#sw prequels fanfic

[annwayne]

Delayed Fate - A Story from The Red Logs

Chapter 1/3

Next Chapter ->

Fem!OC X Crosshair

Word Count: 2395

Fic Summary:

Written for the Love & Lust Flash Fic Contest in The Erotica Abyss (chapter 2)

After splitting up a fight between two clones in her bar, Anya finds herself in the company of the most interesting clone she's ever come across-and she's known a *lot* of clones. (And if you squint-plot)

Or

How Anya and Crosshair's fates first intertwined.

AO3 Link

Warnings for whole fic:

Violence, Injury, Blood, At Home Medical Treatment, Biting, Praise, Gloves, Dom/Sub undertones, PinV sex, Oral Sex (F &M Receiving), Fingering

Authors Note:

A little Valentines gift. Three chapters in total, chapter one today, two tomorrow, and three... in a few days? I'm working on it lol.

The night started out like all other nights. Busy. 

“Six beers to table three, send two Star Vines to table eight, and please no one serve anymore alcohol to the pair of clones by the door attempting to solicit anyone who comes within a ten foot radius.” I, as usual, was in the middle of it all. “They need to sober up if they’re going to find their way back to the barracks.” I sighed, glancing at the clones in question as Lynn and Jayas nodded in agreement. Another normal night taking orders, making drinks, and mingling with the main clientele of my bar-clones. 

Everything considered, I couldn’t complain. Busy was paid bills and a focused mind. No more petty theft just to survive-though Jayas didn’t let that last for too long. No more time lost to memories I buried and locked away deep in my psyche. No, no more problems when I was busy. I was grateful for it, even at the cost of sleep and a sore body. Yes, everything was normal when I was busy.

That was, until a fight broke out by the darts.

The first signs were the unbroken string of swears that rivaled even Jayas’ stubbed toe speech. Then a crowd formed in that semicircle shape that either meant an arm wrestling contest…or a fight. I didn’t think to actually go check until I heard the dull thunk that only armor hitting armor could make. 

“Hey!” I yelled as I stomped through the bar floor, weaving through groups of clones unaware of what was going on. By the time I reached the dance floor enough patrons had gathered around the fight that I had to shove my way through them. “Break it up!” I yelled again as I emerged from the line of white armor made purple by the lights above. Jeering mixed with the pounding music from speakers above, drowning all attempts to talk the clones down. So, without a second thought I jumped into the mess of black and white armor. 

One was on the ground by that point, on his hands and knees with what I suspected was blood dripping from his mouth. I faced white armor first, thinking the fight over. Instead, I felt a long forgotten spark of force–warning. Electricity spiked through my limbs. It spun me on my toes just in time to see the clone in dark armor come up with his fist aimed to uppercut the other clone. Or would have, if I wasn’t in the way. 

Seconds. Pupils shrunk in realization. Less than a second to stop. Anyone normal would lose a tooth or two. I wasn’t. But I was out of practice.

I dodged in time to keep all my teeth in, but not in time to save my shoulder from cracking. 

The impact pushed me off stance and I stumbled back into the intended target. Both men dropped their fists, rage forgotten for a heartbeat. 

Then the crowd jumped in. 

“Get him!” 

“Kick him out!” 

“Get outta here!”

Clones yelled at the other in dark armor while I blinked back tears threatening from the pain. Now wasn’t the time. Jayas and Fathal had abandoned the bar and were running over to check on me. Lyn watched from across the bar, serving tray clutched against her chest as she gasped. A swarm of angry clones pushed the one in dark armor back till he was trapped against the dartboards, the fight in his eyes undeterred by the numbers growing against him. Blood trailed down his busted lip. Before the one v one could turn into a one v bar, I brought my fingers to my lips and whistled. All eyes landed on me. 

“You.” I turned to the clone I had fallen into–he hadn’t moved. His face was pulled into confusion and worry. Though he had sobered up considerably compared to when I jumped into the fight, he was slow to turn his attention back on me. Then, I turned to the sea blocking my path to the other clone. It parted without any orders from me and revealed him. Our eyes met and, even in the dim light, I could see he wasn't like other clones. “You. With me.” 

No one, clone, patron, or employee alike stood in my path as I escorted the pair behind me to one of the few private places in the bar–the office. A tiny room that fit two chairs and one square desk, tucked back into a nook made by all the filing cabinets and boxes lining the walls. Bright yellow light hurt my eyes as we stepped inside. Once the door closed behind us, I turned to face the clones. Now that I could properly see them, their injuries were on full display.

