#Star Wars oneshots

[kateii]

somebody is still writing plo koon fanfictions?:(

i miss him so much and i feel like we forget about him

[triptuckers]

undercover - captain rex

Request: nope Pairing:  captain rex x reader (reader has long hair) Summary:  you're sent undercover to get an important data stick from a separatist leader Warnings:  mentions of blood, injuries Word count:  1.8K A/N: give me PINING rex he needs to be YEARNING. love me a pixel man. enjoy reading!

it's an easy mission. a very important one, but it seemed rather easy. anakin's briefing was short as well.

one of the separatist leaders had a data stick with important information about a few new secret bases. they thought it was so important, that the separatist kept the data stick on him at all times.

which is where you came in.

there was a popular summer festival coming up on the separatist's home planet. your job was to go there, have fun, talk with the separatist and steal the data stick.

to avoid attracting too much attention, only anakin and captain rex accompanied you. the three of you arrived via public shuttle, dressed in civilian clothes.

you had traveled to the festival and separated once you got closer.

and now anakin and rex are hiding on the edge of a mountain ridge, looking out over the festival terrain, waiting for you to show up.

rex is glad he's not wearing his full armour for once, because the planet is extremely hot.

'general.' says rex after a while. 'isn't she going to stand out? they're going to notice a jedi general attending a festival.'

while they'd all worn civilian clothes while traveling, your clothes had still resembled jedi robes a little. you claimed you felt more comfortable that way. and if rex could recognise them as "kind of jedi robes", then surely the festival crowd could recognise it as well?

'well, then it's a good thing she won't look like a jedi general.' says anakin.

as if on cue, you enter the festival. rex looks at you through his scope, and anakin was right. you don't look like a jedi general. you look like a girl who is excited to have a good time at a festival. and you had changed your outfit.

you're now wearing a blue skirt that reaches your calves, and it's fluttering in the hot summer breeze. a tight fitting black top and a pair of comfortable shoes finish up your outfit. no jedi robes, no armour. but what catches rex off guard is your hair.

normally, you wear it tied up in several buns or braids, saying it was annoying if it got in your face all the time. after all, you're moving around a lot during battle. but you wouldn't cut if off, you loved your long hair.

now it flows freely down your shoulders and back, and it moves in the wind and shines in the sunlight.

rex knows you're off limits. you're a general, he's a captain. you could be thrown out of the order, he could be removed from duty - or worse.

so he's kept his mouth shut all this time.

but seeing you like this, no armour or weapons or a concentrated frown on your face. your hair and skirt moving in the wind. rex has never had to hold himself back so much. to stop himself from staring at you so many times.

meanwhile, more and more people have joined the festival terrain and the music has gotten louder.

anakin and rex keep an eye on you as you dance and laugh and have a good time in the valley below. they watch you as you approach the separatist leader and laugh this jokes and touch his arm, pulling him to the dance floor.

it sparks a flame of jealousy in rex's chest. that separatist leader with his girl.

no, not his girl.

a respected general of the GAR. one of his superior officers. who is now on an important undercover mission.

still, rex doesn't like watching you and the separatist leader.

after a while, the separatist leader has had enough of the dancing, and orders a few drinks. you sit with him and talk, leaning in close as you're listening to him.

because rex had been watching you so closely, he notices the exact moment when you swipe the data stick from him.

but you don't leave immediately, that would have been suspicious. a couple more minutes pass before you get up and head back to the dance floor. without the separatist this time.

just as rex is looking at you slowly making your way to the exit, the separatist yells out that someone has stolen something from him. anakin and rex hear how he shouts for a girl in a blue skirt.

given that your cover is blown, you give up trying to blend in with the crowd. you run away from the festival as fast as you can, heading towards the meeting point anakin told you to go to if things went wrong.

it's still hot, and within minutes you're sweaty and out of breath as you make your way up to the mountain ridge. but you won't tell yourself to slow down til you've put enough distance between yourself and the festival.

you're running uphill and just as you round the corner of a large boulder, you smack into something solid. before you can defend yourself, a pair of hands grabs your shoulders to stop you.

you look up into anakin's familiar eyes.

'got it.' you say, still out of breath, handing him the data stick. 'let's get out of here.'

you start to move past anakin, but you're stopped again. this time, by rex.

'general, your leg.' he says.

you look down and see your blue skirt is stained with red. you frown. in the crowd and while you were running away, you hadn't noticed you got hit by something. so it probably wasn't too bad.

'I'm fine.' you say. 'I hardly feel it, let's just get out of here quickly while we still have a head start .'

anakin eyes the amount of blood on your skirt, then looks behind you at the festival.

'no, you'll lose more blood and slow us down.' he says. 'rex, bind her leg. quickly.'

'yes, sir.' says rex.

'it's fine.' you say.

'rex, bind her leg. that's an order.' says anakin, with a slightly playful look in his eyes. you all know rex won't refuse a direct order from his general.

rex looks at you. 'sorry general. general's orders.' he says.

'what if I outrank anakin?' you say.

'do you?' says rex.

'rex.' says anakin, a little more firmly this time.

rex clears his throat and steps closer to you, then crouches down. he pulls out a knife and looks up at you.

'I'll need to cut a piece of your skirt so I can use it to bind your leg.' he says.

'yeah, go ahead.' you say.

rex carefully cuts a strip of fabric from the bottom of your skirt, then puts his knife away. he briefly looks up at you and silently asks permission before he slides your skirt upwards, til it reaches just above the cut on your thigh.

'hold it there, please.' he says.

you take a hold of your skirt and your other hand comes down to rest on rex's shoulder for balance as you take the weight off of your injured leg.

as you feel rex's gloved fingers on your thigh, you clench your teeth to keep yourself from looking down at him. you're fully aware anakin is standing right next to you, keeping an eye on the path in case separatists would show up. you wished anakin wasn't here.

you feel how rex wraps the piece of fabric around your thigh.

'this is going to hurt.' rex warns.

'I can-'

you're cut off by rex pulling the knot tight and a sharp pain shoots through your leg.

on instinct, you groan rex's name, your fingers digging into his shoulder. rex tries to ignore you saying his name like that, and focuses on securing the piece of fabric in place.

rex gives the knot a small tug, and when it stays in place, he stands again. your hand falls from his shoulder and you drop your skirt, which is now knee length instead of reaching your calves.

'thanks.' you say.

rex nods. 'you're welcome.'

'we need to move.' says anakin. 'they would have heard that if they were close.'

you nod and the three of you start your way back to the shuttle bay. rex occasionally helps you climb over rocks, to make sure you don't put more pressure on your injured leg.

when you get to the shuttle, you quickly board it and take a seat near the back of the craft. anakin takes off his jacket so you can wrap it around your waist, hiding the biggest part of your blood stained skirt.

the way back to anakin's flagship isn't that long, but you start to get tired nonetheless. it's probably due to the blood loss, you think. you know if you close your eyes, it's a bad sign, so you stay awake by focusing on rex's presence next to you. you can feel his shoulder against yours.

when you get to anakin's ship, he goes to inform the other jedi masters the mission was a success while rex escorts you to medbay.

one of your arms is over his shoulder while his other arm is around your waist, given that your energy has drained since running away from the festival.

'thanks.' you say, as you and rex walk though the halls of the ship.

'for what?' says rex.

'being a literal shoulder to lean on.'

'you would have done the same for me, general.'

'you know I prefer it if you call me by my name, rex.'

'and you know I call superior officers by their rank, general.'

maybe it's the blood loss. or the dizziness. or the fact rex is so close. whatever the case, you get a sudden burst of courage.

'is that all I am to you? a superior officer?' you say.

you feel rex briefly stiffen besides you.

'for the sake of my rank, yes.' he says.

you feel anxiety and regret growing in your stomach and think of something to say to change the subject, but rex speaks again. softer, this time.

'for the sake of who I am without this armour and the rank of captain, you're more than just a superior officer, y/n.' he says.

you smile as rex walks you through the doors of medbay.

'I'm glad to hear that.' you say.

rex gently places you on a bed and calls over the chief medical officer. he smiles at you.

'sorry your skirt got ruined.' he says. 'I... liked it.'

'of course you do, it's the color of the 501st.' you say.

rex raises his eyebrows. 'is that why you picked blue?'

you shrug. 'I figured it would look great next to the blue of your armour.'

before rex can answer, the chief medical officer arrives at your bed.

'we'll talk about the mission later, captain.' you say to him, with a quick wink, as the medical officer examines your leg.

rex smiles briefly and nods at you. 'certainly, general.'

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Max/Marit

[kaminokatie]

Comfort Officer || Royce Hemlock

Synopsis - You weren’t exactly sure how he had kidnapped you, but he had. Royce Hemlock, the crazy scientist that was after your friends from Clone Force 99, had you strapped to a table in the middle of a room.

Warnings - NSFW. Dub-Con.

Notes - Yeah yeah, the man's evil, but he's hot and I'd let him do all sorts of experiments on me.

Word Count - 2.5k.

{Caffeinate Me}

You weren’t exactly sure how he had kidnapped you, but he had. Royce Hemlock, the crazy scientist that was after your friends from Clone Force 99, had you strapped to a table in the middle of a room. Surrounding you were about ten, maybe even fifteen clones who were also strapped to tables. Some of them were unconscious, while others looked at you with great confusion. Hemlock had never brought someone other than clones into these parts before. When you eventually opened your eyes, after the sedative Hemlock had given you wore off, you were met with the blinding white lights hanging overhead. 

