#Anakin the bartender

[pardonmefornottextingback]

*Callum walked into the bar, taking a seat at a random stool and tapping its fingers on the wood softly.*

// @for-legal-reasons-im-not-a-witch

*Anakin smiled and came over.*

"Welcome. What would you like?"

[darthmalewife]

Nothing ever hits better than modern au Cody working in a family restaurant and Obi-Wan being a customer

It's good everytime especially when Cody's siblings are fully aware Cody wants Obi-Wan

Also Rex knows Ahsoka and Anakin because that's always a great detail

[tennessoui]

hi kit i swear to god someone sent in 35 from the prompt list for 'one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs' but someone must have deleted the ask from your ask box.

oh no! who could have done such a thing. after i already wrote 3k for this prompt and everything!

(but in seriousness i KNOW someone sent me that prompt i just can't find it rn!!! but i enjoyed writing this so much it really literally could be the first chapter of a multi-chapter fic......we'll see)

(also this is what i wrote for the same prompt from a few years ago)

35. one of them is trying to get the other off of drugs

(3k) (warning: non con drugging/attempted date rape drugs used -not by main characters)

Obi-Wan’s got a heavy mind most days. Heavy heart too, but it’s been a while since he checked in with that part of himself. Mind’s easier.

Right now, he’s mostly annoyed at the cantina crowd, but that’s a most days thing too. After all, the cantina’s in the middle of the spaceport, best watering hole around. Only watering hole around, really, and it gets him all sorts of people walking through his doors.

Some days, he really wishes Linell’s hadn’t closed, mostly so he could send the roughest looking folk that way instead. He doesn’t care much if smugglers decide to get wasted at a bar before hopping in the cockpit of their ships, but he doesn’t necessarily want it to happen at his cantina.

Mostly because when smugglers get drunk, they get rowdy. They get dangerous. They get handsy.

And Obi-Wan’s not under any sort of illusion here, he knows what sort of cantina he runs, knows the crowd it attracts, knows no one’s ever gonna bring their youngling past the doors—knows that no Jedi is ever going to stop in for a drink. 

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to allow for that sort of ruckus. The Temple raised him better than that, for whatever that’s worth. They instilled a pretty solid understanding of morality in him at a young age; then the AgriCorps gave him an appreciation of organization and tidiness that even after two decades away from it all, he hasn’t managed to shake.

It makes for bad business anyway, to allow the rougher-looking crowd to linger in the back corner, swat at the passing serving girl, call out harassments to other customers. And perhaps this wasn’t the life Obi-Wan thought he’d have, but it’s the life he does have. And he’s in no mood for his cantina to go under as well because of morons like Chak Tuuel getting too drunk and causing a scene.

It was easier four years ago, Obi-Wan has to admit. It was easier to keep a tight hold on his cantina when he could openly use the Force to pull patrons off of each other, push one back to his chair and spirit the other to the far side of the room. It was easier when all it took to convince a pirate that he’d be better switching to water was a well-placed Force command.

But the rise of the Empire saw the criminalization of Force users, even ones who can’t be called Jedi, like Obi-Wan.

It’s been bad for business, the Empire has. That’s the only thing Obi-Wan cares about, the only reason he has to hold such hatred in his heart for the emperor. It has nothing to do with the massacre of the Jedi, the fall of the Temple. It’s because it’s bad for business. That’s all.

Now he has to be ten times more discerning about who he lets into his cantina because he has to actually reason with them now. On more than one occasion in the past four years, since the Fall of the Temple, he’s chopped off a patron’s hand. Arm. Whatever. 

That’s also bad for business in general, though it’s not as if he can actually get into much trouble for it, considering he owns this cantina. And it’s the Outer Rim. Anything goes.

His eyes survey the cantina as his hands busy themselves making a drink for a rather quiet patron at the bar. Most likely a businessman of some sort, given how often Obi-Wan’s seen him come in and out.

It’s rather late in the night, as much as there is a night at the spaceport. The cantina’s full of the usual sorts, and the place is loud. There’s a group of five men in the back, dressed like smugglers. Obi-Wan has been watering down their drinks for the last two rounds, but they’ve yet to notice. Their eyes are ravenous as they look around them. Most of them are big, all are human. There’s one small one amongst the pack, and it’s him that Obi-Wan’s eyes stick to.

There’s something about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, tense and with his shoulder hunched. Maybe it’s because of how smaller he is than the companions he’s chosen. Maybe it’s because he’s so pretty.

Even from all the way across the cantina, Obi-Wan knows the boy is pretty, can see his pale pink lips and dark golden curly hair. He doesn’t look like the sort of person who tends towards the crowds of pirates and smugglers that populate the back corners of Obi-Wan’s cantina. He looks out of place, misplaced. 

Sith’s hells, Obi-Wan probably looks more like a smuggler than this boy. Even the scar across his face, through his eyebrow and trailing down his cheek does little to make the boy look dangerous. Even his outfit—a black cloak on top of other, darker clothes—cannot make him look as dangerous as the men around him.

But they had come in as a pack, the boy in the middle of them. It had been the boy who had talked with the serving girl, Challa, who sat them. It had been him who’d ordered the first round of drinks.

The Force is screaming, a loud reverberation of a warning filling up his head and making the beginnings of his headache twenty times worse.

If someone dies tonight in Obi-Wan’s cantina, Obi-Wan is going to make Challa fill out the flimsiwork. It would be what she deserves for allowing this crowd in.

A moment before Obi-Wan looks away, the boy looks up from his drink and catches him staring. His face freezes as it is, held tight as he looks at Obi-Wan looking at him. For a strange moment, it looks like his eyes flash gold before they fall away, attention grabbed by the kid next to him.

Obi-Wan’s own attention is claimed a moment later.

“Whatcha looking at, boss?” the second bartender on shift asks, resting their arms on the counter beside him. “You look mighty disgruntled.”

“So you thought adding yourself to the situation would help,” he says automatically, caustically as he turns away from the group to stare at his employee. “Naturally.” “Naturally,” Saak agrees with a pointy smile. “I’m a saint.”

“Hm,” Obi-Wan says, even though he quite likes working with the twi’lek. These days, Obi-Wan keeps much close to his chest—especially his affection.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Saak points out, looking back out at the cantina. “Who’s caught your eye? Because me and the crew in the back have a bet going about if you’re ever going to take someone home.” “I don’t mix business and pleasure,” Obi-Wan says, eyes staying resolutely away from the boy’s table.

“See, that’s part of the bet,” Saak says, easy as anything. “We don’t think you have pleasure.”

Obi-Wan frowns and turns to look at them fully. “What.”

Saak shrugs. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smile once, and I’ve worked here for three years. You don’t come out with us after work, you throw out every comm sequence customers leave you-–and trust me, I know there’s been a lot, you never mention anyone at home. In your personal life.”

“I enjoy a healthy amount of privacy,” Obi-Wan snaps, clenching his fists tight on the towel between his hands before he carefully tosses his irritation into the Force.

He understands almost immediately that his anger isn’t even at Saak for prying or at his employees for gossiping.

It’s because he knows Saak is right. Not about—well, not about abstaining from sex, as Obi-Wan gets a rather sizable amount of sex at any given time. But about the distance. The lack of pleasure. Even the sex doesn’t light him up the way it did when he was seventeen, fresh from leaving the Agricorps and setting out across the stars. A consequence of age probably.

“Hey,” Saak’s tone changes, turning from cajoling employee into something much more concerned. “That table in the back, look—I don’t think that guy is doing alright.”

Obi-Wan snaps out of his thoughts instantly and looks at where Saak’s gesturing.

He knows before he even sees them that it’s that Force forsaken table in the back.

And Saak’s right, shit.

The boy Obi-Wan had been staring at looks—looks rough suddenly. His head is reclining back onto the body of the man beside him, eyes half-lidded. He’s flushed a flattering red, lips parted and stained an even darker color.

He could just be feeling the effects of the alcohol he’s been consuming for the past hour now, but it’s the way his companions look at him that has Obi-Wan rounding the bar and crossing the cantina. They look hungry. Eager. Anticipatory.

In the Force, the boy’s muted presence has become fuzzy. Muted.

Of course the moment Obi-Wan turns his gaze away from the group, they drug the boy. It suddenly seems so inevitable that it’s almost funny. Of course this was going to happen. 

“What did you give him,” he demands as he reaches the table. The anger licking at his chest is new. Useful. Righteous. 

One of the smugglers, the one next to the boy, tosses him a sleazy grin, wrapping his arm around the boy’s shoulder. “No need to kick us out, mister,” he says. “We were just leaving.”

“Yes, you were,” Obi-Wan nods sharply. “Without him.”

The smuggler’s grin slides off his face. “He came with us.”

“You drugged him!” 

The boy in question looks up at Obi-Wan as much as he can with his eyes half-way to shut. “Oh,” he says. “That’s what it is.”

His voice is slow and deep. A byproduct of the drug?

He blinks at him in syrupy slowness, and his eyes are tawny. Why had Obi-Wan thought they were blue from across the cantina? They shine golden now.

Something about his eyes, his face, the way he’s looking at Obi-Wan makes his thin sense of control snap. “You will leave now,” he commands, Force reverberating through the words, so strong that the smugglers stand to attention immediately, repeating the order mindlessly. 

Even the boy struggles to obey, pushing up on his feet in drunken surety. 

“Not you,” Obi-Wan snaps. The boy sits back down like his strings have been cut, a sigh of relief at the release.

It’s entirely too orgasmic to be appropriate. 

And the way the boy looks up at him is entirely too trusting for someone who’s just been drugged by his companions. 

“I hope you have another form of transportation off here,” Obi-Wan says with a sigh. “I imagine you will not want to travel with them tomorrow.” “I’ll kill ‘em,” the boy mumbles, letting his head fall back.

“Sure, kid,” Obi-Wan tells him. He looks like he couldn’t hurt a fly, let alone kill a man, but he’s also not entirely sure the boy would appreciate him pointing that out. He looks like a kid who’s decided to try and play outlaw.

This is what happens to kids who try to play outlaw, he thinks dispassionately.

“Not a kid,” the kid says.

“Sure, kid.” He’ll need water. Obi-Wan grabs at his chin and forces his eyes up. His pupils are so dilated it’s hard to even see what color his irises are. Paired with the flushed cheeks, the poor coordination, and the slurred but cohesive speech, Obi-Wan’s pretty sure he knows what sort of spice they used on the poor kid. 

And the comedown is legendary for how rough it is.

