#ahsoka fanfic

[daughterofthequeen]

Am I the only one that has noticed in the Star Wars fandom there’s barely any Star Wars character x non-human reader fics. I low key think a few of our beautiful Star Wars hubbies/wifey’s would date non-human characters. And I don’t know about you guys but being human is boring sometimes to me, this is Star Wars we can be literally anyone and anything. I don’t know it was just something I thought about.

(I’m not talking about Jedi!readers either because you can be human and be a Jedi. I’m talking bout torguta’s, twi’leks, etc. We can even make up our own alien species guys. Our imaginations are endless)

[sublimestrawberryfury]

268 wolfwren fanfics on AO3 since Episode 1 aired. That's an average of 3.67 fics per day since August 23rd!

[aceinhyperspace]

SUN KILLER LULLABY

SUMMARY: In the final days of the Clone Wars, Ahsoka Tano struggles to protect the shattered remains of her family. Her brothers, the clones, are falling faster than she can save them, and each loss tears away at her. Anakin, too, is slipping away, their bond twisted by an unsettling darkness that threatens to consume them both. On Mandalore, with enemies pressing in and the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, Ahsoka is forced to confront a harsh truth: some battles aren’t meant to be won—only survived.

RATING: M

PAIRINGS: GEN

WARNINGS: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Character Death, visit A03 for the full list of tags

CHAPTER I: TELL ME THE WAVES WON'T RISE SUMMARY: Old bonds are reforged, and visions are shared. CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 6.2 K

You’re not home, Ahsoka reminds herself, ignoring the swoop of emotions in her chest. She’s surrounded in the Force by the warmth of the soldiers around her, not the least Rex and Anakin. Rex glows with pride, the newly painted orange and white helmet held gently between his gloves as she trails her hands over it. Anakin wears a small smirk, mischievous and self-satisfied. He’s been projecting unease ever since she landed on the Negotiator, stepping around her cautiously, tripping over his words. Only by presenting her a company in her own colors do his turbulent emotions settle. Behind Ahsoka, twinned relief and excitement emanates from the small contingent of clone officers, but especially from the ones she knows well. Vaughn is at perfect attention, his energy calm and balanced, but incredibly pleased to see her. Kes and Lion are radiating delight, barely holding their salutes. Prim and Finch feel nearly as animated. Jesse stands over her right shoulder, the ARC Trooper an unshakably warm presence that settles in the back of her skull. She’s missed this, the easy comradery of her siblings, her vode. The last time she saw most of this group had been on the Resolute, well before the Temple bombing. She spent weeks wondering if they blamed her for leaving the Order without saying goodbye... Even if they had, any lingering resentment has been replaced with infectious joy at seeing her safe and back amongst them. You’re not back and you are not home, she chides, pulling herself back to the present. In Anakin’s hands there is a lightsaber box. Her lightsabers. Her throat closes, unruly emotions getting the best of her. She reaches out, long fingers coming to rest on the carved wood.

CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[somebodytoundress]

honey, don't feed me, i will come back

Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV) Sabine Wren/Shin Hati (T, 1/1, 2.6k words)

Something tugs at the back of Sabine’s mind, persistent, a warning. Her hand goes not to her blaster, but to the lightsaber on her hip, not quite drawing the weapon. The hairs on the nape of her neck stand on edge, anticipating leeching at her every nerve. A noise alerts her. Down the dark hallway, between the flashes of alarms, a red-orange lightsaber blade casts a glare down the pitch blackness.

A mission goes awry and Sabine runs into Shin Hati once more, but things are different this time.

read here

[my-meadowlark]

Fic: Negative Space [Ahsoka Tano/Hera Syndulla]

Title: Negative Space Fandom: Star Wars, Ahsoka (TV) Characters/Pairing: Ahsoka/Hera Rating: T Word Count: 2,749 Summary:

Hera watches Ahsoka meditate and reflects upon what she's learned about her since the end of the War — and how their relationship has evolved over the years. No big spoilers for the show. It's just we're three episodes in and the way these idiots look at each other is making me go absolutely feral. Written for prompt #1 "Friends to lovers" of @tropetember

AO3 LINK

Ahsoka sits cross-legged in front of the viewport, but Hera knows she's not looking at the stars outside.