“Ah, I’m glad you’re finally awake,” a voice came, followed by footsteps over to your table. You squinted your eyes and looked to see Hemlock walking over to you, his gloved hand being held by his exposed one. “I see you’ve captured our clones' attention here.” He motioned towards the strapped up clones who were staring at you with wide eyes. 

“What am I doing here?” You snapped, attempting to struggle against your restraints. 

“You were a so-called ‘comfort officer’ for some of the clones during the war, weren’t you?” Hemlock asked, ignoring your question and your struggle. You looked at him with wide eyes and a confused expression: how had he known that? Your job was an underground one, not one that would have been on any of your records or anything. Shakily, you nodded your head in response to his question, after all there was no point denying it. “And do tell, what did that primarily consist of?” You gulped and shook your head, looking at the clones that were eyeing you. It was a rather embarrassing job and not one you wanted to talk about with Hemlock. But he was persistent. “Enlighten me.” 

“It, erm…” You started awkwardly, eyes darting around the room. “I had sex with clones who had gotten back from deployment. Often one-on-one but sometimes with a group.” 

Hemlock nodded his head in understanding. “Fascinating. Very fascinating.” 

“Not really,” you whispered, looking away from his intense gaze. 

“And, in your line of work, did you ever meet any of the clones that are in this room now?” Hemlock asked, his eyes studying you as you looked around at the clones. There were no clones that looked familiar, no distinguishing tattoos, marks or hairstyles that stood out to you. Eventually, you shook your head. “A pity, really. I would have liked to have known what you were… like.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You asked, narrowing your eyes.

“Let’s call it a morbid curiosity,” Hemlock hummed. “I wonder what you were like… sexually.” 

Your eyes widened in slight disgust and you shook your head. “You’d be the last person to know,” you spat at him. 

Hemlock’s gloved hand trailed up your covered thigh causing you to tremble slightly, goosebumps appearing on your skin. “Oh, I think I’ll find out sweetheart.” Hemlock turned around and opened a nearby drawer, pulling out some scissors before walking slowly back over to you. There was certainly a menacing aura around him, but you couldn’t deny the fact that he was an attractive man. The thought alone made you sick to your stomach and you were quick to shake it out of your head. When he reached you, Hemlock opened the scissors and pressed them to the bottom of your shirt, slowly cutting it open. “I hope that you weren’t too attached to that shirt darling. It was… getting in the way.” 

“W-What are you doing?” You asked, your body trembling as your chest became exposed to the cool air of the room. Of course you chose today of all day’s not to wear a bra. Your tits were practically exposed and you felt yourself wanting the ground to swallow you up at the way everyone in the room, including Hemlock, was looking at you. 

“Getting a good look at you darling,” Hemlock replied. His gloved hand pushed your cut blouse to the side exposing your tits fully to the room. “My, my, you really have an exquisite pair of breasts,” he whispered softly, letting his gloved hand cup your right tit and squeeze slightly. He flicked at your nipple forcing a gasp to leave your lips and a smirk to form on his face. “So… beautiful.” 

He let his thumb and forefinger play with your puckering nipple before he bent down and let his mouth attach to it, sucking gently. His tongue poked out of his mouth, licking and slurping at the bud with eagerness. You shivered and goosebumps travelled up your bare arms as he continued his assault. A soft moan left your lips and your back arched, pressing your tits further into Hemlock’s face. You could feel your panties getting wetter by the second and you squirmed against your restraints, attempting to press your thighs together to gain the friction you most desperately craved. “Please,” you gasped out, voice shaky and desperate. 

“Please what, sweetheart?” Hemlock asked, pulling away from your nipple for a second to look at your face. You were flushed from embarrassment and shame, embarrassment that you were being watched and shame that it was turning you on. 

“Don’t do this,” you gulped. In reality, you wanted him to continue, you wanted him to do more to you, but you weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging for it. Not yet anyway. 

However, Hemlock could see right through your fake tears. “Don’t lie to me princess. I know you want more, don’t worry. I’ll give you more.”

Hemlock moved away from your tits, his attention turning to your trousers. With a huff of disappointment he began to unbutton them, “you couldn’t have worn a pretty little dress or something, huh?” He asked teasingly, pulling down your trousers and underwear to your knees exposing your glistening sex to him and the clones around you. “So pretty,” he cooed softly. 

“S-Shut up,” you squirmed while frowning at him, your face heating up further. 

“I think you like when I praise you, hmm?” Hemlock asked rhetorically as he positioned himself between your thighs. He looked up at you from between your legs before blowing right onto your cunt, the action sending shivers right down your spine. “You are so…beautiful like this.” And with those words, Hemlock delved his face right between your lips, pushing his tongue into your tight hole. A broken sob of relief left your lips as his tongue spread your folds, flattening against you to lick just right. Hemlock immediately moaned into your pussy sending vibrations through to your core, his tongue flicking to your clit and circling around the sensitive bundle of nerves deliciously. 

Your thighs tensed up and began to shake as you felt your orgasm closing in on you, the coil tightening in your lower stomach, clit pulsating as Hemlock continued to flick and slurp at it. “Oh Maker,” you whimpered out, looking down your lashes at him between your legs. It was certainly a sight to behold, the usual calm and collected, put-together scientist was ravishing you and making a mess. Your slick coated his chin and he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. He pulled away from your cunt and spat on your clit before returning his tongue to it, looking up at you as he did forcing your breath to hitch in your throat. 

“Are you going to show these clones what a good girl looks like and cum for me?” Hemlock asked between your folds, tongue flicking in and out of your dripping hole. Eagerly, you nodded, your head falling back against the makeshift bed you were restrained too. You attempted to spread your thighs further apart to give Hemlock more room to force his tongue deeper inside of you, but it was difficult with your trousers wrapped tightly around your knees. “Cum for me, now,” he growled against you. You nodded your head, immediately feeling the coil inside your stomach snapping at his words. Your clit began pulsating more than before as you felt your release wash over you, spraying over Hemlock’s face shamelessly as you let out moan after moan. He let your hips buck against his face, his tongue following your movements perfectly as he coaxed the last of your release from you with a moan of his own. “Such a good little thing for me,” he whispered, pulling away from your cunt with a shit-eating grin. He hovered over you, your eyes wide and glistening with tears from your orgasm. “Taste yourself on my tongue princess.” 

With that, he kissed you roughly, forcing his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. You let out a moan as you tasted your pussy on his tongue, feeling the slick against his nose rub onto yours. As he kissed you, Hemlock wasted no time in unbuckling his own trousers, freeing his stiff cock from its restraints. Your closed eyes opened wide when you felt his engorged tip push against your slick entrance, but before you could protest he slammed inside of you, moving his hips immediately at a brutal pace. You let out a squeal as you struggled against the restraints, feeling overstimulated from your previous orgasm. “Hemlock!” You cried out, back arching as he continued to slam against you. 

“That’s it baby, let these clones know who’s making you feel good,” Hemlock whispered against your ear, teeth tugging on your earlobe seductively as his thrusts slowed down momentarily. 

The sounds bouncing off the walls were disgustingly erotic only making you moan louder and more often. You wanted to touch Hemlock, to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you, to have his lips pressed against yours. “Please.” you begged softly. “Please untie me.”

“Now why would I do that?” He asked with a slight chuckle. His balls slapped against your ass with each painfully hard thrust he made. 

“Want to - ah - touch you,” you babbled, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Hemlock chuckled again and pulled out of you with a ‘pop’ making you whine at the loss of your filled cunt. 

Standing up, Hemlock moved to the side of the bed and pushed his cock into your face. “Suck my cock and I’ll untie you,” he smirked devilishly at you. You turned your head to the side and opened your mouth, immediately Hemlock pushed his wet, hard member past your lips and began to fuck your throat without any hesitation. “Ohh,” he growled, legs trembling for a moment as he hesitated to undo your restraints. Then, just as you're about to move your head away from his cock, he begins to finally undo the restraints holding your right arm above your head. Hemlock thrusts his hips against your mouth as he leans over to undo the restraints on your other arm, his pace brutal as his cock hits the back of your throat over and over again. Just as you cock twitches in your mouth, signalling his release, Hemlock pulls back. His cock popped out of your mouth with the most vile yet erotic sound. “Let me undo your leg straps baby and then I’ll let these clones watch me fill you up, sound good?” 

You nodded your head at him eagerly waiting before stretching your fingers and playing with your clit. Hemlock’s eyes widened as he watched your fingers strum on your little bud, watching as you whined and writhed. He quickly untied your legs and ripped your trousers off all the way, finally giving you the movement you needed. Without another word, Hemlock pounced back onto you, his cock slamming into your greedy hole once more without any warning. You cried out in pleasure, hands flying up to his neck, pulling him down to attach his lips to yours. The kiss was much more passion-filled and rougher than before, as if you were desperately seeking each other out. Tongues collided, lips were bitten and when you pulled away finally, there was a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “I can’t! I’m going to cum!” You screamed pathetically. Hemlock smirked at this, the sound of your scream hitting his ears just right. He felt your cunt quiver around his cock, your walls tightening around him as your orgasm came, shamelessly spilling your juices all over Hemlock’s torso. As if like clockwork, Hemlock’s cock twitched inside of your heat.