Obi-Wan barely resists the urge to sigh. It’s even harder to resist the urge to scream.

He hates the men who laced the boy’s drink. He hates Challa for letting the group of men into his cantina, thereby making this his problem. He hates Vynny for crashing his speeder and forcing Obi-Wan to cover his shift while he recuperates from the loss of both legs.

And he hates the fucking ghost of the Jedi Order for instilling in him the importance of doing the right thing.

“You’re coming home with me,” he says, unable to stop himself from sighing.

The boy blinks at him. “If you touch me, I’ll kill you too,” he warns, but his eyes are still much too trusting. “Slowly.” “Noted,” Obi-Wan snaps, reaching down to fish the boy out of the booth. “And when you’re sober again, you’re going to be paying for the entire tab you and your lot racked up.”

The boy pouts, even as he allows Obi-Wan to drag him to his feet. “What if I let you touch me instead?” “I don’t want to touch you,” Obi-Wan says. “I want the credits.” The boy giggles and presses his face against his neck. Obi-Wan waves to Saak behind the bar, gesturing to the boy and then to the doors, trying to convey I’m going home to take care of this absolute youngling because I am a better person than you and you need to take care of my cantina and lock up behind you and no, this does not count as taking a customer home with me.

Saak gives him two thumbs up, so Obi-Wan is hoping that means the message has been received. It had better be received.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asks as he navigates out of the cantina. Thank the Force, his own cruiser is close. The boy is heavier and bigger than he’d looked amongst the rest of his group. Firmer and more weighted with muscle. And Obi-Wan is no waif, but he doesn’t care to lug around a man who is actually, well. Taller than him.

“Vader,” the boy mumbles, nuzzling into Obi-Wan’s touch. “Why do you feel so good?”

“It’s the spice they gave you,” Obi-Wan mutters. “Makes touch feel good, makes you…want.”

“Oh,” Vader says, rubbing his face against Obi-Wan’s neck like a cat. “I don’t want it.” “Me neither, kid,” he assures him, propping him up against the side of his ship so he can unlock it and key in the code to have the ramp descend.

“Good,” Vader says. “Keep touching me.”

Obi-Wan bites his lip so he doesn’t tell the kid that he doesn’t take commands, not even from imperious little boys who sound as if they’re very used to being obeyed.

It adds more evidence to his theory that Vader is some spoiled rich kid looking to rebel.

“What were you even doing with them?” He mutters as he drops Vader into the seldom-used co-pilot seat of his ship. “Not the sort you’d want to hang around with, are they?” “Bellion,” Vader replies loosely, waving a weak hand. “As’ —assign—assignm’nt.”

It takes through takeoff for Obi-Wan to realize what he’s said. “The Rebellion? You were on an assignment for the rebellion?” Vader makes a noise and turns his head to look at him, eyes almost shut. “Bellion,” he agrees, before promptly passing out.

“Huh,” Obi-Wan says.

Of course he knew that there was a rebellion against the empire, that they were building in both power and numbers as the years grew. He’d even flirted with the notion of joining it himself, but he’d always stepped back. The rebellion was too close to the Jedi. And the Jedi had made it clear that they did not want him.

Why would the rebellion be any different?

When he’s entered hyperspace, he looks over at the boy who has turned his head away from him, exposing the long lines of his neck.

He really is quite beautiful, for better or for worse.

The boy shifts, restless. He pushes himself further into the seat, leaning back and spreading his legs. Obi-Wan would wonder what he’s dreaming about, but before he can, the boy’s cloak shifts.

And there, on his hip. The handle of a lightsaber.

Obi-Wan is moving before he can help it, stepping over to Vader’s side of the ship quietly, eyes glued to the ‘saber.

It’s been so long since he’s seen one. He never got to hold his own. Never made one himself.

But here is one now, on Vader’s hip. Vader is a Jedi. A Jedi! 

It is part greed, part agony, and part disbelief that makes Obi-Wan reach his hand out and carefully detach the blade from Vader’s belt.

The boy does not even notice, except to push his hip up further at the ghost of Obi-Wan’s touch.

It’s a heavy weight in Obi-Wan’s hand, and he takes a moment to just—look at it. It’s darker than he would have crafted his own, sturdier and longer too, as if Vader wields it with two hands. He probably does—Obi-Wan still remembers his forms, remembers each stance down to the footwork. Vader has the body to be a formidable Djem’So user. Or Atari. Obi-Wan had favored the latter when he was an Initiate. 

Vader is a Jedi. Perhaps—perhaps in the morning, after the spice is out of his system, he can tell Obi-Wan about the Temple in its final days. Surely he was not there, Obi-Wan doesn’t know how anyone could have survived the massacre, but he must know. He does not truly look so young that he would have been an Initiate. He must have been a Knight.

Perhaps Obi-Wan will tell him about being raised there. He can share in his pain, if only a little bit. After all, Obi-Wan spent thirteen years of his life at the Temple. The Jedi will always hold a part of his heart. He has never before wanted to admit that, but now—Vader is a Jedi. He would understand. 

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry as he drops his gaze back to the saber.

He wants suddenly, terribly, to flick it on. To hear the buzz of the ions of the blade. To see the color of Vader’s kyber crystal. He wants to take pleasure from the sight of it, the enduring symbol of it, of the Order.

He knows he should not. He knows he has no right to it. If he were meant to hold a lightsaber, his life would have worked out in thirteen thousand different ways. 

But—Vader is asleep.

And no one would have to know.

If just for a second, Obi-Wan allowed himself to give into his want.

He flicks it on and then almost drops it from the sheer surprise he feels as it powers to life in his hands.  Because the blade is not green. It isn’t blue. It isn’t even purple, like he remembers Master Windu’s being.

It is a sickly looking red.

It is not a blade of a Jedi.

Obi-Wan flicks it off and tucks it back onto Vader's belt. Then he sits down in the pilot's chair once more, head spinning and heart racing.

And he directs the ship to drop out of hyperspace to his homeplanet anyway because---well. What else can he do? He'd promised to take the boy home and see him off the spice.

The fact that the boy is---is a Sith does not change anything. It cannot.

[poutypisces]

i’m actually making myself sick with the bartender!anakin thoughts it’s so disgusting

[sendpseuds]

I'll Fall For You If...

“Tinder!?”

For the last hour or so Anakin and Ahsoka had been watching the man nurse his drink, fidgeting with his phone like he had a secret — picking it up, taping the screen once, twice, until whatever displayed there became too much, placing it back down on the bar with a clack — wondering what he could possibly be hiding.

-or- Bartender Anakin helps barfly Obi-Wan build the perfect dating profile... maybe a little too perfect

READ IT NOW

[zeb-z]

The whole theme of symmetry in Alliances has me going crazy.

Thrawn and Anakin/Vader only teaming up twice, to investigate the same region, both plots involving cortosis, and both ultimately masterminded by the Grysks. The same bar becoming a battle zone at Black Spire Outpost. The man from Mokivj who’s life they destroyed getting caught up in it again as the bartender at the Outpost, both lives being ruined by the same men.

The repeated theme of trust being needed when there's none to give, of Padme questioning the Republic and Vader questioning the Empire (albeit just for a moment). Thrawn's loyalty to his people being present and significant to the point of being called a betrayer, of being accused of treason.

Anakin having a personal stake in saving Padme vs Thrawn having a personal stake in saving the Chiss children.

And each question of "do I have a choice?" from the past and the present, when Thrawn and Anakin (and Padme) come in. Because all that planet and it's people has been is collateral damage, a cost of war paid by those who have never had any stake in it at all.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part One: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, one-sided relationship [eventual warning for smut; be sure to pay attention to future warnings in the series]

Info: Anakin loves you so much it hurts, he just really wants to make sure your silly little girl brain doesn’t get in the way of your safety, you have a cat, Anakin is a bartender [diary entries from Ani’s perspective] MDNI 18+

Diary Entry: May 2nd

The Cerulean was filled with loud music, flashing lights, and the stench of sweaty guys and spilt beer. Over-kill perfume on the girls who so desperately wanted my attention, writing their numbers on their drink coasters after finishing their stupid little cocktail. The occasional ‘break it up guys, c’mon’ yelled out at a pair of ‘roided up college boys. Peanut shells stuck to my sneakers at the end of the night, going home and washing off the stickiness from working behind the bar.

All things I was used to.

But you… not you. Every time I caught a glimpse of you tonight it was like the first time all over again.

Pink, skirt, sneakers, crop top. Such a cute little outfit; it made you easy to spot, easy to track, easy to watch over.

I have your drink order memorized. I so hoped you’d come back for another so I could hear your voice, to see your pretty little lips move just for me again. But you didn’t. Because you’re a smart girl. You knew that without a man around to look out for you, you’d be pretty hopeless if you got too tipsy. It only made me want to protect you more. You’re too soft, too sweet, too innocent to worry about the big nasty world around you.

That’s my job now.

I’ll always keep you safe, but I also want to keep you happy. You deserve the world and more, and I’ll give it to you.

I’d destroy the earth to build it up again in your design. I’d live for you, serve you, die for you, at any moment you might ask. Just say the word and I will. I promise I will.

Note: Motion sensors

Date:

May 23rd

Anakin walked a safe distance behind you, his hands in his hoodie pocket, his hood up and head down. It was dark out, the only light was from the street lamps.

Sometimes when he walked you home he just wanted to run up and grab you by the shoulders and shake you; ask you to please for once just pay attention to your surroundings.

You walked around with your headphones in, ignoring everything and everyone. Yeah it was a straight shot to your apartment from the bar. Only having to cross the road once during the mile long journey down the sidewalk. But a mile was a good stretch of space and there were plenty of people who passed you. A handful of creepy, unlit alleyways you could be dragged into.

You were practically asking for it.

He just had to remind himself that this was just another reason you were so lucky to have him. He’d watch over you, so you didn’t have to worry your pretty little head about nothin’.

Anakin stood by the corner store dumpster and watched as you trotted up the steps and tapped the door code into the keypad of your apartment building. After the door shut behind you and he saw the keypad flash red, he knew you were safely locked inside.

It took approximately one minute and 14 seconds for you to jog up the steps to your door, depending on how tired you were he could add a few seconds and not worry. But anything over 20 seconds had him sweating in a panic.

Tonight though you were right on time, his phone pinged with an alert that your door had been opened, and successfully shut behind you. Now he could breathe a sigh of relief and make his way back to work.