So were their differences. 

“Take a seat.” I gestured towards the chairs in the tight room. One sat normally. The other spun the chair around and sat facing its back. 

I found myself questioning if the man in black (and red) armor was even a clone. He was skinnier and, even though he was sitting, taller than the other clone. At first glance I thought his silver hair was dyed, but then I noticed peach fuzz growing along his jaw–also silver. And then his face–long and sharp thanks to the gaunt look his cheekbones gave him. No one would think this was a clone if they didn’t know better. But I’d seen hundreds of clones. He shared the same deep brown eyes that I’ve looked into hundreds of times before. Maybe there was no other clone like him, but he was a clone. 

And a tough one too. My gaze flicked to the trail of dried blood that ran down a busted lip to his chin. I also noticed purple slowly crawling from his left cheek. He’d come back up swinging despite the hits that landed.

Then I turned to the other clone. His armor was decorated in red stripes, the sign of a clone assigned to the Coruscant Guard. Great. Another reason for Commander Fox to hate my establishment. Unlike the silver haired clone, he was much more typical. He had cropped dark hair, brown eyes, and a full face–albeit made swollen by what would be a black eye given time. Otherwise, the only unique feature to him was a large tattoo that snaked around his neck and climbed up his jawbone. I recognized him from a few other visits, all without incident before. 

Pain spiked behind my thoughts. The only barrier keeping it from consuming me was the need to sort everything out before I could retreat upstairs to slap bacta onto my shoulder. Somehow. I’d figure out the logistics later. For now, my attention was on the troublemakers. 

“What’s your name?” I asked the clone in red stripes. 

His brows pulled together and his eyes darted around the small room. Panic ran through his face, though he still answered me. “CT-823-”

“No,” I cut him off. Trooper numbers were for reports and people who wanted to make clones feel lesser. I wasn’t the latter, and I hadn’t yet decided on the former. “Your name.” Between the effort of submitting an official report to the GAR, Commander Fox’s pre-established distaste for anywhere that let clones get a little too “loose,” and knowledge I needed to treat my shoulder, the chances I’d bother were low. The tipping vote depended on what all of this was about. 

“Binder, ma’am.” 

“Binder, what happened?” 

He glanced up to me, then at the other clone. 

To his credit, the other clone kept his mouth shut. Not that, I suspected, he needed to use his mouth to say much. His arms draped over the back of the chair and his legs spread out wide to support his posture–rather casual for someone who could get into trouble with his superiors. He kept a Sabacc face, betrayed only by the toothpick that wouldn’t keep still between his lips. (Where did he get a toothpick?)

“He was cheating at darts.” Binder muttered.

I got punched. Over a game of darts? “That’s it?” 

Binder shot out of his seat, hearing the disapproval in my words. He pointed at the other clone. “He was! No one can beat my score!” 

“I did.” The silver haired clone interjected. 

Even his voice was different, more gravel and less pavement. 

The taller clone straightened his back, looking up to meet Binder’s flushed face with a shit-eating grin he knowingly used as bait for another fight. Before Binder could take it, I stepped between the pair once again. After swearing under his breath, Binder returned to his seat. The other clone gave me a smirk. I didn’t reciprocate.   

It was a clear holo of what led to the night’s events, in the flesh. “So you beat Binder at darts,” The clone kept his lazy grin. “Flaunted more than you ought to, and got punched for it?” His lips dropped, slightly less pleased with himself when I laid it out like that. 

“More or less…” 

Stars, his voice instantly captivated me. The universe was cruel to drop this man in my lap this way. What would that voice sound like in my ear while he had me pushed against the wall? Would he grunt? Moan? Growl? I took a deep breath.

“How many drinks tonight?” I asked Binder.

Begrudgingly, Binder answered. “Four.” Then he added, “Thermals.”

Four Thermal Detonators. No wonder his temper got the best of him. “Alright, here’s what I’ll do.” I turned around and rummaged through the cabinets with minor difficulty. “I’ll chalk tonight up to more beer than you can handle,” I glanced back at Binder long enough to ensure he knew I was talking about him. Then, I rooted through a collection of various computer parts and some wayward screws until I found what I was looking for. “And someone who doesn't know the rules of my bar.” With the prize in hand I turned back around and looked at the clone in question. Both men met me with confused expressions, one big and curious and the other tight and suspicious. 

“Take this before you sleep tonight,” With my left hand, I threw a tiny vial at Binder. He caught it against his chest. “It’ll help you metabolize the alcohol.” A spike of pain in my right arm demanded attention, so I rushed to wrap up. “Hangover prevention, if you will.”

