#sw one-shot

[that-dumb-dinosaur]

look me in the eye and tell me this isn't one of the coolest shots in any star wars tv episode. and don't even get me started on when his voice overlapped with Vader's-

[ahhrenata]

‘how quickly power can change hands’ | X |

[hayden-christensen]

OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022) Cinematography by Chung-Hoon Chung

@pscentral event 26: minimalism

[iburnedmyselfalive]

┃18+ minors dni somnophilia, p in v, oral (f receiving) ,, ani is such a nasty fuck i’d so see him doing this

deeply inspired by my lovely @bunnylovesani :3 ,, this really did sum to me

when your luscious dreams began to engulf you more and more often, rendering you inconsolable with desire, anakin, with primal hunger in his eyes and elsewhere, approached you almost every time, in the throes of deep sleep, his presence being undetected while he savored the moment. his tongue, hot and insistent, delved deep in you, exploring every inch of your trembling form, relishing the intoxicating essence of your arousal.

your lips, parted in a silent plea for more, betrayed the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you, driving him to devour you with a fervor unmatched. he eagerly buried his face in your sopping pussy, his hungry lips and skilled tongue tracing every curve, every fold, as you writhed in pleasure, your moans filling the air like sweet music. anakin’s devotion to your pleasure knew no bounds as he explored every single inch, leaving you gasping for more, even in your sleep.

there'd even be times when he'd gently push his fat cock into your eager virgin ass, filling you completely. each thrust, he savored the tightness, losing himself in the depths of your neediness. with a husky growl, he'd hiss, "shiiiit, you're such a fuckin' filthy whore, takin’ me like you made for it," his voice being laced with a commanding edge as he clenched his jaw, his grip on your hips unyielding.

countless times he'd walked in on you, sound asleep, lost in deep sleep, humping a pillow in a desperate attempt for satisfaction. but ‘course, he couldn't resist intervening for his girl's pleasure. "mmm, look at you, such a pathetic lil' slut," he'd purr, his voice thick with a hint of disdain. "moaning and writhing like a needy bitch. don't worry, baby, ‘m here to take care of you. you jus' need some helpin' out, huh?"

with a deep, throaty groan, he'd press close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "’m gonna help you out, a'ight?" the slick, wet sounds of his movements filled the air as he slid effortlessly into your dripping cunt, each thrust sending a shockwave of pleasure coursing through your body. but he wasn't done yet. no, he needed to assert his authority fully.

with a firm grip, he'd rearrange your position, forcing your face into the mess you'd made, your own arousal coating your flushed cheeks. your legs would be hoisted high, knees to your chest, exposing you completely to his gaze. "there, that's it," he'd murmur, his voice dark and commanding. "let me see that pretty face of yours as i fuck you senseless. you love it, don't you? being used like the dirty fuckin’ whore you are."

and as he pounded into you relentlessly, mixing your combined essences with each thrust, you couldn't help but cry out in pleasure and humiliation, completely at his mercy. "yesyesyes, ani!" you'd cry out, your voice echoing through the room, your eyes squeezing shut with intensity. each repetition of his name was like a desperate plea for more, your desire consuming you entirely. your screams grew louder with each passing moment, so much so that he felt compelled to muffle your cries with his hand, a mix of annoyance and amusement flashing across his face.

he'd smirk, his eyes alight with a teasing glint as he relished in your vulnerability. the way you surrendered to him, begging for his touch, only fueled his ego further. he'd press his hand against your mouth, silencing your passionate cries, enjoying the power he held over you. despite the complaints and the knowing glances from others, he showed no signs of concern or remorse. after all, it was your uncontrollable desire that drove you to such extremes, not his actions.

he reveled in the attention, reveling in the fact that you were willing to risk it all for him. in the soft light of the morning, he'd find immense pleasure in tormenting you about your nocturnal exclamations, turning even the most mundane moments into opportunities for teasing. with a toothbrush in hand, you'd stand before the bathroom mirror, the bristles grazing against your teeth as you attempted to focus on the task at hand. but his presence was impossible to ignore.

planting a trail of kisses across your face, he'd interrupt your routine with playful affection, his voice laced with a mischievous tone as he whispered, "were y’a dreaming last night, baby? heard somethin'." the suggestive implication hung in the air, causing a flush to bloom across your cheeks as you attempted to evade his probing inquiry. "no," you'd hastily respond, your words betraying the nervous tremor in your voice.

yet, despite your denial, he saw through the facade, relishing in the subtle signs of your arousal. the hitch in your breath, the telltale clench of your thighs; they were all the confirmation he needed of the vivid fantasies that had consumed your subconscious. with a knowing smirk, he'd revel in your discomfort, taking pleasure in the power he held over you.

his teasing took on a new level of humiliation as he continued to pry, each word dripping with innuendo and amusement. with expert precision, he'd chip away at your defenses, his playful taunts leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. and while you stood there, toothbrush forgotten in your hand, you couldn't help but wonder if he derived as much satisfaction from your torment as you did humiliation.

[forcemeanakin]

Right where you left me.

•WARNINGS: Angst. Situationship. May trigger people with abandonment issues or that have intimacy problems. Not technically cheating, but it may be triggering. Anakin's a douche bag.

Pairing: au!Anakin Skywalker x you!reader.

Summary: Anakin decides to pursue things outside of your relationship, breaking your heart in the process.

Word count: 1.7k.

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao.

☽⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✺⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯✳⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯☾

You ran into the coffee shop, in a hurry, which is a normal state for you and your continuous tardiness. “Fuck.” You muttered under your breath as you forced the door open with unnecessary strength. 

Anakin must’ve been waiting for half an hour now. 

On your tippy toes, you scanned the room, looking for the golden curls to stand out from a booth. 

Bingo. 

Trying to hide your excitement, you rushed to the table where your -relatively- new thing was waiting for you. You cursed your bag for making so much noise and told yourself off for packing so much shit. Maybe there was no need to bring all the stuff with you, but you couldn’t help yourself in your excitement to show Anakin all of the activities you had planned for you two and the remaining part of the summer. 

“Hey.” You whispered loud enough for him to listen to you, but your shortness of breath didn’t go unnoticed by him. He gave you a toothless smile as you sat down in front of him. “I’m sorry I’m late, I was at work and my manager-” You didn’t finish the sentence, instead, your face let him know everything he needed.

“Don’t sweat. I haven’t waited long. Five minutes to be exact.” He checked his phone carelessly. 

Oh. 

“Training ran long?” You hoped.

“Oh, no, just ran a little late.” He shrugged his shoulders. Like it was of no importance. 

At least you felt ashamed for being late. He didn’t seem to carry the same guilt.

Sometimes Anakin did this thing that stung your heart a little. His number one priority had always been him. And when you agreed to try things with him, you knew that was implied in the contract. Part of you had been hoping that you were going to be the reason that changed. 

So far, you had failed in your mission. 

“Oh, right.” You tried to fake a smile. 

“And how’s life outside of work, baby?” 

And just like that, your heart felt a little lighter and spark returned to your face. Especially when he reached out to hold your hand and play with your fingers. Especially when he used that nickname that you loved and you hadn’t heard in a while from his lips.

“It’s fine. My summer classes are always boring.” You rolled your eyes, chuckling at the end because he knew how much you hated to take extra courses. 

“I told you to give yourself some time off in the summer.” He raised his eyebrow.

“I know, I know…” You huffed. “Actually, I’ve been working on that.” You smiled, turning to your bag and taking some of the things you packed. 

Tickets for one of your favorite movies, that he insisted he wanted to watch with you. It made you smile so hard when he had proposed that plan, given that he was aware how much that franchise meant to you. 

You also took out some coins for the local fair, the one you two had walked by and promised to do that as your next date. 

The brand new control for your gaming console you had just bought to join him in video games because he said he wanted to share that without you. He seemed pretty excited to do that as an activity together and he even listed all of the games you might like. 

And right when you were about to take the keys of your summer house out, to hint him that you were ready to take the next step in your relationship, he stopped you. 

Anything intimate always made you nervous, even when you two were in the middle of it. It was a very vulnerable space for you and Anakin was your first in many things. It was normal for you to still be adapting to it. 

But you wanted to try. For you.

For him.

As a more experienced person than you, Anakin had needs. Needs that you sometimes failed to meet. That even though he was patient, you could feel how your lack of confidence sometimes bugged him. Not in an explicit manner, just… the occasional huff when he tried something experimental in bed or when you started to psych yourself out of the make out session. 

Any other person would have already left, but Anakin was your friend first and he was well aware of your uptight personality way before the two of you agreed to be friends with benefits. He knew what he was getting into and he was actually glad to help you experiment with that part of yourself you normally hid.

So your demonstration of being an organized and planning psycho was nothing new to him.

“Hey, hey…” He slowed you down, barely gazing the things on the table and fixing his eyes on yours. “Before you get started, I wanted to talk to you.”

His serious tone alerted you. But you weren’t surprised. Something inside of you had been alerting you all weekend. You thought it was your well-known anxiety. However, this felt unusual. Like his habitual ghosting and lack of response for the past few days meant different things this time.

“Sure.” You took a deep breath, trying to make it not so obvious. “Go ahead.” You nodded with a little smile trying to appear serene. 

“So, sorry for not replying to your texts this weekend. I was out in nature, thinking and connecting, you know?” He tilted his head, his eyes looking for some compassion out of you.

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” You rushed the words when the silence dipped between you two, part of it your fault because you were too worried with your sinking heart. 

You could understand a little impromptu retreat, you only wished it wasn’t right after you did some pretty intimate stuff back at your house. That last day you two crossed more boundaries than ever before. And even though you highly enjoyed it, his absence after that had you feeling nauseous, making you overthink and regret your decision of not giving him your virginity right in that opportunity. Maybe he would have shown more interest if you would have-

“So…Uhm… I think we should stop hanging out.” 

Your heart was down by your feet when he pronounced those words. You tried with all your soul to control your trembling hands that lied in between his palms so he didn’t notice how he was ripping you apart. Your irregular breath threatened to put you on blast but you managed to keep it on the low. 

“It’s not about you, seriously. I love hanging out with you and spending time with you, among other stuff.” He chuckled lightly, but instead of following his action, you released the breath you were holding. “But I’ve been talking to this girl and I just want to make sure that everything is working out with her. Emotionally.”

The sting in your eyes only grew bigger as you realized how embarrassing and heart shattering this moment was for you. Your cheeks felt hot and tight, something you tried hard to disguise with a breezy exterior. 

Like a flash, you remembered the day both of you talked about the rules of your agreement. You kicked yourself mentally when you reminisced of the moment where both of you agreed to let the other one know if they wanted to pursue something with someone else. You had said yes, in the expectation that his constant checking in on you and daily talks was enough proof of interest. Meaning that he would not be looking outside of your “situationship” .

And you agreed, because that was your case. You were interested enough. 

“You let me know if you want to see another guy, okay?”

You could almost laugh at such stupid idea. Didn’t he know?

“I think it’s better if we stop talking, so I can figure out things with her.” He scrunched his nose, like he was running out of words.

But how many words do you actually need to let someone know you don’t want them? He didn’t need much more. You’ve gotten the message. 

“It’s nothing definitive, but yeah… Let me know if you have any questions.” He gave you a side smile, still fidgeting with your frozen-in-place fingers. 

That took you out of the slow motion trance you were in. 

“Y-yeah, okay.” You took your hands out of his quickly, blinking quickly into realization. You started to rush everything back in your purse, screaming the word “Stupid!” over and over again in your head while you carried on with a calm expression. “Do not worry about me. No questions on my part. Thanks for letting me know.”

I guess.

“Totally agree with not talking anymore.” You finally stopped for a second after pushing all of the items on your tote bag. He seemed to be analyzing your expression in search of any sign of real approval, because your shy and cold body language wasn’t reassuring him. So you put on your bravest face and forced a smile. “I hope everything turns out great with her.” 

Speaking those words felt like hot iron was passing through your throat. 

He gave you an honest smile and got up, taking his jacket with him. “Thank you. And thanks for understanding.”

You stayed frozen in place, your purse on your lap with your hands clutching it so hard you could feel your nails through the fabric. You limited yourself to nodding quietly and letting the side of your mouth curve slightly up. 

“I’m sorry I can’t stay-” He began explaining his sudden escape. 

“Don’t be. Don’t worry about me. ” You dismissed. “I’ll just stay and have lunch.” You took the menu and fixed your gaze on the listed items, anything that wouldn’t be his eyes. 

