#also. I would like to just dress up as a jedi and pretend to be one irl

[girlscience]

anyone else get self-destructive when they are bored because at least feeling like shit is more engaging than feeling nothing?

[jo-harrington]

Become What You Were Meant To Be (Eddie Munson)

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes/Warnings: Modern!Eddie, Older!Eddie, set in the mid-2010s, fandom lingo, nerd lingo, Star Wars, typical childhood bullying, angst, minor FOI reference, some canon divergence, coming of age themes, probably poorly written and not edited at all

Note: Happy Birthday to one of the backbones of this fandom, who supports and encourages so many of us, whose endless friendship I am so grateful for. Someone who has absolute endless creativity but doesn't give herself enough credit and grace, who is secretly sitting in the background pulling the strings on some of the best stories I've read and I've written. My muse, my life, my world, my cheeseburger. @fracturedarkness

Thanks to @dr-aculaaa for the beta.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Eddie Munson was a nerd.

Point blank, end of story.

It was one of those badges he wore along with Freak and loser and...well, you get the gist of it. But it was a badge worn with pride. He owned his identity. Wasn't afraid to show everyone he came across who he was.

It hadn't always been that way.

There used to be a time when it felt like the worst thing in the world to be a nerd like that. The kids bullied him because he got overly excited talking about his favorite characters and favorite books that they found boring. They all teased him when he wrote stories about exciting heroes from fantastical worlds in English class, even though the teacher told him that his stories were ambitious and imaginative. And when he spent lunch doodling in his notebook instead of playing kickball or foursquare? Well, you get the point.

"You're so weird." They mocked him. "You're a freak. Draw normal things. Like normal things. Why can't you just be normal?"

It was cruel, in the way that children naively become perpetrators of cruelness. And it made Eddie sad.

Because what did that mean? He couldn't draw normal things, or like normal things, or do normal things. Then he wouldn't be himself anymore.

And that was the point where he decided normal was overrated. Why would he want to be normal when he could be...anything else.

He could pretend he was one of the Pevensies upon a throne at Cair Paravel. Or one of the Ghostbusters. Or a Jedi...

Of course, he couldn't actually be anything else; he was stuck being boring, old, nerdy Eddie Munson.

It wasn't until middle school--you know, middle school, when everyone decides to embrace who they are and become an individual--that he decided being Eddie Munson wasn't all that bad after all.

This epiphany definitely didn't happen after a Hot Topic opened up at StarCourt Mall. No sir. Not when one of the older kids that worked there, sporting armfuls of tattoos and a lip ring, told him the pen drawings on the toe caps of his sneakers were cool. Of course not. And not after he used the last bit of his birthday money to buy a cool band t-shirt and colored hair gel. Pssshhh...

So on the first day of 8th grade, he showed up rocking his dad's old leather jacket--the one that practically swallowed him--jeans that he ripped himself and a poor excuse for a mohawk, ready to accept the Freak label proudly.

He also accepted detention for breaking the dress code.

And a grounding from Wayne for cutting up a nice pair of jeans.

And a buzzcut because he'd done that poor of a job of cutting his hair for that mohawk.

But he'd gained a friend.

Several friends actually.

Ronnie Ecker and Doug Teague. They were both in the same grade as him, and shared many classes. And it might have been a little embarrassing, but a sixth grader named Jeff who told Eddie that he was his hero. That made Eddie feel like he was on top of the world!

They were friends that stayed with him all through high school, and when he repeated his senior year twice, even more joined the mix along the way.

Band kids and science fair nerds and...and...and...

He called them his sheepies, and he their shepherd clad in black band tees and ripped jeans.

And Eddie?

Eddie just got nerdier.

Got weirder.

Dug himself deeper into the pit of stark individualism that the close-minded town of Hawkins didn't know how to react to.

It was glorious.

He listened to music that made other kids cringe and turn away and neighbors complain about the noise; he liked it so much that he made his friends start a band with him. They played at every single school talent show until they graduated; they never won and sometimes people tried to plug their ears, but to Eddie and his friend, their sound and that stage was exactly what their hearts yearned for. To them, the auditorium might as well have been Madison Square Garden.

He started playing Dungeons and Dragons--started a club of his own design, Hellfire--when he found the guidebooks on a dusty shelf at the library. They were seemingly untouched since their initial publication in the 70s, but they were like a key that unlocked something inside of Eddie. Something that he seemed to have forgotten along the way of reclaiming the name "Freak."

Through DnD, the imaginary worlds that he left behind early in his adolescence opened their doors to him once again.

And his friends, his players, never made fun of him for knowing the ins and outs of the worlds of their fantasies. Worlds like Greyhawk and Faerûn.

Worlds like a certain galaxy far...far away...

---

Eddie's re-entrance into the world of Star Wars had been...an interesting one to say the least.

To Eddie, Star Wars meant the original trilogy. Cut, print, sign the check.

When he thought of Jedi, he thought of Luke Skywalker and Alec Guinness as Obi-Wan and a puppet Yoda. And of course he thought of the dreaded Darth Vader.

Yeah he had his books from the library, a whole extended universe with Mara Jade and Jacen and Jaina. But he'd missed out on the prequels growing up; from being a little too young to see them in theaters, to the whole fiasco of his mother's passing right before Revenge of the Sith had premiered.

As he got older, the need to see them just wasn't there, and hearing from friends and enemies alike that it wasn't anything to write home about was the nail in the coffin.

Until he met one Dustin Henderson.

It was the Jar Jar Binks t-shirt he wore on the first day of his freshman year that got Eddie's attention.

"What is that?" he flicked a finger against the graphic as he ran into Dustin and his friends in the lunch line. "Something from that new Star Trek movie?"

Cue a whole rant about the Gungans and the Separatists and an inter-galactic conflict that made Eddie happily fold Dustin and his band of nerds into the protection of the Hellfire Club.

Eddie still refused to watch the prequels, no matter how much Dustin begged.

"I like it when you guys talk about them," Eddie shrugged off the pleas. "Even better when you guys act out the whole fight between Anakin and Obi-Wan. I'd sell my left nut to relive seeing you and Lucas do that in Wheelers basement; it was the best day of my life Henderson, I swear to god. There's no way the movies could actually beat that."

He hasn’t expected that those little idiots would trick him into a movie marathon for Lucas's birthday.

Even Gareth was in on the whole plan. Traitor.

But it was the beginning of the end.

From the movies to the books to the cartoons, Eddie's love of Star Wars was rekindled. He even spent a short stint as a gamer playing The Old Republic on the old PC that was tucked into the corner of the trailer.

And when a new movie was announced, Eddie happily took his nerd-dom to the next level.

Yes, he was the one to suggest they all dress up for the midnight showing of The Force Awakens, but if anyone asked it was Mike.

He spent hours on a stupid Boba Fett costume. It was a different set of skills to the mini-figures he was used to crafting for DnD. He had to think on a different scale. Hot glue and spray paint and too much cardboard. Only to find real cosplayers used foam, not cardboard. His paychecks from Thatcher Tires went straight to the project, until he had something halfway decent for the premiere.

"What?" he laughed along with his friends when they joked about the hot glue spiderwebs that he'd been too lazy to clean up. "It's not like I'll have to do this again; we're not dressing up next time."

Or so he thought...

There was something so magical about sitting in a movie theater, in the middle of December, at midnight, surrounded by other people who decided to dress up for the occasion, and a few dozen plastic lightsabers all lit up.

To listen to the theme, to read the crawl on a big screen, to see the camera pan down into the vastness of stars...

This was what it was to be a nerd.

There was something extra special about finding a new favorite character. Something that touched something deep down inside of you when you saw something of yourself in them.

And Eddie had always been drawn to the villains. Whether in the media he consumed or the characters he created for DnD. He knew why; he wasn't totally oblivious. To be the hero of his own story, he often had to become a villain to someone else.

Besides, villains always had a little bit more fun.

So when Kylo Ren first made his way on screen, Eddie knew that he was done for.

The mask, the lightsaber, the Dark Side of the Force, the anger...how many times had he almost given in to the anger he felt at being mocked and teased. He'd overcome that time and again; what if he'd just given in?

There was also something about being Al Munson Han Solo's son.

Yeah. He could understand the anger there.

But then he was also Elizabeth Leia's son...the conflict.

It took Eddie a few days to get over the initial flurry of thoughts after seeing Force Awakens for the first time. That was when he realized he needed to see it again. And again. A matinee showing on Christmas Eve with Wayne, who he also treated to lunch. The last showing on a Thursday in January. Another outing with the guys, refusing to admit that he'd already seen it a few times between opening night and then.

Thankfully, this time, Mike was the mastermind behind their plans for the next movie as they waited for the previews to finish.

"So," Mike sat up straight. "I think I wanna get an early dibs on dressing up like Poe when Episode 8 comes out."

"I think I wanna try my hand at making an Admiral Ackbar costume," Dustin said with utter confidence, and then turned to Eddie. "What about you?"

It caught Eddie off-guard for a second; should he just say Kylo? Did they expect him to want to dress up as anyone else? Maybe they thought that he would want to be Poe, leader of their misfit group as he was.

"Eddie's obviously Kylo," Jeff piped up. Eddie's head immediately turned to him. "What? Don't think we didn't watch you drool over that lightsaber last time."

"And his ship?" Gareth cackled one seat over. "Fuck the Falcon. I swear, if you could turn the van into something that looked like that ship..."

"Oh my god, you're right!" Lucas cackled.

"Hey I think I could figure out a pretty convincing Snoke," Eddie argued, trying to deflect their teasing, but secretly pleased that he'd gotten exactly what he wanted.

And that his friends knew him so well.

---

For two years, Eddie worked on his costume.

Two. Years.

He was practically a different person by the time of the Last Jedi's opening night.

And yeah his motivation faltered, but he never quit.

It was strange, the need to perfect the costume. He’d almost given up many times. When there was a certain skill he wasn't good at or when he'd felt like it would never be finished. Every time, he felt like that silly kid who everyone just told to be normal. To like normal things.

He was growing up. He was a grown up! Shouldn’t he be passed all of this…silliness? Everyone else in the world seemed to think so, as they put away all the frivolities of childhood. Were they working round the clock and pricking their fingers on needles and burning themselves with hot glue?

Probably not.

Eddie found himself still stuck there, watching a world lose its joy and think that it was normal, and he always wondered if he should try to be normal too. For once in his life. The first time in his life.

But every time he thought about letting it all go, about putting his dream aside...something would come and drive him to keep going.

New promotional images, a new trailer. Especially the ones focused on Kylo himself.

"Let the past die," Kylo Ren grumbled in the voice over. "Kill it if you have to."

That became Eddie's driving force.

He owed it to himself to finish. He owed it to his younger self...not to let his dream die...to keep being weird and nerdy and happy.

"Let the past die," Eddie told himself as he stitched the hem of the tunic the week before opening night.

"Kill it if you have to," he said as he distressed the plastic helmet that he'd ordered, giving it the right amount of realism so it didn't just look like something so fake and commercial.

"Let the past die," his child self muttered, front teeth missing from the day Johnny B pushed him over on the playground because he was playing superheroes wrong. Eddie put a hand on his head and then stepped into his boots.

"Kill it if you have to," his preteen self urged him, self-assured, mohawk looking stupider than he realized way back when. Eddie flicked his ear good-naturedly before adjusting the cape on his shoulders.

There he stood--Eddie Munson, the young man, the freak, the nerd--in his bedroom before the mirror. He was adorned in pieces of foam and layers of fabric from the craft store, helmet tucked under his arm.

But in the mirror itself? There was Kylo Ren...there he was as Kylo Ren. In the hallway of a Star Destroyer, layered in armor and the shadows of the Dark Side itself, like he was ready for a battle with the Resistance.

Ready for the battle within himself.

But there was no battle, and the armor was actually Eddie's skin. This was his real self, his true self. All of his work came to fruition, all of the time and effort that he put into the craft. Not just two years working on a costume, but an entire lifetime poured into becoming an Eddie Munson who proudly wore the title nerd and freak and loser.

The destroyer melted away, and he was back in his bedroom once again. Surrounded by posters and books and drawings, by all of his crafts and his guitars and his endless clutter.

He smiled at himself, feeling lighter than he had in a long time.

Eddie Munson was a nerd, and as he lit the lightsaber and he was washed in a glow of crackling red light, he knew that this was who he was always meant to be.

[peterparkersnose]

Caught

pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Amadala!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: nudity, embarrassment, fluff at the beginning, sexual references, age gap sort of referenced

a/n first obi wan fic. i hope i didnt make padme too mean, it wasnt my intention. i havent watched the prequels in over a month and i tend to forget character aspects sometimes. also this takes place at the castle anakin and padme got married in (and the only place where i will ever get married Villa del Balbianello if your interested)

summary Padme’s prized younger sister Y/N gets caught after a night with Obi Wan.

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read time: 3 mins 39 seconds

“Why couldn’t we had just sent a droid?” Anakin whined, following Padmé.

“It’s better to communicate through words. More respectful. I’m sure Master Obi Wan won’t mind.” Padmé said confidently. Her dress swayed perfectly behind her and her heels clicked as Anakin sulked following her down the hallway.

“But he’s the late one!”

“Yes, but I’m sure he just over slept. Come on,” Padmé said, trying to calm down Anakin. Obi Wan rarely messed up, and when he did Anakin did not deal with it lightly.

The two reached Obi Wan’s door to his quarters. Just as Padmé was about to raise her hand to knock on the door, Anakin grabbed her wrist softly.

“Wait. Listen,” he whispered. The silence stung their ears as Padmé tried to listen to what Anakin was saying.

“Or shall I pin it here?” Obi Wan asked, picking up a side of his sheet and pretending to pin it over your shoulder.

Your giggle rung through the room and bounced off the wall. You stood at his private balcony, covered only in his sheer tan bed sheet.

“I liked the strapless better,” you said sweetly, tucking the sheet under your arm once again. “Such a fashionista,” Obi Wan smiled, gazing out over the rural mountain. “Who taught you that word?” you asked, turning to walk towards him.

As you took a step, you tripped over the sheet and the dress began to unravel. Your skin became exposed to the bright morning sun. Nothing to hide around Obi Wan, it’s not like he hadn’t seen it before.