Her eyes are closed, her back straight in a way it never is when she's sitting just to sit. Her hands rest on her knees and she's so still and quiet Hera can count several heartbeats between the slight movements of Ahsoka's chest as she breathes in an out.

Hera knows Ahsoka is both there and not there at the same time. She's there but she's off somewhere else, too, in the Force or with the Force or within the Force. Watching her meditate always reminds Hera of the day Sabine showed her a painting that was both a vase and the profile of two people at the same time. Negative space.

Knowing Ahsoka, Hera thinks, is a lot like learning to see negative space.

Ahsoka is not a Jedi and she's not a Sith. She's the negative space around them both. She's more what she's not than what she is, and Hera is well aware she'd never be able to explain this to someone else in a way that makes sense, but then she figures she'll never have to. She'll never want to. It's for her alone to know and understand.

It's the knowledge that Ahsoka could be peeking into her thoughts right now. Could be combing through Hera's feelings and even changing them and Hera would never know. It's the absolute certainty that Ahsoka never has, and never will, cross that line. She could, but she won't. And that's what Hera admires. What makes her stare sometimes, like right now, in awe of the Togruta sitting just a few steps away from her, is not what she does. It's what she doesn't do.

And that was it, really, at first. When the war ended and it felt like the Universe itself had turned into negative space around the holes where planets and fleets and friends and love used to be. When Ahsoka would show up out of nowhere, quiet and stoic, and force Hera to feel something other than loss for a little while. Ahsoka let her cry. She let her laugh. She let her fill up with the kind of anger that would've pushed anyone else away. She let her sleep, keeping Jacen calm in a way Hera suspected had a lot to do with both of them sharing a connection through the Force. She let her heal.

Ahsoka didn't heal her. She didn't take the pain and the loss and the nightmares and hid them in a dark corner of Hera's mind with a gentle wave of her hand. Not even when Hera asked her to — not even when she begged, when desperation turned into rage and blame and accusations she flung at Ahsoka with a venom she never thought she'd be capable of. Ahsoka didn't even bring that up later, when the rage was gone and Hera would've listened. She remained there, not doing any of those things. Being the space Hera needed to heal.

And then she became something else.

Not a friend. Sabine was her friend. Chopper was her friend. Ahsoka was not her friend. They didn't have friendly, light-hearted conversations, they didn't share drinks, they didn't have inside jokes. She knew Ahsoka and Ahsoka knew her and their bond — because there was one — was as quiet as Ahsoka when she meditates. It was made of shared silences. Shared spaces. It meant leaving sometimes, and watching Ahsoka leave. Days and weeks and months seeing only holograms of each other but knowing with absolute, unwavering certainty that they'd cross galaxies in the blink of an eye to be there if the other needed them.

Hera'd never felt the Force, but she imagined it must feel a bit like whatever she shared with Ahsoka. Something that was in her and around her and with her. Within her. Something invisible but present. Something you couldn't touch but you could feel, somehow. It was complicated. She couldn't explain it, but she didn't have to because she knew Ahsoka understood. And that was enough.

Until it wasn't.

Until Ahsoka's presence started rattling her instead of grounding her. Until she suddenly saw the profiles instead of the vase — saw what she wanted from Ahsoka instead of what she had — and she couldn't make herself go back to looking at the picture the way she used to before.

She'd been watching her meditate for a while. Minutes, maybe. Maybe hours. There was something unnerving about being so restless when Ahsoka was so at peace. Was she at peace? Maybe she wasn't. Maybe she felt just as off-kilter as Hera did and meditating was her way of dealing with it. Of reeling it in. Of keeping herself steady on her feet.

"Ahsoka." Hera never interrupted her. Not ever. It was part of their non-friendship, respecting each other's spaces and silences. She knew those moments were important for Ahsoka, as not-a-Jedi. But she couldn't help herself.