He excused himself off the table politely, leaving you all alone and speechless. You glued your eyes to his back until he exited through the door, begging silently that he would turn around and say something else. Something that would pull you back into his life.

It seemed like that wasn’t his plan.

“I know I shouldn’t look for you for sexual stuff, but can I contact you for friend stuff?”

The text arrived that Saturday at 1am, 5 days later, erasing any progress you had done. 

The day of his usual drunken nights. 

Right around the time he used to get bored and there wasn't anything left to smoke. 

Exactly at the time he would always contact you. 

And you?

You were still at the restaurant. Unable to move.

Every day since that day. 

Right where he left you. 

[zoeykallus]

Hi, Zoey! Are your requests open? I had an idea after watching Kenobi.

There’s a scene in Kenobi where the Inquisitors show up to a market place in search of Jedi. They throw a knife at the shop owner knowing that the Jedi hiding among the patrons will stop the knife from harming him. It would be interesting to see that with Hunter.

Maybe Hunter and Cid’s bartender have a relationship. Bartender was weary of the clones at first but warmed up to them and liked Hunter. They just started dating when Inquisitors show up. They use the knife trick on someone (maybe even Omega) and bartender is forced to expose themselves as a former Jedi.

I’d love to see how Hunter would react to that.

oh oh oh oh... I got something in my head!

*Running in circles*

I actually had a scene like this in my head for a while now, I put the whole batch in there but focus on Hunter as a love interest.

Hunter x Jedi/Reader - One-Shot - The Things We Do For Love

Warnings: Angst/Canon Typical Violence/Blood/Fluff

No one knows about your past with the Jedi order. You are forced to drop your cover, when you try to save Hunter's life.

_______

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

_______

It's strange, life after Order 66 - hiding, pretending to be someone else. And it doesn't get any easier every day as you'd hoped, at least not at first. Cid's Bar, that's where you ended up at some point. You work behind the counter. You serve all kinds of strange clientele. Cid's Bar is like a meeting place for all kinds of scum in the Galaxy. Life has changed, a lot. Priorities change. The code after you've lived so long is nowhere near as important as surviving and belonging somewhere so you're not completely alone in this universe. But you can't open up to anyone, not exactly the most decent people come and go here. So you keep a low profile. You even flirt here and there to keep up appearances, but at the same time, you keep everyone at a distance. And then, to make matters worse, these clones turn up. Automatically, every alarm sounds inside you. Order 66 flares up in your memory, sharp and painful. It takes so much willpower to stay calm, to not let anything get to you, so much trauma hangs in every thought of clones. No one knows who you are, no one even suspects that you were part of the Jedi Order.

And yet these men surprise you, especially one of them who leads the group. He is so thoughtful, so serious. Hunter always seems to be lost in thought, trying to keep everything under control, to ensure safety. He rarely leans back and really takes a breath. He's almost always worried and tense, you can feel it in the Force. But eventually, he thaws out, you somehow strike up a conversation, and you quickly learn how much depth and kindness lie beneath that brooding, skeptical exterior. Hunter can even be funny, very observant and above all else, he's decent, probably one of the most decent people to ever come and go in this bar. You catch yourself admiring him. Your eyes meet more and more often, you talk to each other more often, even flirt. But this flirting is different, it's not fake, it feels real, exciting and for you, with your past, completely new and almost reckless. You are both obviously interested in each other, just as you are both shy and cautious in a certain way. Weeks, even months go by before your hands touch for the first time, and he asks you out.

You can see it in his face, he can hardly believe it himself, hidden behind his smile is a nervous boy who is incredibly afraid of being rejected by you. The big, brooding leader has a great weakness, you. Of course, you say yes, you can hardly resist this special man, clone soldier or not, Hunter has so much good in him, he attracts you like a magnet, not to mention his good, bold looks do the rest.

It starts like any other evening. More or less. After your first date, Hunter usually comes into the bar smiling, automatically seeking your gaze as soon as he walks through the door. You can't help it, you smile back every time, accompanied by a warm tingling in your stomach, warmth rising in your cheeks and ears.

But something is different today. There is a presence in the room, dark, determined, hard as stone, surrounded by sharp edges. You sense this presence in the Force, its intransigence. You look around in alarm. The bar is a little busier today, your gaze wanders more or less inconspicuously around the room. Then you see him. You meet cold eyes, eyes as blue as sapphires, their gaze steely and sharp, so intense that you automatically lower your own gaze and distractedly clean a glass. But you know this person has already noticed you. Right now you're feverishly thinking about your next steps and how to get out of here alive without putting anyone in danger. Hunter frowns worriedly, watching you. He can tell something is wrong. Tech is talking to him, but he is focused on you right now. He leaves the table where he was sitting with his brothers and is about to come over to you when he hears a voice say clearly and distinctly, not shouting but loud enough, "CT 9901"

You feel hot and cold, a shiver runs down your spine, you're sure Hunter feels the same way, you can see it on his face. All the heads at the Bad Batch table look up in surprise, shock and alarm. Hunter turns to the voice that seems to be coming from one of the other tables a few meters away. A man suddenly stands up, slowly, unhurriedly, confidently. Like a predator who is sure of his prey, who has no reason to be afraid, no need to hurry. Neither you nor Hunter like the body language. What surprises you, however, is that this man, in his strange, dark uniform, is not looking for you as you expected, but obviously for Hunter and presumably his brothers. "All 99ers in one room, this must be my lucky day. And not only that, I feel like I'm getting a little something extra on top of that," the somber stranger says, his voice deep and clear, almost melodic.

The room falls silent, as if the presence of this man demands it. With a confident little smile, the man pulls a knife from his belt, the first movement is slow, almost sluggish, but the throw comes so suddenly that you barely have time to react. It has become so quiet in the bar that you could hear a pin drop. But when the blade suddenly seems to stop in mid-air barely a centimeter from Hunter's eye, a murmur goes through the room. You're sure you can hear someone whispering the word Jedi.

Hunter only lets out a quiet, "What the hell", he can't help but stare at the blade for a moment. He should be dead, he realizes, that vibro blade should have drilled into his skull, but there it is, hovering right in front of his face. Out of the corner of his eye he sees your outstretched hand, your concentrated gaze, and he begins to understand. You stopped the blade from killing him, you stopped it in its tracks. The stranger's cool voice draws you both back to him. "I knew I sensed a Jedi in the room, and I knew you couldn't resist to show yourself" In the next moment everything happens very quickly, there is no time to think, to process, to make plans. The man reaches out his hand, and you feel his grip on you in the force. You are swept over the bar counter, with a pull on your body, trough the force, knocking over two tables on your way to the floor. Everything around you happens in a haze, you hear Hunter cursing angrily, blaster shots, the distinctive buzz of an awakening lightsaber, screams from the other patrons. A red glow fills the room. The smell of burned flesh.

Your left side hurts. You landed hard on the tables when the Sith Force-wrenched you over the counter, maybe you cracked a few ribs. There are shards on the surrounding floor from the glasses that went down. As you try to pick yourself up, you accidentally reach in and cut your right palm. The pain is sharp, clear and distinct, bringing you back to reality from your surprise. You jump to your feet, skillfully, supported by the force that flows through and envelops you. It's been a long time since you've used the Force and your abilities in this way, but it's as if you've never let it out of your fingers, the lightsaber sliding into your hand, its blade glowing blue with its characteristic hum. Blood runs down the hilt of your weapon from the open cut on your hand, it burns, but you ignore the pain. You feel Hunter's gaze, he is still confused. He knows what you are now, but he certainly hasn't processed the news yet. At the moment, you all have other things to worry about. Did the Sith come alone? Are there Stormtroopers waiting for you outside the bar?

You concentrate on the force, on the intentions of your opponent. Everything you feel emanating from him is sharp, dark, glowing hot. He is driven by rage, and the moment your lightsabers cross, you feel all the hatred in his attacks, which are admittedly much stronger than you expected. You've never fought a real Sith before. The first touch of your lightsabers is like an electric shock, an incredibly hard impact, a wave of fury that seems to roll over you from your opponent. The hilt of your weapon is slippery with your own blood, you have to grab it hastily with both hands so that the sword doesn't slip from your grasp or your opponent will decapitate you. For a moment, Hunter's concern penetrates your perception, but you shut him out and have to concentrate. A quick exchange of blows follows, attack, parry, retreat, attack, parry... The handle of your weapon becomes increasingly slippery with your own blood. Then it happens, another hard blow, you parry, the impact of the blades causes your weapon to slip away.

You hear Hunter yell out, hear the shock in his voice, the terror in that simple word, "No!" His blaster lies on the ground, sliced in half by the Sith's blade. Hunter has pulled his knife from his belt in a split second, lunging in the Sith's direction. The blade of your attacker hovers just in front of your neck, you hold the Sith and his weapon in this position with all the strength you can muster with body and force. Your heart races, adrenaline flows through your body. There are only millimeters between your life and death. Millimeters before the red lightsaber could sever your head from your shoulders. Hunter reaches an arm around the Sith's neck and jabs his knife into his side. The sergeant's voice is dark and smoky as he rasps, "Not on my watch"

The red lightsaber goes out and falls to the ground. Hunter kicks it aside, away from the Sith's hands, and lets the mortally wounded attacker slide to the ground. You see Hunter's chest rise and fall, still electrified, while your adrenaline suddenly subsides and your hands begin to tremble a little. You concentrate on the force, your center, and banish the trembling from your limbs. With a sigh, you look at the man on the ground, who is taking his last breaths, his cold, sapphire eyes still looking up at you with hatred, but there is also reluctance in them, surprise, defiance. Echo kneels down next to him, feels his pulse. "Quite dead," he says dryly, and with a glance at your extinguished lightsaber, he asks, "Care to explain?" "Take it easy, Echo. I guess it's obvious why we're only finding out now, it would have been dangerous to reveal the truth," Hunter says calmly and steps closer, carefully grabbing your hand and looking at the cut.

"That needs stitching," Tech says with a sideways glance and adds, "I can do it when we get to the Marauder, we should get out of here, more will come" The others lead the way, Hunter and you follow at a slight distance. You can't quite believe it yet. CF99 accepts you into their midst, no ifs, no questions, yet. Admittedly, Echo is still a little skeptical, but he always is. But you're part of it now, you're no longer alone. The thought spikes a feeling of euphoria in you. "Looks like Clone Force 99 has its own Jedi now," Hunter says with a wry smile. You crack a smile, liking the idea, forgetting for a moment your bleeding hand and the drops of blood that fall to the ground and on your tunic. Crosshair, who is walking ahead of you, casts a jaunty glance over his shoulder and says dryly, "Just don't expect me to follow your orders, General." He says it with a wink, even if his words sound a little hostile, he is friendly to you, you sense his intentions in the Force.

You say quietly, "I wasn't going to give you orders, you have a working system as a group, I wouldn't dream of changing it" The Sniper laughs softly, "Clever Jedi" Hunter drops back a little, and you do the same, sensing that he has something to say to you. After a little while, on your way to the Marauder, he says seriously, "You gave up your cover to save my life, thank you" You chuckle and say softly, "The things we do for love" Hunter listens in surprise and asks, "So our dates aren't part of your cover?" You've opened up to him in the force, feeling his pulse, the tingling under his skin as if it were your own. "I would never play with your feelings, not even as a cover," you say seriously. Hunter breathes a sigh of relief and asks, "So nothing will change between us?" "I'd like us to continue our relationship and see where it takes us," you reply with a warm smile. You feel his relief, his affection, and you breathe a sigh of relief as well.