Binder studied the clear liquid within the vial carefully before glancing back up at me. “I’m not going to report either of you.” The clones didn’t move. “You’re free to go.” I gestured to the door with my left hand, acutely aware of the pain surrounding my right. 

Binder left first, and it was then I realized I never asked the other clone his name. Pain was gnawing at my thoughts, but I had to ask. “Wait.” I rounded the doorframe in time to see the mystery clone walking down the long hall to the back exit. Binder was already gone. “What’s your name?” 

He stopped. I watched as he pulled something out of his mouth–the toothpick–and held it between his fingers like a death stick. “You said so yourself. You aren’t reporting this. I don’t need to tell you my name.” Faux-death stick returned to his lips.

“No, but I’m still asking.” 

We stood there. Strides apart. With me leaning against the doorframe of my office trying to ignore the heartbeat caught in my collarbone and him with slack shoulders and a downturned head. The longer the silence went on the harder it was to ignore the pain.  

“Why?” He broke the spell and turned around, facing me with narrowed eyes.

A feeble smile spread across my lips. “I’d at least like to know the name of the man who broke my shoulder.” 

His jaw clenched and I regretted my teasing. His eyes fell to my shoulder. “You think it’s broken?” 

“I think you’ve got one hell of a punch.” My lips curved into a smirk. Pain burst like a hot flame all around my shoulder, up my neck, and down my arm, causing my expression to falter. I took a step off the wall, then two, then four. When I reached him his gaze dropped behind me.

“I wasn’t aiming at you.” 

“Trust me, I know.” I looked up into his eyes and realized I’d missed something. Thin black lines made a reticle around his right eye. I had gotten so lost in his differences with other clones, I didn’t even see the difference he chose. Half of a laugh escaped my lips. “You’re lucky I’ve got quick reflexes, or I might need more than a little bacta to fix this up.” I dipped my head towards the door that led to the stairwell just behind him. He followed my gaze. “Which, if you don’t mind,”  I moved past him towards the door. “I’ve put off long enough.”  

With a hiss, the automatic door opened and I entered the stairwell. Metal echoed up the high ceiling as I climbed up the steps. It was quiet. So my thoughts were loud. 

You felt the force again. I felt the force again. You are a Jedi and yet you hide your power and strength. I’m no Jedi, I’m not powerful, I have no strength. You let him go and now he’ll never come back. I’ll never know his name. 

I gripped the railing, feeling a wave of nausea threaten in my throat. My breath turned rapid and the stairs before me started to shake. Just as I thought my grip would slip, I heard the doors open again. Quickly, I straightened up and turned to see Jayas. Except, that wasn’t Jayas.

Instead, there stood the clone with silver hair and a reticle tattoo.

“Hey.” He looked up to me. “You need any help?”

Every inch of my body felt like a live wire. Finding my voice took a moment. “Depends.” I managed. One silver brow raised in question at my answer. “You gonna tell me your name?” 

A slight smirk pulled his lips up. He nodded his head once before climbing the stairs to reach my height. Once he was one step below me, he leaned in just enough to make my buzzing heart flutter. “Crosshair.” 

I swallowed. “Nice to meet you, Crosshair. My name’s Anya.” 

Dividers by Djarrex

[thesassypadawan]

Beloved Master (Unburnt Darth Vader x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: After a traumatic series of events, you find yourself being held captive by the sith lord known as Darth Vader. Alone and unarmed, you wish so badly for your beloved master to be here with you. Be careful of what you wish for.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut.Size difference, hint of a breeding kink, and Vader’s big dick. Padawan reader is of age.

Notes:  The 'What If' Version: Beloved Master *Fragmented*

Part 2: Beloved Husband

This is a non-burnt Vader fic.  Everything is still intact and has been ‘enhanced’ by the dark side of the force.

“Now behave yourself, jedi, the lord will be with you shortly.” The male attendant sneered, taking great joy in your current predicament.

Standing there, wearing nearly nothing; you tried your best to maintain what little dignity you had left. You gave him a small nod and muttered a quick thanks, before stepping inside the room.

“Try not to have too much fun,” he chuckled darkly and closed the door behind him.

Hearing the locks hiss into place, you began to reflect on the events that led up to this moment.

It had only been a few nights ago that you stood in the temple’s meditation garden. Waiting patiently for your beloved master to return from an ‘emergency meeting’. When your private comlink was hailed, his voice ringing out from it. “Run. Run swiftly. Run to me.”