Ahsoka was there but wasn't, and she didn't immediately respond to Hera's voice. She didn't respond at all, actually, which only gave Hera a few extra seconds to think about the situation they were in (she was in, to be perfectly honest) and made that uncomfortable feeling lodged somewhere in her chest become even more noticeable.

"Ahsoka." A little louder this time. She saw the Togruta's blue eyes open in the reflection on the viewport.

Ahsoka moved slowly. Like she wasn't fully there just yet and her body was just going through the motions without her. It was hard to believe this was the same person Hera had seen fight countless times, all explosive strength and quick reflexes, lightsabers flowing around her like an extension of her arms. She arched one of her eyebrows in silent question, and Hera's determination wavered for a second.

"I want— I need to talk to you."

Ahsoka's posture relaxed in an almost imperceptible way. Hera knew to take it as an invitation to keep talking.

"I've been thinking." And for the first time since those first months after the War ended, Hera considered asking Ahsoka to just read her mind and put her out of her misery. "About you— well, about me. About us. About this."

This.

"I—" There was something in Ahsoka's eyes. A spark of something. It made Hera immediately aware of just much she didn't want to talk about it, actually. So she stood up from her chair. "I'm going to bed."

It had been a terrible idea. A momentary lapse of judgment. They were fine. Not friends. Not friends and not not friends. Something in the negative space between being everything and being friends. But they were fine. They were—

"Hera." She'd only taken a few steps away from Ahsoka, so the Togruta didn't have to raise her voice to get her attention and stop her in her tracks. "Talk to me."

"I want to kiss you," she blurted out because that was the gist of it, she figured. That was what kept running through her head. What kept her tossing and turning in her bunk instead of getting a good night's rest. What was consuming every rational thought. She wanted to kiss Ahsoka. She wanted to kiss and touch and feel her so much she was starting to lose sight of the line between want and need.

Ahsoka stayed where she was. Quiet and stoic and beautiful and something else. Not surprised. Not angry. Not happy. Something else.

"I'm—" Hera started, and then stopped herself because an apology would have been a lie and they never lied to each other. She wasn't sorry. She was something else. "I'm going to bed."

Ahsoka didn't stop her that time.

And she wasn't there in the morning.

It wasn't the first time Ahsoka disappeared. Sometimes she let Hera know she'd be leaving beforehand, sometimes she didn't. Sometimes they talked right away, and sometimes they didn't. This time they didn't. But this time was different, and the knowledge that something had changed between them — that things may never be the same — occupied Hera's thoughts every second she wasn't focusing on a mission instead. She counted the hours and then the days and the weeks without hearing from Ahsoka and every night she found it harder to fall asleep.

"Hera."

Ahsoka's voice reached her in her sleep and pulled her back to consciousness so gently Hera wondered whether her Force abilities had been involved. If she'd been any less surprised to see Ahsoka in her quarters in the middle of the night after weeks of silence, she probably would have asked.

"What—?"

"I've seen what attachment can do to a Jedi." Ahsoka shook her head slightly, almost as if she was trying to jostle her thoughts into place. "I've seen what love can do to a Jedi. The fear of losing the person you love, I've seen what it can do to a great Jedi. To the best Jedi. To the ones he loved. To— to the galaxy itself. I've seen how much destruction it can bring."

There was a disconnect somewhere. They were looking at the same picture but seeing different things, because Ahsoka talked about destruction and fear and darkness so deep it seemed to surround her as she spoke, but all Hera felt when she thought about her feelings for Ahsoka was warmth and light and the faintest glimmer of hope after so much loss. And the distance between them suddenly seemed too large to bridge.

"I can't risk that. I can't risk you." Ahsoka's eyes widened as if her own words had surprised her, and she took one step back, away from the bunk where Hera was still struggling to put every piece of this surreal situation together in her head. "I can't."

It took four days for Ahsoka to appear again after she left Hera's quarters. She marched into the room with all the determination of a woman on a mission, strides long and feet hitting the floor so firmly Hera was surprised when ripples didn't appear on the surface of her tea.