"That's what I want too," he says, carefully grabbing your hand and taking another look at the wound. "That looks really bad," he says, frowning. Wrecker comes rushing up and murmurs, "Now hurry up, or our Jedi will bleed to death!" Impatiently, he grabs you and lifts you off your feet to carry you to the Marauder. You make a small, startled noise. "Wrecker," Hunter says softly, admonishing. "What? The little Jedi got hurt!" Wrecker returns unperturbed and carries you to the Marauder. "It's just a cut on my hand," you say, waving it off. "It's bleeding a lot," Tech comments as Wrecker sets you down next to him and points at your stained tunic. Tech already has medical supplies ready, including a needle and thread, but first Echo cleans the wound. You grit your teeth, because the cleaning stings a lot. Echo says knowingly, "Don't worry, it'll be done in a minute"

Wrecker asks curiously, "Is the Jedi officially with us now?" Hunter sits down opposite you and watches as your wound is taken care of, he says, "I think so" "But I'm not really a Jedi anymore. There is no longer a Jedi order and I haven't been following the code for a while now, at least not to the letter," Hunter's eyes meet yours at the last words. Your heart beats faster as a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "We're not really regular clones either, we're not really soldiers anymore," Tech says lightly. Crosshair sticks a toothpick in his mouth and mutters, "Welcome to the defect squad, I have a feeling you'll fit in perfectly here"

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

________

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaw

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

@hated-by-me

@hunterxcrosshair

@malicemercy

@bebopsworld

@echos-girlfriend

@cpnt616

@dangraccoon

@jediknightjana

@pb-jellybeans

@antishadow2021

@sleepycreativewriter

@projectdreamwalker

@1vlouds

@clonelovr

@bandnerdlevel43

[demobatman]

more han and leia byler 😵‍💫

[jewishcissiekj]

[gladiatorcunt]

- # GIVE A FLY SOME HONEY !!

all roads lead to death valley

cw: southern setting & accents, sui ideation/thoughts, protected sex (are you proud of me), dead dove ending and undertones, sort of ambiguous, virgin cowboy!anakin x virgin afab!reader, ROTS coded!anakin, r2’s a horse, the force is in place of the christian God and is referred to as such at times, star wars being a fictional franchise in a star wars au fic, weird mix of a farm and a ranch, spanking, clit slapping, biting, reader’s inner freak has some crazy thoughts, mentions of humiliation and collaring/choking, anakin murders somebody (one scene of violence), what a heat advisory and the south’s sex education does to a mf, implied plus size and neurodivergent!reader, kidnapping????????????, mention of drugs, reader has a lot of internalized shame about where they’re from

wc: 4.2k (unedited)

what if instead of star wars it was called 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 wars

consider commissioning me!

Your unlucky streak rears its ugly head yet again. June was already shaping up to be a hot month, and your junkyard car wouldn’t start. You’re used to driving long stretches of road with nothing but livestock in fields to gawk at, it comes with the territory. But you couldn’t afford gas and decided to push your luck on the way back home, nevermind that the drive would be at least 20 hours. Moving to the city had its drawbacks, the road trip to and back being one of them.

“No, no. Come on, please work. Do you need me to fucking sing to you or something?” You groan, fruitlessly twisting your key in the ignition over and over.

Nope, “Tough shit.” Your engine mocks, death coughs sputtering out one after the other.

“ ‘You havin’ trouble?” A masculine voice shouts from behind you.

You get startled by the sound and gracefully slam your head up into the roof of the car as you turn around. You must look like quite the sight, clutching your now throbbing head and stumbling out of your broken down hand-me-down car on a long open road. Once you’ve blinked enough to adjust to the harsh sunlight, your eyes land on a tall muscular figure riding a horse. The clip clop of the horse’s dirty hooves on the gravel pierce your ears but the gentle sway of the man’s fluffy hair softens the blow.

“Um…. yes, sir. I am actually. My…. my car won’t start and I’m all out of gas.” You burn with embarrassment as you get through your explanation, trying your hardest not to throw up from the sheer social anxiety.

“Well that ain’t no biggy, I think I can help with that.” The man cocks his head and hops down from the horse, a white stallion with a few faded black-gray spots here and there. “Stay here, R2.”

You’re standing there dumbly, ignoring the tiny rocks digging into your shoes and the pounding in your skull as the cowboy wanders up to you. The sun bounces off his dark hat in a way that gives him a sort of halo, and you gape like a fish when he tips it down at you in a silent greeting, reaching out to shake your hand after. The silver spurs on his boots reflect sunlight directly onto your face, so you miss his open palm the first time.

His hand is rough, you can feel numerous old scrapes and cuts when you accept the gesture. But it’s so much bigger than yours, and there’s strange heat coming from his skin that you’re hesitant to pin on the southern summer sun. Too handsome, in a way that just can’t be possible, you quickly swipe a fingertip over his ring finger during the handshake and The Force must be looking out for you because there’s no ring. Not that you’re seeking anything out, but in the town you’re from, you’re lucky if anyone makes it past 18 without having a baby and getting hitched as a result.

Anakin tinkers away at your car for over an hour, finding more problems than just a lack of gas. Eventually he determines that you’ll die in this heat before you can back on the road, so he asks you to accompany him back to his ranch and he’ll send out one of his employees to bring your car around. You try to show him that you’re listening by ‘hm’-ing and nodding every so often, but it’s hard to rip your eyes away from a very attractive man bent over and sweaty while he’s fixing your car. You definitely do not want to cry when his flannel lifts up as he wipes the sweat on his forehead away with his greasy hand, revealing the slight softness over his muscles.

Since your car was no longer an option, Anakin grins as he gestures towards his horse, “R2’s a good horse, won’t give you any trouble. He likes to make a lot of noise and has an… acquired sense of humor, but I reckon we’ll get back just fine.”

He has you practice getting off and on the horse for a good while, the next step is letting you adjust to the feeling of being on one. You’d be embarrassed that Anakin’s having to teach you how to ride but his hands curl around your waist, keeping you steady and whispering in your ear to not be so stiff. Horses can smell fear after all, it’d suck to not only have your car be broken but your bones too. It’s a scene straight out of a cheesy romance novel, the kind that’s a tiny yellowed book sold almost exclusively in run down gas stations with a cover not far off from a porno.

Your cheeks are burning the entire way to the ranch, you relax as much as you can on an animal that’s a few hundred pounds of muscle with a searing hot body pressed right up against you from behind. It doesn't take long to get to your destination though, and before you know it sprawling fields bracket a mid size homey wooden building. There are some smaller pens for the cows to stay in and you follow their movement as an employee unlatches the gate and leads them out towards the left most field.

“They gotta switch pastures every so often.” He informs you, urging his horse into an energetic trot, “And it’s a good rule of thumb to have about an acre per cow.”

You tighten your hold on the reins and try not to focus on your fear of falling off. The pace of R2 isn’t one that you struggle to match but then again this is the first time you’ve ever ridden a horse in a long time. You’ve always been too skittish to do it regularly, and when you moved you got rid of the hobby entirely. You take a deep breath and let the horse’s movements travel through you, coming to enjoy the gentle jostling as you go. Anakin keeps his hands around yours on the reigns, making sure you don’t panic and seize up. R2’s not really beginner friendly unless he likes his rider, he has a tendency to just whinny and take off when the spirit moves him.

“The Force has done me good and given me a nice house on nice land, but it don’t mean nothin’ if i’m all by my lonesome. Ever since my dad passed and my ma’ died a few years after that, the workers and the cows are all I got, plus R2 of course.”

All right, he sinks into the jargon a little too much, but the way the sun accentuates the scar on his cheek makes it a charming quirk. You want to lick his teeth when he smiles, you think, before blaming it on an oncoming heatstroke. You’re no better than a man in this moment, and if you had seen him soaking up all of the attention in a crowded room in a bar you’d have no business being in, you like to think that you could pull him. You play with the slightly waxy feel of the leather reins, allowing the sensation of coarseness in the stitching to overpower any coherent thought.

“Why’d you name your horse R2?” You ask, ducking your head as you feel him guide the animal towards the stables.

“Oh uh, I was real wild over these sci fi movies from back when I was a kid. The hero had this robot called R2-D2, and I guess it just stuck with me.” He answers you with a shrug and a mild blush, curving his fingers around yours.

Your stomach warms at the feeling, but you refrain from returning the gesture, he probably isn’t even thinking that deeply about what he’s doing. He’s not obsessing over every square inch of skin that comes into contact with his own, not like you. You’re already missing the comforting weight of Anakin’s herculean body when he’s pulling the reins to stop R2 and hopping off, clamping his big hands around your waist and helping you down. You wobble for a bit and find your footing before you can pick up on how he momentarily froze in front of you, anticipating an easy opportunity to touch you again. Force, you really are stupid, bless your heart.

You glance up at him and start to say something but then you hear rustling in the bushes, Anakin must hear it too because before you can tug on his sleeve and tell him, he’s pulling his revolver out from its holster and striding off towards the sound. You’re quick to learn that he has a bit of a one track mind, especially when it comes to indulging the serpent twisting in between his ribs like a switchblade.

“I’ll be damned…”

You’re supposed to head inside and awkwardly linger around until your car is in good enough condition to get you back to Coruscant. The only thing is, you’ve now found yourself without your new security blanket, and your curiosity agrees with how much you don’t fucking want to speak to any of the people here without Anakin to hide behind. R2 loudly chuffs at you from his stall in the stables, either saying “That’s just how he is, leave him be!” or "What are you doing? You should obviously go after him!” You choose to believe it’s the latter, so you wander off into the distance, following Anakin’s lead.

You catch up to him quicker than you thought you would, and you have half a mind to scold him like a child if you weren’t catching your breath. All you can see is his wide shoulders because he’s hunched over something, your heartbeat quickens when you spot his gun being pointed at something. You circle around him to find a man squirming on the ground like a toddler, twitching every so often. Anakin seems almost enthralled by the desperate display, so he doesn’t notice you until you gingerly place a hand on his shoulder, soft and looking to soothe. Later you won’t remember the blood on the man’s temple or the matching stain on the muzzle of Anakin’s gun, because you didn’t witness that part.

He snaps out of it, turning his head to nuzzle his nose against your knuckles, “ ‘s alright, sweetheart, just a meth head too out of his mind to watch where he’s goin’. Had a knife with him, probably lookin’ to rob somebody blind.”

Your eyes flicker between him and the man, fully aware of how common stuff like drug addicts trespassing is and the old fashioned black and red ‘Trespassers Will Be Shot On Sight’ sign. You’ve grown up around guns, you’re more used to hearing them in a hunting or taking shots at beer bottles kind of way, but it’s not like Anakin’s the only one to have that kind of self enforced rule when it comes to his property. Still… killing a human man is different than making use out of a successful deer hunt, right?

“Maybe we should call the cops, he can’t hurt nobody like that…” You try to reason, casting a pitiful glance towards the cowering man.

There’s a scratch on Anakin’s face that’s still bleeding from the knife the guy had used before Anakin took it, it just barely missed his right eye, he could’ve lost it. You’ll ask to help him with it when you get back to the ranch, but you know that there’s no seeing to it right now. You don’t want to risk an infection just so you could brush your thumb across the wound, you’re not even sure why you want to, it’s like the urge just materialized in your head out of thin fog. Anakin gently shrugs your hand off and uses his free one to pull you against his chest, and it’s like you’re back on his horse, that same fear entwined with exhilaration like barbed wire. Your hearts are beating at the same pace, some folks say that’s how you know it’s love, that’s how you know it’s fate.

“You don’t got the stuff in ya to be a killer, that’s just fine, darlin’. ‘Cause I sure do.” His words dissolve into a previously unknown to you cold sneer.

Anakin clamps a burly, sweaty hand over your eyes as he empties the entire magnum into the tresspasser’s skull. The bright sun bounces off the brim of his hat, casting a shadow over his stormy eyes. He may not have let you witness the massacre, but you will never forget the sickening yelps the poor bastard gave to Anakin like prayer. And then he got put down in a more inhumane fashion than if he were a rabid dog. To your gracious host, there’s probably not a whole lick of difference. Between a wanderin’ sap and a deranged mutt, that is.

But there’s a far off expression on his face, maybe he was once at risk of having two bullets in his temple at the hands of someone unforgiving.

“Welp.” Anakin exclaims, making a point of slapping his thigh as he holsters his pistol. “Better head on home now, I reckon. Come on, honey, don’t want to lose you to the coyotes.”

It’s said like “kai-yohtes.” You balk at his teasing and obediently trail after him, a vulnerable duckling staying in line. The storm is hitting hard by the time you’re out of the woods, and you briefly wonder if the Angels up in heaven are gonna start bowling soon. A saying that got passed around in your family, when you and the ones before you would stare up in wonder and shiver in fear at the thundering purple skies as kids. You remember being surprised that one of the Angels’ bowling balls never fell down to earth, maybe it’d be somethin’ like a meteorite.

As is the case with many things, it’s easy to lose sight of the fresh corpse in the dry grass. Once you turn around and thread your finger through Anakin’s, dirtying them, it’s almost like that man never existed. There must be something wrong with you, sure the situation is so unimaginable that it would be hard to cope with, but shouldn’t you be feeling more guilt than you do? You feel bad, of course, but ‘easy come and easy go’ has always been the way of things in these parts. God giveth and God taketh away.

You’re back where you should be, a narrow dirt path going under a wooden fence to the ranch. Grand trees line the road forming a moss green canopy. A few workers are goofing off and playing a very amateur game of football, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Anakin can obviously see them from his place next to you.