“No! Not my beautiful work,” Obi Wan sighed jokingly, lazily helping you bunch up the sheet on his knees. You grabbed his scruffy chin with your fingers, grabbing his attention to your face.

Your eyes seemed to entwine. His expression turned soft, leaving his eyes wanting for your lips. Bending down and keeping your hand on his chin, you softly kissed him.

Then the knock came on the door.

“Who’s that?” you panicked, freezing in your position.

Obi Wan was a Jedi. He wasn’t supposed to be with anyone according to Jedi law. The relationship you two had was kept a secret. Sometimes you liked it. Something the two of you shared and nobody else knew. It was special. Other times it drove you nuts. You wanted a ring on your finger more than anything. You would always ask “Well Anakin and Padmé…” but he would always come up with an excuse. “We can’t be as irresponsible as the two of them,”

“Calm down, my love. Breakfast,” he sighed, waving his hand. The big wooden door flew open. You expected a droid carrying a tray of food.

Instead you were met by the horrified faces of your sister and brother in law.

You shouted, ripping the sheets from Obi Wan’s hands and covering your exposed breasts and rolling back on your hips, covering yourself as much as possible. It wouldn’t help, the cat was already out of the bag.

Padmé was going to kill you. She had always been protective of you ever since you were little. She was older than you by a few years. She was the Queen, and you listened to her. Seeing her sister naked on the floor with one of the men she most respected was most definitely going to set her off. She was not about to let you make the same mistakes she did.

“Y/N…?” Padmé asked, her hand now covering her agape mouth. “It’s not what it looks like,” Obi Wan said, raising his hands in a defensive pose.

Padmé had never seen you like this before. She had expected you to keep your purity until marriage and marry for political reasons. Not to be tangled up with a Jedi. She had just caught her younger sister after very obviously hooking up with someone. And not just someone, that someone was Obi Wan. Your stomach felt like knots just waiting for her reaction.

“Mé’, what are you doing here?” you gritted through your teeth. “I could ask the same for you!” she yelled. “Get dressed.”

Tears began to well in your eyes. “Y/N,” Obi Wan sighed, reaching for your hand. You flung his hand, rejecting his request.

“Where is my dress?” you asked, shoveling through the other blankets on the bed. “I-I believe we left it by the pool last night, my dear.” Obi Wan answered.

You looked up back to Padme. She was standing with her hand on her brow, hips cocked against the door frame. Anakin was standing now farther back in the hallway, but you could still see his cheeky smile. “The pool?” she asked angrily. You were about to answer but then she raised her hand. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“I do,” Anakin whispered from the back. She promptly elbowed him in the ribcage, he let out a small oof. 

Your heart sank at the sight. You had disappointed the one person you wanted to make proud.

“Here,” Obi Wan said, gathering your green long sleeved dress from his drawer. “How long has this been going on?” Padmé exclaimed, shocked that he had a stash of your clothes in his room.

“Uhm…”

“Since the wedding?” Obi Wan asked you. “Around there, yeah.” you agreed.

Padmé’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “My wedding was over six months ago!”

“Sorry,” you muttered, raising the straps on your dress.

“So does this mean there’s no training today?” Anakin asked, piping up behind Padmé’s shoulders. Obi Wan shot him a death glare. He knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Let’s go,” Padmé said, grabbing the back of your arm and guiding you quickly out of the room.

“Dude,” Anakin said, smirking at Obi Wan. “Leave.” he sighed, holding his hand up and flicking his wrist. “Are we going to be brother in laws?” he asked, hanging on the doorframe.

Padmé was expecting him to follow and they were getting a little too far away. Anakin struggled remembering all the hallways in this big castle.

Obi Wan sighed. He rubbed his brow with the back of his hand. “If Padmé doesn’t kill me, then just maybe.”

Anakin smirked at Obi Wan.

“Don’t tell her I said that!” he yelled after Anakin.

“No promises!” Anakin yelled from the hallway.

-

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise

[xoxoavenger]

Bad Blood

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader

summary: Now did you think it all through? All these things will catch up to you And time can heal, but this won't So if you come in my way, just don't

word count: 2008

warnings: angst, anakin turning into darth vader, anakin killing the younglings (not described jsut mentioned)

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She thinks everything is fine when they're on Coruscant.

Anakin is laying on her, arms wrapped around her body tightly as his face cuddles into her chest. She can't help but run her fingers through his hair as he sleeps, one of his hands is under her shirt, their warm skin making her skin tingle. She loves how long he's let his hair get, but she's seldom able to soothe both him and herself like this. He never sleeps in, and she's never awake before him, so she's taking in this time where he's not a Jedi Knight, but her lover. She knows he's going to be mad that she let him sleep in, but she can't bring herself to wake him up. Waking him up would mean that they have to start their day, which is also the start of their separate tasks.

He lets out a small groan as he begins to wake up, shifting slightly and rubbing his hand up and down her back, shoving his head further into her. She chuckles slightly, fingers going through his hair once more.

"Good morning." She tells him, tucking her chin in to look at him. He grumbles something into her shirt, and she just shakes her head.

"Let's just call out today." He tells her. She's very tempted, especially when he moves his head to look up at her. His eyes are bright despite the early morning (because even though he technically slept in it's still dark outside), and she can't help but be pulled into them.

"Yeah, cause no one will notice that." She tells him with a small smile, sad that she won't be able to stay in bed all day.

"They won't." He tells her. This is so unlike him, wanting to stay in all day and risk their relationship. However, she heard his nightmare last night, and she knows that's why he's so clinging to her now.

"Ani," She speaks softly, pushing his hair back once more. "We can't. Not now." He knows what she means, but it still hurts him.

"I know," He gets out of bed with no fanfare, different than how he'd been acting just a couple minutes ago. It hurts her, but they've both talked at length about their relationship and agreed that there's no way they can be found out at this moment. Not with Anakin so close to becoming a Master Jedi and Y/N working her way up the Senate. It's too risky, and they both know it.

"I love you," She tells him, staying in bed and watching him sneak out of her quarters. He looks back at her with a smile.

"I love you more." He winks, and then is out the door.

~

She's never run this fast in her life.

She's got to get to Anakin. She has to get to him before he does something he can't come back from. She hadn't seen him since that morning, but she had talked to Obi-Wan just minutes before. He had told her about the disturbance, about his bad feeling, and she was running before he could tell her not to.

Except, she's too late. She gets to Anakin as he stands in the temple, small bodies littering the ground. She wants to throw up, gasping loudly and stumbling. She falls on her back as she trips over her long dress, breath caught in her throat as Anakin turns to her.

His eyes are Sith yellow.

"Ani?" She whispers, pretending she doesn't feel the unshed tears climbing up her throat and threatening to spill. She can't stop staring at him, taking in the dark robe. It's still him, but something has changed drastically. The way he looks at her makes her feel slimy, and she shakes.

"Y/N," He says back, his voice dark and low. She feels a tear fall out of her eye, down her cheek slowly.

"What have you done?" She doesn't want to look at the bodies, but they're everywhere. She turns and gags. "Anakin, what have you done?" Her voice is shaking.

"What I must." He says with full confident that makes her breathe in shakily as another tear falls down her face.

"You can't mean that." She says softly, shaking her head. She doesn't want to believe Anakin did this, let alone believe he chose to do this. Her Anakin would never kill the Younglings. 

"You don't have the nightmares!" Anakin is yelling as he stalks over to her, and she tries to crawl back. She gets caught on her dress, whimpering as she leans away from him. "Every night I watch you die, and this is how I fix it!" He cries, continuing until he's close to her.

"How do you know that?" She fixes her dress and moves to the wall, tears falling rapidly. She wishes she had the power to teleport, to time travel. To be anywhere except where her life has lead her. 

"My eyes have been opened." He tilts his head up and looks down his nose at her, making her feel small and insignificant. She hates it. "I can save us now. I have the power that I didn't have before."

"Anakin," She whispers, hoping that if she says his name he'll somehow snap out of it. "The price this power comes at, it's too great." She tells him, as if he can take back murdering innocent children.

"No price is too great!" His voice is somehow booming, his anger causing her to flinch.

"Ani, you're breaking my heart!" She cries, the pain in her chest intensifying with the cold look in his yellow eyes.

"I did this for you!" He yells, but she's just shaking her head. She won't let him blame murder on her.

"I never asked you to!" She finally fires back, but this makes him mad. He narrows his eyes and shoots a hand out, using the force to choke her. A hand goes to her neck out of reflex, air leaving her as she began to raise off the ground.

"I still love you," He squeezes his hands just a bit harder, and she lets out a squeak as her airflow is completely cut off, her head going fuzzy. The edges of her vision are dark, closing in on her. Tears fall along with her body when he lets go, but the airflow can't change the fact that she's losing consciousness. "But I can't have you getting in the way."

~

It had been years since she'd seen him at that point, because Obi-Wan had told her he was dead. And why wouldn't she believe him? She though nothing of it until he went missing, and a week later she's woken up by her window breaking. 

She shoots up in bed, eyes wide. She doesn't have to look far when she sees a red light cutting through the dark. 

The room is silent as she climbs out of the bed and drops to all fours, trying to hide. The black figure climbs into her room, noiseless even with the long cape they have. She can see their huge outline, and they must have a mask because their heavy breathing is modulated. 

Y/N crawls as quietly as she can toward the open door. 

"Don't bother," A deep, filtered voice says. She freezes, because there's something about this voice that makes her shiver. "I can feel you're here, Y/N." Her blood runs cold. Whoever this is, they know who she is as well. She sends out a silent prayer that Obi-Wan will somehow come back from wherever he is and save her. 

She regains her mobility and resumes crawling to the door, but it's no use. The figure grabs her ankle and pulls her backward, her stomach and chest scraping against the ground. 

"I just want to talk." The sentence sounds wrong with the deep voice, and when she twists she sees that this figure it tall and broad, and she can't help but cower. 

"I'm not a Jedi, I swear." She's sure this is an Inquisitor, the black outfit and red saber tipping her off. 

"I know." They let go of her foot but she doesn't move, too worried about what they could do with the saber anyway. "If you were, you would have been dead already." 

"What do you want, then?" She asks, trying to take deep breaths. She has to stay calm and keep her head if she wants to make it out of this alive.

"I would like you to join me." He puts a hand out, but Y/N turns her head away from the glove. 

"Why would I do that? I don't even know who you are." Her voice is still shaky, and she wishes she could be more confident. She tilts her head to see him while still being as defiant as she dares. 

"You knew who I was." He answers, but this only confuses her more. "You loved me." 

Oh fuck. 

"Anakin?" She hasn't said the name since he choked her, even when talking to Obi-Wan about it. Her head snaps to him, thinking he may have taken off the mask to prove it, even though he doesn't have to. She knows, somehow, that he's telling the truth. She doesn't want to believe this man is Anakin, the man she loved and the man she thought died loving her. 

Had Obi-Wan lied about him being dead? Did he even know his apprentice was alive?

"Anakin is dead." He rasps, but Y/N can only shake her head. This has to be him. The figure, masked and completely covered, is her lover. Or what's left of him. 

"What happened?" She asked, standing now that she knows he won't do anything. If he wanted to kill her, she would be dead. 

"There is only Darth Vadar now." She wanted to reply with some witty comment. She wanted to be a bitch so bad, because after everything he put her through, but she bit her tongue. 

"Why are you here?" None of her questions are answered, so she didn't expect this one to be either. Whatever he wanted to do, he would. She had no power. She felt exactly like she did all those years ago when she first saw the yellow eyes. 

The deja vu made her sick. 

"I came back for you." He tells her, but she can't believe him. She has to look away from his dark mask for a moment, has to regroup her thoughts. There's too many; her brain feels like it might explode if she thinks any harder. 

"What?" It's the only thing she can say. 

"I'm here to protect you." She could almost laugh at this. 

"From what?" She screams, knowing no one could hear them. It's the only good thing about isolated living. "What could you possibly need to protect me from now? You've already made my life a living hell." She rolls her eyes and turns her back. 

"Everything I've done has been for you! The only reason you're still living a life is because of me." If she doesn't think about it, she could almost pretend like it's not actually Anakin. This isn't the man that ripped her heart open, who she still had scars from. She liked to remember Anakin on that morning, head on her chest and eyes soft. 

"I never asked you to." She turns back to him, gathering her courage. "I never asked you to kill people. To start this empire. Did you seriously think I would follow you to the Empire? I mean," She wants to call him by his nickname, but she can't. She feels sick. 

He's stunned speechless. 

"I was better off thinking you were dead." She walks away like that, never wanting to see him again - as Anakin or Darth Vader. They're both ruined, both murderers. They both love her, but they both are cowards. She can't stand to think about it as she takes a small walk to the woods near her small house, and though she doesn't see him leave, when she gets back, he's gone. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187  @one-sweet-gubler @mcueveryday

[ghostofskywalker]

hi!! i love your writing so much!!

could i request a fake dating/undercover as a couple trope with hunter and a gender neutral reader? or just the prompt “Your flirting skills need work”

no pressure tho!! and thanks!!

hello! i'm so happy to hear you like my stories - thank you for the prompt and i hope you enjoy this one!!

words: 1,128

summary: in the middle of a crowded market on Ord Mantell, you have to get pretty up close and personal with Hunter. But it's only to make sure your covers aren't blown, what other reason would there be?

Play It Cool

clone troopers masterlist || request a winter ficlet!

Hunter was a genetically modified soldier who possessed a strength you could only ever dream of, and who had been trained for most of his life to be a terrifyingly effective combat operative. His face tattoo and the vibroblade that never left his possession also contributed to his menacing demeanor, especially to those who had made the mistake of opposing the Bad Batch.

He was also a terrible actor.

Usually that wouldn’t be a problem, but this time was different, because you were currently clutching his (way too sweaty) palm as you walked through one of Ord Mantell’s crowded night markets. You just had barely been able to convince one of the local shopkeepers (a sweet old Togruta who sold hand-woven clothes) that you two were a couple, simply based on the fact that his body language and expression made it seem like he didn’t want to be there.