Everything was fragmented and hazy after that.

The night sky was orange. There were cries of agony and pain all around you. The temple, your home, was engulfed in flames.

You felt utterly hopeless. Worried horribly about your master. Completely devastated at the thought of not saying those words to him one last time.

You tried to run, but someone tugged hard on your arm. Yelling at you to come with them, to ignore his call. Something happened to that someone in a blaze of blue light.

You were no longer being pulled, but carried away from the chaos. Being whispered to that it was ‘all going to be okay, you’re safe’.

That’s when your whole world went dark.

When you awoke, you found yourself locked up in a holding cell. Dressed in the most ridiculous outfit you have ever seen. One that left very little to the imagination.

You did not remain there long. Soon after, the male attendant had arrived. He, along with a pair of clone troopers, then escorted you swiftly to their lord’s private quarters. Apparently, this Vader fellow wanted to have an audience with you rather badly.

It was with this grim thought in mind that the weight of your situation truly set in.

You were alone. Stuck on an unknown planet, which you could feel was entirely encompassed in the dark side of the force. You were without your saber, it’s comforting presence no longer hanging from your hip. And, most gravely, you were about to presumably meet a sith lord.

Scanning your surroundings, you hoped to find something you could possibly use to defend yourself. Unfortunately, there was nothing in the lavish bed chamber that would provide much help.

You heard the door behind you slide open and then close.

Swallowing hard, you tried to compose yourself. Your master had always said to keep your wits about you when facing down an enemy. To stay centered within the force. To keep your mind clear.

How you so wished he was here with you now.

“I am, padawan of mine.”

Your eyes grew wide. “Master?” You asked, your voice barely a whisper. “Is that really you?”

Not waiting for an answer, you quickly whirled around. Instantly, a wave of relief washed over you. Standing before you, a gentle smile on his face, was…

“It’s me”, Anakin muttered.

Without a second thought you ran to him. And he easily scooped you up into his strong arms.

Burying your face into his tunic; you finally let the hot tears flow free. “Ani, it was horrible!” You sobbed softly.

Stroking your hair, he gently swayed back and forth with you. “Ssh, it’s okay. It’s all over.”

You squeezed him tight and whimpered. “I thought I had lost you.”

“Hey, look at me.” Hooking two fingers under your chin, he tilted your face upwards. “We’re never going to lose each other.”

Placing his hand on your cheek, he wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “I made sure that we will always be together…no matter what,” he said malevolently.

Hearing his tone, it was as if you were suddenly released from sort of spell. Anakin was no longer the same, in oh so many ways.

His entire form had changed. He once only stood a head and a half taller, and now he absolutely dwarfed you. His hands were huge. His muscles blown enormous. He looked like an absolute beast, with yellow eyes and a heavy dark aura to match.

Maker, help you. He was the sith lord and you were finding it hard to resist him.

“Ani,” you spoke slowly, reaching to place a tiny hand on his chiseled chest. “What have you done?”

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, angel,” he replied nonchalantly. “I did what was necessary.”

Tightening his arm around your waist, he somehow pulled you in even closer. “You should be more worried about what I’m going to do to you in that outfit,” he whispered huskily.

A small squeak escaped you as you were suddenly swept off your feet and whisked over to the bed.

Trapped underneath him, it truly sunk in how utterly massive he had become…and how tiny you were in comparison. You shivered at the thought. Whether it was from fear or excitement, you weren’t quite sure.

“What is it, padawan?” He chuckled, hovering above menacingly. “Afraid of your master?”

You shuddered once more as Anakin brushed his clothed length against your inner thigh. Stars, he felt gigantic. “No, master,” you whimpered.

A wide grin spread across his handsome face. “Good, because this is where the fun begins.”

He crashed his lips into yours. The kiss was hungry and passionate. The kind that made you wrap your arms around his thick neck and desperately pulled him closer, deepening it.

You could hear a rumble of approval in his chest. The sound causes a warmth to spread throughout your entire body.

Parting for air, Anakin gave you a mischievous look before burying his face into your neck. He kissed and bit at the sensitive flesh. Making you purr. Marking you as his for all to see.

His hand, all the while, lazily slid down your form. Coming to rest on your breast, he cupped and gave it a firm squeeze. Eliciting a soft moan from you.

“I love the sounds you make for me,” he muttered against your skin.

“Ani,” you mewled, hands tangling in his golden curls.