It would be a peaceful place to die, a bright and clear afternoon-evening in the way that the world can only be when you’re about to leave it. That’s how you’d want it to feel, like you’re rowing a boat across the lake you used to go fishing at to see people you’d never thought you’d see again waiting for you. Fall leaves, blinding pale sun, a serene and calming quiet. You’d be the happiest you’ve ever been, skipping even though you never could as a kid. There’d be no sadness, only relief and a memento of everything that’ll only make sense when it’s someone’s turn to see you again. No buzzing from mosquitoes or chirping from crickets, only little lightnin’ bugs. Maybe you only get that kinda ending if you’re good, in the godly sense, if you come from something worth remembering.

Anakin raises an eyebrow and gently jostles you, and just like that your train of thought is derailed. He chalks it up to shock, and nods his head towards a clearing behind the building. A change of plans. You follow, as you are wont to do.

“That rat bastard had it comin’ to ‘im, hun.” He tries to reassure and squeezes your hand, imploring you to see reason. “The Force decided it was his time, sweet thing.”

You shake your head, not disagreeing, just in utter disbelief. “I just… most everyone in my life I've known that’s died did it when I wasn't there. I’ve never had to actually be there when they… you know.”

“Yeah, I know.” And that’s all he says, regardless of the truth.

It’s what you need, somehow he just understands exactly what that is. You’re starting to think that you certainly don’t have a damn clue. You look up at him again, really drinking in every facet of his entire being that you can latch onto and obsess over. You’re remembering why you were so anxious to get out of this sinkhole, it’s a miracle you ever got out of it in the first place. His hair’s all messy, dark curls strewn about like a windswept bale of hay. A storm is brewing in his eyes, like he could Earth to rotate in the opposite direction if he wanted it to. He works his jaw around in a weird way to get rid of the soreness after grinding his teeth.

It’s tantalizing, being the hand holding a man on the edge back from wreaking his God given havoc.

You dot a quick peck on his cheek, scrunching your nose up at the barest hint of prickly stubble.

His eyes widen, and the sun itself shines brighter. The cutest light dusting of pink spreads across his face, so he one ups you by pressing your lips together. It’s exactly how a first kiss should feel, a simple gesture that leaves you breathless and with more butterflies than a flower garden swarming in your tummy. There’s no fireworks, but you can hear wind chimes and birds singing as your lips glide together, the meeting of your tongues is so natural that you won’t be able to remember when his slipped through the seam of your mouth. You want to keen as he maps out your teeth, his spit has to have some kind of aphrodisiac in it.

Anakin works your jeans open and off your legs completely, his pupils expand when he sees your thick thighs in all their glory but he keeps himself from slapping them and acting like they’re the only part of your body. There’s an ever growing to do list in both of your heads, your combined inexperience brings a flurry of perverted ideas and porn scenarios to recreate with it, and you’re sad that you’ll very likely leave with none of them being fulfilled.

He yanks the collar of your tank below your chest, immediately leaving over to bite your cute breasts with all the grace of a rattlesnake. He doesn’t try to make any marks, he just wants to bite wildly and with reckless abandon, like he’s using your tits to self soothe. You’d do the same if he let you at his pecs to be fair, his chest is practically as big as yours if not bigger.

“This means somethin’ to me, hear that? ‘m always gonna remember my first.” He spits, clutching onto your bruised tit like he’s a split second away from sinking his hand into your viscera and dumpster diving for your heart.

He pauses pawing at your tits to reach in his back pocket and pull out a condom. It’s crumpled and the packaging is worn by rubbing against the denim of Anakin’s jeans, you can tell that he’s excited to finally put it to use. You’re glad that there’s some safety measures being taken, but your heart swoops in disappointment at the dose of reality. It’s the kind of thing that calls for the most diabolical, unhinged, strings of goopy fluid hanging from his balls as they slap against your rippling ass, raw sex. You don’t let yourself pout, Anakin’s making good use of the only working brain cell between the two of you. You scoot back on his lap to give him room to pop to button on his pants and whip his dick out. It makes a heavy ‘thwop!’ as it slaps against Anakin’s abs.

Your mouth waters at the sight, so thick with the just right amount of curve, it would scratch your throat perfectly. His hands shake harder as he rips the condom’s packaging open with his teeth and rolls it on his twitching length. You take a deep breath, finding comfort in the tense muscles on Anakin’s shoulders through his warm flannel. He curls a hand around the base of his cock and grasps it tightly, positioning it right under your empty hole. You’re lucky he didn’t have to tell you what to do, because working yourself down every inch would’ve been much more painful if you already needed to be taught a lesson. It’s weirdly sweet, the chaste pecks he presses along your nose and jawline as you adjust to what feels like a tree log forcing your tender folds to stretch around it. Your slutty body tries to twist itself in a pretzel with the way you’re swiveling your hips, trying to get more of Anakin’s dick inside of you when you’ve miraculously already swallowed him to the hilt.

“I want this pretty pussy weepin’ for me, I’m awfully sorry honey but i’m not stopping till it’s gushin’ all over me.” He speaks in between wet kisses up and down the column of your throat.

“Mmm- It’s okay, I want it like that, Ani. Promise- oh my god, so big.”

You make him feel like a man trying to outrun a forest fire only to get swept up in a tornado. Like there’s a fever in his brain that’s gotten into his blood, black tar dripping into his liver. Drives a man to drink so he can have a sliver of that feeling, that scalding need not even God could give you. There’s no finesse or coordination to anything, his lips frantically scurry along random spots on your upper body. His upward thrusts are heavy hitting and wrangle your breath out in stuttered gasps, he moves as if he were riding a horse, following only the imagined scent of old blood. Anakin’s cock is so big your walls could rip if he wasn’t always keeping a sharp eye on how much he’s bullying you. He doesn’t try anything crazy like fucking your cervix, it might shock you so much that you remeber exactly how long it’s been since he’s had your car “taken to the shop”.

His spurs dig into the dirt as he slaps your ass, the material of his gloves adding an extra bit of ‘umph!’ to the resulting sting. Anakin’s jeans are so warm against your ass that it takes a few more spanks before you really get the urge to bend over his lap and tell him to just have at it until you sob. You’re on an ecstatic high, living in the present with a near stranger’s dick balls deep inside of you. His eyes gleam gold when you make eye contact, and you find it so easy to fall down the rabbit hole, letting this man burn away all your responsibilities until he’s the last one left standing in a sea of ashes.

You don’t mind that he stops talking eventually, switching to gruff grunts and harsh yells. ‘Don’t be so stiff, let the movement roll through you.’ Anakin digs his fingers into the meat of your jiggling ass and delivers a final smack to both cheeks. You sigh in relief, but then you snap out of your cockdrunk haze to yelp at the cruel hit to your swollen clit.

“Need ya to keep squeakin’ sweets.” He orders. “Don’t want the townsfolk to think I fucked your brain out your ears.”

It’d be polite to make conversation with the people you meet when Anakin parades you around with his hat on your head later, something of a pre engagement tour. If the Force is good, you’ll be willing, because rope burn isn’t something you want to become your new normal.

“Chin up, buttercup,” He says almost bashfully despite how hard he’s pounding your puffy cunt, “We can get some ice cream at the fair after if ya like, make it a cute little second date.”

You whimper and harshly pull his hair, earning you a throaty moan and another slap to your clit, saying yes to him like you’ve already done a million times. You thought that the pure social anxiety of being around so many of Anakin’s employees would be nerve wracking, it’s nothing compared to having to speak to them AND keep their boss’s cum from oozing down your leg. Anakin’s discarded belt catches your eye when a sharp thrust sends your head falling back, and you picture the scuffed up belt buckle as the O shaped ring of a more traditional collar. The black stains from working on your car only add to the appeal, it scares you exactly how much you’d let the man fucking you with a cheap gas station condom get away with. You’ve already heard him kill a man, finding yourself in a relationship is pretty much the natural next step.

When he cums deep inside with a hoarse growl, there’s the sound of a bear trap slamming shut on an unsuspecting bunny rabbit. Your simultaneous orgasm is the tiny squeal it makes before it dies.

“I forgot to ask, hun, what stuffed animal do ya want me to win for ya?”

- faetreides 2024. do not repost, translate, or put my works into ai

[bloatedandalone04]

Love & Bound - Blurb 01

➪in which you and and anakin discover a new possible kink. | Part of the Screaming Whispers/Rocker Anakin au - Takes place after SW, before WAYF | HAPPY STAR WARS DAY

“What are you doing?” Anakin asked as you snuck up behind him at the table. 

When he went to turn and look at you, your hands shot out and grabbed onto either side of his head and kept it straight. “Don’t look,” you say and cautiously pull your hands away once you’re sure he won’t try to move again. “I want to try something.”

Anakin held back a laugh as he nodded, “Okay,”

You bite your lip in excitement as you grab the black bandana he used to wear in high school from where you hid it in the drawer. When you moved to wrap it around his head, he moved back a bit before letting you cover his eyes with it.

“What are you doing, princess?” He asked again as you tied it. “Is  this some sort of new kink you’re trying out?”

You hold back a laugh as you straighten the bandana out, pulling and fidgeting with it until you’re sure he can’t see anything. 

“Not that I’m complaining, I mean, I’m totally into it,” he added when you began tugging on his chair. “I just thought that you’d be the one blindfolded.” 

You let out a hum as he helps you out a bit and pushes the chair away from the table, his hands blindly reaching out for you afterwards. When they find your hips, you allow him to guide you onto his lap. You straddle him on the chair, your own hands fisting the fabric of his graphic tee as you settle on top of him. “Sounds fun,” you tease, caressing the sides of his neck with your thumbs. “Maybe we can try that later.”

Anakin lets out a soft groan, tilting his head up as he attempts to connect your lips. You move out of the way with a quiet laugh, gripping his jaw and pushing his head away from yours. “What, you can blindfold me but I can’t kiss you?” He asked and you laughed again and shook your head, knowing damn well he couldn’t see you do it. “That doesn’t seem all that fair, pretty girl.”

You laugh again, and the sound brings a smile to his lips. Your eyes follow the curve of his mouth and you lift your hand higher up, your thumb tracing along his lower lip. His smile slowly fades as your feather light touches linger on his skin. “You call me pretty, but,” you trailed off, leaning in to brush your lips against his. He chased you when you pulled away, but you didn’t let him kiss you properly. “You are by far the prettiest, most sexy, most handsome, insanely hot person I have ever met in my entire life.”

Anakin moaned at your praise and then again when you leaned in and kissed him deeply, bumping his tongue with yours. “Baby,” he whispered, tightly gripping your hips and rolling your body on top of his. 

“And you’re mine,” you finished, pulling off the bandana and letting it drop to the floor. Then you were picked up and in Anakin’s arms as he carried you down the hall to your near empty bedroom.

[ireadwithmyears]

you gonna swoon on me, meshla?

Pairing: Kix/GN Reader

Word count: 3.4 K

Tags/warnings: mostly fluff/humour, injections, mentioned fear of needles, fainting, awkward/embarrassing love confessions, first kiss

Summary: when you quite literally swoon into the arms of the medic you’ve had a crush on for months, you aren’t planning on confessing your feelings for him. When the truth embarrassingly slips out anyways, you’re surprised to find that those feelings maybe don’t go as unreciprocated as you had thought.

Note: look, I did it. I finally titled something without referencing a Taylor Swift song. Are you proud of me? I didn’t know I could do that. 

Please, don’t let it be him. 

This is the only thought that runs through your mind as you anxiously wait in a line of troopers, officers, and Jedi generals and commanders, all neatly filed into the medbay of the Negotiator to get updated vaccinations, a precaution, you were told by your CO, in preparation for a planet you were about to be deployed to, that was currently dealing with an outbreak of some disease or other.

If it’s him, you think, you’ll simply crumple to the floor in embarrassment. 

Your name is called, and at first, you don’t react, instinctively turning to find the owner of the voice, searching through a sea of very identical faces until your eyes lock on him.

“Over here,” Kix calls to you. “I’ll take you now.”

Great. 

Absolutely fanfuckingtastic. 

As your eyes are drawn to the prettiest face that you’ve ever seen in the GAR, instinctively, the butterflies in your stomach take flight, insistent as they flutter. 

This makes for a rather poor combination with your already frayed nerves, anxious about what you’re about to do. What he is going to do to you, you correct yourself, feeling your stomach lurch. It takes all of your willpower not to wilt on the spot.

Move, you silently order yourself. Move so that he doesn’t piece together that anything is wrong. 