His boss was kind enough to never question why he skipped out for about 20 minutes a night or two a week. Anakin smoked, it wasn’t unlikely to assume he just got a little distracted scrolling on his phone during his smoke break or maybe just needed a few minutes of peace.

Now all he had to do was suffer through three more hours of monotonous work and try not get a head start on his hearing loss from the shitty music.

Then he could go home to you.

The cloak of stress he wore when you were out of sight vanished quickly when he perched on the fire escape and peered into your living room. Poor thing. You’d fallen asleep on the couch again.

Not that he minded. It made his night that much better when he could sit closer to you. It was a pain to climb the ladder of the building next door and sit on the rooftop so he could see into your bedroom window. Very inconvenient, but worth it everytime.

He sat quietly, observing you and the way your lips twitched while you slept, as though you were having a conversation with someone in your dreams. Probably him, he thought.

“Oh, your blanket… you’re gonna be cold if you keep squirming around like that, your blanket is gonna end up in the floor.”

His fingers itched to pry open the window and tuck you back in, but he didn’t. He promised himself he wouldn’t do that. No breaking and entering.

He decided it was time to head back to his own home after that, he couldn’t stay much longer without: a) falling asleep b) forcing his way into your apartment for the sake of keeping you warm.

So he trekked to the sidewalk, wiping off the rust stains on his palms from the old metal fire escape. Shoving his hands back into his hoodie pocket after blowing you a goodnight kiss.

Diary Entry: June 6th

You owe me big time young lady.

You left your door unlocked and your window cracked open. It is 3:00am, what if someone snuck in? Then what would I do?

Die probably. I’d probably die if something happened to you.

Therefore, I bit the bullet and helped you out. I’m lucky you’re a heavy sleeper and I’m not easy to startle or else we both would’ve had a big scare tonight.

I cracked open your window, slipped in quietly, lowered it behind me, locked it. Double checked it and then triple checked it just in case.

When I turned around- christ that fucking cat. I swear I saw my life flash before my eyes. Guard dog? Who needs a guard dog when you’ve got that monster running around?

A quick blur of orange and a loud *reeeareow* was the only warning before it- sorry, Boogie, climbed up my leg with her little pitchfork claws. I handled it well, you’d be proud. I picked her up by the scruff and gave her a light bop on the noggin’ just like you do when she’s in trouble; except I didn’t kiss it better afterwards, I think she would’ve eaten me if I tried that.

Any-who, I carried her with me to the kitchen and got her a little treat from the cutesy kitten jar on the countertop. Then she decided we could be friends or well… maybe or maybe not I don’t really know, I guess we’ll see.

I plucked your spare key from the top of the fridge and quietly left your apartment. I locked the door and checked it several times, just in case.

As I walked down the steps I saw that the super was kind enough to leave a reminder that the keypad code had been changed, how nice of him! You are awfully forgetful sometimes. No worries princess I took a picture for safe keeping.

I need to change the batteries on or door sensors soon anyway, those little button batteries don’t last very long you know.

It was only when I got home that I realized I still had your spare key… tsk tsk Anakin. Ah well, that just means it won’t fall into the hands of someone it shouldn’t. I’ll keep it safe.

I love you 🖤

Diary Entry: June 7th

You know, come to think of it. Now that I have a key I should get a few new items for your apartment, that way I can keep an eye on things for you while you’re away.

Note: Hd1080p microcam x4

There will be a bot to go along with this series! This is really short compared to my usual posts: I just wanted to give all my little lovelies a snippet of what’s to come.

Part Two

Tag-List:

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Let me know if you wanna be added/removed

[pardonmefornottextingback]

*Hedera walks into the tavern a couple days after the previous encounter, humming to herself.*

(- @have-you-heard-the-story )

*Anakin smiled and welcomed her in.*

"Welp back. Care for a drink?"

[ddejavvu]

Hi!! So I saw your post for Anakin request and I thought of one. Remember that scene where Anakin and Obi wan go in a club? So I was thinking that scene with Reader and Anakin seeing Reader getting hit on and his being a little jelly. Reader gotta remind him that its him that she wants

Debilitating Desire - Anakin Skywalker x Reader (18+)

Summary: Anakin doesn't handle jealousy well. When a sleazy patron of a bar you're investigating decides he's got the right to touch you, and Anakin can't react because your relationship is a secret, he has to save his outburst for later. Unfortunately, he's only able to make it a few steps down the street before he decides he needs you, right here, right now.

Contents/Warnings: jedi!reader, fem!reader, smut (minors dni), p in v, rough sex, biting, overstimulation, semi-public sex (they're in an alleyway), jealousy, reader gets grabbed by the wrist by a creepy guy </3, lots and lots of messy kisses, anakin's a little possessive but is anyone surprised

WC: 5.2K / navigation / inbox / send me anakin requests!

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Scouting information from bartenders is next to impossible, but scouting it from their patrons is much easier. Loose-lipped drunks are your targets tonight, and you reconvene with Anakin to corroborate information after gathering intel.

"Okay, I've got a Twi'lek male," You start, and Anakin shakes his head.

"No, no, one of the men I talked to said he was Neimoidian."

"Someone else said Rodian," You groan, "Anakin, maybe we should be asking people who aren't drunk."

"Look around," The man before you scoffs, gesturing to the bar full of nothing but reeling, wobbly drunks, "No one here is sober but him."

"He doesn't have a translator on hand," You drawl, looking at the Ithorian bartender who purposefully 'forgets' his translator whenever someone tries questioning him, "And we don't either."

"We're not getting anywhere," Anakin concludes, a sour scowl on his face as he reaches for your waist to lead you out. "No one's sober, so let's just go, and-"

"I'm sober." A raspy, near-hoarse voice comes from a table nearby, and a hand catches your wrist. Your instinct is to reel back but you don't, even when Anakin's hand tries prying you away with its gloved grip on your waist.

It's a human speaking to you, as far as you can tell, and he's leaning back into the shadowy corner of the bar that he'd been occupying. You're not sure for how long, but if he knows anything about the incident you're trying to gather intel on, you'd like to hear it.

"How long have you been here, sir?" You question, tensing slightly when the man's hand stays firm around your wrist.

"Couple hours," He looks smug, knowing he's holding prized information from two Jedi, "Something you'd like to ask me?"

"You've been here for a couple hours and you're sober?" Anakin questions, pressing you harder into his side in his futile attempt to casually tear you away from the man, "I don't believe that."

"I can hold my liquor," The man boasts, voice far more harsh when addressing Anakin than yourself, "Among other things."

Anakin's had enough. He grabs your hand, stealing it away from the seedy man's grasp and scoffing something unintelligible at him. But you yank him back, a tense smile on your face as you tilt your head towards him urgently.

"I'd like to find out what he knows," You speak forcefully, leaving no room for argument even if Anakin is especially good at creating them.

He scowls at you with an intensity that would normally excite you, though you're not sure you're capable of any feeling other than creeped in the bar you're standing in now.

"You're welcome to go back to the transport if you'd like," You narrow your eyes at Anakin, and the man in the booth leans back smugly at the offer, "But I'm going to do my job."

"Yes, boy," The man disregards Anakin's hands clenching at his sides, "Go back to your ship. You're not needed."

"I'm fine here," Anakin snaps, and the second you sit down across from the man, his hands are on your shoulders as he stands behind you. He grips them tight but the gloved hand clenches just a little more into your skin, and the firm grip grounds you, keeping your voice steady when you speak.

"If you've been here for a couple of hours, you probably witnessed an unfortunate incident a little while ago, didn't you? A fight?"

"There's lots of fights here," The man hums, pretending to think on it, "Can you be more specific?"

"The victim had seven blaster wounds," Anakin seethes, hands only tightening in their grip on your shoulders, "You happen to hear seven blasts?"

"Eight." You mutter, pointing at a singed hole in the wall, "One missed."

"Ah, blaster fight," The man in front of you strokes a hand thoughtfully along his stubbled jaw, "Yeah, 'think I can remember something like that. Some incentive might help jog me a bit, though."

You're not sure whether he means money or sex, but you can't rule either out with the way he's staring. You'd have expected the modest Jedi robes you're wearing to deter any wandering eyes but evidently, some people can't be discouraged.

"We don't have any incentive to offer," You narrow your eyes at him, and Anakin takes over.

"Unless by incentive you mean your life. Tell us what you saw, or you'll envy the target of those blasts."

Your annoyance boils just beneath your skin at Anakin's threats, but you know he won't listen to your urgings to be more careful with his word choice. This man doesn't exactly seem like he'd file a formal complaint with the Jedi Council, but if word ever got around that Anakin was threatening unnecessary violence, you're sure it wouldn't go over well.

Despite Anakin's words having been nothing but a bluff, the man changes his tune when he notices the saber clipped to Anakin's belt, your own hidden beneath the edge of the table. He straightens in his seat, sighing in annoyance, "It was two Neimoidians. Dressed real fancy, stood out like sore thumbs in this place. They cornered some unlucky human over there," He points to the corner of the bar where the singe mark hangs over the cheap decor, "She tried to run, but a Rodian shot her down."

"One Rodian?" You ask, and the man nods.

"Hell of a shot." The man muses with a gnarled grin, and that only makes you more worried. Hell of a shot but he'd fired eight? Clearly they wanted this human - who you have good reason to believe was an undercover informant working against the Separatists - dead.

"The shooter and the Neimoidians were working together?" Anakin confirms, receiving another nod from the man opposite you.

"Thank you," You stand, and to your delight, Anakin's hands snake down your back, the strong, gloved one finding your waist again like a magnet.

"I'm here most nights," The man calls out before you can leave, and you turn to glance at him in disdain as he props his feet up onto the dingy table, "Love to see 'ya off duty, sweetheart."

"Go," Anakin spits against your ear, grip on your waist turning harsh. Your breath hitches and you let Anakin practically push you out of the bar and onto the streets, teeming with civilians until you duck into an alleyway three blocks down from the door.

You're immediately backed up against the wall of the building behind you, but you're too fired up to care as you glare at Anakin, "Don't start with me. Threatening him, Anakin? What if Obi-Wan found out?"

"Obi-Wan is going to be too busy tracking down those Neimoidians to care how we got it out of the guy," Anakin scoffs and the exasperated breath hits your face. His expression only darkens further at the mention of the older man, "That's not the point. Did you see the way he was looking at you?"

"That doesn't matter," You assure Anakin with a soft sigh, but from the distasteful curl of his lips into a hard sneer, it does matter. He's standing tall in front of you with ragged, angry breaths coming from his chest, brows furrowed and jaw clenched as he tries containing his upset. It's not aimed at you, of course, but it's a sight nevertheless. He's all sharp features and tense muscles, rage brewing inside of him that's sure to spill over if you don't turn down the heat in time.