“Your flirting skills need some serious work,” you hissed as you let go of his hand for a moment to wipe it on your pants. You could have said something about his sweaty hands too, but you chose to hold your tongue this time. “Did they not cover this in all your special training?”

“No, they didn’t,” Hunter hissed back. “I don’t think the Kaminoans ever considered that we’d be working with any other person, because we didn’t even have a Jedi.”

“Well, you’re compromising this assignment, so you need to act like you’re in love with me,” you said lowly, wishing things were different right now. This mission may only be a simple information retrieval, but you still had to make sure that the two of you didn’t stick out (more than you already did) among the usual shoppers and passerby of this particular market. Hunter didn’t respond, but you caught a glimpse of an expression you couldn’t quite read cross his face. As much as you would have loved these roles to be real, you didn’t think that was ever going to happen.

You didn’t blame him for not noticing the fact that you had an obvious crush on him. The crushing grip of the Empire’s fist was only growing stronger by the day, and the Bad Batch had a target on their back for simply being who they were. And so when Cid had asked you to do this for her (and suggested that you pretend to play lovers), you couldn’t help the way you agreed, simply because you didn’t know if you would ever be able to live the real thing. However, you could have never expected just how awkward Hunter was when it came to this stuff.

A few minutes after you spoke to the Togrutan shopkeeper, you noticed a burly looking Rodian hovering around the outskirts of the market, which certainly struck you as odd for this particular setting. Rodians weren’t uncommon on Ord Mantell, but you usually saw them in groups, and the expression on this one’s face (and the fact that he seemed dressed for combat) certainly seemed concerning.

After a subtle nod in his direction, you and Hunter began to tail him from a safe distance. Soon however, a clear issue arose: the Rodian had gone down an alley, and it would be considerably more difficult to follow him without raising any kind of suspicion.

Unless of course, he believed you were in the alley for a completely different reason.

With a silent sigh, you resigned yourself to your fate and tried to think of the best way to explain to Hunter what you were about to do. Eventually, you decided that it was probably best not to say anything, and instead just hope to the Maker that he trusted you enough to make the best decisions, and that things wouldn’t be too awkward between you two once this whole evening had concluded.

He looked a little confused as you began to drag him into the alley, because he had clearly weighed the options (and the risk) here. “Trust me,” you whispered, silently hoping that this was the right thing to do. Positioning yourself against the outside wall of a nearby building, you squeezed Hunter’s hand a little tighter and pulled him towards you, all while listening for any snippets of conversation deeper down the alley.

“We can get that to you,” a gruff voice said, and you knew that this was likely the information you were sent here to get. “For 300.”

“Fine. How long is it going to take?”

“A couple rotations maybe, but I’m sure we can work something out if you need it quicker than that.”

In order to keep up the ruse, you couldn’t exactly be taking notes as you listened, but you tried to commit all of that to memory for later. You also hoped that neither party would re-trace their steps towards where you were currently standing, but you weren’t that lucky, and soon you were faced the impending reality of being found out.

“I’m going to do something, and I need you to trust me,” you whispered. Hunter had barely began to nod when the footsteps started to grow closed, and all you could do was grab his face and kiss him.

You weren’t a trained actor, if you wanted a kiss to look real it had to be real (to a certain extent). The shadows offered some form of cover for all this, but it wasn’t enough. You had originally planned to keep an ear out for any kind of trouble, but the fact that Hunter’s lips were so soft, and that you had been dreaming of this moment for quite some time, really made it hard to concentrate. That, and the fact that he had moved both his hands down to rest on your waist as he kissed you.

When you finally did pull away from him (and made sure the coast was clear), you immediately apologized. “I’m sorry for springing that on you, but we didn’t have that much time.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make things weird between us and-”

“Y/N,” he said, cutting you off. “Everything is fine.”

You nodded, not sure what else to say. You wanted to kiss him again, but now did not seem like the right time for that. All you could do was hope that one day you would be able to admit how you felt about him to his face, and that he felt the same way about you.

And as the two of you walked back through the market with the intention of heading back to Cid’s, you did realize one pretty important thing.

Hunter was still holding your hand, and it felt a lot more natural this time around.

- the end -

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[distortionbobble]

Royal Flowers Chapter 12

series masterlist

prev | next

pairing: anakin skywalker x f!reader

series summary: A long, long, time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, a certain Jedi by the name of Anakin Skywalker meets you, the current Queen of Naboo and adopted cousin of Padme Amidala, and is tasked with protecting you by pretending to marry you. As a spy, you’ve infiltrated the Separatist ranks and are close to finding out the mastermind behind all of it. The fate of the galaxy is in your hands.

warnings: minors dni. masturbation scene (m), but other than that nothing too spicy.

a/n: come get y'alls juice. also i can't find the gif i was using of anakin so just like. remember what he looks like i guess. he's pretty if that helps

When you wake up, you feel like you’ve swallowed a stone. You remember everything— every excruciating detail, each moment that his skin was pressed against yours. You try your best to recollect everything that was said yesterday, but it feels fruitless. Your mind has already rewritten each word ten times, translating and shifting and switching until the meaning is entirely different. Did Anakin say “I need you” or “I need this”? If he had said “you”, did he mean anything by it, or were you the first person that he could trust with this? The only? Something strange and all-too familiar crawls out from your stomach. 

Guilt. You’re not even sure if Anakin wanted you the way you wanted him, and the words he first spoke to you scream themselves loudly in your head. I love Padme, and I’ll love her til I die. You were just a means to an end, and you’re sure that you should have known that as you took pleasure from his touch on your body. You’re no stranger to desire, to the heat of another’s body, but it’s never been someone you’ve wanted as much as Anakin. 

And at the same time, you understand fully that it wasn’t just you. What you and Anakin have is bigger than just what happened last night; it’s been working up for months, an ocean of desire eroding your reasons to resist until you caved, gave into the sweetness of his mouth on yours, sweeter and softer than you could have ever imagined. The way that fell in the force of his desperation to something all-consuming, something that carved away a piece of your soul and kept it in the confines of the night, sacrificed at the altar of your memory. Your self-indulgence feels rotting, pushing unease into your throat and you can no longer lay here with your tattered dress cocooning your body. No matter what it is, you’ve never been faithful to the driving force within you. It’s a foreign feeling, one that you don’t like. You never thought that doing what you wanted would inspire such guilt. 

You push yourself out of bed, turning to look over your shoulder at Anakin’s peaceful form, allowing yourself another moment of indulgence as your heart weeps. Your movement has shifted the blanket away from his shoulders, and as quietly as you can, you reach over to adjust it back over his shoulders. Your heart’s corruption rules you for only a moment longer when your hand skates over his jaw. Not quite touching him, no; you can’t allow that in the bright clarity of the morning. It was just sex, you remind yourself. Then you’re gone, swept away in the mirrors and meticulousness of your morning routine. 

The peace allows you to sit with your thoughts for a moment longer— to remember your purpose, to remember your role in a story that is so much greater than the microcosm of you and Anakin. You’re here because you’re the queen of Naboo, and you have a responsibility to your people. For just a moment longer, you loathe what has become of your life. All you are now is a vessel for the needs of others, and it hurts to know that you’ll have to give and give until there is nothing left of you, until you can fade into nothingness with no one having truly known you, and yet having been so largely involved in the universe’s fate. You swallow your bitterness, resting your chin on your hand as you stare at the mirror before you, steam clouding the surface. The reflection that looks back at you feels otherworldly, a woman that you’re not sure you’ve ever been and yet one that you know you must be. Your face crafts a perfect smile, the hollowness within invisible to even you. Don’t forget your role, your reflection whispers at you. 

Your fingers drum against the surface of the counters as you collect yourself, carefully calculating every diplomatic advantage. Naboo is economically powerful at this time, putting you at a position where you can safeguard from famine with the right connections. Lothal, you should corner the representatives of Lothal. They’re just a backwater, in essence; a backwater planet that you’re positive you can strike the right deals with. Agricultural aid in exchange for a hefty deal, put them in a good position with the economic boost Naboo could get. 

Your mind starts to wander as you get dressed. You feel a sense of clarity that’s been absent from you for some time— your guilt sharpens itself into a weapon, holding you at its blade to force you to think deeper, think clearer. Why hadn’t the Separatists told you of their plan? Why did you need to find out from elsewhere? All paths lead to one singular conclusion; they want to get rid of you. It makes total sense, doesn’t it? Install a puppet ruler to get away with whatever you want, and at the right moment, cut the strings. They’d step into the void of power, gaining total control of the planet and thus, giving the Separatists a new stronghold. 

But at the same time, you understand the injustice caused by the Republic to many. Its neglect of many systems is not unknown to you, you’re not so foolish to think this is a one sided coin. By pushing the Separatists into a coerced acceptance of the Republic’s governance with militant force, the galaxy is only further polarized by loss. Perhaps… Perhaps the only solution is to allow self-determination. That may not filter out the splinter sections of Separatists, but at least it would be a start. 

All you know now is nothingness. You don’t know the solution, but you suppose it doesn’t matter; not if you’re going to end up dead at the end of this all. And doesn’t it make sense? For them to kill you now, blame it on something else and drive Anakin into further madness and desperation? The ultimate form of control. Even if you live, you are leverage against the most powerful weapon in the galaxy. You hate thinking of Anakin like that, but it’s true; even you, removed as you are from the Jedi Order, understand that he is the chosen one. 

Your fated doom lingers on your being, shadowlike, but you won’t let this keep you here. For however long you’re in this life, you’ll serve your purpose as best you can. You push the thoughts of your inevitable self sacrifice into action, an agenda spinning into order: you’ll talk to the Lothal representatives, strike up a deal. You’ll have food shipped to Naboo’s moon, allowing safe transport of the food to Naboo so that it doesn’t get blown up on arrival. It feels more like bandaids than a solution, but you’ll figure it out. A solution, that’s something that you’ll have to talk to Padme about. The way you see it, she’s the galaxy’s out— under her leadership, she could bring clarity, a new direction. Which means if you’re aware, so is Palpatine. Or Sidious. You don’t know what to call him now, really. 

She’s in danger. But maybe she always was. 

~~~

When Anakin wakes up, the only thing he feels is hunger. Clawing out from inside of him, stretching and breaking from his skin; a beast that he had buried, now awakened, that only desires you. He feels it eating at his skin, a certain kind of pain that he almost delights in as he thinks of last night. The hedonistic indulgence of giving in, Dionysian in its call, had only served to fuel his thirst, not quench it. And you’re not here, why aren’t you here? 

He thinks back to every moment from last night. Had he pushed you too far? He hadn’t meant to, he hopes he didn’t, but the pain was messing with his head. He couldn’t think clearly with his entirety ripping at the seams. Anakin wants to make it better, wants to kneel at your side and take your hand like it’s a lifeline, but that option isn’t his to take. He doesn’t belong there. Anakin is the Chosen One— something that he would have understood in another lifetime, but now it’s just a label with constraints that he’ll never understand. He can’t have you, and yet… now that he’s given in to the Dark Side, things are different. It’s not quite the same story that he was used to. Now, he’s constantly fighting himself. He wants to pursue you openly, fully, yet he can’t. Why can’t he? Because of some arbitrary rules? But those rules are the ones that have dictated his entire way of thinking. He doesn’t want to give it up so soon. He swings between two extremes, a pendulum of moral inconsistency, hearing the voice of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan, Shmi, encouraging him to let go of his hunger; Sidious, to feed it. 

Anakin knows he has to look past what he wants right now. You’re counting on him for something bigger, and he knows that he needs to figure out what exactly would happen if he exposed Sidious. It’s something you’ve brought to his life: the rationality that he was always expected to have. As a spy, though, you’ve shown him that the guns-blazing approach sometimes will not work, that he has to take his time, collect his information. How deep is the Chancellor’s control? What is the endgame, if he’s already the Chancellor? None of it makes sense to him.

Long, slender limbs are forced out of bed as Anakin stretches, gritting his teeth at the thought of having to face the day. He winces slightly at the sticky feel of sweat on his skin. He needs to wash up, he realizes, and the quick jump to why he has to wash up has his face flushed. He grips himself tightly, eager for some relief from the aching in his cock as he thinks of you. You, with your warm body, your eager responsiveness to his touch, the taste of you on his tongue. Anakin wrenches his hand away in shame, feeling much like a dog panting for a bone as he salivates over you. He mourns the fact that he didn’t take his time and get you fully naked, rather than tearing the clothes from your body, as he pulls his own garments fully off. He wants to give you a better experience, he realizes; he wants to worship your body with his hands, then his tongue, spend hours with his head buried between your thighs as you grind on his face in pursuit of pleasure. Anakin wants more than the quickness that came from sinking to the hilt into your heat brought the night prior— no, he wants the aching, the throbbing in his loins as he makes you see stars. 

Cool water pelting across his back isn’t enough to deter his fixation on all the filth he hopes to cause to you. Anakin’s cock still stands at half mast, and it doesn’t take much thinking for him to wrap his fist around it, fucking his tight grip as moans escape. His metal hand claws at the wall as his flesh unites in a perfect pursuit of pleasure. He wants you to hear this, fantasizes about you walking through the bathroom door, sinking to your knees, and sucking the soul out of him. He’d grab your tits, squeeze them, play with them. Anakin doesn’t think he could fuck your pretty face, wants to treat you far too gently for that to happen but he thinks of your hands under his, guiding you to stroke him just how he likes it. It doesn’t take long after that for him to cum, sticky pearls collecting on the bathroom tiling before it washes away. 

Anakin gets dressed in an afterglow that’s still focused on you, imagining what it would like to get ready with you. He’s never really done that, has he? Not like this, not in the morning, not with this gentle sweetness blooming in his chest. But his blood turns to ice when he catches his eyes in the mirror, flashing that shade of yellow that he knows to be true to the Sith.

He needs to find Palpatine. 

~~~

Anakin finds Palpatine after an assembly, towering over the rush of senators that flow past him. He locks eyes with Palpatine easily, the deceptively meek-statured man smiling at Anakin from where he waits at the doorway. Anakin feels sick at the mere sight, swallowing down his bitter fury to walk towards him. Padme had told him about a myth, a mere story, really, from Naboo; a legend that detailed a king who had put his trust in a bastard son, defending him against any opposition, but finding his life cut short at the end of that very son’s blade. And you, Brutus? He’d said. Anakin feels that way when he looks at Palpatine: that painful, bitter betrayal. It wasn’t fair. But nobody said it ever would be. 