“I wonder,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your body. “What kind you’ll make when I do this?”

“Kriff!” You cried out as his warm mouth wrapped around your nipple. Sucking and nibbling at it through the paper-thin fabric. Causing your back to arch, your hips glancing one another in a fiery touch. You both groaned.

“Or better yet,” he whispered, sitting back on his legs. “What delicious sound will escape you when I do this?” With the wave of his two fingers, Anakin used the force to…

You let out a frightened squeal as the meager clothes were torn from your form. Instinctively you tried to cover yourself up with your hands, but he easily captured them in his much large one.

Pinning your arms above your head, he playfully scolded. “Now, now, don’t be shy. Let me see that beautiful body, little one.”

That name, it made you shiver. You could feel the dampness and you both knew it had shot straight to your soaking core.

“Oh? You liked that didn’t you?” He taunted, running his other big hand up and down your leg.

Wriggling beneath him, your cheeks burned hot. “I-I did, master,” you replied weakly.

He laughed darkly at your embarrassment and gave your hip a firm squeeze. “Tell me, tiny padawan of mine, what else would you like?”

“Your cock,” you whimpered. “I would like your cock inside of me.”

“Are you sure about that?” He mocked, flashing you a smirk.

Anakin used the force once more. This time removing his own clothes. Revealing…

Your eyes widened and your mouth went dry. He was absolutely massive, a true monster. And yet, you wanted him oh so badly.

“Please!” You begged; your voice laced with need. “Want it!”

“I don’t know.” He laid his heavy cock on your pussy, dragging it slowly between your folds. “You were barely able to take me before I became like this. Aren’t you afraid of what will happen now?”

You moaned softly as you found yourself slipping into a haze. “Don’t care! Need it!”

Suddenly, he removed all friction. You were about to whine in protest, until you felt him lining himself up with your entrance.

“All right, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

In a single, fluid motion, he pushed inside of you.

The two of hissed together, as you took every thick inch.

“So tight,” he growled as he bottomed out.

“So big,” you mewled. Relishing how full it made you feel. How his tip was dangerously pressed against your cervix.

Hiking your thighs onto his hips, he snaps them forward. Pounding into you at a brutal pace. Giving you no time to adjust to his colossal size.

“A-Ani…” You slurred, eyes going crossed from the stretch. “S-So big, An-Ani…”

He groaned at seeing your tummy bulge every time he thrusted back into you. “Yes, so big and yet your tiny cunt is taking me so well. Tell me, hatari, how much do you love it?”

You could feel the heat beginning to build in your core, tugging at you. “I love it! Love it so much!”

“Needy little thing,” he grunted. “Be a good girl now, let me into that perfect womb of yours. Going to fill you up so full. Going to make you heavy with the heir to my new empire.”

“M-Master…” You could barely form a sentence; you were so overwhelmed.

With a few more deep thrusts, he breached past the tight rim. Getting exactly what he wanted. “That’s it, that’s my sweet padawan,” he cooed.

You could feel the tears of ecstasy running down your cheeks. Your pussy clenching around him from the extra stretch. You were so painfully close and Anakin could tell.

“Let go,” he panted. “We’ll cum together, just like always.”

You went crashing over the edge. Mind blanking as waves of pleasure rolled through you.

His cock twitched inside of you. Filling you to the brim and beyond with his seed. Making your stomach round.

Catching your breath. Smiling warmly at one another. You both basked in the afterglow of it all.

Lacing his fingers with yours, still buried deep within you. Anakin placed a tender kiss on your forehead and whispered. “I love you. You’re going to look so beautiful carrying our child, my empress.”

A cold chill ran through you as you came back down from your high. You knew you should be terrified. That you should be distraught over the events that led up to this.

But as you gazed up into those yellow eyes…none of that mattered anymore. All that did was you being right by his side.

“I love you too, Lord Vader.”

[intermundia]

so i've always found anakin's dialogue much more difficult to write correctly than obi-wan's. obi-wan is a wry and posh voice, simple in compared to anakin's mess of contradictions. pragmatic, blunt, and forthright, but also that somehow translates into saying things like i'm haunted by the kiss that you should never have given me, my heart is beating hoping the kiss will not become a scar in the most melodramatic way possible. he's self aware enough to say shit like you're asking me to be rational, that is something i know i cannot do, but also one of the most deluded characters in star wars. it's hard to accurately capture the way he says the truest possible thing at any given time (from his point of view), sometimes he's spouting poetry, sometimes joking and quipping about it, depending on if he's in the prequels or mid clone wars. as vader his vocabulary is menacing, lofty, sarcastic. it feels impossible to nail the exact balance between his brilliance and stupidity, his literal, technical brain with all its jokes and pure, deep, strong emotion. it's definitely part of what makes the character special, but it's also a hell of a needle to thread trying to write him right.

