/n), reinforcements are on their way, just wait-” “But Wullf I can finish this!” You pleaded. “No!,” he snapped, “You’ll stay near the ship and take out the smaller fighters, that is an order!”

Your mouth opened in shock, he had never ordered you to do anything and never used that tone of voice with you either. It sent a twinge of pain through your chest, your eyes brimmed with tears but you quickly blinked them away. “Yes, sir,” you answered, sadness in your voice.

Anakin was angry, plain and simple. He knew you had the power and ability to end this battle and your husband wasn’t letting you. To add to that, Anakin could tell that you wanted to help more than anything, and it was awful to hear the Admiral yell at you over the comm channel. But what had sealed the deal and made Anakin seethe was your reply, your tone clearly betraying that you were on the verge of tears and hurt by your husband’s words. He saw your ship turn and continue to shoot down droids, staying within the vicinity of the bridge viewport. He was being too controlling, not letting you be who you wanted to. Anakin liked you, maybe a tad too much.

About several minutes passed and you noticed another thing coming from the enemy cruisers. Bombing ships. They started flying towards the surface and you knew exactly what their plan was.

"Those bombers are heading for the surface," You called out, "I'm going after them."

"No! (Y/n), stay up here," Wullf said. "I don't have a choice," you turned your ship to follow the bombers. "(Y/n), I'm warning you-" You clicked off your comms and shoved your control handles forward, heading full speed towards the bombers and the surface of the planet.

Meanwhile, Anakin was witnessing the panic on the comm channel. The Admiral was shouting your name, wondering why you weren't answering. Other pilots and officers were responding saying you'd turned off your comms. Your husband was trying to order some of the pilots to go after you, but he had a better idea.

"Admiral, I'll go after your wife and bring her back safe. Ahsoka, stay up here and help. Make sure Obi-Wan gets here and those droids are taken out." He flicked a couple switches and followed after you. "Will do, Master," Ahsoka responded.

~~

You shot towards the surface, hot on the trails of the four bombers. You pulled up close behind one and lowered your ship. You targeted the bomber in front of the last one and fired a torpedo. Your weapon hit its target and exploded, taking out the last ship. You dodged and followed the other two ships into the planet's atmosphere. You aimed and easily shot down the second to last one. You aimed again but the droid bomber gave chase and you followed it across the surface of the planet, taking sharp turns and spins. Finally, you had it in your sights. You focused on your targeting computer and waited until the lights blinked then fired. Torpedos shot out and the ship burst into a cloud of fire and metal.

“Woo!” You celebrated. A sudden blast rocked your ship and looked behind to see another enemy ship had followed you. You went to turn but it was too late, the droid shot at your engines and they immediately caught fire. Your ship hit the ground and one of the wings caught on a boulder sending your ship spiraling along the ground, tossing you around in the cockpit. You tried to stabilize yourself but it was impossible, your head hit the metal of a control panel and your vision went black.

Anakin saw the droid fighter take its shot and the instant fire in your engines. He fired and took out the fighter just in time to see your ship rolling along the ground headed right towards a huge cliff. He ejected himself out of his ship and landed on the ground, holding out his hands to stop your ship from rolling over the edge. He stopped it upright and ran to it, climbing on top. He looked inside and saw you slumped over in your seat unconscious with blood covering the left side of your face. He ripped the hatch off with the force and gently took your body in his arms. The movement shook you back awake and you clung to Anakin as he lifted you out of the burning ship.

“Can you walk?” He asked. “I think so,” you responded, wincing.

Anakin put your arm around his shoulders and you both moved to get away from the ship. You were going as fast as you could when there was a huge explosion behind you and Anakin shoved you to the ground, covering your body with his and also trying not to crush you. You held onto him for dear life until he said it was safe to get up. The first thing you saw was what little remained of your ship, flames and hunks of metal scattered around, it kind of made you sad.

“I’m gonna miss that ship, she served me well,” you reminisced. “Let’s get away from this, we need to get you patched up somehow,” Anakin addressed. Your legs were jelly and he kindly offered you his arm for support.