Reluctantly, you do, feet awkwardly shuffling forward through the crowd as you try not to be sick. This is, quite possibly, the worst scenario. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen. Being afraid of needles as a grown ass adult is embarrassing enough. But being afraid of needles and having the handsome, kind medic with the beautiful brown eyes and impeccable bedside manner who you, you have to admit it, have had a crush on for a long time being the one to administer your vaccination is just on a whole other level of mortification.

This is humiliating, you think to yourself, and not at all what you signed up for when you became an aid to one of the admirals who is stationed primarily on the bridge of the Negotiator. You work and interact with the clones often, and yet, it’s him whose set apart from the others for you, who’s gentle smiles and kind words, paired with that handsome face always sends your heart racing. So of course, of course, it had to be him who was about to see this embarrassing, completely irrational side of you. 

You try not to let any of this discomfort flicker across your face as he leads you into a curtained off cubicle, gesturing for you to sit. 

You hesitate and slowly, with the trepidation of a loth-cat wandering out into the rain, you lower, tentatively sitting on the edge of the seat.

*

“You’re shaking,” Kix murmurs, gently taking your wrist in his hand to feel your pulse. “And your heart rates a bit jumpy,” he adds after a moment.

His voice is soft, non-judgmental, slightly honeyed with a hint of what you think might be concern.

Still, you rush to answer, eyes widening in false surprise even though, his alluring proximity combined with your looming anxiety easily explains his observations.

“I is it?” You ask, voice pitching upward in a nervous squeak that makes you internally cringe.

His lips pull into a kind smile as he inclines his head, crease forming between his eyebrows as he looks at you with a flicker of curiosity.

“It’s not anything to be alarmed about. But it is usually a sign of anxiety or nerves, in this case,” he remarks, leaning forward and propping his elbows against his knees as he gazes at you. “Are you feeling nervous right now, cyar?” He queries, voice understanding and gentle.

In spite of the fact that the word is unfamiliar to your ears, something about it, and the tone of his voice, makes you blush.

Regardless of  that, you’re quickly shaking your head in denial, defensive.

“No,” you respond, forcing your voice to remain even. “I’m not nervous.” 

There’s a beat, a slight hesitation where he deliberates. Then, by some mercy, he nods, straightening and rising to his feet. 

“Alright, then,” he acquiesces, moving to retrieve something as your eyes warily track him. “If you could just roll up your sleeve, which ever arm you prefer, we’ll have you out of here quickly.”

You nod mutely, throat going dry as you do, trembling hand slowly pushing up the sleeve of your T-shirt. 

He moves around you, stepping up and beginning to wipe a disinfectant over the exposed skin of your arm, just below your shoulder. It’s cold, and you instinctively flinch, unable to hide the jolt as the unexpected sensation sends you spiralling into overdrive.

“Okay, okay, I lied,” you admit frantically, raising your hands to cover your face, cheeks burning. “I am nervous,” you confess, voice muffled against your hands.

“Hey, hey that’s okay,” his response is immediate, voice filled with warmth and reassurance. “You don’t have to hide, meshla, I understand.” 

To his credit, he does sound genuine, kind, not a hint of judgement or condescension in his voice.

Hesitating for a moment, you look up at him through your eyelashes, lips pulled downward into a frown. “I didn’t want you to know,” you mumble, cheeks still flushed. “It’s embarrassing, and I know I can handle it.”

He gives you a nod of encouragement. “I know you can handle it, too,” he responds immediately. “But I don’t find your apprehension embarrassing at all. These are unpleasant, and overall not a fun experience. Even if it is finished quickly, it is understandable to dread it.”

You find that you have nothing to say to his sound logic, and you’re still floundering to come up with a response when his fingers lightly brush against your arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. It’s funny, because you’d expect, what with your nerves already running so high at this moment, that you wouldn’t have the energy to blush at the simple touch, the light, barely there brush of his gloved fingers against your bare skin.

You’d be wrong, especially when he appears to notice, and his eyes linger on your face, pausing for just a moment too long with something, warm and soft in them. 

“And no offense, but you’re a shit liar,” he teases, giving you a slight grin.

“Am not,” you defend, voice indignantly jumping an octave higher which makes him chuckle.

“Right,” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m absolutely convinced.”

He sits back, face becoming serious once more as he looks at you. “Is there anything I can do to help make this easier?” He asks, voice soft.

You shake your head, biting your lip uncertainly. “I I’m not sure,” you admit, looking down at your feet.

“That’s okay,” he says, looking thoughtful as he pauses for a moment before he sits forward. “I’d like to try something, and we can see if it is helpful, if you’re game for it?” He asks, raising one eyebrow as he looks at you.

You let out a slow breath, giving him a half shrug. “Honestly? At this point I’m game for anything.” 

He gives you a smile and nod, wheeling his chair up next to you. Almost absently, he reaches up a hand, carefully tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. 

In the back of your mind, you know that it’s probably just so that it’s not in the way of the injection site. But still, your heart flutters at the simple gesture, momentarily distracting you from your fear.

It doesn’t last. 

The minute he moves to the tray of tools beside him, your breath catches in your throat and your eyes jump to stare at him, alarmed.

He looks at you, brown eyes searching, and you’re struck by the deep level of compassion you find in them. 

“You might find this easier if you look away,” he says gently. “Nothing is going to happen without warning. I will tell you what I’m doing, and I won’t proceed until you tell me that you’re ready.”

You give him a slow nod, reluctantly pulling your eyes away and forcing yourself to look forward. Despite your pounding heart And your racing mind, you implicitly trust him, knowing that he’ll keep his word. Satisfied, he speaks again. 

Now, this might sound counterintuitive, but I’d like you to clench your fist as tightly as you can. Keep it nice and tense, and ignore everything that’s going on up here,” he says, fingers gently trailing over your upper arm. “I’m just going to disinfect this again, just to be safe. It’ll feel a bit cold,” he warns, and you hear the sound of a plastic wrapper being torn open as he prepares a new swab.

You give him a small jerk of your head, forcing your fingers to close into a fist and holding it tightly as he moves, quickly swiping over the area a few times.

“Good, now, I’m coming in with the injection. I want you to take a nice, deep breath in for me,” he encourages, and it takes all of your strength not to look at what he’s doing beside you.

You nod again, forcing yourself to pull air through your lungs in a long, controlled breath. “Keep that fist tight,” he reminds you quietly. “You tell me when.” 

You take one, two, three seconds to hold your breath, and force the muscles of your fist to contract tighter, and prepare yourself. Kix waits, his presence unobtrusive, patient and calming. Finally, you give him the go ahead.

“Do it,” you say simply, bracing yourself as you do.

It comes without delay, quick and immediate, and a sting that makes you wince. But, by the time your body is reacting to it, it’s already gone.

Your breath exits your lungs in a slow, relieved stream of air as Kix speaks, switching out the syringe for a cotton swab, holding it against the site for a moment. 

“Perfect. All done,” he praises, and you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a smile on his face, matching the warm inflection of his voice. 

You feel him carefully apply a small Band-Aid to the site, smoothing it down with his fingers before he turns to you, grinning.

“You’re all set. Now, I’m just going to take you to the waiting area, and just wait there for five, ten minutes to make sure you’re good to go,” he continues, discarding the no longer needed supplies.

You not in understanding, and he moves to get the door for you as you rise to your feet when suddenly, something makes you pause as you move to step past him.

Huh, that’s weird.

Distantly, you register that your ears are ringing, and strangely, the world has gone out of focus around you, blurring around the edges as your head spins, suddenly dizzy.

Kix’s eyes are alert and observant, carefully watching as your movements become unsteady, taking note of how the colour has quickly drained from your face. He moves, easily intercepting your path by stepping in front of you, holding out an arm, stalling your movements with a hand on your shoulder. You don’t even have the energy to blush at the touch, and that’s when you should clue into the fact that something is wrong. But you don’t, because everything feels so out of focus and detached from reality. You remain blissfully unconcerned.

“Wo, easy. You gonna swoon on me, meshla?” He asks, carefully keeping his tone casual, as not to startle you further.

He sounds far away, disjointed, and your mind is hazy, scrambling in spite of the dozen possible retorts you have to his teasing. 

What you should say is no. 

What you should say is that you’re completely fine, thanks for asking.

What you should say is actually, now that you mention it I do feel a little bit funny. 

What ends up coming out of your mouth in a slurred, unsteady voice is “well, I’ve actually been swooning for you since the day we met, Kix...”

Then, possibly because of the injection, or more likely because of your far away, detached mortification at what you just said, your body decides that it’s time to piece out.

Without warning, you collapse, and before you have time to worry about how much it’s going to hurt when you hit the ground, you fall, directly into his arms, outstretched and waiting to catch you.

The last thing you see is wide, amber eyes filled with concern before your vision goes dark, and the ringing in your ears crescendos to an almost painful, fever inducing pitch before everything falls silent and still.

*

When you come to, the complete embarrassment and stupidity of what you had said before you fainted doesn’t hit you immediately. 

You’re lying on a bed, and he’s there, warm and steady, but giving no outward indication that you had just confessed your feelings for him before collapsing into his arms. So, your brain doesn’t immediately feel the need to sound the alarm and start panicking.

“You’re safe, meshla, everything‘s alright, just keep those eyes open for me and breathe. This happens all the time,” he says reassuringly, eyes only glancing away from you momentarily to study a readout as another medic tightens a blood pressure cuff around your arm.

“Wha what happened?” You ask, concerned but still dazed. At the seemingly loud sound of the cuff being undone, your head jerks to the side, flinching.

“Shh, nothing for you to worry about, cyar,” Kix soothes.

There’s that word again, you think distantly. It’s comforting, and did he just smooth his hand over your hair, or are you just hallucinating all of this?

“Your blood pressure dropped when you got up. It’s still a bit low, so I’m going to get you a juicebox. That’ll help bring it back up. You’ll feel better once you’ve got some sugar in you,” he says, voice calm and unfazed as he passes you the juice. “Just drink that up for me, and I’ll be back in a few minutes to check your blood pressure again and make sure you’re clear to go, alright?”

You can only nod slowly, allowing him to adjust your pillows and help you into a sitting position before he rushes off, the other medic trailing behind.

It’s only when you’re halfway through the Juicebox when your eyes comically widen, and you nearly choke on the juice as you suddenly remember.

You had confessed your feelings for your medic, not only that, but in the most embarrassing way possible, and then you fainted in his arms.

Fuck.

It all comes rushing back to you, and you have to set your juice down as it does, letting out a long, mortified breath as your head falls into your hands.

You need to leave. 

You need to leave right now. You need to get out of here and save you both the awkwardness of having to talk about your embarrassing blunder. The door isn’t that far, you could make it. You could just slip out, and you both could go on and never talk about it again. 

Now, if you were thinking clearly, you would know that trying to make a mad dash out of the medbay without being cleared to do so is impossible. It just is. Medics of the 501st are like hawks, having a bit of a reputation for troopers who try to bolt, and will swoop down on anyone who tries to sneak out before they even make it to the medbay’s double doors. 

Yet somehow, in your delusional state of mind, you actually believe that you can do the impossible. You are different and you will be the one to succeed where all others have failed.

You don’t. 

You manage to slip out of bed, only feeling slightly unsteady on your feet, and you make it five, ten steps before there’s warm hands settling on your shoulders from behind and a deliberate clearing of a throat as you’re turned to face Kix, jaw tight, and face stern, a look that you’re more than certain is well practiced, and very effective at instantly causing you to break out in a nervous sweat.

“What are you doing out of bed, little one?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I, uh, n nothing?” You squeak, knowing even before you speak that it’s not going to convince him in the slightest. 

“Hmph,” he huffs disapprovingly, gently steering you back to your bed and nudging you to sit down on the edge. “Like I said earlier, you’re a horrible liar.” 

He picks up the Juicebox, from where you had abandoned it on the nightstand, and frowns. “You didn’t even finish this,” he scolds, before setting it back down with a sigh. 

There is disappointment in his voice, and it instantly makes you swallow, looking down at the ground. You feel the need to say something, anything, so that he stops looking at you like you’ve kicked a tooka right in front of him. 

“I was trying to save you embarrassment,” you blurt out, not knowing how else to explain.

“Embarrassment,” he says, sounding genuinely baffled, which, in turn, makes you feel confused. He frowns, tilting his head to observe you for a moment before slowly giving it a bewildered shake. Carefully, he quietly goes to close the curtains around you both, offering you at least a little bit of privacy.

You’re still trying to figure out what in the galaxy you’re supposed to say to explain yourself to him when he turns back to face you, beating you to it.