“Gonna fill you up like a good girl now, m’kay?” Hemlock asked. Of course, the question was rhetorical, he was going to cum inside you whether you wanted him too or not. 

“Please,” you begged, mind completely fucked out. Hemlock nodded as he began to smash his hips against yours at an unruly pace, your legs straight up against his chest causing his cock to hit deep against your cervix deliciously. 

“Fuck, I’m cumming,” he growled, his hips stuttering as he felt his load shoot out of him and inside you, painting the inside of your walls a translucent white. Hemlock’s face showed nothing but pure pleasure and for the briefest of moments he forgot all about the clones watching the two of you, all about the need for this little stunt. 

You were going to be a prize to be won for the clones who joined The Empire. A ‘Comfort Officer’ again for the clones that were willing to be tested on and prodded at, but after having a taste of you, Hemlock couldn’t allow that. No, it simply wouldn’t do. He wanted you all to himself, for you to be his own personal ‘Comfort Officer’. 

When he had finally stopped spilling his load inside of you, Hemlock collapsed against your exposed chest leaving trails of kisses across your sternum. For a split second he let himself be soothed by the sound of your rapid beating heart, but quickly regained his usual composure as he sat up between your spread legs. He watched as his cum dripped down your thighs, your quivering cunt unable to keep in all of the large load he had blown inside of you, and tucked his softening cock back into his trousers. Hemlock then stood up and walked to the side of your bed, leaning in towards your face. His gloved hand traced your jawline as he spoke to you in nothing but a whisper. “You are mine now.”

You could do nothing but nod, completely fucked out and compliant as you lay down allowing your limp body time to rest. Hemlock smirked before planting a soft kiss on your lips and walking away, motioning the clone commandos to follow him back to his lab. When he had left, and the doors had locked shut behind him, you finally sat up and took in your surroundings. There were indeed 15 clones all staring at you with wide eyes, some with noticeable tents in their trousers while others looked mortified. Some met your gaze with a hungry look while others avoided you completely, as if you weren’t there at all. 

Little did you realise, your life was completely about to change. 

[fictionfromthevoid]

Saving Anakin Skywalker one-shots --Mortis

Summary: You bring Anakin back to the light after he has turned to the dark side on Mortis because of the son

Premise: You and Anakin are bestfriends (see headcanons)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Hey, are you doing lava sauna Anakin? I didn't know this was a wellness trip" You called out from a stone column of the well of the dark side to which the son had brought Anakin. He looked up at you shocked at the casualness of your words. Didn't you know what was going on? Were you still his friend? Surely not! You wouldn't understand! No one will understand what he is now. Even he doesn't. All he understands is that this is what he needs to be to save everyone.

You chuckled at your own joke and jumped down into the pit, landing softly with the help of the force. Anakin turned around to face you, still staring at you bewildered. 'It is really hot down here!' you exclaimed 'How are you not melting?' you laughed. Your lightheartedness only added to his pain. He didn't feel like laughing at all but you also hadn't given him any reason to distrust you. You were acting as usual. But can't you see that nothing is as usual? Can't you understand how serious the situation is? Can't you feel the darkness inside him? Or can feel it? Is it possible, that you are here, happy and cheerful as ever, despite what he is now? You felt the conflict raging inside him through the force. All the fear, pain anger and love swirled together into a violent storm clouding his mind and heart. However, you were not going to scold him for falling to the dark side, you weren't going to demand from him to turn back. You knew what he needed most was a friend to help him see clearly again and therefore you were determined to keep his trust. 'Hello, Anakin, are you there?' you laughingly asked your friend. He just managed to answer with a sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh while he continued to stare at you. Frozen and unsure what to do.

You made sure to present yourself as cheerful and bubbly as possible because you guessed, that would throw him off most at the moment. You cupped his face with one hand and examined it. The huge dark circles under his eyes added to his aura of darkness perceivable through the force. 'The son has given you some nice yellow eyes' you remarked 'but don't you think Padme will miss your pretty blue ones?' This was too much for him, the mention of Padme, your gentle touch and your loving smile finally sent him over the edge. His eyes teared up and his lower lip started to quiver. The mask of anger vanished as the darkness was not enough to hold his broken soul together. You pull him into a tight hug. His legs gave out under him and you both sank to the floor, Anakin sobbing into your shoulder. You held him a little tighter and rested your cheek on top of his head as he clawed into the back of your ropes desperate to hold onto something for support. 'It's alright Anakin. I'm here for you. I'll always be here.' He buried his head deeper into your shoulder as he continued to sob uncontrollably. Now that you had broken through his walls you could feel the full weight of his pain through the force. His emotions were crashing down on you in waves, swirling around you begging for entrance into your heart. You let them pass through you, let yourself feel Anakins pain, his fear, his helplessness. You observed the emotions raging in your body, mingling with your own feelings, passing through between Anakin and you. While you allowed them into your heart, you didn't let them influence you, you kept them from your mind, allowing you to experience his emotions without your judgement being affected. This is the empathy the Jedi teach.

When Anakin's sobs had turned into quiet sniffels you pulled back from the hug and cupped his face with your hands again. With a loving smile, you wiped away his tears. 'Can you show me what he has told you?' you asked looking into his still yellow eyes. He nodded. You let go of his face and took his hands instead as you both sat on your knees opposite each other and closed your eyes. Through the force, he shared his memories. You saw all that the son had shown him, saw how he murdered the younglings, how he strangled Padme, and how the Jedi died. A new wave of fear and pain crashed down on you as Anakin squeezed your hands tighter. You let it pass through you while your thumbs began rubbing circles on the backs of his hands. You tried to share some of your calm and warmth through the force and thought you could feel his grip loosening.

When you had seen all of it both of you opened your eyes again. As you looked at him you could see the wet paths streams of tears had left behind glistering on his face in the warm glow of the lava. Anakin looked at you with an expression of tired helplessness and despair that shattered your heart in an instant.

'Anakin' you began softly ' what he has shown you isn't real. He is the personification of the dark side. He would have shown you anything if it meant you would turn to the dark side.' 'No, you don't understand!' he whined ' I will do all these things! I could feel that it was real! I can't let that happen! Please, I need your help! Obi-Wan won't understand what I am now but that is the only way I can save everyone. The Jedi are an obstacle if we want to end the war. But with the power of the son, I can do that. Please tell me you will stay by my side.' He was near tears again. As you looked at him in this moment all you saw was the scared little boy you met all those years ago at the temple. ' I'll stay. I'll stay.' you reassured him as you pulled him into another hug. This calmed him down a little. He breathed in your warmth as he let himself rest in your arms for a second.

' Ok.' you tried again 'Let's say that at the moment the son showed you the visions, that was your future. But by showing you he has changed this future himself. Now you know and you obviously won't do this now, even though I find it hard to imagine that you would do something like this in the first place.' you rubbed his back in soft circles ' What you are scared about is turning to the dark side in the future right?' He nodded into your shoulder. 'Don't think it rather stupid to turn to the dark side now to prevent that?' you laughed. He was quiet. You could feel the fog in his mind that the dark side caused lifting a bit. 'You say you can end the war with the help of the son, but at what cost? Killing the Jedi? The separatists? The republic? Isn't that the very thing you saw in those visions? Anakin, he is tricking you. He doesn't care about you or the war. He wants to use you for his own goals.' You gave him some time to consider what he had said.

While you sat there, hugging, you could feel the battle of light and darkness inside your friend. The fear of what the son had shown him fighting his trust in you and the obvious logic of your reasoning. 'But what if you're wrong?' He finally asked pulling away from the hug and looking at you. With a smile, you acknowledged that the yellow in his eyes was barely visible anymore and instead was fading more and more into the former icy blue. 'What if all I saw will happen regardless and I can't prevent it?' 'Then I will.' you stated. 'Anakin, I promise you that I will never let you fall to the dark side. I promise to never let you do such terrible things. If necessary I will protect you from yourself. No matter how yellow your eyes are, I will always be there to turn them back to blue.' 'Thank you'

With that, you were looking into a pair of blue eyes again. Together you ascended out of the well where you met up with Obi-Wan and returned to your ship Later when you were back at the ship Anakin asked you why you were going into the well alone and didn't take Obi-Wan with you. 'I could feel your corruption of the dark side and I know that you and Obi-Wan tend to push each other's buttons. Obi-Wan will deny it but he wouldn't have been able to keep his calm so I knew that if we wanted a chance to win you back I would have to go alone.' Anakin nodded. He understood what you meant about him and Obi-Wan. And he wondered what would have happened to him if you hadn't been there. A thought that genuinely scared him. When you finally left Mortis the feelings you experienced in the well of the dark-side still haunted you and Anakin even though no matter how hard you tried none of you could remember what the son had shown Anakin. Nonetheless he still clearly remembered the promise you had given him. He was now more confident than ever that he could rely on you no matter what.

[morganas-pendragons]

There Is Quiet | Kix and Starlight

UPDATE: This has been sitting in my drafts for over a year. I want to finish it.

This is before Starlight has their daughter (in the earliest weeks of pregnancy, post Ner Adika) after Kix has their wedding rings (spoilers.. they got married!) If you don't particularly enjoy reading things with a pregnancy theme in them, I recommend you skip this!

If this gets enough attention and the other parts are wanted, I'll do Rex and Wolffe to close this nicely. (Especially since we saw Wolffe in s3 of TBB!)