Now that you were calm you could actually take in your surroundings. The top of the plateau you were on was a meadow, the grass wasn’t too long and there were flowers growing throughout. There was a tree line not far away and a decent sized stream that ran out from the trees and tumbled down the cliff. You were vaguely aware of your injury, the pain hadn’t set in yet and you hoped Anakin could get it dressed before that happened.

“Let's sit you down right here,” Anakin said, he took hold of your arms and lowered you to the ground. “I have bacta patches in this,” you pulled a small container off your belt and handed it to him. He gently dabbed at the blood and pain shot through you. You grabbed his arm and bit your lip to try and keep from crying out. He apologized and continued cleaning the wound. You sighed and Anakin could sense you were upset but it wasn’t about the injury you had sustained.

“Wullf will not be happy when he finds out I got hurt,” you pondered, “I’ve never crashed in my life.” Anakin couldn’t stop the words that came out of his mouth.

“Do you care if he’s happy?”

“Excuse me?”

Well, there was no going back now. “It seems to me like he gets in your way a lot,” Anakin said as he applied the bacta patch. “No, he just.. well, yes but.. he thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

Anakin lowered his hands from your head but your hands stayed on his arm. You noticed and took your hands away, “I should comm him and tell him I’m alright.” Anakin removed the comm device on his wrist and handed it to you. “Here, use mine.” You smiled and thanked him, getting the device working in seconds. Your husband answered and you told him you were alright and that Skywalker was with you.

“Good, that makes me feel somewhat better. General Kenobi is here and as soon as we end this battle we’ll send a gunship down to get you,” Wullf informed. “Sounds good,” you replied, making sure to sound happy, “He and I have plenty of resources around us, we’ll be fine.”

“That’s good to hear, you’re not hurt are you?” You paused and looked at Anakin to find him already looking at you, curious as to what you’d say. “Nothing but a few scratches, darling,” you reassured, “Stay focused, I’ll see you soon.” You clicked off the device and exhaled a sigh of relief, handing it back to Anakin. You mumbled an ‘excuse me’ and stood up, walking a few meters away to sit next to the stream and splash water on your face. Everything was slowly hitting you now, you had disobeyed your husband and nearly gotten killed, your ship was destroyed and Anakin’s had gone off the cliff while trying to rescue you, and the only emotion you could find for the whole situation was anger.

“Do you lie to him often?” You turned to see Anakin standing a few feet away. “I try not to, but he gets distraught over me easily.” Your anger came to the point of not caring who you were talking to, you needed to let it out.

“I don’t understand how he can boss me around like I’m one of the officers he commands? I’m his wife! Yet all he does is toss me in a dark corner and tell me not to move. It’s unfair! I want to be out, in space, flying and fighting. I know I can help, I know I can do more but he just won’t let me!” You ranted. You leaned your back against a large rock and huffed, “I just don’t understand.” Anakin sat down next to you, “You’re a wild one,” he observed, “and Yularen is trying to tame you.”

Anakin was still, if not more, angry at the Admiral, but right now he just felt sorry for you. You were like him: reckless, energetic, adventure seeking; he didn’t understand why the Admiral wouldn’t want someone like you. Anakin knew he did, and he knew your husband was treating you wrong. He couldn’t help but think how much better he would treat you if you were his.

“I just always feel limited, like I can’t do anything I want to do,” you continued to rant, “I want to fight in the war, and fly to as many planets as I can, and go galavanting after evildoers. He doesn’t let me do anything like that.” Anakin took your hand in his, “You feel like you’re in a cage, don’t you?” Your lips parted and you began to calm down, “Yes, exactly.” He moved his hand from yours to rest it on your knee, “I’m sorry.”

You unzipped the front of your pilot jumpsuit down to your stomach and opened it a little, allowing for air flow to your upper body. You didn’t care that you were only wearing a bra underneath it, you trusted Anakin and you liked him, a lot. You both had so much in common and the thought of him being your husband instead of Wullf passed through your head briefly. You knew it was wrong, but you were drawn to Anakin, he had everything you wanted.