"Men like that are creeps," You dismiss, but Anakin is much less eager to let the situation go, still pressing you against the wall of the dingy alleyway, "Women don't talk to him unless he pays them to, is it any surprise he was forward when I approached him for free?"

"But you gave him no indication-" Anakin gushes, poorly-contained rage grating at his rough voice, "I don't understand. I don't understand how I'm supposed to be yours, how you're supposed to be mine, if people like him think you're theirs for the taking."

"It doesn't matter what he thinks, he can't have me, Anakin." You assure him. You know it's hard for him, being secretive about your relationship. Anakin is highly devoted, to his work, to his training, but most of all to you, and to have to stuff that down whenever you're not alone grates on his nerves.

Your answer doesn't seem to persuade him, so you brace your hand against his rapidly rising and falling chest, "He can't have me because I'm yours, Anakin."

Whatever hateful haze has clouded over his eyes clears like fog as he blinks at your words, probably muscling down hot tears of frustration. He surges forwards to kiss you, and it's hard to be upset that you're pressed against a dirty wall when Anakin's mouth is on your own.

His kisses are fervent and desperate, lips relentlessly catching your own between them. They're sloppy as his hands find your waist like there's magnets in your blood, his palms oppositely charged.

"I want you," He pleads, voice rough and ragged, "I want you all the time. I wanted to take your hand in there. I wanted to take more than your hand," He pants, speaking against your lips that have grown dewy from his saliva. "I wanted to grab your jaw-" He mimics the action, gloved hand clenching at your chin, "And- and kiss you, and bend you right over his table and take you."

"Right in his face," Anakin grunts, and you feel his cock beginning to stiffen through the layers of his robes as he presses himself to you. "Right in his fucking face, angel, I wanted to have you."

"You have me now," You breathe, equally as lustful as you press sticky kiss after sticky kiss to Anakin's tense jawline, "Ani, you have me now, and you have me forever."

"Forever," He groans, and you can see his eyes dilate at the thought. He's perpetually breathless as he chooses to spend his oxygen by kissing you once more. It's all heavy pants and strings of drool, appropriate for the dark, damp alleyway you're hidden in; a dirty fuck for a dirty place.

"Anakin," You moan, your pussy pulsing as his tongue smooths over your top lip, "I need you, here-" Your words muffle as Anakin licks flat over your lips, practically drinking the words out of your mouth, "-here and now. I know it's dirty, but I- I need it. I need you. Please?"

"Say it again," He orders, kissing you so that you can't.

You have to speak while he's still dragging his thick, wet tongue over yours, "I need you."

"More," He presses, his nose now nudging at your cheek as he tilts his head, granting himself only deeper access to your warm mouth.

"I need you," You vow, words garbled as he never backs away from your mouth, "Anakin, I need you."

"You have me," He groans, reveling in the pleasure that your words bring him. His hips roll compulsively against yours, grating through the many layers of robes you're both clad in like he can't stop them if he tries. "And I have you. Angel, I've got you, come here."

He says it like you're trying to leave, like you're not smashed flat between him and a wall. But you try anyways, slinging your hand around his neck to drag him in closer.

Anakin was focused on undoing your belt, but when you pull him close with your arm wrapped behind his neck he pauses, eyes closing as he knocks his forehead against yours.

"Ani-"

"He touched you," Anakin remembers, reaching up to take your wrist in his hand. He holds it delicately, bringing it between your faces to kiss the soft skin against the inside, "He grabbed you. He touched you right here," He peppers more soft kisses against your wrist, "Did he hurt you?"

"No," You hum softly, lips still slick with Anakin's spit, "It was just creepy, that's all. It didn't hurt."

"I'm sorry. I love you," He tells the skin of your wrist, and your hand naturally fits against his cheek, your fingertips ghosting over his ear.

"I love you," You repeat him, and his eyes flit back to your own.

"I love you." He rushes in for another kiss, this one just as desperate as the last. His tongue probes freely through your mouth, he's always been good with it, and your cunt clenches around nothing as Anakin's hands slide back to your waist. This time he lets you sling both of your arms around his neck, shuddering into the kiss when your nails scrape up the baby hairs at the base of his neck.

"Fuck," He groans against your mouth, fingers tugging more desperately now on the belt that he's so accustomed to putting on and taking off. Finally he undoes the buckle, letting it slide down to your ankles. You feel dirty as you hear the clatter of your saber against the ground; you're getting stripped and fucked in a dingy alleyway. But It releases the waistband of your pants, and shame gives way to pleasure as Anakin pries eagerly at the clasp.

"Touch me," You beg, and he's one step ahead of you. His hand presses flat to your belly as he snakes it down your pants, his warm skin pressed flush to your slit as he cups your needy cunt. You feel slick gathered in your pussy, and you're sure if he slips two fingers inside, it'll gush over his digits.

"You're warm," He murmurs, and you're not sure whether he means the spit he's lapping from your mouth, or the way your cunt bleeds heat against his palm. Either way, you know he likes it as his hips buck into your own again, pressing his hand further against your pussy.

"Ani," You feel his bulge through the layers of clothing he's sporting, still dragging him impossibly further with your arms around his neck, practically smashing his face into yours. "Ani, I need you inside, please?"

"I'll take care of you," He promises, kissing sweetly across your jaw, and down to your neck, "Angel, I want you to touch me."

"Hm?" Your brain is dazed, comprehending little as Anakin rolls his palm against your clit.

"Use this hand," He reaches for the one that the man inside had grabbed, "Use this hand, angel, and touch me with it. Get me hard, use the hand he touched."

"Okay," You breathe, scrambling for his belt and letting him help you with the hand that's not down your pants. A part of you is worried someone will see the two of you, but halfway disrobed and shrouded in shadow, you're not recognizable as Jedi, nor are these streets ever free from filth; you blend right in.

When Anakin's belt is undone he lets it fall just like your own had, and you gratefully slip your hands beneath the tunic it had been holding down. You have easy access to his pants now, and slipping your hand inside like he's doing to you means you're met with a half-hard dick.

"You're leaking," You observe, as precum oozes from the head of his cock. You smear it around the tip with your thumb, and his hips jerk into your hand. It's an awkward angle that you're at, stroking his dick while he cups your pussy in the palm of his hand, but it's apparently not uncomfortable to him, because with each pump of your fingers around the length of his cock, it hardens in your grip.

"Oh- fuck, get it- get it messy," He pants, straining as he tries not to cum right then and there at the sight of his pre smeared over your hand.

It's hard not to get it messy. His sticky precum oozes from the head of his dick like a steady stream, beads and beads of the stuff smeared away by your hand to help lubricate the measured strokes you're pumping over his dick.

Your fingers are soon tacky with precum, and his dick makes obscene squelching noises as you run your fist down it. He's panting as his palm grinds hard against your clit, and your hips snap into his hands, moving your entire body forwards. It means your fist slides roughly, sharply straight down to the base of his cock, and he bites back a hiss at the slight pain you've inflicted upon him.

"Now," He breathes rough and ragged, "I need you now. Maker, I'm gonna fucking-" He cuts himself off with a grunt, the hand that's cupping your wet heat flipping and twisting to yank the waistband of your pants down. It catches you by surprise, and the tantalizingly small amount of friction you'd been able to gain while grinding against his palm is gone, leaving the cool air of Coruscant's dingy lower levels to shock you.

"Put it in," He orders, his head downturned, forehead pressed against your own, "Baby, put- get me inside of you, I need-to-be-inside-of-you- there y'go."

You use your fist to line up his cock with your needy entrance, his hips more than willing to close the distance to make it easier for you. You don't get a second to adjust to the heavenly feeling of his tip brushing against your folds before he's jackhammering into you, chest now pressed tightly to your own as he slams you once more against the wall.

You let out a garbled scream as you're instantly full, the pace Anakin sets absolutely merciless on your sloppy cunt. You're well wet enough to provide lubrication for his lengthy cock, but just because you're wet doesn't mean you're ready, and the sensation of him bypassing any cautious thrusts and heading right into jackrabbit territory is one that has you crying out.

"Scream," Anakin hisses, his teeth digging harshly into your plush bottom lip. He licks over the stinging bite mark seconds later, the wet muscle sweeping over your own, "Scream as loud as you can, angel. I want him to hear. Tell him," He pulls away from your mouth only to wrestle your face to the side, his gloved hand gripping tight at your jaw.

"Tell him," Anakin urges, kissing and licking sticky stripes up your neck, "Tell that miserable old creep who makes you scream. Tell him who you love, tell him who fucks you into the wall."

"A- Ani-" You try, but it's not good enough for the man still relentlessly pounding his hips against yours. His free hand is gripping the pliant flesh of your ass with a force that surely means your chub is spilling through his fingers, and he uses the grip to hike your leg up, giving him a better angle to destroy your drooling cunt from.

"Louder. Say it louder." Anakin demands, forcing your jaw open with his hand, "Tell him!"

It's terribly difficult to power through the rather attention-grabbing sensation of Anakin's rock-hard cock bullying your wet cunt. He's rougher than he needs to be, balls slapping hard against the flesh of your ass that he's got in his hold.

But you have to try, and with an embarrassingly loud, desperate pitch to your voice, you scream, "Anakin!"

The second his name comes spilling from your lips in a wanton cry he manhandles your face back towards him, jamming his lips over your own.

"Maker," He growls, "You're so fucking perfect. I tell you to scream my name and you do it," He revels in your obedience, tongue licking a hot, wet stripe over your mouth. He holds it open with his fingers pinched into your cheeks but he doesn't venture inside, merely flattening his tongue over your stinging, swollen lips to leave a drooly residue behind. Only once you've been marked does he delve his tongue between your lips, licking at your own like it's his last meal.

"You're so good for me," His words slur together in their intensity, voice thick and raw with obsession, "Nngh, you're so-" You reach down, barely able to coordinate enough brainpower to take his balls into your hand, massaging them as best you can while his hips piston in and out of you at record pace, "-you're so good to me, Angel. More, give me- more, I want more." He begs, the words spilling over your tongue. He grabs tighter at the flesh of your ass, surely bruising the skin and leaving you sore tomorrow.

"Ah! Anakin," You cry, the feeling of his tongue lapping at your own and swapping spit until there's pools of it around your teeth sending a pulse of electricity straight to your core that makes it throb. Anakin feels your cunt convulse, only pushing his tongue further into your mouth. He's a presence; every part of his body is touching every part of your body. He's all-consuming, he's an enigma, he's yours.