@snippy-tano / @social-mockingbird

***

He's different. You vividly remember the night Kix had come rushing across the street from 79's into your little hair salon, panic evident in those bright eyes as he hurriedly explained what he'd just encountered in the refresher with his brother, Fives.

Kix is never quite the same after that night. He knows too much. He always wears this expression when he's overburdened. It's almost like Kix has resorted to carrying the weight of his cross, unwilling to let anyone else bear it with him, for it is his to carry alone.

In this case, it is.

He leaves in a rush, all frantic and murmuring about how he needs to find Anakin Skywalker, leaving you with nothing but a kiss to the swell of your stomach and a promise to return before deployment.

You watch him go. Kix has always been good at coming home, so you have no worries about whether or not he'll return.

You should have.

Fives dies. Fives dies, and the world keeps turning, because there is no room for the galaxy to mourn the clones when their soul purpose is to be a means to an end. Why would you mourn a weapon when that weapon has outlived its purpose?

Fives dies, but his vode mourn him, and you're left with the aftermath when you catch your husband as he falls to his knees in surrender to his grief in the weeks that follow. He refuses to tell you what it is he knows - and maybe it's better to spare you, to keep you from all that pain and misery of the war - and instead uses the time to lose himself in you.

He always does. Your skin is stained with Kix's tears whether you like it or not. Your hips are branded by the bruises left behind from his fingerprints, and if you could let him consume you whole, you would.

Anything to give him the reprieve your husband is so clearly looking for.

"Kix," You breathe, hair fanned against the pillows as you allow yourself to be trapped in the cage of his body. Your fingertips ghost across the curve of his jaw as you peer up at him in the dimming sunlight of Coruscant's dusk. The impending darkness looms over the skyline. "Where are you?"

And you'll give him credit, Kix tries so hard to be in the present with you.

"Right here, Starlight." He murmurs, nuzzling the crook of your neck before settling himself at your side and resting his palm against your stomach. You're just over five months. It won't be long before you have to bring your little girl into the world, and you're desperately praying nearly every night that the war will be over by then so her father can be there to raise her, to love her. "Always right here."

You swallow the knot in your throat and nod. He says he's right there, but he's not. He's far away. Always far away.

Helpless to fight it, you hold him as he drifts off and you succumb to the tears blurring your eyes.

Your bed, stained with your tears and his tears alike, is a memorial to something you will never get to have again.

---

You see him one last time before Anaxes. Your husband returns to you in the golden hours of Coruscant's day. He's more somber then usual, reserved and quiet as he enters the apartment.

You know what it is. He's found the answer to whatever the burning question is that's haunted him since Fives died in that warehouse.

He's lost to you. He's lost to you, and the thing is.. You've never really had him.

"Kix."

"Not now, my light." You frown as Kix turns to peer at you over his shoulder from where he stands by the window. It may be the only instance in which you've seen those eyes so dark. "Please, not now."

You open your mouth to reply when your daughter gives a hard kick to your navel. Kix turns sharply at the sound of your sudden gasp, shaking fingertips spreading across your stomach as you press your palm deeper.

It always catches you off guard that she's so active.

"Kix," You hold your hand out. "Come here."

Something flickers back to life in his eyes as Kix approaches you with his hand outstretched. He slowly settles it onto your stomach, gasping as your daughter gives another hard kick in response.

"Oh," Kix whispers. Your grin widens as tears shine in your eyes. There he is. You've been wondering where he's been hiding for all these months, and you think your daughter may be just a little too intuitive. She's able to feel her father's despair even from the womb. That alone should speak volumes about Kix's spiral into darkness. "There's our girl."

He bends down low to whisper something to your daughter that you don't quite hear, but you bite your lip to staunch the flow of tears that threaten to fall again.

The moment is shattered by the beep of Kix's comm. It's Rex, as expected, and he's being called to Torrent's barracks for a briefing that will lead into their deployment to the next campaign.

Your heart sinks. You can't hide the disappointment in your face as Kix rises to his feet and cradles your face to bring his forehead to your own. It feels too final. Like it's the last time you'll ever do it.

This once, just this once, you wish you were a soldier trained to fight on the battlefield so you could be with him more. You would sacrifice all that's left of yourself to be able to be with Kix more. To help him, to spare him the pain, to be able to walk with him in the midst of his pain.

But then Kix may have never met you. Had you been bred into a soldier to be the hands of The Republic, you may not be where you are right now.

And you like where you are now.

"I love you, Kix'ika," You murmur against the seam of his lips. "Come home to us."

"I love you too." He nods. You can tell he's trying to convince himself that he will, inevitably, walk back through that door. You both know it's ending. "And I will."

It ends far too soon.

---

The last time anyone sees Kix is in the aftermath of Anaxes. One moment, he's there treating Echo's wounds and helping him recover from the effects of being a prisoner of war.

Torrent's departure several weeks later is what confirms Jesse's worst fear: His triplet is gone. He is the last one standing.

And now he has to return home to break the news to his brother's wife.

---

You give birth without Kix there. Your daughter's uncles are not able to be there to hold your hand, and the only comforts you have are their girlfriends. Dove and Phantom sit on either side of you and hold your hands while you weep.

Less then a week later, almost all the clones are dead or gone or traitors and you are unable to contact your friends. Your family.

All the girls are gone too.

It's just you. You and your little girl who looks exactly like you.

At the end of everything and everyone you have come to love since that boy - that beautiful, bright eyed boy - ran into your salon crumbles in an instant.

And you are left to pick up what remains, because you have to.

Kix would want you to do it for your daughter.

---

This is how it feels to be Kix, CT-6116, Chief Medical Officer of the 501st Legion. You are encased in a cold that settles deep into your bones and makes itself at home there. There is no escape. There is no hope.

You are cold, and you are alone, and you are helpless to stop the one thing that Fives had begged for your help to prevent. You dream about the Jedi. About the clones killing the Jedi, and about the aftermath. You dream about a world of fire and blood where everything burns and everyone must burn with it.

The world you wake up to is nothing like that.

When you wake, everyone and everything you have ever known is as it once was: From dust it came, and to dust it did return. The people who pull you from the wreckage of the ship are pirates who then transport you across the galaxy to sell you to a buyer: A buyer who looks a little too much like someone you'd once known. She's old. Most likely in her forties to fifties.

Your heart aches just looking at her. She's bright. Brighter then any sun, but tougher then any steel. You can tell she was raised during the rise of the Empire. She has to be tough to survive.

But that gentleness she hides beneath that steely aspect is what catches you.

When the pirates finally allow you to depart the ramp of their ship and fly away into the great unknown, the girl in front of you speaks up.

"You look exactly like you did in all your pictures," She whispers, removing her outer jacket to pull out a yellowed photo. It's you. You and Starlight, hidden in the back booth of Seventy Nines during your first date, with her head tipped back as she laughed at a joke you do not remember.

Your eyes slowly shift back to the woman. There are tears in her eyes, and you finally recognize why she looks so familiar.

"Hi Dad."

[ersatz-ostrich]

Captain Rex x Jedi!Reader: Droid-Crusher

This is the first chapter of my oneshot book, which was originally posted on Quotev. You can also find it here on AO3.

[A/N]: Here we are with our first oneshot—starring the one and only Captain Rex! I hope it isn't too bad for my first oneshot in this book. The next oneshots will get better as I go, I promise!

Summary: You are a Jedi Knight battling droids on the field with Captain Rex, Anakin Skywalker, his Padawan Ahsoka Tano, and the rest of the lauded Torrent Company. Unfortunately, during a skirmish against some B1s and Commando droids, you lose your lightsaber. The circumstances don’t leave much room for you to comb the battlefield for your lightsaber, so you decide to get creative.

       Warnings: None, canon-typical violence.

The chaos poured from all sides of the battlefield. You were utterly surrounded by the cacophony of blaster fire punctuated by deafening explosions and the sounds of blaster bolts hitting their targets. Before you was a sea of battledroids, waiting to be turned into shrapnel. 

Grinning at the army before you, you ignited your lightsaber and dove at the wall of Separatist droids. 

The battle reaches a deadlock. Clones from one side battled droids from the other, but neither could gain much ground.

“General, we can’t afford to lose men in the opening phase of the attack! I need you to take out that cannon on the ledge.” The voice of Captain Rex, commanding and sure, crackled onto your comm. 

“Copy that, captain. I’m on it.” You start towards the ledge, rending a path of molten metal on the way. The ledge was a small piece of work—you had to figure out how to get up while being shot at. Eyes darting around, you found that your best bet was to hoist yourself up a lower ledge, clear the gap between the two pieces of rock jutting out between that ledge and your destination, and leap on over, using a little bit of elbow grease and the Force. 

Your robes were a blur as you scaled the shorter ledge, leapt from one shelf of rock to the other between the adjacent ledges, and landed with a whoosh at the top of the highest ledge, where the cannon was releasing a barrage of fire down onto the roiling battlefield. 

Blood pounded in your ears as you dashed towards the mountain of metal that was the cannon. You readied your lightsaber for the strike that would end the torment from above for your troops. Like those of a predator, your eyes were fixated on your target—perhaps too fixated, for you failed to notice the shout of a B1 from your peripheral and the charge that was flung your way. The charge’s beeps tore you away from your objective, forcing you to think fast. 

Years of training kicked in; you harnessed the Force to redirect the charge’s path from straight at you to the cannon before you. There was one small problem, though—you had been standing too close to the cannon when the charge detonated. 