The fact that he was now at a near perfect angle to see the cleavage you just exposed did not help Anakin’s current situation. He was already falling for you, the thoughts of stealing you from the Admiral now passing through his mind without shame. You had already stirred his system earlier when you were swaying around your ship, proudly showing it off. Even while you were angrily ranting about how your husband doesn’t treat you right, all Anakin could focus on was your flushed face and how your chest was rising and falling between breaths. You were hot when you were mad and he would be lying if he said it didn’t go straight to his groin.

Now he was staring unashamedly at your breasts while you looked off into the distance. He couldn’t resist and began slowly moving his hand up until it was resting on your thigh. Your thinking was interrupted by the sensation of fingers dancing on your inner thigh. It was pleasant and sent tingles through your legs and abdomen. You looked at Anakin and his face flashed with panic as he quickly removed his hand.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No,” you cut in, “Please, don’t stop.” Anakin’s eyes darkened and he moved closer so your shoulders were touching, you sounded so desperate, like you had been deprived of touch for years. He put his hand on your cheek and pulled your face closer to his. He looked between your lips and your eyes, silently asking for consent which he found when you nodded. He pulled you to him and your lips connected in a heated exchange. Oh how wrong you knew this was, but you were addicted first try. Anakin tasted like mint and sweat and you were hooked. His hand moved from your cheek downwards, he found your breast and squeezed lightly. His actions sent heat directly to your core and you moaned into his mouth. Anakin broke away and observed your reaction, your eyes were clouded with lust and he could sense just how much you wanted him.

“When was the last time he touched you?” Anakin wondered. “Our wedding night, a year and two months ago,” you confessed. “That’s a long time to go without any special attention,” he spoke, voice smooth, “I bet you need some, huh?”

You whimpered out a yes. “You want freedom don’t you?” He pushed the top of your jumpsuit off your shoulders. “Come here, I’ll show you what freedom tastes like.”

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 11

We continue onward with the oof!au (part 11). They’ve got a long road back to being alright, but they’re taking some of the first steps.

General Info: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Eventual happy(ish) ending. Past/eventual Codywan. Previous one-sided Vaderwan. 

WARNINGS: Consideration of past injuries, past non-con, and past torture. Processing the loss of a limb. Fall-out from mind control. Emotional trauma.

No 10. THEY LOOK SO PRETTY WHEN THEY BLEED 

Blood Loss | Internal Bleeding | Trail of Blood

Obi-Wan’s head hurt. Everything else, he noted, as he swam up through the dark of unconsciousness, hurt as well. He was long ago grown used to that; it barely registered, really, and he wished he’d stayed unconscious.

But something had woken him. Something besides the pain. He blinked his eyes open, expecting the gray walls of his cell, or, perhaps, if he were very unlucky, the inside of Anakin’s private chambers, a shudder moving through him as he took stock of his surroundings.

He blinked across at a gray wall, vaguely aware of voices and, impossibly, the hum of hyperdrive engines. For a long moment the world made no sense. He reflexively stretched out his senses with the Force, half-remembering that it wouldn’t do any good, that he was collared and--

Sensation slammed into his head, flowing through him, as though the Force had just been waiting for him to open a pathway. He felt -- so much -- too much -- all at once. Emotions swam up into him; anger and guilt and regret and hurt and --

Obi-Wan gulped for breath, letting the emotions flow through him, accepting them and letting them go, burning his nerves and leaving him shaking. He could have attempted to block them, to shield away from the feelings, but the touch of the Force was such a relief.

He’d thought, honestly, that Anakin would kill him before he ever felt the embrace of the Force, ever again. He could not bring himself to shy away from it, even though it hurt, shaded and full of agony, radiating from all around him. He remembered, distantly, throwing himself into it, in Anakin’s throne room, desperate to stop Anakin from hurting his men. Beyond that, things were blurry. Cody had - impossibly - been himself again, somehow.

Obi-Wan had thrown himself into a healing trance, feeling all the damage inside his body, trusting that Cody would get him out, and then he’d….gone away, for awhile. Pain brought him back.