“Master,” Anakin calls him quietly. A false name, one that should only have ever belonged to Obi-Wan, or Qui Gonn. Palpatine is nothing to him, a snake laid in wait only to strike at his most vulnerable. “You said you’d help me save my wife.” The din of the crowd is loud enough to diminish the volume of his words, but not the urgency. Palpatine, however, just smiles in response.

“Anakin,” Palpatine says, clasping two hands behind his back. From this angle, he almost looks paternal, like the perfect replacement for an empty slot that Anakin’s had for so long in his life. “I see the concern you have for her. Of course, it is natural. But…” 

“But what?” 

“I fear you’re simply not strong enough yet. Not ready, you see.” 

“Tell me how to be strong enough, then.” Anakin isn’t fooled by his own rationality. He knows that he can pretend this is somehow linked to his infiltration, but he knows it’s his own indulgence in you that drives him. He wants to keep you safe, no matter the cost. 

“It’ll cost you,” Palpatine says, walking into an empty sideroom. One that’s often used for business discussions, Anakin recognizes. From in front of him, Palpatine tugs his hood on, and by the time he turns back to Anakin, the physical change is apparent. Instantaneous. The lines on his face are deeper-set, the glow in his eyes inhumane. Sharp, piercing, they see right through him. For a moment, Anakin is fearful that his own treachery will be uncovered. But his fear of losing you drives him further, lets him keep going. Anakin thinks he understands the cost when he sees this. 

But he’s wrong. 

“Every single member of the Jedi Order are what stands in the way of your realization, your… enlightenment. All the Jedi, padawan or master, including your friend Obi-Wan. They are a threat to the Republic, to peace in the galaxy.” 

Anakin feels his heart fall. And he thinks of Obi-Wan, of the warmth of his hug, the crinkle of his eyes when he smiles. The pride, however restrained it may have been, would make his face glow whenever Anakin defeated him in sparring, or when he would laugh at Anakin’s struggles with Ahsoka, telling him they mirrored his own experiences. Sidious was wrong. Obi-Wan wasn’t just his friend, he was greater than that— he was like a brother, like a father, like a part of Anakin that he hadn’t realized had been so significant until he had every single belief he had of right, wrong, of morality itself, put into question. Killing Obi-Wan would be akin to losing the only arm he had left. He isn’t clouded by lust, by love, to even think of the idea. 

But then…

He thinks of you. The nightmares of your breath leaving your body, the warmth leaving your physical form. Of the beauty of your laughter, the way you fit his soul so perfectly, pushing him, challenging him and everything he thought he knew. And you did it so sweet, so addictive, making him something else. Making him something that he recognized in himself only once before. 

Only when he loved Padme. 

And this side of him, the only part of him that Darth Vader hadn’t killed in order to exist, wants nothing more to listen to Sidious. To watch his brother, his Jedi master, die at the end of his saber. It would be fitting, wouldn’t it? The very man he created would bring forth his doom. He’d make it painless, he promises. He wouldn’t dream of bringing him pain. All he wants… is to save you. 

It’s not as though the Jedi Order is indestructible, either. Nor is it without its flaws. He’s seen countless villages ravaged by the battle between the Separatists and the Republic. Anakin knows the Jedi are not innocent in the crime of staining the ground they fight for with innocent blood. 

Anakin himself, he hadn’t felt free until he was with you. For the first time in his life, away from the Order, away from the dictation of what was wrong, what was right, how to think, eat, dress, breathe, he had a choice now. And you let him have that choice. Wouldn’t it be wrong to pull away? Wouldn’t it be wrong to let you fall, when you had done so much for him? 

He loves you. He had told Padme, what feels to him a lifetime ago, that love is what drives a Jedi, to hold compassion that is rooted in none other than love. His loyalty is with you, not Sidious— his religion, his worship, with you also. This is what’s good, what’s right. This is what the Force wants him to do. Anakin understands now, doesn’t he? His whole life, he’s been pulled towards this. Towards you, to love you, to keep you safe. 