“Oh n—” You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your reflexes fired. You leapt back from the radius of the explosion and the flying shrapnel that would surely turn you to ribbons without your Jedi training, but the impact still knocked the wind from your lungs and sent you plummeting over the edge of the outcrop and back into the battle below. 

You scrambled to save yourself, cushioning your fall with the Force and tumbling to a stop among numerous bewildered battle droids. 

“Wow, a Jedi!” Exclaimed one B1 with as much interest as a droid could express. “Wait, a Jedi?!” That interest didn’t last. You found their blasters aimed at you, which was not an unusual sight at this point. Your hands searched for the lightsaber you had been holding moments earlier, but you only found air. Without time to search for your lightsaber, you had barely a second to act before you were turned into a charred mess. 

It was at that moment that you spotted it. 

“Blast ‘em!” One droid shouted, and the blaster fire began. But you were gone in an instant, leaving them to shoot at the scorched earth where you had just stood. “Huh?” The droids were puzzled. They looked around amongst themselves, wondering where their target had gone off to. The coast seemed clear, but—

CLANG!

The droid fell like a tree, head disconnected from its durasteel body. You stood behind the droid, chest heaving, with a heavy rifle—taken off a fallen clone trooper, no doubt—held aloft. You swung around the rifle as hard and fast as you could muster, the hefty barrel connecting with your next victim's durasteel face. 

"Whoaaaa!" The droid cried in nasally but emotionless droid-speak while its head spun around rapidly. Unable to spare another second in the midst of fighting, you kicked the addled droid to the ground and unceremoniously ripped its head off, thus putting the clanker out of commission—permanently. You grabbed the fallen droid's abandoned blaster and continued to shoot, knocking out droid after droid until an unlucky shot from a Commando droid knocked your pilfered rifle from your gloved hands. Cursing under your breath, you charged into the crowd of droids while the rest of the Torrent Company provided cover fire from behind you, slack-jawed.

"What are you doing, Y/N!? That's suicide!" A familiar voice crackled over your commlink. Captain Rex shook his head in disapproval as he spoke into his commlink, watching from the opposite side of the charred battlefield while he blasted his way through the oncoming droids. 

"Don't mind me, Rex. I'll be fine!" You replied enthusiastically, blasting a droid with its own weapon. "I'll be done with this mob in no time—" 

CLANG!

You grunted, dodging a Commando droid's vibroblade, whirling around and repeatedly beating it with some poor B1's durasteel arm. Unable to process the given circumstances, the Commando shot blindly, blaster bolts flying everywhere. Continuing to beat the clanker, you gripped the Commando's free arm, which was still clutching a blaster and firing uncontrollably, and twisted it with all your might. The sickening screech of motors and metal resisting your strength grated at your ears until finally, the arm finally snapped off, sparks of electricity flying everywhere. 

"Die!" You yelled, firing a blaster bolt through the droid's chest using its own rifle. Satisfied with your painstaking handiwork, you rose to your full height with a satisfied exhale. "That should do it." Without further pondering, you continued to dodge blaster bolts, tackling B1s and dismantling Commandos limb by limb until they fell to the ground in fragmented robot parts, fizzing with electricity. Suddenly, as you made your way through the droid battalion, a stray blaster bolt whizzed past your arm, barely missing the sleeve of your sand-colored robe. Another shot from a lucky droid hit you in the shoulder blade, striking you down. Just as you rolled over with a groan, you were met by another vibroblade to the face. You barely avoided having your face cleaved in half by rolling to the side, but unfortunately, the hilt of the clanker's sword hammered into your head. The hit made you feel dazed, and before you knew it, the droid had closed in for the final blow…

You awoke on a stretcher, floating you towards an awaiting medbay. The bright sun intensified your pounding headache and the memories of the battle that had just subsided were just beginning to flood back.

"Y/N!" Rex appeared in your field of vision beside a medic—Kix, of the 501st—as your stretcher approached the medbay. "Thank the Force you're alright." You flashed him a weak smile.

"See, Rex? I'm just fine."  You tried to sit up, but your spinning head forced you back down onto the stretcher. Your mouth felt dry, like you had also taken a mouthful of sand when you fell. “Correction—” Rex watched on as Kix examined your wounds, clucking over the bruises that bloomed over your face and torso while patching up your few gashes and grazes with bacta. Kix put you on bed rest for your concussion and severe bruising, shooing away any curious troopers who had seen a bruised-up Jedi Knight being transported to the medbay, and promptly leaving to treat the dozens upon dozens of wounded clones waiting for his arrival. After Kix had disappeared, Rex peeked into the medbay once again, spotting you pensively sipping water and cradling your head. He made a move to enter the crowded ward, but his brothers beat him to it—the rest of the Torrent Company came rushing in, knocking him through the wide doorway of the medbay.

"Y/N! You're okay!" Tup exclaimed as the clones surrounded your bed. 

"Still fully operational here." You groaned and grinned tiredly. "This headache is killing me, though."

"We saw you beat up those droids with your bare hands!" Hardcase gushed.

"Did you see Y/N beat that Commando with a B1's arm?" Fives asked.

"And then shoot it with its own rifle?" Echo added.

"Wizard!" The clones declared in unison, their laughs and cheers filling the silence of the medbay. 

"Now then, boys. Why don't we give our Droid-Crusher here some space and let her rest?" Rex cleared his throat and approached your bed. You swore you could hear some of the clones snigger. 

"We'll be outside." The group saluted and exited the medbay. Finally alone, Rex turned to you and sighed, collapsing into the chair by your bed.

"So...Droid-Crusher?" You ask with a lopsided smile. Rex shrugs.

"Cody will be so jealous when he hears you took down more droids with your bare hands than he did." He remarked with a chuckle. "I'm sure he'd agree that you are a real droid-crusher, though. Didn't you see the trail of broken droid parts and weapons you left on the battlefield? The boys were terrified, even Commander Tano and General Skywalker."  The way Rex described your rampage with a twinkle in his amber eyes and a small smile on his face captivated you. “I’m glad one of the boys was able to blast that droid before it put you out of commission for good.”

"As am I, captain." You paused. "What did I miss?" 

"Nothing much. We took the Trade Federation fortress at the cost of a couple of men." You frowned bitterly at the news.

“So I missed all of the action?"

“I’m afraid so, General.” Your face fell.

"Now I'll be on bed rest for who knows when. I'll be so…useless.” The realization hit you, and your hand flew to your aching head. “I lost my lightsaber, too…" Rex, however, was quick to disagree.

"You're not useless, Y/N. Next to Generals Skywalker and Kenobi, you're the most resourceful Jedi I've ever met. That's why you're a Jedi Knight, Y/N. You earned your title 'cause you've got that fighting spirit. It's great that you wanna be out on the battlefield, but it'll have to wait." He reassured, resting his hand on yours. You fixed your gaze on him. "You did good out there, Y/N. You made us all seriously proud—especially me." 

“Thank you, Rex. That…means a lot to me.” You replied, feeling unusually…nervous. Your face was hot, your eyes darted everywhere, and suddenly, you were aware of every breath you took.

You knew you were stepping out of your comfort zone, if not outside the Jedi principles you were raised on.

He inched a little closer and you felt yourself gravitating towards him, bringing your hands to his face and inching ever nearer until your lips brushed against his cheek and a rosy blush began to bloom on Rex's face. 

Following the brief kiss, muffled cheering was from the medbay's entrance, accompanied by the thump of plastoid armor hitting the steel floor. Appearing from behind the curtain was Cody, grinning widely, and the rest of the Torrent boys, who had been eavesdropping from behind the medbay doors. Fives clapped a flustered Rex on the back while Echo rushed to tell Anakin and Ahsoka.  Hardcase, Jesse, and Tup cheered from the other side of your bed, ecstatic to have witnessed you coming through with your feelings. And Cody, having finally met the great Droid-Crusher, watched on with amusement. 

"I heard there was a new Droid-Crusher in the GAR, so I got here as fast as I could..." Cody began. "...but I see that Rex ol' boy is a bit preoccupied with her here." Rex hid his goofy grin behind his embarrassed grimace. Standing up swiftly from where he was positioned at your bed, he patted your hand and slipped something from under his kama beneath your pliant fingers. You felt every scuff, the cool metal, the switch–

Speechless, you stared at the lightsaber in your hand, then at him, then at the lightsaber, then him again.

“Let’s just say I found it in the rubble...but I don’t think you’ll be needing it that much, eh, Droid-Crusher?”

Congratulations! You made it to the end of my first ever Star Wars oneshot. Hope you enjoyed it and that you rebagel if you did :)

[mushrubes]

Star wars universe masterlist

home | prompts

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

↪ Din Djarin ↩

➵ imagines / series

ੈ♡˳ ’ You ’ | i, f| friends to lovers!au, mutual pinning | 0.9k

↬ “ What if I hadn’t gotten there in time? ”

-

ੈ♡˳ ’ Proud of you ’ | i, f| friends to lovers!au, mutual pinning | 0.9k

↬ “ Please don't cry. "

-

ੈ♡˳ ’ Keldabe Kiss ’ | i, f| friends to lovers!au, established | 2.1k

↬ “I haven’t stopped crying since Thursday. It’s pathetic.” 