“What you said, before you fainted, did, did you mean it?” He asks, straightforward and to  the point, but voice losing its usual sureness. 

When you fail to respond, he takes a step forward, eyes meeting yours squarely. There’s something there, something that glimmers within his warm irises that you dare to believe, for one moment, might just be hope, that your answer just, slips out, small and honest and simple.

“Yes,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “I did.” 

It’s Kix’s turn to falter, breath audibly stuttering as his eyes widen briefly, before he takes another step towards you.

“A and what if,” he says, voice a low murmur. “What if I told you I felt the same way?” He asks, eyes intent as he gazes at you.

You blink, staring up at him for a moment before speaking, voice not as confident as you’d like. “I’d say I don’t believe you,” you admit, slightly sheepish as your eyes dart away. When they come back to meet his, though, there’s a sparkle, a slight challenge in them.

“I’d say, prove it.” 

Wordlessly, he nods, unable to hide the breath that audibly catches at your words, quickly closing the distance between you two and moving a hand to tilt up your chin, holding it gently as he stares down at you, expression almost reverent. Then his eyes fall to your expectant lips, and it’s your turn to tremble, watching as they seam to darken slightly. 

He leans forward, breath ghosting over your lips before his, warm and soft and so, so gentle, brush against yours.

It’s a chaste, quick thing, that leaves you wanting and is over far too soon. A displeased noise leaves your throat as he steps back, suddenly tentative and unsure. You surge to feet and quickly step into his space because force, now that he’s here, now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you need more, and you’re determined to get it.

Luckily for you, he understands, meeting you half way as your hands scramble for perch’s on his armour plating, trying to pull him towards you. He happily obliges, hand cupping your chin and tilting your head back as his lips meet yours again.

A low hum escapes him as his body presses against yours, lips pressing much more insistently this time as they meet with yours. It’s hot and feverish and already leaving you breathless when his hand drops from your chin, experimentally dipping down to run his fingers along your hip, before he urges you closer to him, holding your waist to pull you closer, eliciting a small, surprised gasp to escape your parted lips. You feel his lips tug into a self-satisfied smirk against you before he pulls back. 

Unwilling to let you go just yet, he lets his forehead rest against yours, unable to pull his eyes away from your still parted, slightly kiss swollen lips. Maker, he thinks to himself silently. That might just be the most beautiful site he’s ever laid his eyes upon. Paired only with what he finds when his eyes trail lower, your chest, rising and falling heavily as your heartbeat doubtlessly flutters rapidly at the effect he has on you

“Do you believe me now, meshla?” He asks lowly, unable to resist grazing his thumb along your lips, causing you to shutter.

“Yes,” you manage to say breathlessly. “I I believe you.”

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your temple before pulling away, with obvious reluctance.

“You’ll have more of those, then,” he promises, turning to leave before looking back at you with a wicked grin on his face.

“But you have to finish your Juicebox first,” he reminds you with a teasing glare before exiting, letting the curtain drop behind him, leaving you alone with your still racing, scattered thoughts and your wildly fluttering heart, and, of course, a half empty juice box that is now destined to be finished in record time. I

[bartowskis]

FELICITY JONES & DIEGO LUNA as Jyn Erso & Cassian Andor, on set for Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)

[iburnedmyselfalive]

MASTERLIST.

sam monroe

forever — smut

anakin skywalker

shadows of affection — smut

epitome of pleasure — smut

sex therapist — smut

again — smut

just for me — smut

your mess — smut

tired whispers — fluff

tell me somethin’ - smut

waste - smut

hayden christensen

fill me up — smut

please — smut

more on the way! ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

[jhuzen]

Hi! I'm here to request a Blade x m.reader(fluff, with a bit of angst). Since you said you're open👀.

I've got an idea. Blade gives like the old black cat energy vibes, and maybe what if he got clingyyyyyy, like so clingy, to the point even he is surprised. That's understandable for some point, cause he's got little to no attention in his past years, after he forgot everything(poor little Bladie)

But who am I to deny Bladie's attention, right? Haha. I really like how u do a bit of headcanons first and then a little fic in the end.

(Can i be anon K, hehe?🤪)

feline care [m.reader]

can you tell how much i love this man? ty ty nonnie K, lysm for this wonderful bladie request,,, jUST A FEW MORE WEEKS, WE CAN DO THIS TOGETHER, MKAY? hang in there <3

𖦹 blade being a cat-aligned man, subtle clinginess and yet no one calls him out for it, mentions of his past (i’ll try not to spoil too much), a tiny pinch of angst, and a spoonful of fluff, bittersweet on some parts (only because i mentioned the word bittersweet lmao)

It’s agreed upon everyone who has known you and Blade that… Blade is a cat more than a man, and you are a scratching post more than his lover.

Not that you’re always covered in scratches (though you have left your shared room in that state on some occasions). It’s more of the premise that he’s almost always latched onto you. It was odd for the others. Even Silver Wolf looks up from her game, baffled to see that when you’re briefing the mission from Elio, somewhere beside you, Blade has his hand on your hip. Kafka sometimes gets interrupted in her gossips with you when Blade sits down without warning beside you. She doesn’t mind from then on. Sam and Elio share the same experiences too.

He just… intervenes silently. Like a cat suddenly demanding your attention while you’re busy and he does it wordlessly and for some reason, no one questions him about it. In the middle of conversations, in the middle of meals, if you’re with someone, Blade does not care and will slide in beside you.

Blade has this primal need to just be beside you, to have a part of him touching you. His shoulder against yours, his hand on your back, heck, even a strand of his hair on yours, it’s more than enough.

No one points it out to him, but he’s the one who slowly came to the realization that he’s being… a little too touchy, a little too clingy than what was normally expected from him. Of course he has his own self-awareness, but it’s just that he’s so drowned and enticed with your presence, it takes him awhile to realize that sort of thing.

He’s a recluse, and often kept to himself. He only follows his comrades and will protect them if necessary, you included. But ever since you’ve propositioned a life of partnership with him — not just any partnership, it’s one that comes with your unbridled love and adoration for him, suddenly he’s reaching out some more to you, sticking some more beside you, needing even just a measly lick of attention from you.

Blade appreciates how you let him do as he wishes. You acknowledge him but not so much that it makes him feel standoffish towards you. It reassures him that he isn’t overstepping. (Though really, you’d love to tease him about it, you know it’ll quickly scare him away and you’ll be deprived of feeling his touches for awhile. It has happened once and you won’t let it happen again).

But it’s his touches that show just how much appreciation he has for the love that you can give him. You love him regardless of his past and how he came to be. And it just… shows how much undying devotion he has for you.

He’s a cat alright, it took you a long time to gain his trust, much less have him speak to you when he was officially onboard with you and the rest of the Stellaron Hunters. But the payoff is so satisfying with how he returns every effort you’ve exerted to get close to him. Now that you did your job, it was his turn to keep you close to him. You did it, and now he wants to be yours without a single question from anyone out there.

However there are bouts of isolation that keeps you from seeing him. It’s those times when he mulls over the things he went through. From Jingliu’s torment, to the betrayal of his fellow comrades to him. And instead of seeking you, he becomes this ball of contempt that slowly consumes him from the inside out. He doesn’t want to be near you even if he wanted to because he’s not so hot on the idea of always associating you in his time of need. He has this sense of duty that when he presents himself to you, that when he willingly hovers around you, he’s in his best, ready to protect you if needed.

And that’s where you normally work your magic.

“Dearest~” Kafka coos from behind you, and with her was Silver Wolf, playing on her games.

Currently, the ship is embarked on a random planet, just a little stopover before continuing on your journeys to hunt Stellarons and aid Elio in his… incredible fascination in being the slave of destiny. And right about now, you were in charge with looking over the next world you and your little crew of misfits are about to pay a little visit to, (perhaps also terrorize).

You grunted in acknowledge from your spot, eyes never leaving the holograms that wafted around your entire space. It was hard work, alright. Sometimes you wonder if Elio is a bitter single that refuses you to even spend some time with your beloved just for a short while.

“Seen Bladie around? Silver Wolf and I are heading down to shop around, might you and your beloved be interested in some fun with us?” Kafka’s eyes crinkle as she looked at you, despite the fact that you weren’t facing her. You can hear the smile in her voice anyway.

You suddenly perk up at the thought. It was strange — Blade wasn’t around for the entire day. Normally he was hovering around you, a hand on your hip while he leaned in with absent subtlety, watching you work in silence. But today… your body barely felt the warmth of his touches, and you were sure you woke up beside him just fine.

Finally did your eyes leave the information, swiping a hand on the projected holograms of information, watching it dissipate into air while you looked at the girls. You cocked your head to the side, all too confused.

“You mean he wasn’t around you guys?”

Silver Wolf only looked at you with the evident exasperation on her face, “He’s basically attached to you 24/7. What makes you think he’ll even come to us?”

Raising a hand in surrender, you only brushed off Silver Wolf’s petty sass, “Okay, okay. Alright.” You brought out your phone, scrolling through the contacts to see if Blade sent you any messages.

It wasn’t even a surprise to see that he has none to say. He was one of those that preferred… coming to see you to talk to you… even if it meant getting the scare of your life after flicking the lights to your bedroom on, only to see him sitting at the edge of the bed, looking at you with anticipation.

It was cute… but your heart that day disagrees.

You pocketed your phone after, “I’ll check around. Maybe Elio had him do something.”

Kafka nods along, “Come and have fun with us if you can, hm? Of course… that is unless if you find fun with each other first.” She cackles at the disgruntled look on yours and Silver Wolf’s faces.

“Gross.”

“Yeah, I agree with the kid.” You pinched the bridge of your nose before waving them off, letting them off the ship while you went off in the other direction, eager to look for Blade.

You’ve searched everywhere, and even went high and low, leaving the one and only unlikely place for Blade to be in since he got with you — his very own room. You can’t seem to recall how your rare invites for him to sleep over soon turned into you constantly waking up with him nestled in your arms while he slept peacefully. The line was very blurry by then, and it was the least of your worries by now.

The door to Blade’s room slid as you entered.

“Aeons, it’s bloody dark in here,” you flicked the lights on with much struggle. “Blade, a— AH—!”

There goes your second heart attack for your lifetime.

Blade was unfazed as he sat on the edge of the bed like the last time, also looking at the door, now right at you as you stood by the door frame, clutching your rapidly beating heart that thudded against your chest.

Your heart quickened in a different way as soon as you saw the faraway look in his eyes. And one too many times, it broke your heart when his eyes expressed such sadness. You didn’t know much, you never asked, you never could stomach seeing him bring out his likely suppressed memories of the past just to satisfy the curiosity you’ve had. All you knew is that he has been through a lot, so much that he only considers himself as a weapon without regard of who he was or what his name was even.

You slowly idled as the unused bed dips in your added weight when you sat beside him. Hands on your lap, gracious enough to give him space until he reels himself back in. That was your little Blade protocol. As long as he isn’t too far gone, you’re ready to express the fact that you are willing to wait for him. Your gaze finds the emptiness of Blade’s room a little too bittersweet — that he had little to no possessions to express who he is, but at the same time a reminder that he vacated this lonely room and migrated to yours.

And while you mulled over the emptiness, Blade was slowly coming into his senses. His mind is in pieces with barely anything but the sharp sting of betrayal from his comrades, the pain he succumbed to under that woman, and the revenge that burdened him as he awaited the day he gets to Xianzhou Luofo to make them all pay the price.

He blinks, suddenly aware of the warmth beside him and he looked to his left to see you, and like a cat, he’s spooked. He stiffened up quick and almost stood up if your hand hadn’t held him down as it quickly landed on his thigh.

“What’s up with you and sitting silently in dark rooms? Seriously, even Silver Wolf’s getting spooked. Did you pick that up from Kafka?” You laughed — not even a mention of what he was thinking about, or what has gotten him all knotted up. Just the way he likes it.

You don’t ask questions, but your warmth invites him to tell you everything that he knows.

Blade only scoffed but a ghostly smile was on his lips. “I like to think without hearing you mumble about what to eat. Is food all you think about?”

“I’m not the one constantly latched onto someone’s hip almost everyday.” You called him out quick and he gave you a look of hesitance. Uncertainty flashes through his normally sharp cold eyes and you were quick to reel him back in. “Not like it’s a problem or anything. Seriously, you’re quicker to spook than a cat. Don’t be so skittish, you’ve seen me without clothes before.”

Blade groaned as he pressed his palm against your mouth, “Quit yammering about things like that.” As blissful as those memories were, the last time you were caught talking about something, Sam overheard, Blade refused to leave your shared room, and you had terrible scratch somewhere along your neck.