He knew how to handle pain. He knew how to breathe through it, until the emotions became a sort of background hum, filling him but not disallowing other thought. He sipped at the air, blinking at a gray ceiling, focusing on untangling the snarl of the Force around him.

He was...surrounded by troopers. He knew their minds so well. The way their thoughts moved was familiar and comforting, even if they all felt unwell, as though they’d been broken and left in shattered pieces. His men were hurt, and the thought dug down into him, past the confusion and disorientation. His men were hurt; he had to help them.

He lurched to sitting, reaching up to grip at the side of his head, hissing as the movement pulled at the wounds scattered across his body. Something tugged at his arm and he looked down at the little I.V. tucked in at the curve of his right elbow. The only elbow he had left, he remembered, with a shivery, unpleasant feeling.

Obi-Wan glanced to his left arm, gut clenching as memory clawed into his head. Anakin had circled him, made him stand, staring into the faces of his men, made his stretch out his arm, purred, “This is only fair, isn’t it? Say it, Obi-Wan.”

And he had, because the alternative was worse.

Obi-Wan made himself look, really look, at all that remained of his left arm, and swallowed convulsively. The lightsaber had, at least, kept him from bleeding out. The scars around the abbreviated limb were thick and dark. He jerked his gaze away, taking stock of the pieces of him that remained, the I.V. coming out of his other arm.

The line led to a hanging bag of fluid. It was swaying, gently, from his movement. He was… sitting on a little medical bed. There was a medical droid, puttering around close to him, changing course to approach.

The walls were not terribly familiar, nothing he’d seen exactly before, but they reminded him of the set-up on the Negotiator, his fine ship, destroyed like so much else and-- He shook those thoughts aside.

He was… on a ship. He considered, with a shiver, that perhaps he had not hallucinated Cody crouching in front of him, promising that Anakin was dead, that they were getting out, all of them….

He rubbed at his head, hissing again as his fingers brushed bandages and the edge of stitches. He’d… been hurt, hit on the head. He recalled that, when he tried to focus. He’d been… fighting Anakin. Anakin, who had been so sure of the utter success of his plans, so sure that he’d found a way to keep Obi-Wan pinned right where he wanted.... 

Anakin had always been sloppy. Over-confident when he caught the briefest edge of success. Obi-Wan had tried to help him move past that, tried to offer him training and advice. He was grateful, all at once, that Anakin had never learned those lessons.

Obi-Wan scrubbed at his face and asked, as the droid rolled to a stop before him, his voice still a rasp - he wondered, absently, if he’d ever recover, “I don’t suppose you could tell me where I am?”

Cody had, obviously, carried him to the ship. Or perhaps he’d walked under his own power. His memories were a jumbled mess, confused by the head injury he’d taken. The droid chirped at him, irritably, something about his injuries and staying still. 

Obi-Wan ignored it. Someone had tended to his wounds. He was bandaged across his chest and side, the smell of bacta heavy in his nose. The smell made his stomach twist, nauseatingly, associated with injuries, with laying in a cell, with wondering what Anakin would do to him next, and--

Obi-Wan swallowed bile, shaking his head. 

He wanted to know what had happened. He had jumbled memories of talking to Cody, really Cody, not the other person who he’d been turned into. Cody had lifted him, hadn’t he? Held him with shaking hands? Hadn’t he?

Obi-Wan stretched out his thoughts again, working to maintain some level of control. He searched for Cody’s mind and got--a blur back. A presence, but dim and hurt. Unconscious. His heart tripped over, jerking unpleasantly in his chest, and he stood, ordering the droid, “Take this out,” and stretching out his arm.

The droid told him to get back on the bed and he scowled at it. He could probably figure out how to remove the I.V. with one hand, but it would take time, and he, abruptly, didn’t feel very patient. He grabbed the bag, instead.

He’d been wrapped in a blanket, which he appreciated. Someone had cleaned him up before patching him back together. He pulled the soft fabric up and around his shoulders as he swung his feet over the side of the bed, letting his legs dangle for a moment as dizziness and nausea moved through him.