Anakin fucks you harder and faster than ever before. All of his strength training must have done wonders because you can't fathom how he's able to generate that much power this fast, but his hips ram into you while his gloved hand releases your ass to pinch at your clit. He abuses the sensitive bud, pinching and rolling it between his fingers to coax more convulsions out of your sticky cunt.

It works.

The pressure that Anakin presses around your clit lights a live wire of hot, heavy arousal that trails up your spine, heat flowing from where Anakin is still latched onto your shoulder right down to your throbbing core. All of a sudden it's too much, everything is too much, and you feel your orgasm hit you like a speeder, knocking the breath out of your lungs as white hot pleasure burns at your cunt. It's a sensation that splatters firework-worthy bliss from your head to your toes, and your thighs tremble as Anakin fucks you through what might be the most intense, violent orgasm of your life.

"Anakin!" You scream.

Everything he does is rough, from the way his teeth nip at your lips, to the way he's trying to suck your tongue down his throat, to the way his fingers bully your puffy clit, to the way the head of his cock pounds into you with enough force to bruise. It's rough, it's messy, it's aggressive, and it's wonderful. You've never felt such pure jealousy radiating off of Anakin before, and you think it's because you've never been able to indulge him so soon after his jealousy blooms. If he's wary of someone in the temple you have to wait until nightfall to fuck, and if the incident occurs any time before dinner he's more mellow when he finally has you. But now it's fresh, now the brand of raging jealousy is still sizzling against his brain, and he's pumping all of the residual heat straight into you.

"Kriff," He grunts, nearly biting the tip of your tongue as he tries latching onto your lower lip, "Cum. Fuck yeah, angel- angel cum for me, cum- aagh! Cum on my dick," He demands, and you couldn't deny his request if you tried. Your pussy clenches wildly around his cock, convulsing with the force of your orgasm and you claw at his back, regretful that you hadn't stripped off his shirt so that you could scratch up his skin.

All too soon the effects of Anakin's pacing and strength flip a switch, and you're twitching in overstimulation added to your bliss. There's a distinct stinging sensation that's now alongside - and possibly contributing to - your residual ecstasy. The ache is a product of Anakin's sharp thrusts, but his movements are getting sloppy, and all the while he spills obscenities in drool over your tongue.

"You're mine. Gonna fucking cum in you, gonna make you mine, gonna- aah!" He rambles, words and spit alike spilling hastily from his mouth and into your own as he struggles to keep himself steady. He's jackhammering into you so fast that you think he could knock you right through the wall if he tried. You're plastered against it, head thrown back and chest heaving as you try not to collapse under the intense amount of sensation you're receiving.

"Ani," You grip at his biceps, dragging one hand up his left arm and digging your nails into his scalp, "Ani- cum, please cum! Please," You whimper, not sure if you're begging because you need the delicious sensation of his release painting your insides, or because you might pass out if your cunt gets fucked by Anakin's stupidly big cock much more than it has been already, "Please cum!"

"You want me to cum?" He asks, a dreadful rasp to his voice as he ravages your mouth. He bites at your tongue, latches on with his teeth like a wild animal and digs them into the squirming muscle until your saliva runs hot, "You want me to cum in you, angel? You want me to fill you up- stuff you 'til you're leaking?"

"Yes," You moan, one hand still clutching his arm while the other tugs at the base of his curls, "Yes, fuck Anakin, please, I need you to give me your cum! I need your cum, please!"

"You need my cum," He revels, a growl lacing the edge of his voice that sends perpetual shivers down your spine, "You fucking need me. Wish that creep could see you now. Fucked stupid, begging for my cum. Beg for it again, baby. Beg for my cum."

"I need it!" You cry, desperate as you yank tighter at his hair, "Anakin, please, I need it!"

All of a sudden he's no longer invading your mouth, his own latching tightly to your shoulder as he sinks his teeth into you.

"Take it," He grunts gruffly against your skin as he latches onto it, dick finally twitching before spurting hot, thick globs of cum into your spent cunt. Nothing is more gratifying than the feeling of Anakin biting at your shoulder while his hips fuck his cum relentlessly into you, and you're sure you'll be sore all over tomorrow morning. He's letting out the filthiest, most obscene string of grunts against your shoulder as his teeth barely avoid breaking your skin, and though your limbs shake with overstimulation your body doesn't move because it's in his strong grip.

The feeling of him cumming inside of you is like a second orgasm of your own. It's not really a release for you, you haven't cum twice, but Anakin's warm cum flooding your core and squelching as he jerks his hips through his climax feels almost as satisfying as if you were the one cumming. His grunts and growls slowly fade as he comes down from his monumental orgasm, and when he unlocks his jaw from around your shoulder, he leaves behind a ring of teeth marks and a sheen of drool on your skin.

"Kriff," He pants, chest heaving and dick softening as he slumps against you. You're not ready for his added weight, but the little strength he has left is used to hold you upright, so you don't flatten beneath his frame.

"Are you okay?" He hums, lips moving lazily against your neck. They're still wet with spit, and you feel the stuff cooling on your skin.

"I'm okay," You decide, "But- but I don't think I can walk, Ani."

You feel him smile, hear him huff out a laugh even though his eyes are drooping, "I'm sorry. I- It's like I couldn't control myself," He admits, breath fanning warm and wet against your neck, "Not after seeing him grab you."

"I know," You stroke a gentle hand through his sweaty curls, happy to be close to him now that your veins aren't pumping lust through your entire system.

"If Obi-Wan asks," Anakin straightens up, his limbs surprisingly strong for how aggressively he'd fucked you, "You got shoved around by a nasty patron, okay? We'll say they caught you by surprise when you were trying to talk to the bartender."

"Okay." You nod, letting him do all of the work in retrieving your belts from the ground and securing yours around your waist. He hooks his own tightly, his saber thankfully unharmed from being dropped.

"Come here," He holds his arms out, but you barely move to help him scoop you up. He does the lifting on his own, letting you sling your spent arms around his neck and laze your head against his shoulder.

Anakin makes it out of the alleyway, but when he should turn left towards your speeder, he veers right.

"Anakin," You frown, lifting your head wearily to see him approaching the bar again, "Anakin, our speeder's the other way."

"I want you to talk to him," His voice is firm, not much of its honey-sweetness left that had been there after you'd fucked in the dingy alleyway, "I want you to stand there, while I hold you up, and I want you to inform him he'll be questioned by the Jedi Council about what he saw. I want you to lie to him while my cum drips down your legs, angel." He murmurs, his words impossibly filthy even for the setting you're in, "Can you do that?"

"He won't be examined by the Council," Your hazy brain struggles to keep up, "What do you mean?"

"Lie to him." Anakin repeats, eyes slightly darker than they usually are, "Make him afraid while your pussy leaks my cum."

"Okay," You nod willingly, letting Anakin brace your feet on the ground with one of your arms slung over his shoulder to lead you into the bar. Your legs are shaky, you look a mess, but you could be perceived as someone coming away from a nasty fight, so you hold your head high and try to control your thoughts.

"There," Anakin murmurs, spotting the old man where he's already watching you from the corner, "Do it, angel."

Anakin leads you over, stopping short in front of the man's table so that he can't touch you again. He looks pleased at your return, albeit confused as to why you're a mess.

"The Jedi Council wants to speak with you," You recite obediently as the man's eyes widen slightly in apprehension. You can already feel the slow trickle of Anakin's thick cum leaking down your thighs now that you're upright, and it almost distracts you from what you're saying. "They want to know your role in the fight, and what you observed if that's truly all you did. They suspect that you might be working against the Republic, and-"

"I'm not talking to the Jedi Council," The man's face curls into a sneer and his voice is gruff, but not pleasantly so, like Anakin's. He stands from his seat rather uncoordinatedly and bolts for the door, surely expecting you to chase after him. But you don't, you couldn't if you tried, and Anakin gathers you back into his arms.

"Good." He hums, resisting the urge to kiss your forehead for fear of outing your relations, 'You did good, angel. I'm proud of you."

"We'll have to sneak into the temple without interception," You plan as your head rests once more on Anakin's shoulder. He navigates the crowded bar perfectly with you in his arms, and this time he turns towards your speeder like he's supposed to. "Obi-Wan will be waiting for us, but you can tell him to gather the Council, that way we'll have time to clean up."

"Oh, no." Anakin's chuckle is dark as he lowers you into the seat of your speeder. He kisses at your forehead, strokes away a bead of sweat at your hairline, "No, angel. You'll speak to the Council the same way you spoke to that lowlife. With my cum dripping down your thighs."

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

[poutypisces]

here is bartender!ani please enjoy him and be nice to him <3 he’s special to me <3 (he may suck)

finished bartender!ani bot, lmk if u want him. he may suck tho

[cookybananas]

Do I Know You? - Darth Vader/Anakin Skywalker x Reader {Part. I}

a/n: an alternate universe/timeline!au fic! this is the first part, the second part is in the works!

summary: Where Darth Vader is sent on a mission and finds himself traveling through another timeline and meets another version of you where you aren't dead. part II: Do I Know You? II

"I am going to have a few words with you once I get back Sheev..." Vader thought to himself. His large frame was trapped in a tiny capsule that was rapidly moving downwards onto the surface of Tatooine.

His master had sent him to retrieve the Death Star plans on a rebel ship when all of sudden, the rebels managed to crowd him into this tiny capsule and drop him out of the ship. 

There was a faint beeping heard below him. He looked down at his hand and noticed a device strapped on the back of his hand. Those damn rebels. Vader toyed with the device, hoping to shut off the beeping, but the beeping increased and flashed the words on the device:

Coruscant, 20 BBY 

"Huh?" He thought to himself once again, what could this possibly mean? The light above him began flashing red. Out of the small window of the capsule, the dark space soon turned into a blue clouded sky. The Sith Lord let out a sign of frustration, how the hell did I get into this position?

The capsule came to an abrupt stop when it had landed on the ground, sending the Sith Lord face forward into the door. Vader groaned to himself. The door slid open, revealing a dark alleyway, similar to the alleyways in the Underworld in Coruscant.

Vader walked out of the capsule, turning around to admire the machine that the rebels had managed to squeeze him in. Interesting... The Sith Lord thought to himself before making his way towards the dimly lit streets of Coruscant.

The people off the streets eyed the tall, towering figure as Vader strolled along the sidewalks of the Underworld.