"Fear leads to anger," she said by way of greeting, cryptic as only a former Jedi who's no Jedi can be, "do you understand?"

Hera left her mug on the desk and turned her chair around so she could fully look at the woman in front of her.

"No, Ahsoka." Hera was a bit tired. A bit tired of waiting and wondering and being kept in the dark about whatever Ahsoka had been thinking of since Hera's confession. "I don't understand."

"Fear," Ahsoka repeated, as if a more clear enunciation would help bring Hera up to speed, "leads to anger. To hate. To suffering. To the—" Ahsoka took a step forward, placed her hands on the arm rests of Hera's chair, and in just a second got closer to Hera than she'd ever been before.

"It's fear," she said, voice barely above a whisper and body firmly in Hera's personal space, "and love— you can't love without fear."

Ahsoka looked so sure of herself, so firm in her belief that she'd found a way to explain whatever jumble of thoughts was in her head to Hera, that Hera almost felt bad when she simply refused to go along with it.

"Of course you can," she simply said, punctuating her words with a slight shrug to really drive her point home, "I'm not afraid."

"But you—"

"I'm not afraid." Hera covered one of Ahsoka's hands with her own and let the unspoken words in the negative space around her lack of fear — the silent implication that she loved Ahsoka — sink in for the woman in front of her.

It took several heartbeats for Ahsoka to speak again, and when she did there was something in her eyes that made Hera feel like she was looking through a window into the past.

"Once you love someone you can lose them."

"I know," Hera said, and the look in Ahsoka's eyes told her she knew exactly who Hera was thinking of.

"How can you not be afraid?"

For a second, Ahsoka wasn't the formidable warrior Hera had come to know and respect. She wasn't one of the last Temple-trained Jedi in the Galaxy. She wasn't a fighter, a hero, a rebel leader, or a veteran of many wars. She was the empty spaces left behind by everything she'd gone through to become all those things. And Hera had never loved her more.

"Because it's worth it," she simply said, free hand moving to cup Ahsoka's cheek, "Because I know love, and I know loss. And love is worth all the pain."

"If anything happened to y—"

"It won't." Hera leaned forward, let her nose gently brush against Ahsoka's as she turned her head to press a kiss to the corner of the Togruta's mouth. Ahsoka looked like she felt the weight of the Galaxy on her shoulders, and Hera was ready to lighten it up. "Because I'm General Hera Syndulla," another kiss, to Ahsoka's lips this time, lingering even if Ahsoka's slight smile made kissing her trickier than it should have been, "and I'm the best pilot in the Galaxy."

"That's debatable," Ahsoka murmured against Hera's lips, tone lighter already, teasing as she moved forward and rested one knee on the seat of Hera's chair. "But you do have Chopper to fill in the gaps."

Hera chuckled, something light and quiet and cut short by the press of Ahsoka's lips against hers.

Ahsoka kissed a lot like how she fought. She kissed confident and graceful and bold. She kissed Hera until her brain and lungs were empty and her heart full to the brim, and when she pulled away and Hera took in a much-needed breath Ahsoka looked into her eyes and stole it all over again.

"If I feel myself turning towards—"

"You won't." Hera gave Ahsoka's hand a gentle squeeze and pressed her free hand to Ahsoka's chest, right above her heart. She had no doubt Ahsoka knew things Hera could never even hope to imagine. She knew Ahsoka saw and felt things only a very select few could. But Hera knew Ahsoka's heart.

"If I do," Ahsoka insisted, serious enough that Hera understood what she needed was to feel like there was a plan in place, and not to hear that Hera didn't believe they needed one at all, "I'll disappear. I won't put you or Jacen in danger. I won't put anyone in danger."

Hera nodded. Let herself consider it as a possibility, because she knew that was what Ahsoka needed from her. And then she kissed her again, slow and deep until she could barely manage to whisper the words.

"I'm not afraid."

And now, here they are. Here she is. In love with a woman who's not a Jedi and not a Sith and not her friend and not her lover. Something else. Something bigger than all that. Something unexplainable. Something she doesn't particularly want to explain.