He’d been to the healers often enough to know the vertigo was a sign he ought not try to stand. But… Well. He’d never been very good at doing what the healers wanted. He stood, with no free hands to brace on anything, and after a moment the room stopped spinning a bit.

The stilling of the room allowed him to notice that he’d stepped in something sticky. He blinked down, vision blurring for a moment. There was a… reddish smear on the ground. Dark. Tacky. He’d seen blood enough to recognize it out of hand, and followed the smear of it. It led towards one of the private med rooms, disappearing beyond it.

“Hello?” he repeated, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. He shuffled, carefully, over to the door. “Anyone?” Someone had bandaged his injuries, treated them as well as possible without a bacta tank. The troopers, he assumed. He could feel their minds, all around. Most of them seemed to be sleeping, a few very busy.

One such mind was close by, but not through the door with the smear of blood. 

The mind behind that door was unconscious, not just asleep. Those two states felt different through the Force. Obi-Wan shivered, because, even unconscious he recognized the mind, the bright soul. Cody.

Obi-Wan ignored the busy minds, the sleeping minds, and the droid. He didn’t call out again. It hurt his throat to talk, and he didn’t want to disturb any of the sleepers around him. He pushed the door open with the Force and hesitated another moment, in the doorway 

There were three little beds in the room. Only one was occupied. The trail of blood led right to it. Cody lay under the blankets, hooked up to wires and tubes, his brow furrowed even in unconsciousness, a little bandage on his brow. The shape of the blankets made it clear that there were more bandages beneath them, bulky and misshapen.

The cold of the hall seeped up through the soles of Obi-Wan’s feet, into his legs, leaving him shivering.

Obi-Wan rasped, “Force,” ignoring the pain in his throat, limping across the room to stop by the other side of Cody’s bed. He hooked the bag still attached to him to the hooks over Cody’s bed and reached out to press his fingers against Cody’s throat, fear crawling up his spine because Cody was so still, color bad, gone grayish, and even with the reassurance of the Force--

He had a pulse. Steady. Obi-Wan sagged, shifting, pulling fussily at the blanket over Cody’s chest, blinking his blurry eyes as a familiar voice from the doorway said, “He’s going to be fine.”

Obi-Wan blinked over at Bones and it was disorienting, seeing him standing there, with emotion on his face. Obi-Wan didn’t understand what happened. He kept waiting to wake up from this sweet, impossible dream. He asked, voice a whisper, “Are you sure?”

Bones’ mouth quirked up. He said, “I’m sure. He was gut shot. Liver damage. Lost a lot of blood. But he’ll recover. We’re built sturdy.” Bones took a step forward and said, “You’re not supposed to be out of bed, yet, General.” But he made no move to shoo Obi-Wan away.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I feel much better.” Which was not the same as saying he felt well. “I suppose I have all of you to thank for that?” He tried to make his tone light, to get his voice closer to the way it used to sound, once upon a time.

He, apparently, didn’t succeed. Bones flinched, looking to the side, his hands bailing into fists as he said, “No, sir. You don’t need to thank us for anything.”

Obi-Wan blinked, caught off-guard by the sudden cut and snarl of Bones’ emotions. He swayed, bracing his hand on Cody’s bed, taking the wave of emotion like a blow, and-- and he released it, all of it, managing to say, “I don’t believe that. But I also...don’t know what happened.” He looked up, met Bones’ dark gaze.

Bones sighed and said, “Sir, you’re not much better off than him, you need to lay down and--”

“I can rest in here,” Obi-Wan insisted, tugging the blankets straight once more and carefully making his way around the bed. He sat, stubborn, in a chair by Cody’s, and looked up into Bones’ expression.

Bones grimaced. “Sir, I--”

“You’ll have to drag me away,” Obi-Wan said, calm, intending only to make his position clear, and flinched as Bones’ emotions contracted all at once, into horror and guilt and--

And by the time Obi-Wan swallowed down the nausea that had risen in his throat, wrestling with his own mind for control and achieving it after a moment, Bones had turned away to start gathering supplies. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, carefully, unsure why, exactly, his words had such an effect. He still wasn’t sure what had happened. Bones shook his head, once, a muscle in his jaw jumping, over and over. 