"Do you want to buy some deathsticks?" A Rodian man said as he approached the tall dark figure with death sticks in his hands. To which Vader took a step back and eyed the man.

"No..." He let out, debating on whether to take the deathsticks or not. This day was already terrible as is with how everything had gone.

"Are you sure? You'll have a great time-" Vader raise his hand, force choking the reptilian humanoid.

"I would rather not you pest. Now, you will go home and rethink your life."

"I-I will to go home and rethink my life." The man nodded up and down. Vader released his grasp, allowing the Rodian to scramble away from him.

There was whispering and murmurs from other onlookers, witnessing what the Sith Lord just did.

"Did he just use the force?"

"You saw that right?

"Do you think he's one of those Jedi?"

The Sith Lord looked around the people who backed away from him. Pathetic, he thought. He needed to find Palpatine and tell him that mission was a failure, the rebels had gotten away, and he was unable to get the plans. Meaning, that there will be a severe punishment waiting for him once he returns to his Master.

Vader walked into the nearest club and approached the Twi'lek bartender, hoping to find a speeder or station to get him out of here.

"Where is there nearest station? I need to get to the Emperor. 5127th level." Vader said to Twi'lek man who had just gotten done serving a drink to a customer.

"Emperor? Where on Hoth did you come from? Do you mean the Chancellor?" The man questioned, throwing his towel over his shoulder.

Vader sat in brief silence, thinking to himself, Chancellor? He could have sworn Sheev didn't go by that name anymore.

"Y-Yes, the Chancellor...Do you know where I can find him." Vader finally let out, after moments of awkward silence.

"Well, you won't have much of chance finding her. She's either too busy in her office or helping the people clear the debris that was left from the Clone Wars ever since the previous Chancellor was killed."

"She...? How strange." Vader said to himself. "And remind me, what is the name of the Chancellor is again?"

"Kriff dude, did your head get smack with a bunch of Ewoks throwin' rocks at it?" The man questioned, now cleaning cups with his towel.

Vader sat in silence again, staring down at the man. Debating on whether he should have killed his man sooner, or wait until he got a response. Luckily, he chose the latter.

"Chancellor Y/N L/N is her name. She was the former Senator of Naboo before she was elected right after Chancellor Palpatine's death. There's rumors that she had a fling with a Jedi Knight, by the name of Anakin Skywalker-"

"Tell me. Where is she." Vader said, his tone revealing his impatience.

"Woah woah, don't you want me to finish telling-"

"Where is the nearest station. I will find her myself." He stated.

"O-okay fine. The nearest station is quite a distance. But we do have this old speeder at the back of-"

Before the bartender could finish, Vader had already made his way out of the club and around to the back to the speeder. Chancellor Y/N? It couldn't be possible. You were dead, but he needed to see it for himself.

-

"Your Majesty, do you think-"

"Who cares, she has already told you how she felt-" 

"Oh I wasn't talking to you-"

The doors of my office slide open, revealing Obi-Wan with a tray that had two cups on it. I smiled at him, to which he returned. But that smile soon turned into concern as he looked over at my two handmaidens who were having a little dispute.

"Are they still fighting about it?" Obi-Wan said, approaching me and handing me a cup of warm tea.

"Yes, yes they are." I responded, sipping and savoring the earthy taste of the tea.

"Chancellor! Chancellor!" A voice from outside my office called. I looked up at Obi-Wan who looked down at me. The doors to my office slid open, revealing Cal?

"Cal? What's the matter?" I said, now standing up from my chair and making my way towards him.

"T-There's. there's someone looking for you. We don't know who o-or what their name is." He breathed out, trying to catch his breath. "I'm just gonna take a seat here." before plopping himself on the loveseat.

"Astra, could you grab Cal a glass of water please?" Both my handmaidens stopped their bickering and turned to look at me.

"Y-yes of course your Majesty." Astra bowed, both handmaidens leaving the three of us in my office. I turned back to Cal with concern.

"Cal, take a moment to catch your breath. Now, what is this you heard of someone needing me?" I asked him, taking a seat next to him on the loveseat, my hand resting on his shoulder.

"Of course Chancellor. There are talks in the Underworld, that there is this dark figure, who I think is a force-user, is looking for you... I don't know if he's from another planet or something, but there's something off about that thing." Cal spoke, still breathless from running to get to my office.

"Thing?" I furrowed my eyebrows at his words. I looked up at Obi-Wan who was standing next to Cal, caressing his beard in thought.

"Well, it could be a droid of some sort. The thing sounds mechanical." Cal continued, gnawing at his lips nervously.

"Interesting Cal, do we perhaps have another other information of the individual?" Obi-Wan inquired.

"N-No Master, but I felt this dark energy from him. Almost as if it was evil, pure evil." Cal responded. He pulled out his holoprojector, showing footage of a tall dark mysterious figure force choking an innocent bystander.

Obi-Wan and I looked at each other before looking back at the hologram.

"He doesn't look like he would be friendly. Perhaps we may need to take action and find what this individual wants to do with you." Obi-Wan said, still stroking his beard. I thought to myself. How strange, what could I have possibly done that I was involved with this individual?

"We may need to tighten up security among the people and the rest of the sovereign powers. I don't want to draw too much attention to this. I already have much going on. Perhaps I'll bring this up to the Jedi council tomorrow morning and see what they think." I said sighing to myself, as I walked over to the large window that overlooked beautiful skies of Coruscant.

Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, Cal sat there looking between us.

-

The skies of Coruscant were pitch black, but littered with stars in the sky. The Sith Lord arrived at the small landing pad with his airspeeder, just outside of a familiar penthouse. The penthouses and apartments in Coruscant were always open air. Since they were high up in the skies, the only way to get in was with an airspeeder or the elevators to the buildings. So it was fairly easy for Vader to walk into your penthouse without needing to break a sweat.

The Sith Lord made his way into the penthouse. The lights of every room were turned off, except for one. Light faintly emitted from a set of closed doors, assuming that was your room, Vader made a beeline towards your bedroom doors.

Even with his ultraviolet and infrared vision, it was still limited to where Vader missed the Jedi that was hidden behind one of the large pillars of the penthouse.

"You're not welcomed here. You are trespassing a politician's home and I advise you to leave this instant." A familiar voice spoke up.

"I will not leave until I see her, the Chancellor." The Sith Lord turned around, but did not see anyone behind him. Vader turned back around only to be met with Obi-Wan with his hand on the hilt of lightsaber.

"M-Master..." Vader let out, only for Obi-Wan to quirk an eyebrow at him.

"Do we know each other?" Obi-Wan responded, his hand still resting upon his saber.

"Master, it's me... Anakin Skywalker." Vader spoke out to his former Master.

"Foolish nonsense, Anakin Skywalker is dead." Obi-Wan stated.

Both the Sith Lord and Master Jedi eyed each other, waiting on who would make the first move. After moments of deafening silence, Vader took off his helmet. Revealing his burnt, scarred face, and yellow Sith eyes. Obi-Wan watch him in disbelief, taking a step back from the Sith. 

"Obi? Obi-Wan are you there? Who are you talking to in there?" Your voice was muffled on the other side of your door. Anakin's desperate eyes darted over to Obi-Wan and to your door, hoping he'll say something.

"Y-yes Y/N! No worries, it was just a false alarm! It was just a hawk-bat!" Obi-Wan shouted.

"If you say so Obi. I'm heading to bed now!" You shouted in response. The light emitting from your bedroom doors shut off, leaving the entirety of the penthouse dark and only for the Coruscant moonlight to shine through the large windows.

Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed to himself. "You have some nerve for showing up here. And to say that you are Anakin Skywalker? Ludicrous." He spat at Vader.

-

part II: Do I Know You? II

[tennessoui]

45 svelte for the micro story?

Padmé blinks at the back of the young, svelte woman who slinks rather sulkily away from their table. "You know," she finally says, turning to look at Anakin with a furrowed brow. "I wouldn't be offended if you took her up on her offer, Ani. We've been divorced for two years now."

Which is practically longer than they were married for, in all fairness. She's pretty sure she sees Anakin more now that they're no longer together, even.

"Hm?" Anakin reluctantly tears his eyes away from the digital holo menu he's perusing. "What?" Padmé waves her hand to encompass the woman who has found some other willing ear at the bar counter. "She wanted to spend the night with you," Padmé says carefully. "I wouldn't be offended."

Anakin tilts his head, as if genuinely confused. "Who?"

"The woman," she says slowly. "Who just asked you for drinks at her table. She was flirting with you."

"I'm married," Anakin says blankly.

"No, you're not," Padmé reminds him, not unkindly. "We're divorced."

"Well, yeah," Anakin says. He puts down the menu and then looks over the crowded cantina with startling intent. Padmé isn't surprised by this in the slightest, of course. Master Kenobi is at the same cantina with a few friends of his own. As soon as she'd seen him in a corner, laughing with a handful of older Jedi she cannot name, she'd known she'd have roughly half of Anakin's attention all night. "But I'm married again."

He says this as if it makes perfect sense. As if it is old news.

"What?" Padmé asks, thankful that the bartending droid has not yet arrived with their drinks. Otherwise she may have spit it out of her mouth at his words. "Who have you married?"

Anakin blinks. "Well," he says, "Obi-Wan of course."

"Of course," Padmé repeats faintly. Now she wishes the bartending droid would hurry up and deliver her the balm she needs for this sort of conversation.

Anakin's face darkens though as his eyes catch upon his master--his husband?--in the corner. "I think I should go remind him though," he decides, tensing as if he is about to stand up. "He forgets sometimes."

Padmé can feel her mouth hanging open slightly, torn between utter bewilderment and strange concern. "Wait, Ani," she says. "He...forgets that you are married?" Surely her ex-husband deserves better than that. Marriage was important to him when she was his wife. Surely that hasn't changed in the intervening years. What sort of loveless, suspect relationship has his old master dragged him into?

"He calls it a hostage situation," Anakin says fondly, and his eyes look brighter when they flick back to hers. "We were married for a mission and I just keep hiding the divorce papers in places he's too short to reach."

Padmé blinks. "I...see."

"But it was his idea in the first place," Anakin adds, rather smugly. "I told him we were divorced, you and me, and then the next day, he brought me in front of the Council for a mission off-planet where we were to pretend to be married. He said he'd better get it all sorted out before I ran off with anyone else."

"Here you are," the bartending droid beeps as it places their two drinks in front of them. "Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Yes," Padmé says. "About four more of these, thank you."