No matter the cost.

~~~

Lothal’s representatives are easy to find after the general assembly. You don’t know what it is, exactly, but they look lost, like they’re playing a game that they hardly know the rules to. You approach them with poise and grace, your head held high as you zero in on them. 

“It’s an honor to be in your presence, your grace,” One of them stammers out. He’s handsome, you think, but not nearly as much as Anakin. Comparing the two is like comparing a candle to the brightness of a sun, anyways. You smile gently, unfazed as you tilt your head in acknowledgement of their greeting. 

“As it is for me to be in yours, representatives of Lothal.” 

“Denon, milady. I am the senior-most representative of our planet. I assume you do not stop by purely for the purpose of making our acquaintance,” Denon replies. Senior-most. You almost want to laugh at the declaration. He seems boyish still, the innocence in his eyes betraying his youth. You flick your eyes around, assessing your audience quickly before you offer your arm to Denon. 

“Not here,” you murmur, strolling arm-in-arm to the nearest room. You’re quick to step away from him once the doors are shut, taking a seat at a table as he mirrors you awkwardly. You’ve done your research, you have no reason to feel nervous, and yet your hands still tremble before you lay them flat on the table. 

“Denon, I’ve done my research. The financial sector of Lothal has expressed its frustration at the insufficient funding of the planet— simply put, your planet is not… prosperous. I do not need to explain the subsequent effect of this: how this insufficiency results in a multitude of disasters. The workers on your planet work diligently, and yet the imports to the planet are, by-and-large, inaccessible. Why? I believe, Denon, that your planet’s work is undervalued, understated, and Naboo has a simple answer to your question.” 

You sigh quietly, a crafted noise, meant to draw their attention in further. They’re watching you attentively, they know you’re their saving grace and Maker, they’re ready to take it. 

Good. 

“Naboo will outbid your current agricultural contracts in order to be the primary recipient of your crop. I offer billions of units to your planet, with few caveats; Naboo will maintain anonymity until the length of our contract is finished, and the delivery will be to our moons, not to our direct ports. In the meantime, this will leave fewer supply for the remainder of your contracts. It’s simple economics; your supply will diminish, but the demand will remain the same. I offer nothing but a fair compensation for the labor of your peoples, and a promise that my actions will drive others to do much of the same.” 

Denon looks at you, looks to his fellow representatives, then to you again. Then he blinks, opens his mouth as though he wishes to say something, and closes it again. 

“Any questions?” You ask, drumming your hands on the table. You need them to take this, but you can’t show how desperate you are. They might be naive, but anyone knows desperation is a flaw to be exploited, even representatives from an outskirts-planet like Lothal. You still hold power, and that will not be mistaken. 

“Why? Why now?” One man pipes up from next to Denon. 

“Naboo wishes to establish strong diplomantic ties with supporters, like Lothal. This is as much a political move as it is economic, Representative.” 

“We’ll take it,” Denon says. He seems starstruck, like it’s too good to be true. Denon stands from the table and offers his hand to you, which you take as you stand up. 

“Brilliant. I’ll draft up the terms and have my Ministers send the plans to you.” 

“Milady, your offer is most gracious. If there’s anything we can do…” 

“I’ll let you know, Representative Denon. Thank you.” Denon drops to a bow, kissing the back of your hand as you hold back your discomfort. You’ve never really been great with all of this pageantry, but you’ll put up with it well enough. 

But timing is not on your side. The door swings open to reveal Anakin, whose face betrays his rage as he sees your hand in Denon’s. 

“What business do you have with my wife?” He demands callously, striding closer to Denon as his emotions escape his control. You’re careful to watch him, seeing the glint of yellow in his eyes as he sizes up Denon, ready for a fight. 

“My love, we were—”

“I did not ask you. I asked the man who dared to touch my wife,” Anakin seethes. You scoff at his arrogance, grabbing his chin to tear his gaze away from Denon. 

“Representative Denon, you may take your leave. I will continue my communications with the planet of Lothal at a later time.” You keep your eyes locked on Anakin, watching his form visibly relax as they shuffle out of the room awkwardly. It only angers you further. 

As the door shuts, Anakin reaches his hand to your wrist, calling your name softly. 

“No. That was unacceptable, Anakin. That might have been acceptable with Padme, but certainly not with me. Do not forget our arrangement, General Skywalker,” you bite out. You see hurt flash in his eyes as you refer to him by his title, but you’re infuriated, and Anakin is the reason why. “Don’t ever barge into my diplomatic meetings and question me or anyone else what our intentions are. We are nothing other than allies to each other, Skywalker, do not let a night of passion delude you.” 

“Is that all I am to you?” Anakin asks. You’re unable to look at him, so you allow yourself to let go of his chin, but he keeps his hand on your wrist. “Answer me. Is that all I am to you?” 

Anakin’s heart is in his throat. No. He’s seen this before, he knows how it plays out, and he isn’t the victor. In any scenario, he loses you. He can’t lose you. He’s given up so much for you, hasn’t he? Why would you abandon him? You couldn’t. He’s sure you’re bluffing, but there’s still that dryness in his mouth, that dizziness as he looks at you.

Please, let him be more to you.

“That’s all we are to one another,” you whisper. 

Anakin lets go of your hand. 

[happy-beeeps]

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

[jessicas-pi]

The Phantoms of the Ventilation System Adopt a Child!

“Do you ever stop talking?” Ezra demanded. “Obi-Wan, does he ever stop talking?”

“Never,” Obi-Wan sighed, drifting through the ventilation hub’s wall.

“Well, I’m trying to compose music here, so if you don’t mind—” he said, slapping at Anakin’s hand, which had reached over to press random keys on the organ.

Anakin yawned loudly. “You wish you were as good a ghost as I am, Mr. Plays-Dress-Up-And-Pretends-To-Haunt-Ships.”

“And you wish you were as good at resisting the call of the Dark side as I am, Mr. Had-A-Few-Dreams-And-Flew-Off-The-Handle—”

“Okay, that was uncalled for!”

“EZRA!”

Anakin’s apparition disappeared and Ezra set aside his music as Sabine crashed through one of the diverging tunnels, moving to stand in front of it so her raggedy costume hid the tunnel behind her.

“Ezra, don’t be mad.”

He sighed. “What did you do?”

Sabine grinned nervously, which looked ridiculous combined with the elaborate makeup she was wearing to look like she was a partially-decomposed ghost corpse and the scraggly black wig that was crooked on her head.

“So. We. Um.” She took a breath, then stepped to the side, revealing a kid in the tunnel behind her. “We have a son now!”

“Sabine!” He nearly choked on his panic. “Do you know who that is?!”

“Yes, I know it’s the General’s son!” Sabine huffed, helping the little boy out of the shaft and then picking him up. Then her expression softened. “Look, Ez,” she said, turning so the side of the boy’s face was visible, and Ezra saw a large red mark. “His father hit him.”

Ezra jumped at the sudden chorus of voices from around him. He couldn’t pick out individual statements, but the general consensus seemed to be were it not for the Jedi code and my incorporeal body, a murder would be committed tonight. And also, you need to adopt this child immediately.

He glanced at Kanan, who was perching on the pipe organ, one chin resting in his hand.

“Come on, help me out here! We can’t just take a kid, can we?!”

“Ezra,” Kanan said with a ghostly grin. “You don’t say no to a Mandalorian with adoption on the brain.”

[lady-pug]

i'm in love (with an uptown girl) - Part I

Summary: In which Dustin is sure about your feelings for Eddie and Eddie's for Chrissy, but maybe he doesn't know the two of you as well as he thinks he does.

Pairing: Chrissy Cunningham x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: mentions of period typical homophobia

Notes: I may or may not have accidentally fallen in love with Grace Van Dien and, consequently, Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy was such a good character and she had so much unexplored potential, I wish we could have seen more of her.

This was supposed to be a one-shot turned into a two-shot turned into a three-shot when I realized how long it was getting. The title references Billy Joel’s ‘Uptown Girl’, a song Grace herself has mentioned would probably be Chrissy’s 'Vecna song', so I went with that.

Also also, I know renting ‘Return Of The Jedi’ means absolutely nothing (I myself used to rent Star Wars DVDs in a completely random order when I was younger, would just rent out the one I was in the mood for). I just used that whole interaction in order to help plant the seed about Chrissy, much like the series did with the ‘Fast Times’ scene about Vickie (as a kid I didn’t truly understand the purpose of having Leia wearing that in particular, both in terms of inside the universe and out, but now I do and I don’t like it).

Anyway, that was just me ranting, sorry about that! I really hope you enjoy this story, and if you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Reader's gender not specified

Next part | Masterlist | Read on AO3

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

“W-what?” your head snapped up so quickly you were scared you might have pulled a muscle, prompting the boys at the table to snicker.

“I said” Gareth emphasized, a smirk hanging from his lips “that she’s so pretty, isn’t she, Eddie?”

Said boy, who had been staring off into space and just so happened to have his head turned towards the jocks and cheerleaders’ table, snapped out of his trance almost as quickly as you had a few minutes prior.

“Who?” he seemed as confused as you felt.

“Chrissy Cunningham?” Jeff asked, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Your heart, the poor bastard, clenched painfully inside your chest at the mention of the blonde’s name. 

“Yeah, I mean… sure.” Eddie waved his hands dismissively.

“Come oooon!” Gareth, who had been sitting to the left of Eddie, whined and poked him in the ribs “We all know you’ve had heart eyes for her since, like, 8th grade man. No need to pretend otherwise.”

“Guys…” Dustin’s eyes darted towards you, a concerned frown on his lips.

“I don’t have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham?” Eddie answered, although it came out more of a question, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Dude, seriously? You think we haven’t noticed the way you stare at her at every chance you get? Especially when she’s wearing that cute cheerleading dress?” Grant spoke up, Gareth, Jeff and Mike snickering with him.

“Guys…” Dustin tried interrupting again, but the other boys seemed to pay him no mind.

“Yeah, man.” Mike piped up, his mean smirk making your blood boil slightly “If you stare any longer she’ll go from calling you ‘The Freak’ to calling you ‘The Creep’.”

Your fists clenched under the table, nails digging painfully on your palm. You were about to speak up but Eddie beat you to it.

“She’s not like that!” he closed his hand around the mini pretzel he was eating, crunching it in his fist from the force of his words “She’s kind and gentle and sweet.” he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes before speaking up again, softer this time “She’d never do that.”

“See?” Gareth pointed out “You’re already defending your girlfriend-”

“She’s not my girlfriend!”

“Keep telling yourself that.” Mike muttered under his breath.

“So you might as well make it official and ask her out already!” Gareth finished, throwing his arms up in exasperation.

You’ve had enough. Pushing your chair back with so much force it scraped loudly against the linoleum floor, you hastily grabbed your bookbag, stomping away from your usual lunch table and out of the cafeteria. 

“Great going dipshits.” Eddie threw a hard, stern glare towards his friends and quickly followed after you.

“What was that?” Jeff asked, bemused, still staring at the doors which you’d left through.

“I dunno.” Grant shrugged “One moment we were joking around, the next-”

“Guys!” Dustin yelled, startling his friends and earning the attention from other students at the nearby tables. Shrinking his shoulders, he smiled sheepishly, embarrassed, before addressing the other boys again “That was really mean. Even downright cruel.”

“What?” Gareth exclaimed “We were just teasing him!”

“Not to him, dumbass.” Dustin hissed sharply. “To her.”

“Your sister?” Mike asked, a frown twisting his features “What does she have to do with all this?”

“Seriously?” Dustin replied incredulously “You mean to tell me you’ve never noticed?”

The boys shook their heads and Dustin sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

“For people who claim to have it all figured out, you surely are clueless.” he exhaled long and deeply, as if preparing to give a stern scolding to a bunch of four year olds “My sister has the biggest crush on Eddie.”

“What?”

“No she doesn’t.”

“Have you guys never noticed the way she stares at him? How she’s always giddy and happy around him?”

“Yeah, ‘cause they’ve been best friends since they were little?” Grant chimed in.

“No, it’s different.” Dustin tried looking for the right words to explain himself “It’s like… she feels safe with him. Like she knows at the end of the day she’ll always have a safe place right besides him to fall back in.”

“Except Eddie likes Chrissy.” Mike mumbled, the cogs turning in his brain.

“Exactly.”

“Now that you’ve mentioned it,” Gareth stared back at Dustin, wide eyed “she also stares at Chrissy a lot. Always with this wistful, dreamy look on her face.”

“Almost as if she wants to… be Chrissy?” Dustin completed, making a lightbulb go up simultaneously in all four boy’s heads “Yeah. She’s head over heels for him, and you teasing him about his crush only serves to remind her of what she’ll never ever have!”

The guys had the decency to look ashamed at his outburst.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” he said, getting up from their table and collecting his, yours and Eddie’s tray “I’m going to go find my sister and lend her my shoulder for her to cry on.”

Gareth, Jeff, Mike and Grant stared at his retreating form, guilt weighing heavily on their stomachs.

Dustin found Eddie in front of his locker, shuffling through the stuff inside, looking for something.

“Hey, Eddie.” Dustin leaned against the door of the locker adjacent to his, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hey, man.” Eddie answered, without so much as looking over at his friend. He looked annoyed, the boy dared say even slightly pissed.

“Have you seen my sister?”

The younger boy jumped about a foot in the air when the door to the locker was slammed shut, a smal, metallic black lunch box hanging tightly from Eddie’s fist.

“No, Henderson, I haven’t seen her.” he answered, a fed up expression crossing his face as he started walking away.

“Wait up, Eddie.” Dustin held him by the cuff of his jacket, preventing him from leaving “I wanna talk to you.”

The metalhead sighed and turned his attention to the boy, nodding for him to go on.

“I know you like Chrissy-”

“I don’t like-”

“Please, just let me finish.” Dustin held a hand up for him to stop interrupting, to which Eddie rolled his eyes but stayed quiet “I know you like Chrissy. I do, really. Just… don’t break her heart.”

“Chrissy’s?” Eddie seemed confused.

“No.” he said your name hurriedly, desperately trying to get his point across “I really shouldn’t be telling you this, but she really really likes you. Like -likes you.”

“She doesn’t like me.” Eddie answered unphased, his calmness making Dustin’s heartbeat pick up in anger.

“Yes, she does! How come you don’t see that?” he rubbed a palm over his face, the pull on his cheeks stretching his lower eyelids so far Eddie worried his eyes were about to pop out of the socket “I just- I… I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

Eddie’s entire demeanor deflated, a small sigh escaping through his lips. As annoying as the young boy could be sometimes, Dustin had an enormous heart, always worrying about others and putting their needs and feelings before his own, and (Eddie felt a twinge of pride anytime he thought about it) he was loyal to a fault. Those were among the first things he noticed about the boy when he started his freshman year, prompting the metalhead to quickly take him under his wing. That and his Weird Al tee.

He laid a hand over Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I can assure you, with the same certainty that the sky is blue and ‘The Empire Strikes Back’ is by far the best one in the trilogy, I’m not going to break her heart.” seeing a tiny residual layer of distrust fleetingly cross through Dustin’s eyes, he squeezed his shoulder tighter “I promise.”

Dustin nodded thoughtfully, shyly smiling up at his friend.

“Thank you.”

Eddie smiled back at him, giving his shoulder one last squeeze, before he was back to his usual dramatic self.

“Now, I’m going to find your sister and beg for forgiveness. I’ll even drop to my knees and grovel if I have to.”

Dustin laughed at his antics, watching Eddie practically skip down the deserted hallway away from him, clutching the metal lunch box loosely on his hand.

“If you continue to stare at the table like that it’s gonna go up in flames and probably spread all around the woods. And I really don’t want to add crimes against the environment to my ever growing list of felonies, you know?” Eddie’s face morphed into a shit-eating grin as he stared at your slumped form.

You only spared him a half-hearted glare before balling your hands tightly. You slammed your fists against the wooden picnic table in front of you, jumping out of the bench and starting to pace along the leaf covered ground.

“It’s just so annoying, you know?” you huffed angrily “They notice one little thing, one wrong thing might I add, and just believe they’ve got us all figured out!”

“Yep.” he agreed, also mildly annoyed at the situation.

Throwing your arms above your head in frustration, you kicked some of the leaves with the toe of your sneakers.

“Even if you were into Chrissy, how is that any of their business?”

“Mhmm.”

You paused for a moment, wringing your hands together, a nervous habit you couldn’t seem to shake.

“But they are right, you know?”

“How so?” Eddie’s entire face scrunched up in confusion.

“You have been staring at Chrissy a lot recently.” you spoke quietly.