"I can feel you staring." Ahsoka tries to keep her voice even, but Hera can feel the smile right there in the spaces between the words.

"Oh, I wasn't hiding. I'm not ashamed of my staring."

Ahsoka lets out a breath that sounds almost like a chuckle as she stands up and turns away from the viewport to look at Hera instead.

"How was the mission?"

"Good," Hera shrugs, "easy," she extends one of her hands towards Ahsoka and smiles when she immediately takes it and walks closer to Hera, "very long."

"Hm," Ahsoka hums her agreement, warm fingers already making their way under the hem of Hera's shirt, "two weeks. Not the longest, but—"

"Long enough," Hera finishes for her, and Ahsoka smiles.

"Stay over." Ahsoka's hand climbs up, up, up under Hera's shirt, fingertips counting her ribs one by one until they reach the underside of Hera's right breast and her breath catches in her throat. "I have to leave tomorrow. A week. At least."

It's what Ahsoka doesn't do. What she doesn't say. What she doesn't ask for. But Hera hears her anyway.

"I'm not afraid," she reminds her, like she's been doing before and after every mission for over two years now, and kisses her until the worried crinkle on her forehead disappears.

Ahsoka looks into her eyes, quiet and stoic. Not a Jedi, not a Sith, not her friend, not her lover, but hers anyway.

"Neither am I."

[beladonna02]

NightDaughter

hello there!! I just wanted to share with you a Morgan Elsbeth x Ahsoka Tano one shot that I wrote~~ I love Morgaaaaaaan and it makes me feel sad that there isn't that much fan content about her… </3 especially wlw content… So… Here's my contribution (??

Oh! btw~~ I came up with a ship name… NightDaughter 👀 you know… Night sister… Ahsoka and the theory of her being the Daughter… It sounds cool right? (?

Anyways~ enjoy!

[shinbine]

Hey shinbine and wolfwren stans, my girlfriend @sithsandstardust and I wrote a fanfiction for them and the first few chapters are UP 😘 so if you wanna check it out it would mean the WORLD to us 🥰

[theforesteldritch]

There was one Ahsoka fanfic that I was reading years ago and I really want to reread but I can’t find it and augh. Basically the main character is an original character who’s half mirialan and becomes a padawan with Ahsoka in the Jedi temple and eventually becomes a padawan to Obi-Wan but her and Ahsoka are basically in love and soulmates and have been best friends since when the oc ends up at the Jedi temple. and I love the way it’s written with their relationship and friendship and I want to revisit it. Problem is I can’t remember it’s name or even what site it was on. Augh.

[autumnillustration]

Ahsoka: He's nine. Nine-year-old boys are allowed to pick their noses. I'm willing to bet my boots you picked your nose at nine.

Obi-Wan: I did not. Did you?

Ahsoka: I was never a nine-year-old boy.

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM. Link to fic)

[prahacat]

when the horrors catch up and you take an evening off to batch-process

[theguardianwriter]

Padawan Anakin burst through the door:Snipsnipsnipsnipsnip!

Tiny Ahsoka:whatwhatwhatwhat Skyguy.

Padawan Anakin: Look what I found!

Lift up a tiny ginger baby.

Padawan Anakin: THEY CLONED MASTER!!

Tiny Ahsoka: THEY CLONED MASTER!!

Both Anakin and Ahsoka with a confused youngling: THEY CLONED MASTER!!!!

Obi-wan running in from the yelling: WHAT HAPPENED!

Padawan Anakin: They cloned you master!!

Anakin shove the youngling to Obi-wan who quickly scooped the youngling out of Anakin hands.

Obi-wan: Little ones, they didn't cloned me. This is Cal Kestis.

Anakin and Ahsoka blink at him:

Obi-wan blink back:

Baby Cal giggling as he try grabbing Obi-wan hair:

Tiny Ahsoka: so he not your clone.

Obi-wan: No dear, he not.

Padawan Anakin: if he not, why does he look like you?

Obi-wan: Because we're from the same planet

Anakin and Ahsoka: OOOOOOoooh.