[jedi-enthusiast]

Vague Obi-Wan lore from Bloodshed, Crimson Clover shitpost:

-----

Obi-Wan, eyes glowing, in an empty room: *talking in some ancient language no one can understand*

Some Random Jedi: ...is that not...concerning?

Qui-Gon: Last night I caught him floating on the ceiling and chanting ritualistically. When I asked what he was doing he told me that Master Katri was teaching him an old Je'daii mantra...so I consider this an improvement.

Some Random Jedi: ...isn't she dead?

Qui-Gon: Yes, which is why I will not be asking again.

BONUS:

Dooku, who literally just wants to eat and go to bed: *walks into his Temple quarters*

Obi-Wan:

Ḩ̸̡̬̝̰̤̺̜͎̩̾͆̏̿̔̐̈́ȩ̸̨̛̫̟̟͕̲̭̻̖̘̘̀͊͂̕͜͝ͅl̴̛̞̘͙̲̪̭̟͓̳̳̟̀ĺ̶̛͎̲̩͔̋̋̎̇͐̿̏̽̍͒̍̎͝ȍ̸̱͚̮̤̩͖̰̣̔͗̾̍̏̆ ̶̡̛̠̞̝̻̖͔̜̫̈́͜M̷̧̗̜͕̘͈͙̠̜̼̔͊̎͋̓́̒ͅa̴̺̜̫̻̠̻̭̯͉̣͖̮̠͒ͅş̷̘͓͔̟͎̈́́̉t̷̩͔͓̳̠͈̩͇̖͈̯̰͛̆̄͂̓̏͝e̸̱̜̾r̴̛͍͙ ̸̛̟̞̠̺͓̙̩͒̍͝Ḋ̵̛̼̯̘̗̖͗͌̃͋̿͝o̸̢͕̜̭͎̫̙͌́̿͊̈͛ͅo̵̹̼͚̻̫͓̻̳̻̭̳̐̅̉͑͆̊͂̔k̶̡̨̳͓͎͖͉͔̟̹̪̼̣̎̈̈́̇̒̈́͌̀̀̌̿̑͘ū̶̬͎̀͒̊͑̽̀͘͝

Dooku, backing out the door: Nope...nope...not tonight...I'll room with Qui-Gon...just...hell no...

The real reason he was so ready to stab Obi-Wan in AotC

[forcemeanakin]

𝗙𝘂𝗰𝗸 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗯𝗼𝘆𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱 ('𝘀 𝗱𝗮𝗱) - 𝗣𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟯

•WARNINGS: SMUT. Age gap !!! Infidelity kink !!! (you’ve been warned, so if you do not agree pls leave because I’ll delete any hateful comments about this) Actual cheating. Dirty talk, teasing and sex in a public space, voyeurism, praising kink, bit of degrading, handjob (m and f receiving), oral sex (f receiving). Mentions of an unhappy relationship/divorce/troubled marriage.

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x female!reader.

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

Part One - Part Two

Part Three Summary: How could Mr. Skywalker resist such a pretty little thing like yourself when you come into his workshop with dessert?

Word count: 4.1 K.

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

Thank you so much for the comments in my last post! Your excitement makes me want to write even more :) seriously thank you! And I'm sorry if I forgot to tag someone, pls let me know if I missed you!

“You missed dessert.”

It took Anakin a second to realize that he wasn’t delusional, that your voice wasn’t a product of his imagination.

You were here, in his workshop. 

With actual pie.

“Shouldn't you be upstairs, Y/n? It 's pretty late.” Anakin spoke without disconnecting his attention from the welding happening in his project.

You delayed your response, walking towards him and placing the plate on the counter, sliding it to him. Elbows on the surface, you supported your head on your knuckles, widening your eyes in innocence in case he indulged in looking up. 

“I could ask that as well.” You got closer, taking a spot at his left side to admire the precision in which he was attaching cables. “Life Day's morning is tomorrow, we should be up pretty early. We’re also going skating.”

Anakin scrunched his face like he had forgotten about it and he was not eagerly expecting the trip.

“You can’t not go, it’s our last day here.” You murmured with a velvety voice, sending goosebumps through his spine. 