Even in the emptiness, you found your bliss beside him and Blade mirrored your sentiments. Even more so when you would shower him in the attention that he so desperately needs without having to beg for it.

You wordlessly watched as he stood up from the edge of the bed. You had every inkling to stop, but you also understood that Blade comes to you when he’s ready. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to keep him around and show him an ounce of comfort that he himself clearly needs. But you were stunned when he turned to you and drops to the floor, on his knees.

“Uh…”

Blade doesn’t speak when his head finds itself on your lap, cheek on your thigh while he refused to look at you.

But when he did, there was a silent plea. To soothe his aches with your loving touch, to comfort him with the smile that finds captures every starlight in existence. You only complied with a minuscule smile as your fingers slowly threaded through his luscious dark hair, fingertips soothingly massaging his scalp.

You relished in the sigh that escaped his lips as he melted in your touch, his head lolling in your lap.

“…Our shampoo does more wonders to your hair than mine.” You commented with a tiny pout and he only grunted in response. He’d rather you talk to him until he forgets that painful void in his chest after being betrayed by his comrades. “Or maybe you’re just naturally perfect, huh?”

“‘M not…” his response was muffled, but you understood nonetheless.

“You are.” You insisted with another grin as you continued to pamper him with your gentle touches. You could see the way his shoulders visibly released tension, his form going slack as he indulged in the comfort you offered.

You stayed in silence with him, the static atmosphere in the room no more than suffocating as you made sure your love and devotion reached him as much as he did yours.

And suddenly, your hand gravitates from his head down to his other cheek, caressing it ever so gently. Your featherlight touch soothes his core deeply and he could only let his lips curl up into a small satisfied smile.

Your hand moved down further until you scratched the underside of his chin.

And a purr rumbles from Blade’s chest.

You stopped and his eyes snapped open as the realization hits you both like the Astral Express. He hurriedly looked up to you and sure enough, there was an ecstatic grin plastered on your pretty face.

“Wh—”

“Don’t.”

…And so you don’t. For now at least.

[forcemeanakin]

𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮

•WARNINGS: Semi-smut. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this). Dirty talk, teasing in a public space, voyeurism, make out session. Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage. 

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.

Series Summary: Luke takes you home for Life’s Day. On the edge of giving up on you two, Skywalker manages to light up a fire inside of you again. Problem is… wrong Skywalker.

Part Two Summary: After your little moment with Mr. Skywalker last night, you’re determined to persuade your father-in-law into fucking you. Right on the dinner table with everyone else around. Including your boyfriend. 

Word count: 3.5K.

Link to Part One

A/N: NOT PROOFREAD, english is my second language, so please be gentle. If there are any mistakes, pls let me know in private so I can correct them, thanks :) Also I have a serious issue between differentiating “in” and “on” situations, so bare with me lmao. 

I’m super excited to announce that I’m very motivated to continue the journey of this pairing, so I’ll be turning FYBD into a series! :) but please be patient! I don’t usually deliver short fics, that’s why it takes me so long to post ! (also look at me trying to polish my themes, omg who am I?)

NEXT PART WILL BE PUBLISHED ON SATURDAY !!!! <3 Consider this as a Part 2.1. If you wanna be tag on it, leave me a comment below :)

“Alright, everyone gather at the table! Dinner 's ready!” Padmé yelled, placing the last set of plates while Leia dropped the center piece. 

“Sugar, you look like a million bucks.” Luke complimented your outfit while you finished up accessorizing, hiding your eye roll by clipping your earrings. 

Last night, you eventually made it to bed with him, feeling uneasy the rest of the night. You gave Luke your back, refusing to cuddle or respond to his arms wrapped around your waist. Tossing and turning, every time you shut down you dreamed about Anakin and his lustful orbs. And, unlike someone with common sense, you didn’t feel guilt from your forbidden target. No, it riled you up even more. 

Being spooned by your boyfriend while thinking about his dad. 

The naughtiness of it was a thrill you didn’t want to stop chasing.

“Is that dress new?” From the moment you woke up to this very instant, Luke hadn’t stopped apologizing and drowning you in compliments and demonstrations of affection.

Yet you still hadn’t responded to him with the same tenderness, prolonging your fight. The reality was that you had already forgotten all about the “slut” bomb, but staying angry at him somehow justified daydreaming about fucking Anakin. 

“Thank you.” You replied coldly, checking yourself one last time in the mirror, turning around to make sure the back side wasn’t wrinkled.

You had chosen the tight, long, black dress even before making it your personal mission to seduce your boyfriend’s dad. You were now thanking Y/n from the past for packing something so flattering and form fitting to this particular event. It’s not like you were out of place, everyone was dressing up as well. 

“Guys! I’m not calling you again!” Padmé rushed. 

“Y/n I don’t want us to keep fighting… Not this weekend, please?” Luke caught your attention by trapping your hands inside his palms. “I’ll do better. Be more adventurous for you…” He murmured, caressing your arms with tenderness. Arching an eyebrow at your cleavage, “Maybe make it up to you tonight?”

Disappointment settled in your chest at the prospect of not spending the night with Anakin.

“Sure.” You faked a smile. “I’d like that.”

“Great.” He kissed your cheek, missing your horrorized face. “Now, after you, m’lady.” He exaggerated a bow for you to walk in front of him.

You snorted, “You’re such a dork.”

Luke escorted you to the table, pulling your chair to sit right in the middle of him and the empty head of the table. Right in front of you was Padmé, with a gorgeous light blue gown and beside her was Leia, who was trying to sit down Han at the other head of the table.

“I don’t want to sit right in front of your dad!” He whispered-yelled, being harshly pushed by his girlfriend to sit his ass down. To be such a tiny person, she sure was strong.

“Try to bond!” She whispered back, fanning herself so the sweat wouldn’t ruin her makeup.

“I'll get food poisoning” He huffed, crossing his arms in a childish manner. “And he’ll puke in my face.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, accepting Padmé’s offering of a glass of wine while observing Han’s pout.

“Easy for you to laugh, newbie.” He scoffed with his usual feistiness. “Could you please do something despicable so he hates you instead of me?”

Oh, you sure had done something to scare him off. 

After he practically ran away from you at full speed, you hadn’t seen him all day. Leia and Han adopted you the whole morning, taking you to pick up some stuff for dinner and showing you around the area. Luke joined in at lunch time, after dealing with a way-too-long call from his friend Din. And even when you came back to the house, Anakin was secluded in his little cave, his personal workshop, in the back of the house and hadn’t showed up at all. 

“Y/n, love that dress, you’ll have to lend it to me.” Leia complimented mid sip.

“Manners, Leia.” Padmé scolded her, head moving in disapproval as she set her napkin on her lap.

“You can borrow it whenever you want.” You winked at the short girl, earning a heartfelt smile. 

“It’s perfect for my funeral.” Han dramatically threw himself on the backrest.

“Han, I can’t think of something I could do that would make him dislike me more than you.” You joked, cracking a breadstick. 

Yes, you could.

“Maybe you could kick R2. At least that’s what Han did.” Luke snorted, Han’s head snapping to send daggers to the blonde. 

“I didn’t kick R2!” Han raised his voice while wincing. 

“Yeah, you did.” Leia murmured under her breath. 

“I accidentally fell on him!  How was I supposed to know that he was behind me?” Han freaked out, dramatizing the scenery. “Oh, who am I trying to convince? You already made up your mind about it.” He dismissed the potential debate, shooting the rest of his beer. 

“Han, you’re overreacting, he doesn’t hate you.” Padmé reassured him with a soft smile. “That much.” She said under her breath. 

“How bad could dad actually be?” Luke rolled his eyes, picking one of the entreés to stuff into his mouth in one bite.

You googled him while you were supposed to be showering: the “Hero with No Fear” had enough battles, manslaughtering and war crimes under his belt for Han’s panic to have grounds, your deep investigation showed.

“Ha! You haven’t endured his bullying for two years.” Han crossed his foot over his knee. 

“And counting.” The voice that had you clenching around nothing boomed through the air, his figure appearing just when Han was about to eat a piece of breadstick, immediately choking. “Good, now I don’t have to do it myself…” Anakin muttered under his breath.

Anakin’s eyes widened when he distinguished that the seat reserved for him was right by your side. His usual seat was always at the head of the table, but having you at arm's reach was exceptionally dangerous after the occurrences of last night. It felt like all his hard work of avoiding you all day was just thrown into the trash with a single sweep. He convinced himself that he had to push through dinner, eating faster than usual and quickly returning to his workshop and wait until everybody left the dining room, so he could safely seek refuge in his bedroom.

Nonetheless, faith had a different path for him. One of painful blue balls and heavy sweating. 

Why did you have to wear that dress? Was it indeed appropriate for a family dinner or was it just him thinking too much of it with the head inside his pants?

And why were you smirking at him like he was the meal you were about to devour?

“Anakin, good, you’re here. Let’s say grace so we can properly start eating.” Padmé announced, glaring at her son that was currently on his third appetizer.

Padmé thanked the Maker for having the whole family here, making special emphasis on being grateful for you this year, the new member of the family. You popped an eye open, and voilá, Anakin was staring at you while her wife praised you to the rest of the table. Separating your palms from praying position, you dropped one on top of his, careful not to make a single noise. You drew random figures inside his palms with your nail, biting your lip as you checked him out. If his handsome face wasn’t enough already, he was wearing a full suit, black tie on top of a white buttoned up. 

Perfect to rip apart.

“And please bless this delicious meal that it’s about to feed us… Amen.” Right before she could pronunciate that final word, Anakin had slapped your hand away. “Alright, let’s dig in! Ani, honey, could you do the honors and carve the turkey?”

Whatever that would keep him away from temptation. 

Getting up, Anakin picked up the utensils, turning the turkey around to cut into it. Doing the proper round, he asked every single person their meat preferences before making the incision, starting with his wife. Anakin quickly ruled that him with knives and using his strength to lash a large piece of meat wasn’t the best evasive mechanism when he spotted you drooling over his flexed bicep. 

“Dad, I want a leg.” Leia requested, passing up her plate to him.

“Sure, darling.” Anakin propped the leg on her plate carefully. “Good choice.”

“I want one too, please.”  Han put his plate up in his direction.

Anakin glared and huffed, but eventually dumped the requested piece on Han’s dish. “Fucking child…”

Giving up, Han dropped on his chair, violently biting the leg. After Luke picked white meat, Anakin had no other choice but to pay attention to you. 

“Y/n-” He cleared his throat, ignoring your subtle attempt to press your cleavage against the table so your tits would pop into his vision. “How do you like your meat?”

Anakin regretted that question the second he formulated it. Although, he was appreciative that the brawl between the twins deprived everyone else from your answer. 

You offered your plate to him, wide doe eyes as your foot grazed his shin. “I like my meat tender.” Your velvety voice sent an electric wave directly to his groin.

The rest of the dinner was no better. 

Playing footsie, curling your hair with your finger, glancing at him longer than necessary, more lascivious than necessary. There was this particular moment that still had his mind-blown: You, leaned over to Luke to whisper something in his ear, gaining a laugh from him in complicity and sealing the adorable scene with a quick peck, all while your sandal made its way up to an escalating boner inside Anakin’s underpants. 

“Pass the salt, please.” Anakin requested out loud, clearing his throat, seeking a distraction.

But you were fast as a bolt. 

“There you go, sir.” Flashbacks from your face all flustered calling him that kicked in, the salt shaker falling from his hand at his nervousness and the contact of your hand. 

“Y/n, question.” Leia broke through the madness of noises. 

“Of course, shoot.” Anakin was amazed at your ability to smile like nothing was happening underneath the table, like you weren’t trying to touch his thigh underneath the table cloth with the hand that wasn’t supporting your chin. 

“What’s your major? I think I haven’t asked you that yet.” Leia swallowed a spoonful of sweet potato casserole. 

“I’m a psych major.” You drank a bit of your wine. 

“Oh, that solves the mystery. You’re dating Luke as an experiment, aren’t you?” Leia mocked, earning a kick from her brother. “Auch, laser brain!”

“Leia!” Padmé scolded her. 

“My God, have you been psychoanalyzing us this whole time?” Han stopped chewing his biscuit as he stared deep into your soul. “How bad is it?” He was dead serious.

“Oh my- No! No! I haven’t, I promise.” You totally had.

“Could you please prescribe something to mom so she relaxes once in a while?” Leia begged. “Or give her a session, whatever works.”