[iburnedmyselfalive]

18+ -- saw someone do somethin' like this please lmk so I can give credits <3

Anakin Skywalker who fucks you cruelly, pounding your tight hole with no mercy whatsoever, with his firm grip on your hair, your body arches in perfect alignment for him, cries of pleasure escaping your lips exclusively for him, and him alone.

"yeah? you fuckin' like this huh?" he hisses into your ear, sending shivers down your spine, and in mere moments, you nod eagerly, tears glistening in your eyes.

"mmph, so good ani!," you whimper, lost in the intoxicating bliss of his touch.

His lips, warm and eager, pepper kisses all along your neck, while his hand boldly grasps at your ass, fingers kneading the flesh with firmness, relishing in its ample curves.

Anakin Skywalker, the epitome of pleasure, satisfies you so profoundly that each withdrawal elicits a fervent whimper from your lips. Fortunately, he shows no inclination to leave your embrace anytime soon, keeping you blissfully consumed by his huge cock, touchin' at your good spot just perfectly.

"you're so unbelievably tight for me, doll," he coos, his words dripping with praise as he drives deeper into you, his pace quickening. Your hands clutch at the bedsheets, your back arching even more as his sweet words fuel your desire.

"oh my fuck," you whimpered, your eyes closing tightly as sensations threatened to overwhelm you.

"that's all you've got to say?" he taunts, his hand delivering a sharp smack to your ass before he grips your neck, his lips hovering just above your ear.

He's talking to you as if you could speak full on sentences with the way he was fucking you, with the way he fucks you, he's too good.

"tell me, baby, does this feel good?" he teases, a devilish glint in his eyes as he mocks your pleasure, a low chuckle rumbling in his throat. All you can manage is a nod and a moan, which only fuels Anakin's desire to dominate you further.

"come on, use that pretty mouth, tell me," he demands, his voice laced with cruelty.

Anakin Skywalker who relentlessly pushes you to the brink until all you can muster are fragmented gasps of pleasure. With each assertive thrust, he claims you anew, pulling back only to tease before delving back in, melding your pussy while his cock is covered in your cum, not daring to put any of it to waste.

His lips find yours, a fleeting taste of heaven before his sultry voice commands your surrender, his awfully filthy words only leading you to make a mess all over him, again.

[laylaplease]

Look at him, so cute and precious. Imagine laying Ani down on your chest after a rough day. He hesitates for a moment because of not being used to comfort, but as soon as he inhales your sweet scent, he relaxes into you. You wrap your arms around him gently, fingers running through his hair, while your free hand caresses his back up and down. He starts shivering, so you pull a blanket over you two and continue touching his body tenderly. You kiss his soft cheeks, not being able to stop but still being careful enough to not overwhelm him. You keep pecking him lightly while whispering things about how much you adore him into his ear. His cheeks grow red, but he only tightens his grip around you, showing how much he needs this. How much he needs your validation and care, even if he can't verbally say that to you. But you understand; you don't push him; you just keep massaging his smooth skin, listening to his steady breathing, and nuzzling your nose into his hair. Eventually Anakin falls asleep, snuggled on top of you like a little angel. You close your eyes and follow right after him with a soft smile on your face, knowing you are holding the love of your life in your arms.

[beladonna02]

I hate myself for loving you

Hello there!! :D I uploaded a new NightDaughter fic for Ahsoka Week 2023!! ❤️

I've been working on it for a while so I thought I could wait until this week (?

Ahsoka Week 2023, day 1. Prompt: "we're still enemies"

[shrenvents]

My Bounty.

Warnings: Smut. Vaginal, unprotected sex, force play. Minors dni

Pairing: Clone Wars (single) Anakin Skywalker x Bounty Hunter reader

Summary: Anakin Skywalker goes above and beyond to make your life difficult, taking whatever he wants without explanation. So when reader confronts him, things don’t go exactly as planned.