His face softened at the way you seemed to withdraw into yourself, letting your insecurities get the best of you. He stood up from the other bench, the dry leaves on the ground crunching under his white Reebok’s as he closed the distance between the two of you, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder, not unlike how he had done with your brother earlier.

“I’m just looking out for her. She hasn’t been all that well recently and Carver…” he sighed at the mention of his arch-nemesis “They may be dating but the dude still scares me when it comes to her. And she hasn’t been really happy with him for a while now. I don’t want her to get on his bad side.”

Your heart swelled with affection towards your best friend. Eddie had a heart of gold, one he hid behind leather and chains and metal and fantasylands to protect it from being hurt. Only a few selected individuals got to see this side of him, and you were extremely thankful you got to be one of them.

“I do not have a crush on Chrissy Cunningham, okay? You’ve got nothing to worry about.” he squeezed your shoulder playfully as his once soft smile grew mirthful “Besides, from how well we know each other, I’m actually offended you’d even suggest such a thing.”

You giggled at that, eased by both his actions and his words. Sensing you were back to your usual self, Eddie smiled, taking a step back, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You do know that this would all stop if you just told them the truth, right?” he asked seriously “At the very least Dustin?”

You snorted.

“Right, because that is super easy and plausible.” you mocked “What would I even say to him? ‘Hey, little bro! You know how you’re into Suzie, a girl? Yeah, so am I.”

Eddie threw his head back, a loud and full laugh escaping from his wide smile. Tears gathered in the corner of his eyes as he clutched his stomach, almost doubling over at the hilarity of your words.

“Man, oh, man. The way you phrased that-” he hiccuped, trying to regain his breath while wiping away some tears that had escaped down his cheek.

You couldn’t help but giggle as well, his laughter contagious, and a small smile formed on his face at having helped improve your mood.

“Yeah, it sounded pretty weird, didn’t it?” you shrugged your shoulders sheepishly.

He nodded, finally being able to stop chuckling.

“Just tell him you like pussy, can’t be that hard.” he sat back down on the bench, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Edward Cornelius Munson!” you gasped and slapped his shoulder.

“What, so do I!” he threw his hands up in amusement before smirking “That, among other things.”

“I know, it’s just… I’m not about to use such a-” you hesitated as you took in his wolfish grin “foul language with my baby brother.”

“He’s a high schooler!” he almost shouted.

“No matter how old we may be, he’ll always be my baby brother.” you answered, sitting back down on the bench, your smile faltering for just a moment. It was only a moment, but Eddie noticed. He always did when it came to you.

“You should tell him, you know?”

Your face fell completely, smile disappearing as your shoulders slumped.

“You know I can’t.” you said softly, prompting a small sad smile from him “What if-” you swallowed thickly before whispering “What if he doesn’t look at me the same anymore?”

Eddie reached across the table, his hands laying palms up against the old wood. His fingers crooked in his direction, signaling for you to lay your own on top of them.

“He’s your brother.” he squeezed your hands tightly in his own “You said so yourself, he’s your baby brother. That kid worships the very ground you walk on.”

“Eddie-” you shook your head, but his hands closed even more tightly around yours.

“No, listen to me.” he said firmly, his stern voice promptly shutting you up “He’s your brother and he loves you, so very much. Nothing, and I mean absolutely nothing could ever change that.”

Your eyes prickled, brimming with unshed tears. With a sniffle you squeezed his hands in return, willing yourself not to cry.

“Thanks.”

He smiled at you one more time before dropping your hands, his smile turning mischievous. 

“But seriously, Chrissy Cunningham?” he smirked, a mock disgusted look on his face “How basic can you be?”

“We’ve been over this before, Eddie.” you giggled “It’s just- she’s so-”

“So pretty and kind and nice, yeah yeah, I’ve heard it all before.” he waved his hands dismissively at you “Why don’t you talk to her?”

You snapped your head at him, eyes widening minutely.

“What?” you stuttered “Are you insane?”

“What, why? It was just a suggestion!” he raised his hands in mock surrender.

“I couldn’t possibly talk to her! She’s pretty and popular, she’s-”

“The Queen of Hawkins High?” Eddie completed.

“Yes, exactly. And I’m just-”

“A freak?”

You shook your head.

“-me.” you whispered sadly “She’s everything and I’m just… me.”

Eddie’s eyes softened, something akin to pity and concern crossing behind them.

“That’s not true.” he spoke softly, as if you were a cornered animal and any loud noise would spook you. He sighed at the way you shrugged, realizing he couldn't get past the insecurities that had lodged themselves in your brain.

“Besides, she’s with Jason.”

“Fuck that dickhead! He’s not worthy of her time.” Eddie blew a raspberry “She’s really nice. He doesn’t deserve her.”

Ever since she started buying from him, the two of them had become really good friends. Eddie was very fond of her and would do almost anything to keep her safe. Even fighting her own boyfriend if it came to it.

“Yeah, right.”

“You should talk to her. You have a lot more in common than you realize.” he shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant “If nothing else, I think you two would be great friends.”

You smiled at him, a genuine smile this time. You were very grateful for having Eddie in your life. He was always there for you when you needed, always willing to drop everything just to make you smile. For a smile while you were afraid of losing him, having revealed your secret when he confessed to having a crush on you for a while. You were a sophomore, he was just starting his first round as a senior and you had known each other for a long while when he dropped that on you. You were scared, terrified even, that you’d end up losing him completely, but he hadn’t been disgusted nor weirded out, like you’d expected. Quite the opposite, in fact. He had been incredibly supportive and even revealed that he himself wasn’t very conventional when it came to relationships.

“I mean, as long as they love me and treat me AND my friends right… and don’t mind me blasting Black Sabbath on my sweetheart every once in a while, who cares? Guys, girls, people who are neither? Doesn’t matter, man.” 

“Thanks, Eddie.” you smiled at him, giving one of his shoulders a soft punch.

“If you want the teasing to stop, though, you’ll have to tell the boys from Hellfire.”

“And risk Mike Wheeler running his loud mouth around? Then get turned into an even bigger laughing stock for being something even worse than a ‘freak’ in their eyes? Or worse, get beat to a pulp by someone like Jason Carver? No, thank you.”

Eddie agreed. Then, for a moment, he looked up, brows furrowed, deep in thought.

“To be fair, I’m pretty sure Wheeler has a puppy dog kinda crush on me.”

“Oh, no, he does. For sure.” you nodded vehemently “He pretty much stole your style and your mannerisms, there’s no way he doesn’t have at least a small infatuation towards you.”

He chuckled.

“Doesn’t he have a girlfriend, though?”

“Yeah, El. But he also talks about Will Byers almost as much as he talks about her. It’s always ‘Will this, Will that’... you might as well incorporate Will, the Wise into our next campaign.” that made him giggle and shake his head at your antics. No matter how much you teased your brother and his friends, you loved those munchkins very much.

Him, sensing you were finally relaxing, decided to throw in a joke to alleviate the mood even further.

“Soooooo, Henderson… when are you asking her out then?” he said, smirking at your smiling face.

You threw your head back, laughing at his jokester self.

“I dunno, Munson.” you shrugged “When are you going to ask Steve Harrington out?”

“Uh, never?!” his face looked almost offended, a pink tinge dusting his cheeks, but in truth you knew how much he liked the former ‘King’.

“There’s your answer.”

He chuckled, amused.

“See, that’s why I keep myself open to the opportunities. There’s plenty of fish on this sea.” he tsked “Try being more like me, won’t ya?”

“Oh yes” your face turned mockingly serious “I’ll be exactly like you. With at least twice, if not more, as much opportunity and yet you’re still alone.”

With a hand to his chest, he gasped dramatically.

“How dare you?!” he glared at you playfully “Low blow.”

“It’s the truth.”

He chuckled, pulling a laugh out of you, and for a moment, all your worries vanished.

“I swear to you, Max, if he so much as thinks about hurting her I’ll personally break every single one of his fingers so he can never play his precious guitar ever again.” Dustin hissed as he pushed the doors open at Family Video.

“What’s going on?” Steve asked, exchanging a suspicious glance with Robin.

“Dustin here is threatening bodily harm.” the red-head explained as she walked towards the horror section, stopping briefly to stare at a copy of ‘Pretty In Pink’ in the romance section.

“To whom?” Robin asked.

Dustin sighed heavily, like the thought gave him an immense amount of pain.

“Eddie.”

Steve stared at Dustin as if he’d grown a second head. Normally Dustin wouldn’t shut up about his Dungeon Master, he basically worshiped the dude, to Steve’s mild annoyance. So for him to be mad at Eddie, something drastic must have happened.

“What did the dingus do?” Robin pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Oh, don’t ask-” Max shouted from over between the shelves.

“I’m glad you asked!” Dustin cut her off, jumping up and sitting over the counter, ignoring the protests of both Steve and Robin “Okay, it’s kind of a long story.”

“Oh, no.” Steve mumbled under his breath.

“So, you guys know my sister, right?”

“Of course we do, she’s one of our best friends. Also works here all other days of the week?” Robin questioned, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yeah, her.” Dustin continued, unbothered “She’s got it bad for Eddie. Like head over heels bad.”

Steve almost choked on air. From the corner of his eye he could see Robin shooting the young boy a funny look, almost in disbelief.

“But the thing is, Eddie has it bad for Chrissy Cunningham.”

Robin and Steve stared at one another, jaws hanging open. 

“Okay, and?” Steve asked.

“And?” Dustin asked incredulously “And she’s bound to get hurt. She’s going to get hurt and-” he let out a shuddering breath “I don’t want to see that happen.”

Both Steve’s and Robin’s gaze softened at the boy’s kind words. 

“If it serves as any consolation, Dustin, your sister does not have a crush on Eddie.”

“Yes, she does!” Dustin practically shouted “She’s my sister and I know her! She is in love with Eddie! It’s so obvious, why can’t none of you see it?”

“Dust-” Robin tried interrupting, but the boy cut her off, offended.

“What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t know my own sister?!”

Robin raised her hands, trying to calm the boy down.

“Okay, okay. Fine.” she sighed defeated.

Steve sensed Dustin was getting upset and tried to placate him into calming down.

“Hey, man. If, by any chance, he ends up breaking her heart, I’ll help you bash that metalhead’s skull in.”

Dustin smiled a toothy grin, reassured by his friend’s words.

“Now!” Steve clapped his hands “I assume the two of you aren’t here just to gossip now, are you?”

Dustin straightened his spine, jumping down from the counter and disappearing behind some shelves. Moments later he came back, dragging a reluctant Max by the wrist.

“Maxine here” he started (to which Max mumbled ‘Call me Maxine again and I’ll break your fucking nose’ under her breath) “has never watched Star Wars.”

Steve gasped dramatically.

“Seriously?! What a crime!”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“You haven’t watched it either, dingus.”

“Yes I have!”

“Sleeping halfway through ‘A New Hope’ doesn’t count as watching!”

“Anyway,” Dustin cleared his throat “Mike and I agreed that it’s about time she watched it and decided on a movie marathon. Lucas is also joining us. So if either of you can get me the tapes for the entire trilogy, we‘ll get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

Robin started typing in Dustin’s file while Steve went out back to retrieve the requested tapes.

“Uh, guys?” Steve came back to the front of the store holding one tape in each hand “Looks like someone already rented one of them.”

“What?!” Dustin’s voice broke as he reached for the tapes “‘Return Of The Jedi’ is missing! Who in their right minds rents only ‘Return Of The Jedi'?!”

Robin looked at Steve, a mischievous smile crossing her features. He knew she could only mean trouble.

“Let me check that out for you.”

“Uh, Rob.” Steve mumbled, concerned “That’s against company policy.”

“Come on, Stev-o, live a little! We do this all the time to find out stuff about people.”

“Oh, and checking the renting log for Star Wars 3 will tell us what exactly?”

Robin smirked. Oh, Steve didn’t like where this was going.

“If we cross reference it with the other two,” Robin started typing on the computer behind the counter “we can check out who rented all three of them together or rented all three of them separately but in the correct order.”

“And those who rented just this one?”

Robin’s smirk only grew. She looked at Steve dead in the eye and mouthed the word ‘boobies’. Steve could practically hear the moment the shoe dropped, his own face morphing into a smirk. 

“Are we missing something here?” Max asked, suspicious.

Robin dismissed her and continued typing. It took about twenty minutes, but she eventually had printed out an extensive list of names after having written down a bunch of names and connecting them on her little white board.

“Okay, munchkins.” she turned to them, swiveling her chair “I have it. After pulling the records of the past six months, I managed to find out all the people who rented ‘Return Of The Jedi’ solo.”

Dustin giggled, and Max rolled her eyes, but a tiny amused smile pulled at her lips. Steve awaited eagerly, hanging from the edge of his seat.

“Let’s see, from oldest to newest.” Robin cleared her throat “Eddie Munson, clearly; me; Vicki; Eddie again; your sister.” 

Steve side-eyed her, his brows furrowing in confusion, but Robin kept going without paying him any mind.

“Vicki again; your sister again; Fred Benson; Eddie; Vickie; Eddie; Jason Carver;” her face scrunched up in disgust (to which Dustin screamed a “Jason Carver likes Star Wars?! ”) before continuing “your sister; Vickie; me; Eddie aaaaaand… oh!”

Everyone froze, startled expressions paralyzing their faces.

“What do you mean ‘oh!’?” Steve asked, incredulous.

Robin’s eyes were wide as saucers, her eyebrows so far up her forehead they disappeared under her short bangs. Her mouth hung wide open and only small stutters came out. Swallowing hard, she exhaled sharply through her nose before turning to her friends, her voice low.

“The last person to rent ‘Return Of The Jedi’ and who currently has the tape is Chrissy Cunningham.”

Multiple things happened at once. Steve’s jaw fell almost to the ground, Dustin let out a loud disbelieving yelp and Max’s eyes widened just a fraction. 

“Seriously?” Dustin asked “Chrissy Cunningham, captain of the cheer squad, queen of Hawkins High, Jason Carver’s girlfriend, rented out a Star Wars movie?”

Steve and Robin glanced at one another. It was clear their incredulity stemmed from a totally different reason then the two kids. 

“Oh, well.” the boy threw his hands up in defeat “I guess our movie marathon is fucked.”

Max looked conflicted, slightly relieved but at the same time kind of bummed. Steve was already pulling the file for ‘Return Of The Jedi’ on the computer again, desperately trying to put a smile back on that kid’s face.

“She’s due to return it tomorrow. Why don’t you come by then? It’s Friday anyway, don’t you have Hellfire today?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Dustin shrugged “We were going to head straight to Mike’s after the club and Max would meet us there.”

“Tell you what,” Steve nodded his chin conspiratorially “why don’t you take something else for today, have a sleepover, and as soon as Chrissy returns the tape tomorrow I’ll drive by the Wheeler’s and deliver it to you, okay?”

“But what if Chrissy doesn’t return it on time?” Max asked.

The sound of keys being smashed on the keyboard pulled their attention back to Robin, who had taken over the computer.

“It says here she hasn’t missed one due date, and she’s been coming here for quite a while now.” she smiled reassuringly “You guys have nothing to worry about, Steve’s got this covered for you.”

After a few more moments trying to reassure Max’s everlasting distrust and restore Dustin’s goofy mood, the two kids left with a copy of ‘Gremlins’, one of Max’s favorite movies of all times. As they were about to set foot outside the door, Robin called out to Dustin.

“Don’t worry about your sister, okay? She’ll be alright.”

Dustin nodded and they left. With a huff, Robin slumped against the counter.

“So, what was that about our dearest Henderson having a crush on Eddie?” Steve asked.

“Trust me, dude, she does not have a crush on him.”

“Dustin seemed pretty adamant that she does.”

“She doesn’t.” the girl hissed.

“How could you possibly know? She might be one of your best friends since forever, but sometimes people rather keep-”

“Because I know!” Robin practically shouted “Because she’s also into the same stuff we both are!”

“You mean…” Steve’s eyes widened, before his confusion gave way to understanding “She did rent that Star Wars a lot.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Robin leaned closer to him and lowered her voice down to a whisper, even though there was no one else in the store at the time “We dated briefly in middle school. We were both going through a self-discovery journey kind of thing and we helped each other out. It’s good talking about your feelings with someone who actually gets it, who also knows exactly what you’re going through. That, combined with the fact we’d been friends for so long, had us both thinking that dating was the natural progression of things.” she smiled a sad, fond smile before shrugging “Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty cute, smart and all, but we quickly realized it was more like kissing a cousin than anything.”

“Ew.” Steve shrudded.

“Mhmm. So we broke things off about a month in.”

“Wow. That’s nice actually.” Steve smiled at her “It’s nice to know you didn’t have to go through all of that alone.”

Robin nodded in agreement, turning back towards her friend. She found him already staring at her eagerly. She closed her eyes with a sigh.

“Spit it out.”

“So our resident freak has a crush on the Queen of Hawkins High?”

Robin eyed him funny.

“No he doesn’t.” she scoffed “There’s only one person in this town whom Eddie fancies, and it’s certainly not Chrissy.”