“Can you tell me what happened?” Obi-Wan asked, gently, because he needed to know and because he wanted to distract Bones from the agony inside his own head, bleeding out of him with each instant. Bones hesitated. “How we got away, I mean? How you - you all got free?”

He’d known they were in there, his men. He’d been trying desperately to figure out how to free them. And, apparently, they’d gone ahead and done it themselves. Bones wouldn’t meet his eyes, as he said, “I’ll explain if you let me check you over without a fuss.”

And Obi-Wan could agree to that, resisting the urge to flinch away when Bones tugged the blanket open. He forced himself to relax, feet flat on the ground, and Bones looked over his skin, clearing his throat before he spoke, “There were...chips, in our heads, sir. Controlling what we did. I know that it took too long, but a few of us - the Commander, me. Crys. We managed to break them. We’ve been freeing the others.”

Pride and warmth spread through Obi-Wan’s chest as he leaned back against the chair. They were so brave, the troopers. So strong. He couldn’t imagine the difficulty of - of breaking the control of something in their own heads. 

“Thank you,” he said, feeling Bones jerk to a stop again, “for freeing me, too.”

Bones said nothing, only breathed raggedly for a moment, horror and guilt radiating out of him again, and Obi-Wan did not understand what he’d said. He shifted a little, asking, “Bones, is--”

“This is going to hurt a little,” Bones said, cutting him off, voice thick and half-strangled as he lifted a bandage on Obi-Wan’s ribs. The pain was, comparatively, so minor that Obi-Wan barely noticed it. Bones had always had a soft touch, anyway. 

“I’ve upset you,” Obi-Wan said, persisting, because he couldn’t - wouldn’t - ignore the pain of his men. “I’m sorry--”

“Don’t,” Bones gritted out, turning his shoulders away, curling his head down, sounding gutted. “Please, sir, don’t--don’t do that.” 

Obi-Wan stared at him, watching his shoulders shake, even as his hands stayed steady. Obi-Wan sat there, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, as Bones gathered himself and busied his hands with the tangle of tubes around Cody, stepping back after a moment, his face still turned away, voice hoarse when he said, “You can stay in here, as long as you rest.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, automatically, and Bones nodded, stiffly, before turning and walking from the room.

Obi-Wan watched him go, feeling tired and battered, beaten inside his head. They all hurt, so much. He needed to help them, but--but it would have to wait, just a little while. He leaned back in the chair, wincing as it pulled on all the newly treated wounds across his body and some of the older hurts.

The burns on his back had healed, technically. They pulled, every time he tried to move, a constant reminder of what Anakin had done. He set the discomfort aside, and, after a long moment, leaned his head back, blinking at the ceiling, comforted by the awakened mind around him, but Cody, breathing steadily beside him.

He needed more answers about what had happened. And he needed to help his men. But that could all… wait. Just a little while. He lifted his hand, hesitantly, started to reach towards Cody’s bed and froze, because sitting still, with no one else to distract him, allowed memories to crawl up into his head.

And Obi-Wan had so many memories he didn’t want, of Cody gripping his legs, his hips, fingers digging in cruelly, mechanical and unfeeling. Before, years ago, he’d imagined what it might be like, to have Cody’s hands on his skin. To allow himself to be pulled close and held, and then--

He swallowed convulsively, and made himself stay where he was, made himself resist the urge to jerk away.

It hadn’t been Cody.

It hadn’t.

Just Anakin, finding another way to hurt him.

Obi-Wan dragged his mind away from the memories. Looking for balance in the Force and reaching the rest of the way out. It took only the work of a moment to find Cody’s hand on the bed. Obi-Wan curled fingers around his unnaturally cool skin - the troopers usually ran so hot - and closed his eyes. 