Word count: 1.7k

…

The meddling nature of the Jedi was nothing compared to the nature of Anakin Skywalker. His darkness seeps its way into everything. His dark robe, gloves, boots, curls, eyes. He was the darkness enveloping me in a dizzying spiral of hate and desire. And he did it again. He stole my bounty just so he could give me that dark look.

His gaze observes the way my fists clench and how I chew my bottom lip. A wicked smirk dances on his face as clones praise and pat him on the back. He knew exactly what he was doing, watching me with an intensity, that had me shaking.

Finally, Anakin’s eyes move away from my figure, beckoned by his Master. He stalks towards Obi-Wan Kenobi and his mocking facade breaks instantly. I nearly scream at the sight. What was he hoping to achieve? Stealing my potential profits is certainly an interesting pastime, not one you would expect from “the chosen one.”

I huff out my frustration, deflating my tense shoulders. With his back now turned, I relax. Pivoting on my heel, I hurry away from the scene. On to the next hunt, before Skywalker gets the chance to take it from me.

Frankly, I have no clue how it started, his fixation with making me miserable. I almost feel paranoid, as if I’m making up the whole debacle. But from the way he looks at me, unspeaking, I know this truly is my reality. Anakin Skywalker hates me.

...

Now glaring at my reflection within the confines of my room, my restraint runs thin. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m not gonna do it. I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna confront him because that sort of thing always goes well.

I head out towards the Jedi temple where Skywalker is most likely training his Padawan. While marching over, I contemplate the arguments I will bring up when face-to-face with him. How I will look into those comet-like eyes and not get distracted by his plump lips.

Moral of the story, I’m going to put an end to this one-sided game we play.

Once my vision connects with his broad back, his name escapes me without hesitation, “Anakin.” Saying it takes me by surprise, seeing as though I’ve never said it before. But clearly, it shocks him more, as when he turns around, his eyes are vaguely wider than I’ve ever seen them. “Y/n,” he says back flatly, face becoming neutral. Now I’m really taken aback by the way my name rolls off his tongue. Quickly, I collect myself and remember my well-thought-out points.

“What are you doing?” And out the window they go.

Anakin quirks his head quizzically. His silent reply to my rather stupid question ticks me off further. I’m practically vibrating with rage. “That was my mark you stole today Skywalker, you realize that?”

As if he’s finally understood my inarticulate speech, his lips part dumbly in “awe.” There he goes pushing my buttons, silently watching me unravel. “You think I wouldn’t notice?“ My face flushes red as I elaborate. “All the crooks you’ve miraculously caught are always the bounty that I’m after.”

There's a beat of silence where he inspects the way my chest heaves in exasperation. Then he speaks. “About time you did.” He states matter-of-factly. My jaw drops. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’ve been waiting for you to notice,” he remarks with a bored look.

“Notice what?” I spit out, scowling at him.

“Me,” he finishes plainly. Silence engulfs us again and I take note of how close we’ve become. “Why would you want that?” I question, utterly perplexed.

“What do you mean?” Anakin’s brows furrow.

“I mean you’ve never spoken to me before.”

“Neither have you.” He counters. My fists tremble.

“Why then? Why do you need me to notice you?” I demand.

“What other reason can there be?” He grumbles while giving me a once-over, and then something clicks. My face falls.

“Those looks you give me-”

“Say just how much I want you, more than words ever could.” He ends my sentence, his face remaining stoic. My heart hammers wildly. I suspect he’s now waiting for me to make a move, to say anything, maybe even reject him. Instead, I hastily circle my head around, surveilling for bystanders before frantically grasping at his robe and pushing him into a nearby room. His facade flatters once again and I see puzzlement consume his face.

After I awkwardly turn the door knob and take us into the empty room, I shove him away. Anakin staggers back, looking completely disoriented, almost regretful. “Y/n?” He trails off. My anger is radiating off my body, and I know he can feel it.

“You should’ve said something,” I assert, seething.

“I’m-“ Anakin is abruptly cut off by my lips smashing against his. With my arms reaching around his neck, I can feel his body freeze. After a short moment, I start to peel away, dejected by his stillness. But Anakin instantly chases after me, no longer shying away.