“Who’s it?” he asked, like a kid who’s begging their parents to reveal the contents of their Christmas gift in advance.

Robin felt like she could facepalm. Better yet, bang her head on the counter multiple times.

“Seriously, Harrington?! Are you really that dense?”

Steve stared at her like a clueless puppy.

“What?”

She huffed and grabbed a pile of returned tapes to sort through.

“Anywaaay…” Steve sat next to her again “What do you think?”

“About what?”

“Uh, duh? The fact that Chrissy rented that movie? You said so yourself and that list was pretty self explanatory.”

Robin smirked at him, a small chuckle climbing out of her throat.

“I think, my dear friend,” she topped her act off with a wink “that there’s more to Chrissy Cunningham than meets the eye.”

[nobodysdaydreams]

Crack/Crangst idea you want to share?

Once again, a perfect anon, because in anticipation of Star Wars Day, my brain came up with a crack Star Wars AU and now I have an excuse to share it (it’s more crack than Crangst, but I hope you like it!)

This crack au features Anakin and Palpatine as semi-problematic grandparents in an au where Anakin never turns, but Palpatine is never discovered and keeps evilly plotting and cloning himself a son while Anakin and Padme raise their family together. Eventually, Anakin and Padme become grandparents to Ben and Palpatine becomes Rey’s problematic boomer grandpa who shows up at his son’s house on Jakku holidays in order to try to bribe is granddaughter with presents to get her to join the darkside.

Details of this AU include the following in no particular order:

Palpatine cloning himself a son and asking everyone not to question who the boy is or where he came from

Anakin and Padme congratulate Palpatine on his son. Even though Palpatine is fuming because his son is powerless but of course Anakin’s children are some of the most powerful in the galaxy, he has to pretend to be a good father, for the sake of public appearances. He’s really bad at it.

Palpatine initially plans on naming his son “clone attempt 53” or something until his advisors tell him it will look bad if he doesn’t give his son an actual name. Palpatine lazily picks the first name he thinks of and then forgets it and continuously calls his son by the wrong name.

Palpatine’s adult son has to give his dad multiple talks about boundaries and why he shouldn’t be telling his ten-year-old granddaughter Sith legends as bedtime stories

Palpatine (reading a bedtime story to five year old Rey): “Tell me child, have you ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plageuis the wise? It’s not a story your weak and powerless father would tell you.”

Rey’s Father (yelling from the hallway): “Dad, you know I can hear you, right?”

When it comes to Rey, Palpatine is thrilled that his creepy evil Sith experiments FINALLY created a grandchild with the power he desires, only to discover that power comes with a force bond to, you guessed it, another Skywalker. (Palpatine’s hatred for the Skywalker family grows with every passing generation he fails to turn to the dark side).

Han would for sure make a comment about Sheev being old and say something like “isn’t it weird this guy never seems to die even though he was like super old when Anakin was a kid? And how does he randomly have a son? Where did that guy even come from?” These comments drive Palpatine crazy, but Han is Leia Organa (or Leia Skywalker in this AU)’s husband so he gets away with it. (Also Han regularly almost exposes Palpatine’s plans by making casual jokes. This is not on purpose, Han has no clue what’s going on, and he just sort of roams around the senate building while his wife is in meetings causing trouble and speaking out of turn without a care in the world, but Palpatine grows weary of him and constantly has to change his plans because he thinks Han must be onto him but really Han is just snooping around cause he’s bored).

To Palpatine’s utter disappointment, Rey loves the Jedi. An elderly Anakin specifically takes her under his wing, as she reminds him of a young Ashoka. Plus they both grew up in poverty on a desert planet (because Rey’s dad moved out as soon as he could) so I think they’d have a lot to talk about. I can see Anakin showing up to Luke’s Jedi school specifically to take the kids on fun and dangerous missions and Luke can’t say anything against it because it’s his own dad doing this. I like to imagine Anakin and Rey, impulsive little sand orphans that they are, running around on Jedi missions getting messy and ruining their clothes while Padme and Ben (who would bond over their love of fashion and dramatically stylish capes) always look like they’re trying to be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Also you can’t tell me Padme wouldn’t dress her little grandson, baby Benny, up in the cutest little outfits.

Little Ben, Finn, and Rey go to Jedi training together and Palpatine tries his best to get Rey to spill secrets on Luke and his other students to figure out how to turn them. He teaches her to use force lightening and tries to get her to use it against her classmates but instead Rey teaches her new trick to her friends, who accidentally zap Palpatine in the face. He is not amused. Han accidentally makes jokes about his appearance at a senate meeting in front of a microphone that was left on.

In a last ditch desperate effort to get his apprentice, Palpatine invites himself to Luke’s Jedi school, and when Luke is distracted, he tries to bribe Ben, Rey, and Finn into joining the dark side using the promise of things kids like, including toys and candy. He tried the same thing with Luke and Leia when they were young and it fails both times

There is a point where everyone (eventually) figures out Palpatine is evil, but by then, Palpatine is so old and out of it, it doesn’t really matter. There’s one time where he dramatically tries to stand up and take the energy from Rey and Ben’s force bond at a family party, but then his old man knees give out and he topples over and falls asleep in his chair. I’m not much of a Reylo shipper, but I do think it would be funny if he tried this during the objections portion of their wedding and Poe and Finn have to awkwardly and uncomfortably escort him out like wedding bouncers. I also think it would be funny if during this he yelled something like “Fools! I am all the Sith!” or “You will find that it is YOU who are mistaken!” or “Stand together… die together!” with zero context and shoots forth the teeniest weakest little flash of force lightening he can muster and everyone just writes him off as being an old person who’s starting to lose it.

Might add more later but I hope this finds its target audience.

[separatist-apologist]

I want to second what that other anon said- making Rhys a hot dog vender was the funniest thing you’ve ever done and will live in my head rent free from now on 😂

Like their conversation about it is hysterical- “the realization that this brutal with lord spent years on Corsicana pretending to be little more than a vendor”, like imagining rhys being prodded by cassian or mor who are like how long are you going to be a fake vendor and rhys shushing them because he’s preparing for the 5 minutes of Feyre’s time he gets while selling her hot dogs 😭

It is simultaneously the funniest thing but also so good because it’s somehow in character??!? Like the type of unhinged obsessed shit rhys would pull for Feyre’s attention while she’s like oblivious

And now all I can think of is in a world where amaratha doesn’t conquer prythian, I could so see rhys pretending to be like a human vendor in the market just to get to know the woman of his dreams while feyre is like why is this vendor so hot, well dressed and determined to buy all my animal pelts for more than they’re worth, he must really collect animal pelts ig???

I'm glad some people thought that was funny because it was my private joke to myself. In Jedi Survivor, Cal is hankering for a turbodog (and so are the stormtroopers!) the entire time you're on Coruscant and I was eating those jokes up.

So when it was my turn, it was all I could think of. 100k word fic where Rhys is just unironically runs the best damn turbodog restaurant on 100 levels.

[madamealys]

Imagine you play a deadly game with Anakin (+21)

II

***

Anakin knows you are socially tired just by how you stare into the nothingness all the whilst you engage in a conversation with some stranger. Today you are at a fanciful party thrown by the Senate, and due to common friends you two meet but for the sake of the rules of the Jedi Order you and him pretend that you have no relationship.

His gaze however admires you from afar even if you don’t know it. He scans your lose y/c hair, your sweet, delicate features; your curves… which remind him of that night he helped you release the inner pressure you’ve been to.

Had he not been tossed in distant missions, there would’ve been more… and he wants it. But this General is patient.

As your gaze eventually meets his, you smile warmly almost instantly. Your heart races just knowing he’s yours and you are his. But you want more… so you delicately elaborate a plan to escape this boring ceremony.

“Should I escort you somewhere else, my lady Y/N?”, Anakin asks you, not finding difficult where he should meet you. You are outside under stars and after a while—at least according to your impatience—he joins you.

You turn at him. This tall, handsome man dressed in black robes, eyeing you with indescribable feelings that do make you burn underneath your heavy gown.

“I would like so, Jedi, if I am not posing a distraction to your duties”, you smirk at him.

Discreetly his right hand searches for yours.

“You are hardly a distraction, my dove.”

And he smiles because you swoon.

***

Under darkness as perfect disguise, you fly high with Anakin, learning to taste what you fear most: adrenaline.

“Obi-Wan detests when I fly fast, but damn it this is good”, he tells you, chuckling as your eyes go wide at his speed.

“I really can’t see why”, you retort, side eyeing with a shade of panic behind your y/c irises. “What do you think you are DOIIIING?”

Fast he may be, but you are delivered safe at home. Anakin laughs as he watches you awkwardly straighten your hair and the skirt of your gown as you stand… but he’s also there to help you not to fall.

“I feel tipsy and I haven’t drank anything at all”, you chuckle, leaning on his elbow for balance. “Goddamn it, Skywalker. I hate you.”

It’s when his grip on your waist gets firmer.

“No, you don’t”, says he in that tone he knows he affects you.

You blush, confirming his suspicions. The Jedi leans to cup your cheeks and kisses your lips slowly, melting your resistance.

“We must not be seen”, you remind him nervously.

It’s when you spot that daring look that makes your womanhood burn.

“Fuck them”, he says, before kissing you ardently again.

This time your mind is clean.

***

Your back rests against the kitchen table as he kisses your neck, playing with your hair all the whilst you lift your right leg, silently begging for one thing the Jedi intends to give you in his due time.

With that in mind, Anakin breaks the kiss, much to your consternation.

“Why are you doing this?!”

“Doing what?”, he raises his eyebrows, playing coy. “I want something of you, my love.”

Anakin reads you well and you blush at his intent stare at your hardened nipples that your gown is poorly disguising.

You lean closer, your hand boldly moving to his pants, which he hisses under his breath.

“What’s that?”, your hand rubs up and down before starting to unbutton it, pleased to find him stuck in his own game. And it doesn’t help his case how you moan in his ear when feeling his manhood right in your palm.

“Fuck, Y/N”, he groans, unwillingly removing your hand off him. “Take off your clothes.”

Anakin struggles to remain reasonable as you lock eyes with him during your stripping. There is something so alluring in how you slowly remove the black gown you are wearing. And you are also aroused at how you are under his power.

You lie down on the table just like he asked and then…

“Ani…”, you whimper as he uses the force to lock your hands above your head, feeling so exposed.

“It’s all for you, my love”, he smirks before kissing your lips at last.

His tongue pairs with yours perfectly, dancing in the same rhythm. Lustfully he sucks it, showing his dominance over yours, which makes you moan. Anakin already feels the warmth exhaling off your body, which makes him hard in his pants.

But tonight is about you. His hands gently wrap around your neck as he dives in the kiss, but then one hand is released to slide down to your chest. It’s when he breaks the kiss to admire your features, smiling at you only to lower his gaze to your nude stare.

“You are a goddess”, Anakin groans, and you already feel wet at it. “I cannot believe I’ve spent years away of you.”

He watches as you rub a leg against the other, how hard your nipples are and how short your breath is. Oh how he loves to arouse you.

“You overreact, my darling”, you tell him almost breathlessly, partly detesting to be left waiting, partly excited for the same reason.

You slowly arch your back the moment you feel his gaze over your round, firm and full breasts. It’s when he begins to touch each, his fingers crawling over the swell of your boobs before cupping them properly.

“Oh Gods!”, you moan. “Anakin!”

The Jedi side smirks at you. Precisely what he wants to hear. But he struggles not to touch himself at such sight.

“Yes, my darling?”, he whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe as he begins to kiss your neck. “Makes knows how you smell good.”

And he kisses you right, his tongue twirling and his teeth biting your skin making you moan louder, desperate feeling a burn in your legs. But you are frustrated in doing nothing because he overpowers you.

To make all better—or worse—is the moment he finally sucks your pink nipples. He loves doing so, taking his time as if he’s a hungry man, famine for what you provide him—a body to which he devouts himself to, such a faithful man is this careless Jedi.

To appease your impatience, he releases his right hand to spread your legs and after caressing your thighs, his index finger finds way to your core. Now your moans echo in the room, turning slightly into sensual screams.

“So wet for me”, he groans against your skin, his face still buried in your chest. Anakin bites your nipples softly, still taking all with his tongue as he plays with you. And you love it all right. “Fuck, so wet, my baby.”

“Anakin!”, you moan so loud, breathlessly so. It’s so absurd the power he has over you, so exciting at how you subdue to him. “It’s so good! So bloody good! Don’t… ever… stoooooop!”

Anakin chuckles lightly at how you react. He gently moves his kisses to your belly now, pausing every now and then to insert two more things in you.

“Yes, my sweet. Come to me. I like seeing you ruined. Come, all right.”

And he feels it, the moment he plays with your clit, he feels it coming. And your legs get heavy, you arch your back…

His name once more comes out of your lips as every pressure is released, but it doesn’t end there no.

Anakin pulls you gently to sit closer to the edge of the table, but you don’t know yet what’s he about to do.

“It feels so good!”, you throw your head back, before smiling at him.

“We haven’t finished yet, my honey”, says the general, in a sweet voice that makes you mewl. He pecks your lips then adds. “Close your eyes.”

You do as he asks you, curious at what he asks. For a moment, you are left waiting for Anakin contemplates your state with awe and lust. Then he kneels, not before stroking his manhood for one quick moment because frankly it’s becoming unbearable to deal with that erection.

But now he spreads your legs, holding each thigh before diving in what’s between. You are instantly surprised the moment you feel his tongue so skillfully there. No one has ever dared doing so—but you’ve had just a few douches to count as boyfriends, neither compared to Anakin Skywalker. The mere comparison makes you blush.

“Anakin!”, you whimper loudly, a new different kind of despair giving you chills. And when you open your eyes and meet his gaze, your thighs already tremble.

As you ride his face, your legs begin to get heavier. And it doesn’t really help that at moments he inserts a finger in you.

In all honestly, though, he starts to touch himself at the same time. The scene arouses you in such a state that it doesn’t need more than five minutes before Anakin drinks the honey you give him. But he doesn’t give quite there yet.

You are about to have multiple orgasms for the first time in your life.

You grip his hair, feeling his moans in your core, and nothing arouses him more than hearing his name screamed countless out of your mouth.

He locks eyes with you again when he drinks every juice that comes one last time, which happens right as he comes undone, jerking because of you.

***

He is lying next to you, watching as you quickly come to sleep. Anakin snakes his arm around your waist, admiring your nudity, but more so the serenity stamped in your face.

He peppers kisses on your face, before burying his face on your neck.

“I love you, Y/Nickname”, the General Jedi purrs in your ear, drifting to sleep next to you, feeling for the first time a peace not even Senator Amidala provided him…

[stars-written]

24 - 26 for the develop your OC meme!

develop your OC meme;; accepting!

How dramatic is your oc? Do they make a big deal over every little thing, or do they fail to react to even the most crazy of events?

(Nil-Rae keeps quite a bit to herself; her thoughts, her impressions, her feelings. As such, she tends to be very direct and to the point in conversation. She doesn't embellish (she may outright lie or bend the truth but she doesn't exaggerate things), she doesn't overact, she doesn't get flustered. She is and can be very expressive if she feels comfortable with someone but she tries to keep a straight face and an even keel about most things.

(It stems from her mother's tales of her father: a stoic, wise-beyond-his-years young man who could care very deeply but never lost his head. Nil-Rae doesn't know how much of that is true or simply her mother's lovesick recollection of a man she knew 20+ years ago (and briefly at that) but the habit of imitating him was formed in her youngest years when she grew up yearning to be just like him.)

How does your oc handle being sick? Do they pretend not to be? Do they complain a lot? How susceptible to getting sick are they?

(Nil's immune system is on the average-less than average side. She doesn't get, like, super ill all the time but she does seem to catch a cold whenever she lands planet-side somewhere new and spends a few days there. Think, like, how you can get severe colds whenever the temperature suddenly spikes in late fall/early winter or when you visit some place far enough away that you aren't used to the pollen there. She doesn't necessarily hate being sick or get whiny and complain when it happens (she's kinda used to it at this point and often brings special medical supplies to handle the inevitable sinus drainage when she travels) but she's also the type to push through being sick and try to keep going despite needing rest.)