-

ੈ♡˳ ’Jedi ’ | i, f| friends to lovers!au, mutual pinning | 1.6k

↬ " A Mandalorian and a jedi? "

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

others i am open to write for ; luke, anakin, padme, ahsoka, leia, obi wan, han, padme, rey, kylo, fin

[solarpoweredwings]

Star Wars Fanfics will be linked here!

Fics:

Oneshots:

Drabbles:

Imagines:

[megamindsupremacy]

So like, y'all know that popular Star Wars fic trope of Time Traveling Obi-Wan Kenobi where he dies and then wakes up in his 11ish year old body back in the Jedi Temple? You know how usually he wakes up, has a few minutes/hours of confusion, and then goes about trying to act like he was at age 11 while slowly fixing everything wrong with the Jedi Order? Personally I think he would not do that.

I think that Ben "Lived As A Wizard Hermit For Two Decades On Tattooine, Left, And Then Died Immediately" Kenobi would wake up as an eleven-year-old, have a panic attack, attack the nearest adult Jedi while accusing them of Doing Weird Sith Shit To His Brain, fucking flee, only then realize he has time traveled, steal someone's ship, go flying out of the temple to god knows where, continue panicking, crash into a random moon while distracted, nearly die, build a survival camp out of his broken ass ship and eat whatever bugs he can find, get kidnapped by pirates, overthrow said pirates, steal their ship, and then very calmly return to the Jedi temple like nothing happened.

Then and only then do I think he would start trying to act like a normal human person (while also dodging questions such as "what the fuck was that" and "where were you" and "is that a pirate's ship?"), except he'd be bad at it due to having lived as an Insane Wizard Desert Hermit for the past twenty years who has experienced enough trauma and time that he doesn't super well remember the details of his childhood, what with all of the wars and death and wars and such.

His acting convinces nobody, but nobody is sure what exactly to do about All Of That so he's for the most part left alone (after very vehemently refusing sptherapy), all the way up until he catches a glimpse of palpatine out of the corner of his eye and then its On Sight

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

[stealthetrees]

Coming soon to ao3 near you,

Fox’s batch finds out what’s wrong with him, except “what’s wrong with him” is that Fox was dropped on his head as a child and terrorizes his (unknown to him) evil wizard boss with just his personality alone until he gets electrocuted. Spoiler alert: telepathic torture does not discourage him.

[kateii]

where are the plo koons fanfictions? i miss my baby:(

[fayesia]

⋆｡°🕷𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖐𝖙𝖔𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙๋🕷°｡⋆

🕯️MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+🕯️

*open to anyone submitting requests for dates with no character, even though i have backup characters, it would be much appreciated!!!*

*brief summaries will be added to each day the closer to October we get*

1st mutual masturbation - Anakin Skywalker

2nd praise - Mike Schmidt

3rd toys - Kit Walker

4th dubcon - Sirius Black

5th monsterfucking - Sukuna

6th edging - Aaron Hotchner

7th breeding - Daemon Targaryen

8th car sex - Logan Howlett

9th cockwarming - Regulus Black

10th anal - Dick Grayson

11th double penetration - Soap + Ghost

12th food play - Vinsmoke Sanji

13th piercing - Sam Monroe

14th hate fuck - Kai Anderson

15th bondage - Tate Langdon

16th mirror sex - Bruce Wayne

17th wax play - Aemond Targaryen

18th spit play - Joel Miller

19th somnophilia - Brahms Heelshire

20th facesitting - Spencer Reid

21st gun play - König

22nd gags - Jason Todd

23rd overstimulation - Art Donaldson

24th size kink - Wolverine

25th daddy kink - Toji Fushiguro

26th exhibitionism - Finnick Odair

27th thigh fucking - Peter Parker

28th choking - Bucky Barnes

29th degradation - Thomas Shelby

30th deep throat - Steve Rogers

31st spanking - Jason Todd

*any works left uncompleted will be posted as oneshots*

[kaminokatie]

Valentines Day || Crosshair

Synopsis - You have no Valentines for this years Valentines Day.

Warnings - SFW.

Notes - Cross divider by the talented @stars-n-spice

Word Count - 750.

{Caffeinate Me}

Valentines Day was fast approaching and you had yet to secure yourself a date for the evening. It was hard, afterall. Being in the middle of war didn’t give you many opportunities to find a suitor, especially not when you had your boys to protect. You were currently sitting on the Havoc Marauder, on your way back to Kamino with your squad after the completion of your most recent mission. Hunter looked you up and down, eyebrows knitting together as he sensed your frustration. “What’s wrong Y/N?” He asked, sitting across from you in the cockpit. 

You looked up at him, playing with your fingers and smiling softly before responding, “oh it’s nothing.” 

“It must be something,” Hunter replied, his hand reaching out to touch your shoulder gently. 

“I suppose I’m just feeling down,” you responded with a sigh, feeling his gloved hand rest against armour. “Valentine's Day is coming up and I have no date!”

“You celebrate it?” Echo’s voice came from the opposite side of the cockpit. You looked at him with genuine confusion. 

“Yes! You don’t?” 

“We’re soldiers Y/N,” Echo reminded you as he sat in the co-pilot’s chair. “We don’t do Valentine’s Day.” 

You frowned. “That sucks.” The men just shrugged in response, Crosshair's gaze lingering on your form a little longer than usual as he chewed on his toothpick. “You’ve never had a Valentines?”

“It goes against our purpose,” Tech replied, not bothering to look your way. 

“Well,” you said standing up. “This is my first year in a while without a Valentines and I’m upset about itt!”  

“You have more important things to think and worry about now Y/N,” Hunter said sternly forcing you to roll your eyes at him. 

“Yeah yeah,” you waved him off as you continued to roll your eyes. 

“I’m being serious,” Hunter said. 

“I get it,” you said. “Am I not allowed to be sad about it?” You challenged him, standing up and wrapping your arms across your chest. 

“I don’t think that’s what Hunter means Y/N,” Tech interjected, looking away from what he was doing at the controls to notice your furrowed brows. “I think he simply means we have to focus on our missions instead of courting someone.”

“Besides, why would you need a Valentines when you have us!” Wrecker grins as he wraps an arm around your shoulder. 

“Ew you’re like my brothers,” you groan, shaking Wrecker’s arm off your shoulder and storming out of the cockpit frustratedly.  

You sat on your bunk kicking your feet and thinking when you were suddenly interrupted. “Brother’s huh?” It was Crosshair. He had his signature toothpick between his lips as he spoke to you, a singular eyebrow raised as he walked towards your bunk. 

“What?” You asked softly, heart beat racing at the sudden intrusion. 

“We’re like your brothers?” 

“Well, yeah,” you mumbled, pulling your knees up to your chest. 

“Then you won’t want me to ask you to be my Valentine then?” Crosshair asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he removed his toothpick. You swear your heart skipped several beats as soon as the words left his lips. 

“Huh?” You asked, eyes wide. 

“I think you heard me,” Crosshair pressed as he sat down next to you on your bunk. He placed a hand on your thigh after flicking his toothpick carelessly across the ship, leaning his face closer to yours just to whisper “do you want to be my Valentine?” You gulped slightly, fearing this was some sort of prank, but when you searched his eyes for any deceit and found none, you nodded quickly. “Hah, that’s what I thought.”

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple before pulling away and walking back into the cockpit, taking another toothpick out of his pocket and placing it between his teeth. It was only as Crosshair left did Hunter walk in, a knowing smile on his face. “Did you get your date then?” He asked, looking you up and down. 

“I suppose I did,” you mumbled, eyes wide as you watched the door of the cockpit. 

“About time he asked you,” Hunter said, sitting down next to you. 

“What do you mean?” You asked, tearing your eyes away from the door to look at your Sargeant. 

“He’s been pining after you for months,” Hunter chuckled lightly. Your heart began to beat rapidly against your ribcage as Hunter placed a hand on your shoulder, squeezing tightly. “Have fun, soldier. You both deserve it.” 

[awhhayden]

CONTAINS : age gap 20+, dilf!hayden, fluff, anxiety/panic attack, short story

SUMMARY : Hayden wakes up from a nightmare, his anxieties weighing down on your relationship.

Hayden stirs beside you, the peaceful rhythm of sleep abruptly shattered as he shoots upright, fear flickering across his features. A cold sweat glistens on his chest and neck, his breath coming in frantic gasps as another nightmare haunts his consciousness.

For the past week, the same chilling dream has plagued him, each one a manifestation of the simmering anxieties about your relationship. With you just stepping into your 23rd year and him carrying the weight of 43, the whispers of the world loom large, as if the media’s scrutiny could unravel the delicate threads of what you both share.

Each day, he finds himself on high alert, bracing for the latest wave of cruel commentary about your love—the love that defies conventional norms but thrives in its authenticity. Hayden positions himself as a shield between you and the relentless barrage of judgment, yet deep down, he knows the sting of those words reaches you, drawing a painful line back to him.

Guilt tugs at his heart, knowing that these dark reflections are a consequence of his existence in your life, and he longs for a way to silence the storm that rages endlessly in his mind.

He turns and gazes at you, a soft contrast to the panic in his chest. Your hair spills like silk across the pillow, catching the soft glow of the moonlight that dances through the window. Each rise and fall of your chest is a tender symphony, a rhythm that lulls him into a deeper calm.

With a gentle smile, he lays back on his side and wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you closer into his warmth. The sweet scent of your strawberry shampoo envelops him, a fragrant reminder that you are all he needs.