[Prompt from this list of Micro-Stories prompts]

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 0.9

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which anakin makes the mistake of not listening to his manager’s words and breaks his promise to both himself and to you, while you finally reach your breaking point with everything.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“Dance with me,” Liz whined as she tried to pull Aankin away from the bar he was leaning against. When he just shook his head, she rolled her eyes and held up her empty drink, signaling to the bartender for another. “Don’t be so boring, Anakin, we’re here to have fun.”

Anakin huffed and pushed his own drink aside. He was really getting sick of going out with Liz every night, but he felt like he didn’t have much of a choice as she threatened to go without him and insinuated that she was planning to drink hard and do drugs and he knew that if something were to happen to her, he would feel awful and partly responsible. 

“This isn’t very fun to me anymore, Liz,” he mumbled as she finished his drink, making him roll his eyes as he pulled out his wallet and paid for the two drinks he ordered. 

“Oh, come on, rockstar,” she scoffed. “You’re young, you’re hot, this is what you’re supposed to do. Let go of all the worries and stress and just live in the moment. What’s holding you back?”

“The fear of disappointing my manager and friends more than I already have,” he answered and she rolled her eyes again as she grabbed her new drink. 

“The guys are busy with their own lives,” she brushed off his words and wrapped her fingers around his wrist, covering up your writing as she did so. “And as for your manager, she’s too stuck up her own ass to be worried about what you’re doing.”

That was a lie if he ever heard once since Helena just rightfully called him out on his bullshit a few days ago, but he was too exhausted to argue with the drunk photographer. “Don’t talk about her like that,” he still defended her as he tugged his wrist free, pulling out his phone afterwards and checking the time. 

1:03 AM.

God, what is he doing here?

“So defensive,” she teased and took multiple sips of the drink as if that wasn’t the fifth one she’s had during the two hours they’ve been here. “I’m just joking, relax, Ani.”

The name sobers him up pretty quickly, even though he wasn’t even tipsy to begin with. “Don’t call me that,” he says sternly, making Liz’s smile drop as she stares up at him. “Do not call me that, okay?”

You were the only person that was allowed to call him that. You always have been and you always will be. 

He hated that nickname for years until he met you and then fell in love with the way it sounded coming from you. You didn’t tease him about it, weren’t at all condescending or poking fun at him whenever you said it. It was simply the nickname you had given him, and you were the only person he liked hearing say it. 

Even Vinny knew better than to call him Ani, and that’s saying something. 

Liz’s stare turned into a hard glare as she stood up from the stool beside his. “Okay,” she said in a monotone voice. “You know, maybe you should go back to the bus if you’re going to be miserable all night. You’re ruining the fun, Anakin.”

He looked up at her for a few seconds before huffing and standing as well. “Fine,” he said back. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

As he made his way to the exit, his brain tried to go back to the first night he went to a bar and when exactly it became a habit. A bad habit that would probably end with him having severely bad health problems if he were to continue down this path. 

Helena was right, he had been spending too much time getting drunk at all these unfamiliar bars and clubs and he definitely has been spending way too much time with Liz, who was clearly a bad influence on him. 

Really, what business did he have getting drunk with the twenty seven year old tour photographer when he was barely twenty two?

His head was killing him from all the loud rap music he’s listened to at all the bars, and even more from the live music he was performing multiple nights a week on different stages. 

His sleep schedule was non-existent and the circles under his eyes were getting more prominent by the day. He had lost at least fifteen pounds since he would rather drink than eat after every show. 

He was becoming the stereotypical rockstar, and that was something he never wanted to do. 

-

It was Tuesday now and Evan was still being cold towards you.

While you weren’t sure what you did wrong, you still wanted to make up for it somehow. But, as Kenneth was going over this week’s assignment, he held up the papers you submitted to him last week and stood from his chair. “Like the following assignment, this week’s is about something personal. I want to read about your proudest moments, your most embarrassing moments, a moment you felt lost, and I want to read about it in vivid detail. I want to feel like I’m experiencing it right along with you,” he looked over at you and you felt a sense of dread fill your body. “Miss Y/l/n did  a great job on the previous task. You should be looking out for this one.” 

He nodded at you, and Evan, who was sitting silently beside you, stood up with a huff and left the room as soon as Kenneth excused the class. A few other students gave you smiles and pats as they walked by and left as well, and you bit down on your lip as you debated on whether or not you were going to go through with calling out your instructor for supposedly favoring you. 

Evan said he has a soft spot for you, and you could see why he would think that since the praises you have been getting have been pretty excessive in comparison to the other people in the class, but you didn’t feel any more special than the rest of the students around you. 

Clearing your throat, you put your books and laptop in your bag before standing up and walking over to his desk. “Kenneth, can I talk to you for a second?” You ask, feeling a hell of a lot less confident than you sounded. 

“Of course, Miss Y/l/n,” he said back, pausing his task of cleaning up his desk to give you his full attention. He was so nice, you wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away before you possibly messed things up with him, but you stood your ground. “What’s up?”

You swallow harshly and shift uncomfortably as you try to think of what to say. “I….appreciate all of the boosts of confidence, but I think….I think it’s happening a bit too often,” you start and watch as Kenneth’s brows raise. Before you could go back on your words, you quickly add, “I don’t know why you seem to favor me over the rest of the class, but I think you’re being a bit unfair when you should be treating us equally. I’m no better than anyone else here, and I think you know that, so I’m not sure why you’re so…sure that I’m doing so great when everyone is doing just as well as I am. It’s a bit unprofessional.”

You shut up after that and hold back your urge to run out of the room and never look back. Your heart was beating loudly in your ears and you were a bit out of breath as you grip the strap of your bag tightly. 

Kenneth’s brows drop and his face relaxes as an unreadable expression takes over his features. “Is that so?” He asked lowly and you felt sick. More dread fills your body as you try to think of something to say that would lighten the mood, but you feared you had already pushed it way past the point of no return. 

Evan convinced you that Kenneth was being unfair with you, so you felt obligated to call him out on it instead of ignoring - something you were deeply regretting as he leaned back in his chair and cleared his throat. 

“That piece you did on your boyfriend, Anakin, was it? The rockstar?” He asked as he reached for a framed picture on his desk. He turned the picture around so you could clearly see it, and it was of a woman who looked to be on a stage, a guitar in her hands and a microphone in front of her. “This is my wife.” He informed you and you felt your heart drop a bit. 

“Your….” You couldn’t finish your sentence as he nodded and set the picture down, his wife still in perfect view as he turned back to face you. Why had you never noticed that?  

“Yes, my wife. She’s going into her fourth month of touring in a few days, and when I read your piece about your boyfriend, I related to it more than I have related to anything in quite some time,” he said and you felt your face heat up even more. “I know how tough it is to be with someone who is constantly in the spotlight, and who sometimes steals that spotlight from you, even if unintentionally. My wife, Marissa, she’s amazing; one of the kindest people I’ve ever met, but she’s got this whole separate life from me. I often feel disconnected from her, despite us being married for nearly fifteen years.”

You were left a bit speechless as you stared down at the picture. A feeling of nausea washed over you and you bring a hand up and place it over your stomach as you hold back a noise of pure embarrassment. “I….oh,”

Kenneth gives you a forced smile as he moves the picture from your view completely. “Yeah, oh,” he mumbled. “I felt for you, Miss Y/l/n. I didn’t pity you or favor you, I just knew what you were going through since I have gone through it more than once, too, and wanted to assure you that you are just as talented as your boyfriend supposedly is - like how I wish someone assured me all those years ago. I didn’t want you to think you were always coming in second when compared to your partner.” 

You wanted to cry as he stood up and grabbed his jacket. How the fuck did you read that so wrong? 

“Maybe I was being unfair to the rest of my students, and if that’s the case then I will do better,” he stated as he packed up his bag. “But I never meant for you to think that I’m favoring you or that you’re the best in the class. You’re an amazing writer, Miss Y/l/n, and I think you will do amazing things in your future, but I will gladly keep my thoughts to myself if that’s the way they come across.”

You stare down at the floor as you fight off tears. “I’m so sorry, I just, I thought-” you cut yourself off as you hold back a sob. “I’m so embarrassed.”

Kenneth sighed as he placed his bag onto his shoulder. “Well, maybe you can use this feeling of embarrassment for this week’s assignment,” he offered and walked around you, leaving you to follow after him as he made his way to the door. “Have a good night, Miss Y/l/n.” 

He locked the classroom door then took off down the hall. You cover your mouth as you pretty much sprint in the opposite direction, pushing open the exit doors before grabbing your phone and calling Anakin. 

It rang for a few beats and you were about to hang up and call him again when it finally connected. “Hey, baby,” he greeted in a tired tone and your heart ached even more. 

“Ani,” you cried, walking across campus as quickly as you could since you didn’t want anyone to see you like this. “I messed up, Ani. I fucked up. Oh, my God, I’m so embarrassed.”

“Slow down, Y/n,” he said in a much more alert voice. “What’s wrong, pretty girl? Why are you crying?”

You felt like crying harder at the fact that this was the most concerned he’s sounded about you in weeks. “I fucked up,” you barely manage to get out.

“Fucked up what?”

“Everything,” you cry as you fumble around in your bag for your keys. “Evan still won’t talk to me, and I accused Kenneth of favoring me after class today when he wasn’t trying to do that at all, and I- I’m so embarrassed, Anakin. I feel so terrible.”

Anakin sighed and the sound made you let out a quiet sob. “Baby….I’m sure you didn’t fuck things up, princess. Just give it a day or two-”

“No, Ani, I completely messed things up,” you cut him off as you struggled to unlock your dorm’s door. “I accused him of something he wasn’t even doing when he was just trying to show that I don’t come in second when it comes to you and how-”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He cuts you off this time and you pause your attempts on the door. 

“What?” 

Anakin was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “What does that mean? You coming in second to me?”

You try to control your breathing and focus your attention on the door again. “Nothing, it means nothing, Anakin. He was just trying to make sure I know that you and I are equal and that we’re both-”

“What, and you didn’t know that before?” He cut you off again and you could feel your embarrassment turn into anger. 

“Of course I knew that before, Ani, I just,” you trailed off as you thought back to all the times you’ve called him for comfort or reassurance since he left London and how he hadn’t provided it whatsoever. “You know, Anakin, I called you because I needed to feel the comfort I always feel around you, but you haven’t given me that in weeks.”

He scoffs and you feel your anger rise a bit at the sound. “Sorry I haven’t been able to comfort you when I’m thousands of miles away,” he sarcastically replied and you furrow your brows as you push open the door to your room. “I’ll try harder next time.”