“I’ve seen that fucking lake enough for a lifetime. I’m sure I won’t miss much.” He stuck his tongue out, inching his head forward to appreciate his manual work better.

“You’ll miss me.”

Anakin, having everything on the line, was too careful not to slip and fall. Because of that, your grand gestures and obvious advances were deflected by him every single time. Except that one time he did indulge. That one time where you weren’t even trying and he, by his own doing, fell into temptation. Only when commands a situation, or when he thinks he is, he lets himself free fall into his instincts.

“I’ll miss you.” You added, playing with the little metal panel that seemed the right size to fit the droid part he was fixing. 

“I don’t think you miss me when you have Luke’s tongue down your throat.”

He bit the words, gripping the tool with more force in between his fingers, clearly upset. You hid a playful smirk.

“That’s when I miss you the most.” You whispered, grazing his ear shell with your lips, caressing the pull-up sleeve from his shirt.

He tensed at the ministration, blinking fast to return to his previous state of concentration, “To all of this, where’s your boyfriend? Doesn’t he have a promise to fulfill?”

Honestly, it was your fault for trusting Luke’s empty words. Again. But you were enjoying Anakin’s visible jealousy.

“Luke wanted to go straight to sleep… said he was stuffed from dinner. Not a lot of energy to do anything.” You briefly whined with a voice so low, Anakin could barely hear you with the noise of the machine.

So he stopped, pushing himself back onto his chair so he could look up to you without obstacles. His chair was set just a few inches lower to work better. Anakin’s eyes followed your figure from head to toe, casually lingering on the bit of skin that showed from the slit of your attire. Just like at the dinner table, he was struggling and was unsure that he would be able to escape harmlessly this time.

“I’m kind of jealous to be honest.” You mumbled, staring at the mess of parts, walking until you were in between him and the counter. Trapped in between his spreading legs, your chest was right on his eye line and you hadn’t changed your dress. “I wish I was stuffed as well.”

Gulping harshly, Anakin built up the strength to stare at your intense gaze, basically condemning himself. Because the minute he saw the hungry spark shining from them, he knew there wasn’t a single bone in him that would deny you if you asked for him again. 

His strong, yet shy hand, climbed up your leg like a moth to a flame until he was able to grasp the fat of your thigh. Feeling your softness against his palm had him on the edge of staining his pants. With a little pull from his part, it took you mere seconds to obey his silent command and sit on his lap. Anakin’s curious hand continued to brush your bare leg, rejoicing in the way your breath would accelerate when his hand went up and how you bit your lip whenever it came down. 

It also didn’t help that his other arm was wrapped around your waist, thumb miming the motion of his hand, but on your hip, trapping you in his embrace. Expectant of what would be his next move, you shyly waited for whenever he would peel his eyes from your slit and reciprocate the attention, this time on your face. 

On your lips. 

Like he was reading your mind, Anakin’s eyes slowly moved up your curves until he met your needy orbs, noses softly grazing each other at the proximity. Breath getting out of control at the shift of energy, warmth expanding all over your skin and clit throbbing in anticipation. You deviated your eyes momentarily to sneak a peek of the deliciously rich piece of pie laying on the table and he benefited from the newly acquired angle to caress your throat with his lips.

“Just a taste?” You murmured, looking at him through your eyelashes, intentionally inching closer to brush his lips with yours.

Was he going to do it? Take the next step?

Would he dare?

Would you dare?

Surpringsily, Anakin nodded swiftly, leaning into the intoxicating pull of your mouth. “Just a taste.”

Anakin’s lips tasted so much better the second time around, it tasted like victory. And you made it a personal goal of yours to show him how grateful you were that he finally caved in. Wasting no time, in case he changed his mind, your hands found their home in Anakin’s curls, the silky feeling of them a new aphrodisiac to you and apparently to him, by the way he was growling at your clasp.

His sneaky tongue barely asked for permission when it was already intruding into your mouth, licking everything on its way. Giving up on trying to take the lead, you surrendered to his rough pace and enjoyed the delicious sensation of his warm, wet tongue against your lips. Anakin would take advantage of your dumb state and hanging mouth to suck however he pleased, smirking because the only thing your mind could process was imitate his dirty moves. Until he bit your bottom lip, making sure your brain wasn’t already melted before he could even start ruining you.  