You stir slightly, your voice a soft murmur in the quiet of the room. "Mmm, you okay?" Your eyes flutter open just enough to glimpse the worry etched on his face, and he smiles, leaning into the fragrant softness of your hair. "Now I am," he whispers, his words a soft caress that fills the space between you with a warm intimacy, as if the world outside has faded away, leaving only the two of you as his anxieties melt away into oblivion.

He feels the heat radiating from your body and leans in closer, letting the moment deepen. The room is filled with a comfortable silence, punctuated only by the soft sound of your breathing. With each breath, he finds himself more anchored in the present, savoring this shared moment of peace that feels both timeless and sacred.

"Do you remember the first time we slept like this?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. He recalls that night, when the stars overhead seemed to twinkle just for you two, a new chapter just unfolding.

You chuckle softly, eyes still heavy with sleep. "I think you were the one who ended up stealing all the blankets," you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

He smirks, nudging you playfully. "Guilty as charged." A moment of laughter passes between you, a thread of shared memories that wraps around you in warmth. Beneath that playful exchange, a deeper truth lingers in the air—an unspoken understanding of each other, grounded in genuine affection.

You shift slightly, nestling into his embrace, and he tightens his hold instinctively, as if afraid to let go. The soft rhythm of your breaths intertwining sets a peaceful cadence. “What are you thinking about?” you ask, curiosity sparking your gaze as you finally meet his eyes.

He hesitates for a moment, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, it’s just…” He takes a deep breath, struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes I worry about the age gap between us. I mean, I know it’s not the worst difference, but still…” You frown slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow, giving him your full attention. “What do you mean?”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, his gaze drifting toward the moonlight spilling through the window. “With me being in the public eye, everyone seems to have an opinion about everything. I can imagine the headlines, the gossip… it worries me. I don’t want to be that guy who’s dating someone significantly younger. I don’t want it to look like I’m��� I don’t know, taking advantage of that.”

Your heart sinks a little at his unease, seeing the vulnerability etched in his features. “You’re not taking advantage of anything. We’re not like that. We have something real here.”

“I know that,” he replies, looking back into your eyes with sincerity. “But the media spins things. I've seen it happen to friends, people in the industry facing scrutiny just for their choices in relationships. I don’t want to subject you to that kind of negativity. You don’t deserve it.”

“You can’t control how others see us,” you say gently, brushing your fingers across his cheek. “What matters is how we see each other. You mean the world to me, and I don’t care about the age gap or what people think.”

He listens, but the concern doesn’t entirely vanish from his eyes. “You say that now, but what if it becomes a burden in the future? What if the attention—both good and bad—pulls us apart instead of bringing us closer?”

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll find a way to make it work,” you reply, your voice steady and unwavering. “And if we do hit bumps along the way, we’ll face them together. Love isn’t about age or public perception; it’s about trust, respect, and the connection we’ve built.”

He smiles softly at your words, grateful yet still clouded by his worries. “You make it sound so simple. I just don’t want to risk losing what we have because of outside noise.”

You take a moment, gathering your thoughts, before responding. “I’m not naive. I know the world can be harsh. But I also believe that if we’re strong in our bond, we can withstand anything. Our relationship doesn’t have to be defined by the age gap—or by the spotlight you’re in.”

He studies you intently, his brows slightly relaxed as he absorbs your words. “You really believe that?” He probes, searching your face for reassurance.

“I do,” you affirm, leaning closer, grounding him with your presence. “Each day with you just feels right. It’s not about the years; it’s about how well we fit together and how we support each other”

A soft chuckle escapes him, his tension easing slightly. “In all my life, I’ve never met someone quite like you,” he admits. “You’re a breath of fresh air, you keep me young” he jokes.

You smile at that, feeling a wave of warmth wash over you. “I’m glad I can be someone who brings you comfort. Just remember, I want this, I want you” you say softly. He reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he gives a light squeeze. “Thank you for being you. For standing by me. I just want to protect what we have.”

“Then let’s protect it together,” you say, resolute. “I love you” you whisper, he smiles

As you settle back into his embrace, the weight of his worries lingers in the air but feels lighter now, softened by the understanding between you. Together, you drift into a shared silence, sleep finally weighing down on Hayden’s eyes, you fall back asleep together, a newfound understanding and the sound of the wind in the air.

a little story while I work on a chapter two of my james kelly fic! also still adding to my taglist so lmk if you want to be added! <3

taglist : @bimbo-baggins17 @malinadbbdh @speaknow-sw @haydensheartt @inlovewithdob @fredswrite

[morganas-pendragons]

What We’ve Become | O.K.

Listen. LISTEN. This song just came out yesterday and after I heard the whole thing + the idea I’ve had in my head for the last week (which came to me in a dream, I’m not even joking) I absolutely had to get this out there because IT WILL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE. 

So. Have the hurt/comfort! 

Tag: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories​ - NAME TWIN :D 

*** 

What have we become.... now you’re done...

You can’t stop dreaming of them. Of all of them. Of the men you served beside, the men who died for you, the men who lived because of you. You can’t stop dreaming of them even as you’re falling into the depths of Utapau’s colonies when they shot you down. 

The dreams then were good dreams. Dream of what you and Obi-Wan both wanted for them when the war ended. 

All is lost...

Now they’re just another of the many who haunt you. 

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a selfish man. He never had been. Everything he ever did in his life put his own wants and desires secondary to put the well-being of others first. He was always careful to consider all he knew of them and what the consequence would be if he were not to follow through on what they needed. 

Anakin needed a father. That, he could not be. 

You needed your husband. That, he could not be. Not to the extent he so desperately craved to give you. You deserved that. You had made that promise to him in the lake country of Naboo so long ago that you would be the one who remained when all else was gone. 

Until death do you part. 

And part you, it very nearly did. 

Moonlight Through the trees

Obi-Wan Kenobi had been one of your very constants in life since you’d been brought into the crèche as a child. He’d been the one to be your voice when you had none, your shoulder to lean on when your birth parents died, your comfort when were rejected again and again and again. 

You with me All I need

He had been all you needed, once upon a time. You had spent your earliest years believing that there would be nobody else in your world but him and you. Little to Obi-Wan’s knowledge, he was your world. He made living bearable. He made your transition to Padawan worth while because he was doing it alongside you. 

Then he left for Melida-Daan. He never came back the same. Every time he left, even well into his adulthood, the person you’d come to know as Obi-Wan Kenobi died with him. 

It didn’t matter. You’d love every version of him, both the wicked and the pure, in any universe. Despite all the pain you’d later learn he’d put you through - Jabiim, Zygerria, Rako Hardeen, all instances in which you were so tempted to walk away because when would enough be enough - you still loved him. 

At the end of it all, when everything and everyone you’ve ever loved comes to its conclusion, he remains. Obi-Wan is all you need. 

You crave him like you crave the intimacy you no longer know. He used to bleed intimacy behind closed doors. When the facade of the great Negotiator and Jedi General was finally given permission to fall, Obi-Wan Kenobi fell into your bled and bled. 

With his head thrown back and thrumming pulse exposed to your eyes, you took careful care to stitch back together what remains of the strawberry blonde boy with the beautiful heart you’d met as a child. 

He used to bleed intimacy. 

Not anymore. 

We see the same sky I know Watching the moon it’s the only thing Left here to hold

Your first nights on Tatooine are troublesome. Plagued by nightmares and images of the clones you’d lost, and the clones who’d shot you down, you’re left to fall victim to sleeplessness as you toss fitfully in the bed of the room you’d temporarily taken as your own since following Obi-Wan here. 

He’s barely said twelve words to you. Too wracked by grief and guilt, you’re left helpless to watch as your husband begins to fade from your sight, no longer the man you once knew during the war. 

No longer the beautiful boy from your childhood. 

You ache to touch him, to hold him and assure him that none of what occurred was his own fault. You knew better. You’d seen Anakin’s Fall first hand. The boy you loved like your own child was always enveloped by the cold of the Dark Side. Quick to succumb to it and eager to envelop himself in its power, Anakin had fallen to the lie and dug himself into an early grave. 

The last time you’d seen him, he’d been burning alive on the rocky shores of Mustafar. 

Obi-Wan’s own haunts dealt with the failure he believed himself to be to Anakin. Your haunts dealt with the clones. All of them. The ones of the 501st, the clones of the 212th, your own squad who had perished on the shores of Jabiim. 

Your clone commander that you’d sent with Ahsoka Tano to reclaim Mandalore for Bo-Katan. That was the last time you’d seen him. You didn't even know if he was alive. 

You hadn’t known he was alive the first time either. Not until you’d had to rescue him from Dooku. Cain had survived the fire and kept Obi-Wan alive to bring him back home to you. 

If he could survive Jabiim, he could survive the Empire. 

You just had to cling to the shreds of hope you had left. That was one of the constant lessons you were learning from the clones. They always had hope.

Even when they shouldn’t have.

Talking to you in the dark Fading away Oh I just wanna be where you are...

  “If you’re going to disappear on me, Obi-Wan,” You call out late into the night, following his Force Signature to the dunes where he seems to be attempting to meditate. “Please, just take me with you.” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eyes slowly flutter open. There you stand, so soft and beautiful and broken - another thing he could not fix, no matter how much he tried - and so desperately waiting for him to make the choice to reach out and hold you. 

His fingers itch to find purchase in the body he knows so well. Still, Obi-Wan denies himself that basic need. 

He doesn’t deserve anything anymore. Not even you. 