He gropes my waist, and one arm pulls around it, while the other slides up my spine to rest between my shoulder blades. A moan evades my throat and is met with a deep groan.

His palms carve out my figure and fist at my clothes. Whines rush out my mouth as his tongue mingles with mine. He vigorously makes work of me, and I have to pull away. Though his lips instinctively follow me, I’m out of reach, so he settles for my neck. Sucking fervently, one may fear the spots he’s making, but in this moment, truthfully, I couldn't care less.

“Ani,” I whimper, and he growls against my nape in response. “Fuck, I need you,” I whisper. I feel his movements lurch and he mumbles something, but I can't seem to hear it over my haggard breathing.

He tears himself away from my neck, still keeping my body pressed against his. He then shifts his gaze around the room. “There’s no furniture here, I’ll just have to fuck you standing.” An audible gasp flees my mouth as Anakin slings my body around his torso, legs straddling his hips. His hands clench around my thighs as he hoists me up, securing me in place.

Fortunately, the short gown I threw on this morning made it easy for Anakin's crotch to caress my core through his pants. I push down on him and he groans at our proximity. "I was wondering when you would snap," Anakin mutters into my ear as his grip tightens. I whimper. "Screw you."

"Be patient. You will." He soothes. Digging my front teeth into my bottom lip, I drop my forehead to his shoulder as our lower halves grind against one another.

The sounds of our moans crowd the room and I can't take it anymore. "Kriff patience, I'm done waiting, General," I command in the most sensual voice I can muster. Evidently, my attempt to provoke him works because one of his hands leaves my thigh and clutches my hair in a fist, tugging my head back so his lips can crash into mine again. His other hand shifts down to his slacks. His breath hitches when he releases his cock, and so does mine when it springs up to my clothed clit. "Oh maker," I just about scream, head falling back.

His hands make quick work moving my underwear aside, and his member brushes against my folds. I shudder and screw my eyelids shut. I feel Anakin's gaze fixate on me. "Look at me." Hearing his order, I immediately obey.

Eyes fluttering open, I look into his lust-filled ones. Getting flustered by their heat, I squirm. "Y/n." He hushes, breath blowing across my face. Glancing at his features briefly, I nod, communicating what we both desperately need.

We both hold our breaths as he brings me down on his length in a slow glide. His cock pierces my entrance, and I clamp down on my incoming yelp. He was big. I hear him distractedly repeat my name, face buried in my collar. My eyes look to the ceiling in prayer.

His movements dissipate midway, and I feel his stomach clench. "You take me so well." He mumbles almost to himself. All I can do is bob my head in response. In this short pause, the pain disperses and all I feel is him - pleasure, darkness. His arms snake around my waist while mine harden around his nape.

Suddenly, he plunges into me, filling me up completely. My cry echoes throughout the room and I instantly sink my teeth into the cartilage of his ear. The growl that leaves him is next to primal. His rhythmic pounding begins to pick up speed, and I can barely keep up with each stroke. "Kiss me," he stammers out. Reeling back, I lock eyes with him before diving my tongue into his mouth.

His hips snap into my own, over and over. His stomach clenches once more and he pants into my mouth, "I'm close." Though I feel incredible, I'm not quite close to my limit, and he senses it.

One of his palms unravels from my body, steadily hovering over my center. Thinking he's going to touch me, I arch my back away from his embrace to allow space for his digits to meet my clit. But, as I wait, an unexpected pressure attacks my core. I gasp away from his lips and I peer down, leaning my forehead on his.

His hand isn't physically touching me, yet I feel as though I'm close to climaxing. Bewildered, I shoot my eyes from his floating hand to his lewd expression. His grin is strangely smug as he watches me. Then it registers: he's using the force to make me cum. Completely stunned, I simply bore my eyes into him, mouth agape.

Our orgasms come at once and wash over us at his charge. He puffs out a loud sigh of relief and continues to hold me, pumping slower than before, til the action ceases.

"Maker," I huff, "Next time, just use your words, and I'm yours." A smile forms on his face. He sheepishly nods, "Next time."