“Bet you are thrilled to hear Y/n is a psychologist, huh, sir? Know how much you love shrinks, Mr. Skywalker.” Han’s sarcasm revealed -in a very obvious way- how much Anakin did not like your profession. 

“Still better than being a smuggler.” Anakin bit down on a piece of meat with venom directly right at Han. 

“Oh, dad!” Luke exclaimed. “You should do dad!”

You grinned at the way Anakin almost spit his drink. 

“I’m so open to that, sir.” You turned to meet the former Jedi’s face and smirked with mischief at Anakin’s knuckles turning white on his grip on the chair. 

“Do you do the little shrink couch thing?” Han wondered with his mouth full. 

“I mean, if the patient wants to lay down while I do all the work, that’s fine by me.” You laughed innocently, batting your eyelashes to Anakin the second everyone got distracted trying to guess what you would diagnosed Han with.

Sensing Anakin’s heavy breathing, you did the whole charade of dropping your fork onto the floor, obliged to pick it up. As much as Anakin tried to nervously hide the bulge in his pants, you confirmed that your little game was in fact working. You sat back on your chair with a victorious snicker.

“Oh, c’mon dad! Let Y/n work her magic on you! You bottle so much stuff, it’s good to let them out.” Leia reasoned, completely missing the panicked face of the woman that gave birth to her.

“Suddenly, I’m full.” Anakin announced, cleaning the sauce off the edges of his mouth and tossed the napkin to his plate, getting ready to leave.

“You can’t go, we haven’t had dessert yet.” Padmé frowned, signaling with a harsh glare to sit back down. 

“Why don’t Luke and I take care of that?” You stood up, picking up the empty plates around. 

“Oh, no, sweetie, you’re a guest-” 

“No problem at all! Please let me take care of you.” The fact that you said that while collecting Anakin’s plate was a true coincidence. 

“Only if you let Han and I wash the dishes!” Leia negotiated, following her mother’s welcoming values.

“Shut up, I bet they were going to do it anyway.” Han grunted with gritted teeth. 

“We’ll be back with dessert.” You declared, dividing the tower of plates and walking to the kitchen with your boyfriend. 

While Luke threw away the leftovers, you came back to scoop up the rest of the plates with the side dishes and so. You surveyed everyone about their dessert preferences, until you reached a spot next to Anakin. 

“Padmé, back me up here! Wouldn’t it be cool if we save money on rent and live in the Falcon?” Han upped his voice to match Leia’s.

“I'm not living on a ship that’s falling apart, Han!”

“It would be an adventure every day!”

Sliding by Anakin’s side to hoist up the gravy bowl, you briefly grazed his shoulder with your chest, excusing the lame contact by your need to stretch for the dish. While you were leaned over him, the low-cut of your dress exposed to his delight, you turned your head and asked him:

“Would you like dessert, sir?” No one would figure that your question had any double meaning, but Anakin knew the filthy desires your eyes hid. 

“Not for me, thanks.” He smiled curtly, doing a superhuman effort not to fall into the teasing of your playful peaks behind the tight fabric. 

“Are you sure, Mr. Skywalker? The pie’s so soft and warm, very creamy. Baked it myself.” Anakin visibly shuddered, inhaling sharply as he closed his eyes while gripping the armrest. 

You grinned, thanking your hair for covering your expressions to the rest of the family so you could bite your lip lecherously. 

“On a diet.” He spat, playing with his fork to avoid the magnetic pull of your wanting eyes. And if you hadn’t taken the hint, he rubbed his eye with his left hand, showing off the gold band in his ring finger. 

“Please, it’s cheat day.” You curved your lips into a smirk, feeling clever at the pun. “Just a taste? Bet you’ll love it.” That tortuous glint in your eyes. It had him, it had him good. 

“He’s always playing hard to get, Y/n. Bring him a piece!” Padmé interrupted the moment, smiling at you and Anakin, unaware of the tension she had just cut off. 

“I see that.” You finally left the table, not without grazing his back with your swaying hips.

“You know what? I’ll help you with these.” Anakin barked, standing up and picking the few dishes left.

“Oh-” You stiffened at his huge figure walking towards you. You were not prepared for him to bite into the trap. “Not necessary, sir. I’ll come back for the rest.”

“Let me. It’s the least I can do.” Standing in front of you, he raised his eyebrows to hurry you. 

Nervously, you made your way to the small aisle before the kitchen, feeling the powerful pounding of your heart. His presence hung heavy behind you and suddenly the bravery you had flagged during supper had magically disappeared, the only trail it left were your jelly legs. Mere feet from the kitchen door, you felt a pull from your waist, your back stamping against the wall. 

“Is this funny to you?” Anakin glared at you, pressing your torso enough to threaten your ability to breathe. “Trying to break up a marriage, being the homewrecker of your boyfriend’s family? While he’s at the table?”

You tried to escape, fighting against him for your release. But if the enlarging of his nostrils was any sign, you were not going anywhere anytime soon. It was time to summon that feistiness back. 

“You can’t mess up something that’s already broken.” You snapped, squinting your eyes. “Why are you really here Anakin? To tell me off?” You cocked an eyebrow, glancing down at him. “You don’t seem rather convincing.”

Being between a rock and a hard place had a whole other meaning when you were sandwiched between the wall… and Anakin’s crotch. 

“Stop it.” He demanded, seeing the way you put aside the dishes on a nearby table to play with the lapels of his suit. 

“That’s not what you were saying last night.” You grazed your lips against his chin, enjoying the quivering that came from it. “Why do you fight it, Anakin? And don’t pull up your lame excuse of a marriage, when we both know that’s not the reason.”

Anakin pushed you by your throat, your head hardly banging against the wallpaper. He overlooked your whining, taking advantage of your dizziness to get his point through.

“Forget me, Y/n. All about me. All that happened.” He warned in a deeper voice. “For my sake. For yours.”  

“Tell me you don’t want me, Anakin, and I’ll stop, hell, I’ll fucking leave.” You murmured with a fire in your eyes letting him know that you weren’t joking around. “Just say the words and I’ll be out of your face.”

Disappointment settled in Anakin’s chest at the prospect of not seeing you anymore. 

So he stayed silent, waiting for the duel inside his head to end and speak the winner’s name: lust or reason. Luke’s voice calling for his girlfriend helped the struggle come to a conclusion. 

“You haven’t answered the question.” You reminded him, to his disdain. “I want you, Anakin, you-”

“Forget me, Y/n. It may be too late for me, but there may be salvation for Luke and you.” He advised, pushing the plates back to you, stepping back. 

“Y/n! I need help over here!”  Luke again.

“Alright. Loud and clear, sir.” You spat, brushing past Anakin while he still stared at the floor.

Marching down to where the voice was calling you, you encountered Luke elbow deep into the water.

“Hey, you brought the rest of the-” 

“Did you mean it? When you said you wanted to be more spontaneous?” Your breathing was irregular from the adrenaline rush. 

“What?” Luke frowned, drying up his forearms with the hand towel. 

“Kiss me, Luke. Kiss me now.” You demanded, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pressing against him.

“It’s everything okay? Why-”

“Luke! Please.” You purred on his ear, peppering smooches along his cheek. “Kiss me, please.”

Once Luke caught up with your level of neediness, he delivered the antidote for your hornyness. Hands fixed on your hips, Luke’s lips found yours and played along at the dangerous pace you set. The makeout session quickly escalated: out of nowhere you were roughly jammed against the counter top, manly hands sliding to your back side to squeeze some of the fat. You reciprocated Luke’s attention by playing with his hair as you sucked his bottom lip. It wasn’t nearly as exciting as kissing Anakin; because even when you and Luke were almost sucking each other’s face off, he was still too gentle for you.

But thrill didn’t take long to appear through the door. 

Anakin’s stroll to the kitchen ceased at the door frame, when he spotted the heated embrace you two were entangled in. Thankfully, the only person he could see was you and barely because of Luke’s back. So your visual connection was only possible because you managed to angle your boyfriend so you could see Anakin above his shoulder. 

Luke moaned when you hugged him tighter, kissed him harder. 

“Y/n.” He moaned, unaware that your sudden passion was boosted at the sight of his dad’s heaving chest.”You’re so hot, sugar.”

“I want you.” You whimpered, staring dead into Anakin’s eyes. “I need you.” Your naked leg escaped the slit from your dress, surrounding Luke’s hip. “Just do it. Give it to me.”

Whatever sweet nothing Luke murmured into your ear flew right under your radar as you delighted yourself with the view of Anakin’s hurting frown. The image was ripped away from you when Luke physically circled your attention back to you. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n. You’re too much for me.” Thanking him, you came back to kissing, the only escape route you had at hand to evade his love bombarding. 

However, Luke’s cringy dirty talk was the second most disappointing thing to happen in that kitchen, just after Anakin leaving.

taglist : @darthgloris @ingrid69ers @shulipp @bookishnights03 @anakinswh0re419 @fuckmyskywalker@dxviiin

[techwrecker]

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐏𝐮𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐬

Summary: The first time you hold Echo in your arms

Genre: fluff

Tags: SFW, gn!reader (but reader is slightly shorter than Echo), very fluffy, mando'a, prompt/ask

Word Count: 0.7k

Warnings: N/A, (please let me know if I missed any!)

A/N: Thank you so much for the ask! This was so lovely to write.

Other: divider by @moosgraphics & @bunnysrph (tysm!)

“Okay, hold on. Let me try adjusting this way,” Echo said from under the hull of The Marauder.

The trusty ship had blown the second capacitor in one week. After putting it off for too long, Echo begrudgingly decided it was time to lift the hood and see what had your home all hot and bothered. You volunteered to be his assistant, knowing it would put him in a better mood about the whole ordeal. Normally Tech would be his number two, but he and Wrecker were working on something else at the moment. Besides, this gave you some alone time with Echo and that alone made your heart beat a little faster.

“Did it work?” You asked from beside him. He was half buried beneath metal while you were sat criss-cross to hand him the tools he needed.

Echo grunted with exertion before replying. “Well it didn’t not work, I suppose.”

“Need anything else?”

“Yeah— a new hand me the laser caliper. I’m not sure how much life this bird has left to give.” 

“On it.” You fished the tool out of the box and handed it to Echo. “Here it is.”

Your fingers brushed one another, shooting a sizzle of pleasant nerves up your spine. Your body was desperate to feel his touch against your skin again.

He tinkered a few minutes more before rolling out on the crawler for a breather before continuing. Still on his back, you could see his chest heaving slightly from the work.

“If anybody can fix her, I know you can.” You gave him a sweet smile and reached an open hand out to him to help him sit up. He took it, grateful.

“Thanks, love,” he said with a smile.

Your cheeks warmed pink against the cool breeze and you looked away, toward the ground. Echo wasn’t your boyfriend, but there was definitely something building between you. Echo let go of your hand only to stand up and stretch. You followed suit. You were still avoiding his eyes so as to not let your face become any redder. He wasn’t an overly affectionate man, so you were surprised when used his scomp link to raise your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. His gaze was determined but soft.

“You know,” he started, taking your hand back up in his. “I couldn’t imagine roaming around the galaxy in this bucket of bolts without you. I’m really glad you’re here.” He took a step closer to you.

Your chest surged with love for Echo, reaching the tipping point. You flung your arms around his torso, enveloping him in a hug you had been dying for weeks now to share with him. The crook of his neck fit your face perfectly as you nuzzled into him. He obligingly hugged you back, tightly. He wanted to hold you until forever and then some. It was as if your bodies had been made for each other, molding perfectly into one another. Two pieces of a puzzle that had found their perfect match. You couldn’t believe how perfect, how right, it felt to hold and to be held by him.

Echo was the first to slightly pull away so he could see your face. You had the biggest grin in the galaxy plastered across it. His eyes were so full of love for you, he couldn’t help but smile back. His face was covered in grease so you reached up and wiped a smear off his cheek. He took it up in his own hand and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

“Echo, what are we going to say to the others?” You were worried they would forbid what you shared together.

“Don’t worry about it, mesh’la. I walked in on them last week placing bets on how long it would take for us to finally be together,” he chuckled. “Hunter is about to make a lot of credits.”

You laughed and finally let him go. He had to finish fixing The Marauder before the crew got back for the evening. The time Echo spent under the hull seemed excruciatingly long, but you knew it was only because you were anticipating the moment he finished. You wanted to pull him against you and fit perfectly into his arms again. And once he finished, you did exactly that. From now on, you took every opportunity you could to let Echo know you cared for him by holding him in your arms. Until forever.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @rinksu-no-joo @welcometo79s