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

(Ehhh, mid? Ish? Look, if I could draw you a diagram whose vertical axis was age and whose horizontal axis was "desire to be fancy," it would be a huge bell curve with her youngest and most current years being low to non-existent and her early-late twenties being, like, UP THERE. As a girl, she never had an occasion to dress fancy and never really cared about dressing up because, well, why would she? Sure, getting a new dress was a special thing once in a very great while but living in a farming village far from the big city meant that dresses were more of a hindrance than anything.

(Once Xan gets a hold of her, though, and starts lavishing her with the finer things and feeding her selfishness, that all changes. Suddenly she's resentful of the dirty, poor, labor-intensive life she'd lived up to that point and yearns, not for the simple, minimalist life of a Jedi but for something prettier, something far more materialistic. She delights in being dressed in the finest things and the softest fabrics and being seen as fancy or well-to-do.

(Nowadays, with that life more (or less) behind her, she has mellowed quite a bit and feels guilty for the way she was as Governess. She happily settles for the life of a farmer once more when she's called home to Felucia. She still likes looking nice on occasion but mainly only when the occasion calls for it.)

[heaven-s-black-box]

Celebration- Anidala ft. ensemble

Return to File- Event Masterlist

Recovery date: July 27th, 2022

Description: In which Anidala can finally have a big wedding with their friends.

Notes: An entry from my 2022 research project into the universe of Star Wars. You can find the next entry here.

Word count: 614

Back to directory

“This is gonna be great!”

“I think I might be sick.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“No- no, I think this is what a heart attack feels like.”

“Relax general, what could go wrong.”

“What could- what could go wrong? Everything!” Obi-Wan whisper shouted.

He, Rex and Ahoska were huddled in a corner of the gorgeous event venue on Naboo. With the way Obi-Wan was sweating, you’d think he was the one getting married, but no. The realization of everything and just finally hit him, and he was the best man. Ahsoka and Rex would laugh if they weren’t so concerned he was about to pass out.

Upstairs, Padme and Anakin sat back to back against a silk screen, feeding the twins. 

“He does realize we’re already married, right?” Padme chuckled.

She was wearing an extra one of Anakin’s Jedi robe to cover her dress in case Luke spit up. Anakin on the other hand had just thrown one of their changing blankets over his robes.

The couple were enjoying their last few peaceful moments of the day, feeding the twins, before they got swept up in the festivities. Ahsoka, while also being one of Anakin's best men, had agreed to babysit the twins during and after the reception. Until then, Padme’s parents would be picking the little ones up soon and Obi-Wan would be ushering Anakin to the altar.

“I think it’s just finally hitting him,” anakin smiled, glad his wife found Obi-Wan’s distress just as amusing as he did. “I mean, I don't think he’s even fully digested that these little nuggets,” he leaned down and tapped Leia’s nose, grinning widely, “are ours.”

“He’ll blow a fuse if they’re force sensitive.”

“He will.”

A knock at the door before it opened a crack.

“Are the twins done?” Padme’s mother smiled, poking her head in.

“Luke is, isn’t that right my little- oop, there’s your food. Mom, can you come take him?”

“Of course,” she opened the door and slipped behind the screen to help Padme and take Luke.

“Thanks mom.”

“Oh, you look beautiful.”

“Careful, she hasn’t burped yet,” Anakin warned, handing Leia off to Padme’s dad. “Here,” he tossed the blanket over his father in law's shoulder, “Bye bye little pilot, I will see you, later.”

Padme laughed behind the screen before another knock came at the door.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Obi-Wan asked. “I do believe the guests are ready.”

“Ah, then we’ll go find our seats,” Mr. Amidala said, wrapping an arm around his wife’s waist and pulling her out. “I’ll see you at the start of the aisle?”

“Yes, dad.”

The couple whispered in excitement, happy to be a part of their daughter's wedding.

The Skywalker’s had decided it best not to mention they had had a ceremony and pretend like they’d just declared their marriage.

“Feeling better?” Anakin smirked once Padme’s parents had left.

“I don’t know what you mean, I should be asking you that.”

Anakin shrugged.

“Hello Master Kenobi.” Padme stuck her hand around the screen to wave.

“Hello Ms. Skywalker, ready for the big day?”

“I’m ready for it to be over,” she laughed. “I could’ve done with a small backyard ceremony again.”

Smiling, Anakin leaned his head back against the screen.

“Oh come on, think of it less like a wedding and more like… A big celebration of not having to hide! It starts with a public wedding and then we can have dinner with your parents on weekends, and the twins can spend time with their aunties and uncles.”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat awkwardly and both Skywalker’s turned to him.

“Sorry to break up the moment but I do believe everyone’s waiting.”

[burnwater13]

Dank Farrik! By the time the Mandalorian got him home to the cabin, he was convinced that Grogu had a cold and needed soup, rest, and a bath and not necessarily in that order. Grogu’s plans for a dark and stormy night would have to wait. The bubbles in the tub were just too much fun to play with as long as his dad wasn’t forcing (no pun intended) him to get out before he looked like a dried jogan fruit.

He liked playing with the bubbles. It was definitely a thing a Jedi could do, but no Jedi was encouraged to do it. If you had a delicate hand and were capable of concentration in the midst of so much silliness, you could fashion almost anything out of bubbles. 

At the beginning of bath time, when the bubbles were big and sturdy, Grogu made clouds, storms, and oceans out of them. Being in the tub helped a lot for that. It also helped that anytime his dad asked if he was ‘okay in there’, Grogu would cough and sneeze and put on a good act for the Mandalorian to assure him that he wasn’t just sloshing the water around. It should go without saying that he was of course sloshing the water around to make the bubble tidal wave all the more realistic. 

As the bath went on, Grogu would build huge starships out of them and pretend that they were galaxy hoppers. Going from one galaxy to the next in a search for the most delicious frog soup he could find. That adventure made him hungry, but he hadn’t tired of the bubbled yet. They were smaller now, and less elastic than the original bubbles, but they were useful, none the less. 

Grogu already knew that he was going to go to the Mudhorn festival dressed as Kuiil, but he hadn’t decided which costume his dad would wear. As funny as it would be to have Din wear the custom Fennec had the Anzellans make, pit droids were only frightening to the Mandalorian and having seen the costume, Grogu was certain the word ‘adorable’ would be used more than once to describe the tall human if he wore it. He was not going to be wearing it.

So, Grogu practiced with the bubbles and tested a variety of costume ideas on a bubble version of his dad. Not a full sized version because he didn’t have that much water left in the tub to make fresh bubbles. No, this Bubble-lorian was just a little taller than Grogu. Which allowed him to tweak things after giving them a good once over. He’d found being able to stand in the water he was using for his bubble art made it  last longer.

The first costume he tried was Bo-Katan’s armor. He giggled and shook his head. He didn’t think he could get his had to wear a red wig, but the rest of the armor looked good on him. Then he tried Moff Gideon’s battle suit, but that gave Grogu the creeps. Uff. Then he tried it as half Tusken and half High Magistrate and Yippee! He’d designed the costume for his dad. 

He wished that he had his markers with him so he could a quick sketch. He was liable to forget the little details that made it so perfect, like the small pit droids carrying the ends of robes, or the gaffi stick made out of beskar. The best he could do was just stare at it for a minute and try to memorize it. 

“Grogu? Are you done yet? I have some nice frog soup for you and then you need your rest.”

Grogu barely paid attention to his dad’s voice, but then he heard the door knob turn and rather than go through a game of ‘lock/unlock/lock’ again, he simply waved his hand and changed the costume on his ‘mini-me’ version of his dad.

“Buddy, I do think you’d look good with a beard some day. But not today. Not even made of bubbles. That’s going to make your soup taste funny.” 

Grogu started laughing so hard that he slipped into the water and the bubble version of him dressed as the Mandalorian blew up into gobs of bubbles in the air, floating all around the small room. His dad hadn’t even noticed him and addressed his whole complaint to the Bubble-Gro-lorian. It was the funniest thing Grogu had seen in a long time.

“So much for training and discipline. Come on buddy, use the Force and get up, then we’ll get you dried off. You still need to rest before you come back in here and clean up the mess you made.”

Dank Farrik! That was not The Way! He was sick. His eyes were still red. He had a cough, it just sounded like a cackle. Maybe that Moff Gideon costume was the right one after all…

[friskynotebook]

All the Wasted Time Ch. 4

An Obidala GFFA AU slow-burn romance ❤️

CW: age gap, poisoning, angst, food, assassination attempt

Summary: Obi-Wan and Padme attend a state dinner where things take a dark turn.

Also on AO3!

Padme drummed her fingers on her desk, staring at the comm set like it would turn into a swarm of fever wasps. It’s just a comm call. To Obi-Wan. What are you so afraid of?

It wasn’t so much what she was afraid of, as it was the way she constantly found herself thinking about the gala from a few weeks ago and the way Obi-Wan looked in his dress robes gliding her across the dance floor, charming her odious colleagues, rescuing her and Mon from a bounty hunter—

Padme shook her head. Enough of that. Just make the damned call.

Before she could think anymore about it, she picked up the receiver and dialed Obi-Wan’s number, not dwelling on how she knew it by heart.

He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”

Padme tried to ignore the tingle in her belly from hearing his crisp Coruscanti accent. “Hi, Obi-Wan.”

“Ah, Padme, hello there.” She could hear the smile in his voice.

“How are you?” she asked, toying with the comm cord.

“I’m alright, and you?”

“I’m good.” She swallowed. “I actually called to ask you a favor.”

“Yes?” he prompted when Padme didn’t continue.

“Um, are you busy next week? There’s a state dinner the Republic is hosting for delegates from Rishi and Bail and I are trying to get votes for our taxation bill and I was wondering if you’d be free to attend—”

Obi-Wan gently cut off her rambling. “Oh, I’m sorry, Padme, I won’t be able to accompany you.”

Padme’s heart sank. “Oh, that’s all right, don’t worry about it—”

“—Because I’ll already be attending as part of the Jedi delegation,” Obi-Wan continued, a teasing smirk lacing through his tone.

“Oh!” Padme squeaked. She cleared her throat. “Well. That’s good. So I’ll see you, then? At the dinner.”

“Yes you will, Senator.”

##

Padme exited her hovercar, fingers absently smoothing down the light blue tulle of her dress that she definitely did not pick out so it would go with Obi-Wan’s dark blue dress robes.

“Thank you,” she said absently to the driver. “I should be done in about three hours.”

“Very good, Senator.”

She adjusted her curls and strode towards the entrance to the ballroom, before she could fiddle with her outfit any more.

“Padme!”

Breha’s voice rang out across the entrance hall. Padme turned, beaming at her friend.

“You look lovely,” Padme complimented, greeting Breha with a hug.

“As do you.” Breha kissed her cheek. “I love the dress.”

“The color is a nice choice,” Bail winked at her. “It would look good with a certain Jedi Master’s dress robes . . .”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Padme blushed as she greeted Bail.

“Let’s go inside,” Breha suggested, giving Padme a knowing smile.

Padme quickly found her table, surprised to see that:

She was seated at the same table as the Jedi delegation, and

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was sitting right next to her.

She suspected Mon was involved with the first decision, but would she have been so bold as to put her right next to Obi-Wan? However, one glance at Mace Windu, sitting across from her with a twinkle in his eye and a playful raised brow, and she had an idea who switched the placecards. 

“Padme.” Obi-Wan’s warm, velvet voice came from behind her. She turned around and greeted him with a hug. 

“Obi-Wan,” she beamed. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you,” he grinned, kissing her on both cheeks. “It seems we’ve been seated together.” He released her hands and pulled out her chair.

She settled in her seat, her cheeks warm at his gentlemanly attention. “Yes, how fortunate for us.”

“I’d say it was the will of the Force, but it’s probably more accurate to say it’s the will of Mace Windu,” Obi-Wan teased, sitting next to her.

“You could say Mace was simply listening to the will of the Force.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure that’s exactly what he would say,” he replied, looking up to find Mace quickly looking away, pretending to talk to Yoda.

“Not very subtle, is he?” Padme smirked.

“Oh, on the contrary he’s normally quite discrete. But it appears all that skill goes away when it involves my personal life.”

“I thought this was merely a work function for you, Master Kenobi.”

“My friends view these events as the height of my social life,” he sighed. “So they take every opportunity for me to make the most of them, if you will.”

“Your friends sound like my handmaidens,” Padme said. “Meddling with good intentions.”

He smiled at her as he accepted the menu from a server. “That’s one way of putting it.”

They poured over the options for each course, the menu specializing in Rishian cuisine.

Padme wrinkled her nose. “What are . . . glowblue noodles?”

His eyes lit up. “Oh those are delicious. Don’t let the name—or the color—fool you. They’re served in this cheesy cream sauce and topped with sesame.”

“I’ll take your word for it and stick with the buckwheat noodles with nerf.”

He shook his head and sipped his wine. “You’re missing out, Senator.”

Despite Padme’s initial hesitation, the meal was one of the best she’d ever had—especially the bites she stole from Obi-Wan’s plate.

And her food envy only grew when the pasta course was served.

“That’s what glowblue noodles look like?” Padme asked incredulously.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan grinned. “I told you to not let the name deter you.”

“What was I supposed to think? The name said blue noodles!”

“And I said they were more delicious than the name suggested.”

Padme looked at her own buckwheat noodles with nerf—it looked good, but the glowblue noodles looked downright heavenly.

Before Obi-Wan could take a bite from his meal, he regarded her, tilting his head to the side. “Padme, would you like to switch?”

She hurried to decline the offer, though the way her face lit up didn’t lie. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly take your meal!”

“It’s no trouble, really. Besides, it would be an honor to be present for your first time trying glowblue noodles.”

“Well when you put it like that . . .” Padme offered up her plate in exchange for Obi-Wan’s meal.

He watched her with a glint in his eye as she took her first bite. “Obi-Wan, this is amazing!”

“I would say I told you so, but . . .” he teased. 

“You just did,” she furrowed her brow playfully as she took another bite.

Obi-Wan snickered, taking a bite of the buckwheat noodles. “These are quite tasty.”

“But no glowblue noodles?”

“No, definitely not.”

Padme enjoyed every last bite of the cheesy, buttery noodles—probably more than she should have, if the borderline food coma she was experiencing was any indication. Still, she wasn’t about to give up her white-chocolate bread pudding, and focused all her energy on eating the filling dessert.

“Padme?” Obi-Wan said, his brow furrowing. “Is everything alright?”

“Hmm?” She looked up, licking a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth.

“You haven’t said much since we got our desserts,” he continued.

“Oh, I’m fine. Just . . . enjoying the dessert,” she nodded, but regretted that once her vision started spinning.

Obi-Wan continued watching her eat, his own dessert abandoned. Once Padme finished her bread pudding, she stood, gripping the table like a lifeline. 

“I think I need a bit of air,” she said, gathering the energy to walk. How did this get so hard? Did I really eat that much?

Obi-Wan quickly stood as well. “Allow me to escort you,” he said, offering her his arm.

She took it and let him lead her towards the balcony—which would be much easier if her body could just remember how to breathe. She tried to breathe in and out, but her lungs and chest burned and simply wouldn’t cooperate no matter how hard she tried.

She tried taking another breath while also trying to work her legs and that seemed to be too much. She gripped Obi-Wan’s arm—so strong, his arms are so strong and his robes are so soft—as tightly as she could, trying to fight against her body drowning on air.

“Padme?” 

She vaguely heard his panicked voice, felt his calloused hand on hers.

“Obi—” she gasped, her legs collapsing under her.

Padme heard him call out her name, much more panicked than before, then felt his arms around her, trying to break her fall. Things were graying out at the edge of her vision, but she could hear chaos around her, from Mon’s “Padme!” to Mace’s “Help’s coming, Senator, try to hang on.”

She wanted to tell Mace she was hanging on but it was so hard. The gray had turned to black and she felt like she was drifting farther away from the ballroom, the people, Obi-Wan’s warm arms.

“She’s not breathing.” Padme heard the fear in Obi-Wan’s voice and she wanted to tell him she would be just fine but she couldn’t work her mouth or the rest of her body, for that matter. So she settled for just thinking at him as loud as she could. That’s how the Force worked, right?

But before she could think much more, Obi-Wan was pinching her nose shut and covering her mouth with his own, and the last thing she thought before her world went black was how soft Obi-Wan’s lips felt against hers.

No-pressure tags: @wickedscribbles @obiknights @labyrinth-runner @your-dose-of-obidala @mxster-jocale @cypanache @celestial-alignment @alabama-metal-man @written-musings