Realizing he won’t grant you the satisfaction of even a response, you tuck your legs beneath you and sit beside him in silence. Silence has always been a welcomed thing between you two. There had never been a need to fill it. Anakin’s persistent rambling and Ahsoka’s laughter had always done that for you. 

Now, there is no one. At the end of all things, all that remains is the both of you and a canvas of stars to watch over you from above. 

*** 

He’s surprised to follow your cries to your bedside when you wake up screaming the name of your clone commander. Your scream is so loud, so anguished, that Obi-Wan is convinced that it could carry across the Junland Wastes. 

His nightmares are dealt with in his own solitude. It is his penance. His sin. Everything he’s done is to be dealt with in silence. 

Yours is to be dealt with in agonizing screams that could pierce the very Force itself with the depths of your grief. 

  “My love,” Obi-Wan’s voice is soft as his hands move of their own accord, careful to not shock you further as they find purchase against your face. The warmth of his touch bleeding into the cold that envelops you is enough to shake you from your reverie. “Look at me.” 

Arms In your arms I’m wrapped in the safest keeping

The bright, youthful onyx eyes of Commander Cain shift into the solemn, adoring blues of Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

The moment you realize you can feel him and see him and touch him is when you consequently choose the same time to bleed all over him the same way he used to allow himself to bleed all over you. 

  “Obi-Wan,” You cry as you press his hands deeper into your skin in hopes it will brand and leave a reminder of his touch there. “Please don’t let go, I can’t let another go, not again-” 

And he realizes then what you’re saying. Some of the people you’ve lost were taken by things out of your control. Padme. Anakin. Plo. 

Your clones - both of you -  could’ve been saved. Cain. Cody. Rex. Kix. Jesse. Funsize. All those faces that while so similar were so astonishingly different in the Force. They may have been meant to be the same, but they all bled in different shades of that in which they came from. 

Cody bled loyalty. Rex bled devotion. Cain bled heart, while Kix bled compassion. 

So similar.. but yet still so different. 

You bury your face in his chest so suddenly that the force of it nearly knocks him off of his feet and right into the sand at the base of the stone thing he’s taken to calling a bed. Yours is closer now. It’s nearly joined with his own.

  “Don’t let go, don’t let go-” 

So similar... but still so different. How ironic that applies to the both of us as well. 

Threading his fingers through your hair, Obi-Wan exhales softly through his nose and maneuvers his arms to hold you as tightly to him as possible. 

  “I will never let you go, darling.” He whispers into the tresses of your hair. It takes quite a long time for the trembling to cease until you have fallen asleep in his arms for the first time in weeks, and Obi-Wan knows sleep will elude him this night because of his reemerging desire to protect you from those haunts. “I made a vow.” 

Till death do you part. 

If my heart Isn’t yours Then that’s when I’ll give up breathing

He really had led himself to believe he didn’t need you anymore. Solitude, the loneliness, taking everything on alone... That was his penance for all the mistakes he committed during The Clone War. 

But now as he sits here with you cradled against his chest on the dunes of the endless sea of sand that surrounds him, Obi-Wan Kenobi thinks that getting past this might be doable if you are there to carry it with him. 

He wasn’t meant to carry this cross alone. Not this one, not the ones that he so often fell from the weight of their burden previous to this. 

You’d always picked his up for him then. Maybe now it’s his turn to do the same for you. To bear the weight of your haunts. To tend to your heart the way you’ve tended to his. 

Doing it together would be better than giving up breathing. There was never a world in which Obi-Wan would be okay with leaving you alone. 

He is not selfish, after all. 

*** 

All I know Only you can stop the bleeding

  “What do you dream about, Obi-Wan?” 

You’re in the middle of cooking dinner together six months into your tenure on Tatooine when you finally ask this. He knows what you dream of. Most nights are relentless nightmares of being shot down on Utapau, the fires of Jabiim, the night the Temple fell.

You just can’t let them go. No matter how hard you try to lay your clones to rest, they just dig their claws further into what’s left of your soul and make their home there.

Letting go...

Isn't something I believe in

When they eventually bury you, they may as well bury the memory of the clones with you. They will soon be a distant memory. The Empire has all but shoved their service record and bravery in war as far underground as possible so no one will ever be able to thank them for it.

Why would they? There's stormtroopers now, and so few clones remain.

That was the intention after all.

"I dreamed of Qui-Gon for quite a long time... until you came back around," His admission is quiet, spoken over the cups of tea he's only just finished brewing. "The dreams since then have been joyful. Peaceful. More memories of you and me and our-" He pauses and grips the handles of each mug with whitened knuckles. "But since Knightfall, the nightmares have resurfaced."

"So you dream of what was."

"I dream of what was," He confirms. You're careful in your movements as you cross your tiny kitchen to wrap your arms around his waist and press your chest against his back. It's not difficult to miss all that he hides underneath those robes and tunics. "And what I wish could be. But most nights.. my love..."

Obi-Wan turns around to tip your face upward toward the suns rays that are only just beginning to shine through the window. Your lips part of their own accord, taken aback by the sudden touch - as it has been so long since he's initiated it - but unable to help yourself from seeking more as you lean into his palm.

Your don't dare tear your eyes away from his own.

"I dream of you."

"If it pleases you, husband," Your voice falters as you swallow the knot in your throat, tongue heavy and mouth dry as his grip on your hips gradually tightens. "I'd like to hold you now."

It's clear he's contemplating formulating an argument. From the moment he recognizes that silent desperation in your eyes to just give in for once, Obi-Wan nods his assent and allows you to lead him into your bedroom.

Neither of you have to work today. You're free to do exactly as you wish. There’s no rush. No reason to hurry.

It’s just you and him.

You both used to bleed intimacy behind closed doors. Now, though.. There's no one to scorn you. No one to chastise you for loving each other as ardently as you do, no one to accidentally look in as you lead Obi-Wan through the bedroom door and back until his knees collide with the side of your bed.

What Have we become?

Even as you strip him down to his undergarments, Obi-Wan's grip on your hips never falters. He is deliberate in his decision to not meet your gaze as he kisses whatever skin is visible to his wandering eye.

"I love you." You whisper. Grinning against the curve of his cheek, you move his hand to rest against the small of your back and finally are able to properly feel the warmth his broad body radiates. You know how insecure he is about the scars. Kriff, you'd been there to witness how he got them. You'd been there and you'd tended to him and yet you loved him still. He didn't understand why.

All Obi-Wan was truly certain about was his willingness to allow you to do one thing you'd prevent be very good at.

Stitch back together what has been bleeding.

"I love you too." He replies weakly, and all it takes to give him back the voice he was so convinced he lost - at least for this moment - is the surge to your tiptoes that has your mouth connecting to his own.

It's like that type of rain that cleanses. The feeling of serenity washes over you like that cold, cold rain until you are left to both breathe in nothing but one another.

You feel it then. The whispers of who you both were slowly clawing to the surface to give way to being the people you once were. To being Jedi again.

Maybe someday.

It's only when he's somehow switched your positions and moved to cage your body under his own that you realize it. Obi-Wan's hands are currently linked with yours on either side of your head.

And they're holding tight. It’s the tightest he’s held you since the night on the dunes, since the night you’d fallen upon the Temple steps in the aftermath of Anakin’s massacre because you just could not take the sight of so many clone bodies.

You learned a long time ago that when he holds tight, you don’t contemplate letting go.

You are quick to smile when you realize that two inches from your face sits his wedding ring, dangling on a silver chain that he often keeps around his neck. "Jee," You muse. "Don't you think you should put that on?"

And his response sings of the old Obi-Wan as he leans down to whisper hot in your ear, "I don't know, my love. I think people need to know who I belong to."

Now you’re done All is lost

It may have felt as if it was lost, once. This is the first time that you've felt as if there may be hope on the horizon. That there is something to be found. Something good.

You cling to that.

***

after.

"When you think back on Old Ben and his wife, what do you think of?"

The Kenobi's had always been quietly fearful of Luke's perception of them. They didn't want him to see what had been broken, what was unable to be repaired. They wanted him to see strength. Resilience. Peace.

So that's what Luke saw. He saw two people who had made mistakes, who had suffered and lost and fought.

"I think they lost too much," Luke replied quietly as he settled beside Leia to peer up at Endor's stars. "I think they were fearful and relied on one another to find some way to keep going despite all they lost. I can't imagine the kind of pain they endured." He paused. "But you know.. they only had each other. At least they found peace in the end in the midst of all that pain."

Luke Skywalker eventually returns to Old Ben's hut. When he does, three gravestones have been erected. One says Obi-Wan Kenobi, The Negotiator. Dear husband and best of men.

Yours is expected. Dear wife and best of women. General of Reaper Squadron.

The last one, however, he isn't expecting. It's an assortment of names and numbers of what look like military battalions. Luke assumes it's meant to be a memorial. A memorial to something he will never quite know or understand.

104th - The Wolf Pack

212th - Ghost Company

501st - Torrent Company

114th - Reaper Squadron

There's names that correspond with each company. People he doesn't know, faces he will never see. That's not what draws Luke's attention though. Not really.

It's the words underneath that drive it home.

The Clones - We will remember.

And right underneath those are two crossed lightsabers. Not Ben's, as that one had been left on the Death Stars, but there's one thing the kyber sings as Luke bends to bury it with the remains of who the Kenobi's had once been.

Peace.