He didn’t mean to pass out, but he must have. He woke to a surge of emotion through the Force, splintering down through his head, something bitter and sharp and all-consuming. He jerked to wakefulness, expecting alarms and the sounds of battle. 

None of that seemed to be happening. Many of the minds around him were still resting. There was just Cody, who was--

Breathing raggedly, obviously awake. Obi-Wan blinked over at him, and found Cody staring down at the bed, at where Obi-Wan’s fingers were still curled around his palm. “You’re awake,” Obi-Wan said, barely above a whisper, relief coursing through him. 

“What are you doing?” Cody asked, voice thick, almost choked. He felt--like too many different things, before he exerted some kind of terrible control on his emotions, dragging them back, holding them tight.

It was a stunning amount of control from someone without the Force, someone so badly injured. Cody’s emotions all but disappeared, leaving Obi-Wan reeling at the sudden loss, and unsure how he’d managed it. 

He swallowed, blinking to try to steady himself, and shaking his arm, just a little. “You were hurt,” he said. “While saving me, I--Cody?”

Cody had flinched. Obi-Wan felt it, a roil of something deep and terrible moving through his emotions. He turned his face away, breathing hard, hand stiff under Obi-Wan’s touch, and… Oh. Oh, perhaps Obi-Wan should not have come into this room, should not have bothered him.

Perhaps, Obi-Wan considered, his men were - were not exactly happy to be reminded of his weakness. His inability to rescue them in a timely fashion, the amount of time it had taken him to - to realize they were even trapped in their minds. All his failures rose up in his head and he jerked his hand away, swallowing hard and blinking away the burning sting in his eyes. “Oh,” he said, quietly, “I’m terribly sorry. I’ll--”

“What?” Cody demanded, his voice low and ragged, he turned, and at least Obi-Wan could see his expression, could see it breaking behind the tight lines of control. “What the kriff are you sorry about?”

“I…” Obi-Wan blinked. He wondered what the right answer was and set the thought aside. Cody wasn’t Anakin. “I failed you, I know, I’ll just--Bones is--” He stood, because he knew he needed to make apologies, but he hurt, so much, inside.

“You didn’t fail anyone,” Cody ground out, and groaned, terribly, when he sat up and reached out, stopping an inch away from grabbing Obi-Wan’s arm, fingers stretched out, almost brushing skin. “You--what are you even talking about?”

Obi-Wan looked at Cody’s extended hand, memories sleeting through his head, lightning fast, there and gone. He swallowed and marshalled himself. “I did. I failed you all for years. I failed Trip and--”

“No,” Cody interrupted, swinging his legs off the bed, alarms chiming to life around them, reporting his movement to whatever medics might be around to hear. Obi-Wan could feel Bones’ tired thoughts, spiking with irritation at his frustrating patients. “You--”

And before he could say anything else the ship shuddered all over. Obi-Wan knew well enough what a ship coming out of hyperspace wrong felt like, and he held his breath, focusing on the distant hum of the engines, coming up through the deck. It continued, for just a moment, and then it stopped, completely.

A moment later the primary lighting in the infirmary failed. The ship lurched, throwing him forward against the bed - he reached out to steady himself with a left hand he didn’t have - and Cody swore, hand suddenly on his arm, holding tight and steady as the ship came to a jerking stop.

“Are you alright?” Cody asked there in the dark, as the emergency lighting came on, tinging everything with red. His emotions had lashed free, briefly, as the ship shook around them, concern and worry and guilt and--

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing, resisting the urge to just lean into the touch. It had been...so long since anyone touched him with care, intentional kindness and concern. A selfish, needy part of him wanted to bask in it, but Cody hadn’t wanted to touch him, had been upset, and Obi-Wan wouldn’t take what he didn’t want to give.

The thought left the taste of vomit in his mouth. He shook his head. “I’ll go find out what’s happening, you stay--”

“Like kriffing hell,” Cody interrupted, and Obi-Wan would have protested further, but he didn’t have the energy for it. He stood, shivering a little - shocky, still, he knew - while Cody leveraged himself off of the mattress. 

And, together, limping, they went to find out what had happened.