You take a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself down, but it really didn’t help much as you threw your bag onto your bed. “See, there you go again. It’s like I can’t say anything to you without having you get pissed off at me or give me some sarcastic reply,” you say and hear him laugh on the other line, though it sounded humorless. “I need you, Anakin, I need you to be there for me even if you’re not right next to me.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same to you,” he muttered and you just about lost it.

“Fuck, Anakin, I’m sorry I’m not with you on tour right now, but keep in mind that I was with you every single night of the last one. I basically gave up my second year of college so I could be there with you and so we weren’t apart for months at a time,” your voice raised with every passing second, but you were so pent up, you didn’t have much control over yourself right now. “And you keep saying that you’re proud of me but you’re not showing it at all. You said on the very first day of me submitting the application for this program that you knew I’d do well because I’m so smart and talented, but you’ve only cared about yourself from the second I started it.”

Anakin was silent after that and it only irked you even more. 

You pull your jacket off with a huff and throw it onto your bed as well. “You’ve been acting so selfish lately and I pushed it aside because I knew how stressed you’ve been and how caught up you probably were at being back on tour, but I can’t have you acting nice towards me one minute then like a dick the next,” you vent and angrily wipe your eyes that were still producing tear after tear. “It’s not fair.” 

You cry silently after that and listen to the quiet breaths from the other end of the line. “Y/n,” he trailed off and you only cried harder. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“It’s not okay!” You sobbed and pace around your room. “For five years I’ve been your number one supporter for everything, and you say you’re mine but I feel like every time I have something exciting to tell you, you make me feel like an idiot for getting excited about it in the first place. I just….I can’t.”

“Y/n,” he tried again but you just shook your head. 

“I can’t,” you mumble. “I called you because I needed you, Anakin, but clearly that was a mistake since my problems aren’t important to you anymore.”

He sounded a bit desperate as he said, “Of course they’re important to me,”

“Yeah, well, you’ve done a bang up job at showing it,” you nearly whisper. “I have to figure out if I’m going to drop out or not, so you can go back to doing whatever it is that you do nowadays. Call me later if you have time to.”

Then you hung up and threw your phone onto the carpet next to your desk before falling onto your bed and crying for God knows how long. 

-

To say Anakin is having a bad day would be an understatement.

He and the guys had just finished being scolded by Helena about the lack of effort they’ve been putting into the tour lately and the sudden pause on getting new music out, and he really didn’t blame her for reaching her boiling point. 

Then you called him in tears and sent his heart that was already running on adrenaline into overdrive and he managed to make your own bad day even worse, and now he felt like the most pathetic excuse of a boyfriend. 

A few weeks ago he felt like he was on top of the world, and now he felt like he had hit rock bottom and didn’t deserve to have any of the things he currently has.

So, when Liz texted him the address to a local club in Berlin, he regretfully agreed to go. 

He was being a total bore again as he sat at the bar and went on about how he felt fucking awful about his phone call with you, and he knew this. Still, he didn’t try to lighten the mood in any way. 

Anakin was three drinks in when Liz, who he was sure had long since grown sick of his bitching, revealed the plastic bag of small, white pills and offered him one. He rejected it and ordered another drink, but an hour passed and he still wasn’t feeling the numbing effect alcohol usually had on him by now. 

“I think they water down the drinks here,” he observed as he pushed away the glass that had more ice cubes than liquid in it. 

Liz laughed as she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. “Of course they do,” she said. “They gotta make money somehow. The more watered down the drinks are, the more you’ll have to spend to actually get drunk.”

Anakin scoffed, “Highway robbery,”

“You’re telling me,” she agreed and placed one of the pills on her tongue. “You’ll spend a fortune here, Anakin. It’ll take a lot more than four drinks to get you drunk.”

He sat up straight and looked over at her. “What do you suggest I do? Go back to the bus and give up on trying?”

She raised a brow, her red lips turning upwards as she pulled out the bag again. “You could always try other methods,” 

Anakin eyed the bag with a tired gaze. He was tipsy and has never in his life done drugs, but he’s heard that they can make you feel like you’re on cloud 9, but only for a little bit. And for once that actually sounded pretty appealing to him right about now. 

Liz must’ve known he was conflicted about her offer as she took one pill out and gave him a lazy smile. “It’ll make you forget about everything that’s stressing you out right now,” she said and took the pill between her thumb and index finger. “You’ll be numb to everything, Anakin. Trust me, you’ll feel so much better. And you only need to take one.”

If he was completely sober right now, he would’ve pushed the pill away and left, but he wasn’t. So he opened his mouth and let her place it onto his tongue. She lifted up his drink and held it out to him, not letting him set it down until it was finished. 

Then she ordered him another one and practically forced it down his throat as well before pulling him away from the bar once he was beginning to feel lightheaded. “I should sit,” his voice sounded muffled to his own ears as she tugged him through the crowd of people and towards a secluded area of the club. 

Liz shook her head, and the movement had his own head spinning a bit. “No,” she murmured, running her hand up his abdomen, pulling his white shirt up with her as she did so. “You need to relax. Let me help you.”

“Liz,” he tried to push her away but he felt numb. No matter how many times he tried to blink away the blurriness, he still wasn’t able to see clearly. He wasn’t feeling any happier, in fact he felt worse, but at least his chest wasn’t aching anymore. “I should call Y/n. I need to tell her that I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” she hushed him, pushing him up against a wall before crouching down in front of him. “Pretend I’m Y/n.”

Anakin shook his head and felt his eyesight worsen at the fast movement. “I can’t,” he begged. “Liz-”

“I’m Y/n,” she persisted, beginning to kiss up his abs, surely leaving behind bright red lipstick stains in her path. “It’s Y/n, baby. Just relax, Ani, let me take care of you.”

Her lips on his skin felt foreign and he tried to push her away again but she seemed to be a lot stronger than he is right now. His head was spinning and his body felt like it was on fire as he looked around the dark area. “Y/n,” he weakly called out, hearing a laugh come from below him that sounded a lot like yours. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here,” if he really thought about it, he could almost picture that it was you in front of him. It was you who is kissing up his chest, you who is pushing away his black jean jacket in order to trace your tongue up his ribcage. 

Anakin looked down and could’ve sworn that it actually is you. You had come here for him after your terrible phone call earlier. You were here with him, making him feel like he was the most important person in the world. “Y/n,” he rasped, reaching a hand out and tracing his knuckles along your jaw. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too, Ani,” it was even your sweet voice that responded to him. And if he squinted, he could almost make out the A you had tattooed on your wrist. “Am I making you feel good, baby?”

He leaned back against the wall you had pushed him against and felt his head pound a bit as the high took over his body. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured, caressing the sides of your face as you stood to your full height. You seemed a bit taller than before, even in heels, but he wasn’t able to question you on it before the distance was closed and your mouth was pressed to his. 

Except it wasn’t your mouth. And it wasn’t your hand gripping the back of his neck. It wasn’t you. 

Anakin pulled back instantly, the feeling of Liz’s lips on his own making bile rise up his throat as he stumbled away from her. The high came crashing down quickly, making his head ache worse than anything he’s ever felt in his entire life. 

Guilt and shame hit him at full speed and his eyes burned with tears as Liz invaded his space again. 

His heart thumped wildly in his chest and his ears were ringing as he pushed her away when she tried to grab onto his arm. “Get away from me,” he muttered, watching as she shook her head. 

“You’re coming back down, Anakin, you’re probably feeling kind of dizzy right now. Just hold onto me and we’ll go sit somewhere,” she offered but he just squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to hold back the bile rising in his throat at what he had just done.

[teaandjumpers]

undercover fic from WIP game 👉👈

Sorry this is a little late anon, but I didn't have anything for this when you asked!

Obi-Wan is sent undercover on behalf of the Kaminoans to bid for a contract to mine a new development on a far-flung desert planet. He's playing a roguish negotiator type. Anakin is playing a bartender where the meetings are held. Long story short, another bidder takes a liking to Anakin and gets handsy. Obi-Wan steps in and basically says that he's already procured Anakin's services for the rest of his stay and from then on Anakin has to pretend to be Obi-Wan's pleasure companion.

- - - -

Anakin let out a huff of air from his nose, frustrated. 

Obi-Wan was never going to leave marks with that light of a grip. He pulled at his Master’s wrist, dislodging the other man’s hold on his neck. 

“If you can’t do it,” Anakin said, clearing his throat. “I’ll do it myself. I’ve done it before.”

Obi-Wan’s face paled, and a pained expression flashed across his face as a sharp pulse of guilt flooded the Force. 

“Padawan.”

“Don’t, Obi-Wan,” said Anakin, placing his mechno-hand around his own neck. “It has nothing to do with you. And if you’re not gonna help, I’d rather do this without an audience.”

Obi-Wan dropped his gaze, his brows furrowing as he appeared to consider something. 

Silently, he pulled Anakin’s hand from his throat and replaced it with his own, the grip firm and secure. 

“If it gets to be too much, you tell me,” he said, eyes locked on his. 

And then he squeezed. 

Not too tightly, not at first. 

But the pressure grew, and as it did, Anakin tried his best to keep his excitement buried. He had never thought, never let himself think, that this—that his Master would choke him. 

But here he was, Obi-Wan’s broad calloused hand pressing against the curve of his throat, the pressure near-perfect, making him feel what he always felt when someone got this right.

Quiet. Bliss. Lust.

[pardonmefornottextingback]

Anakin the bartender

Ability: Water or Wine? (Aka The Jesus Power™️)

Can turn water into any wine and any wine into water.

Age: 26

Birthday: November 18th

Height: 5'6

Likes: The tavern he works at, profit, his brother (Jacob), nuts, compliments, honey.

Dislikes: Thieves, tavern fights, the one person who stays before closing shift, broken glass, raspberries.

Jacob the mage

Ability: A life for a life

Allows him to bring people back to life but at the cost of him starting to slowly fade away the more he uses it.

Age: 24

Birthday: January 5th

Height: 5'4

Likes: Woodland creatures, helping people, the necklace of his mother, his brother (Anakin), raspberries, flowers.

Dislikes: Being called a witch, taking off his shoes, horses.

RULES

-> No NSFW asks

-> In character I use "quotation marks"

-> Out of character I don't use quotation marks or I use ooc:

-> Jacob speaks in green.

-> This is a bsd oc account

-> Au master list

-> Same owner as @paintedgrilledcheese

Extra/Master List

(Short story)