When you pulled his hair, only because he had taken the party downstairs and was violently grabbing your ass, it was like you had awakened a beast. Out of nowhere, Anakin stood up, holding you by your thighs and placing you on the surface of his tool table. His shirt’s buttons were discarded early in the makeout session, granting you the space necessary to roam your palms all over his strong pecs and firm shoulder blades. And when you tried to wrap your legs around his waist, hinting right where you wanted him, he clasped his fists around your ankles, spreading you open without breaking the liplock. He was even more aggressive with the leverage his height gave him.

“Just a taste…” He grunted again, lifting up the skirt of your dress until it was tangled enough to give him a good view of your thong. He clicked his tongue at the sight of your spicy choice of underwear. “Almost like you had planned it all along.”

Shamelessly, so outrageously shameless, you drifted your legs further apart, making him snicker. 

“Well, did you?” He wandered, sliding your damped panties down your legs.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you since yesterday.” You breathed out, shivering at the breeze fanning your burning core. “I’ve never wanted something so bad.” Urged eyes glued directly to Anakin’s groin. 

Anakin grinned a triumphant smile. That could’ve easily been a lie, but he doubted it. He recognized a brat when he saw one. Holding your foot like it was a delicate piece of glass, Anakin set the nibbling starting point right on your ankle and followed a beeline straight to your weeping cunt. His hot breath made you shiver in anticipation, whimpering to show off your desperation in case this would reach his sensible side.

“When was the last time you had an orgasm before me, baby? Without doing it yourself?” He breathed, roaming his hands up your legs, the contact so rough and intimate  at the same time.

You hated that question, it embarrassed you. 

“Mmm… Uhh-” You thought out loud, mind going blank as Anakin’s smooches went higher up. “F-four months?” You hissed.

“You’ve been dating Luke for three.” He did the math in his head. 

Oh.

Your face turning in shame had his eyes widening.

It would be a lie if Anakin said that he wasn’t mad at his son for dragging the Skywalker name in the mud. For keeping such a needy thing like yourself restricted from gratification. With how sexual you were, four months were an eternity. Nonetheless, Anakin was a fixer and you were his next project.

“Desperate little thing, aren’t you? This slutty pussy can’t wait to have something inside of it. Anything.” Anakin mocked you, testing your sanity as he delayed contact with your core by redirecting his foreplay into the inner side of your thighs.

“That’s not true.” You fought with a trembling voice, observing how Anakin got closer and closer to delivering exactly what you wanted. “I only want you, d-”

The forbidden word. You almost spilled it.

“-sir.” You corrected in time, catching Anakin’s mocking glint. “Only you, please.”

Anakin’s face twisted in pleasure when his finger dived inside you, giving him a warm welcome, impossibly slick. You hugged his pumping digit tightly, getting even wetter at this fascinated expression. Anakin hadn’t felt such a lubricated canal in so long, his head almost exploded at the million possibilities with such an easy pussy: His cock would slide right in, be suffocated by your clenching walls just like his finger was... 

That had him dropping on his knees, starting to eat you out like he was starved. Just like you predicted. Nose deep, no hesitation to blow your slobbering cunt with abandon, moaning right on your core when he had the very first taste of your flavor. So sweet. Just like he predicted.

“Oh- oh!” You whimpered at the first clean lick he gave you, quivering like a virgin because it had been too long since someone showed you love there. 

Anakin’s tongue had the knowledge and patience none of the guys your age had. Every motion was so passionately delivered, so intentional. No rush, no fast lapping to get you off quickly. Anakin knew exactly what would have you shaking with pleasure and wasn’t scared to spend his time getting to know every hidden, sticky spot. In fact, it seemed like he enjoyed taking his sweet time with his face buried in your exposed core. 

It was the hottest shit you’d ever seen.

You were riled up by the precise technique with which he knew exactly how to pleasure your opening, sucking on your lips like they were the meal and not a measly pit stop. But what had you speechless, just at a loss of words, was the way he didn’t hesitate to dip his face into your heat with fervor. As he planted open mouth kisses to your slit, face fully covered by your juices, he only pulled back to spit on top of your clit and play with the liquid slob on top of your bundle of nerves. 

No grimaces, no disgust faces, just utter fascination by your reactions and your pussy.

“Such a sweet thing.” Anakin whispered, flattening his tongue and lapping over your mound. “Careful, I might not let you leave.”

Please don’t. You replied inside your head.

Anakin’s sounds of approval and delight made this whole experience even more sinful. Something about the idea of him enjoying cheating on his wife touched a nerve inside of you, something so wild and dangerous: You had another woman’s man in between your legs and he was enjoying being of service to you. You arched your back at the naughty thought, something Anakin didn’t appreciate because it moved you from the angle he had specifically situated you on; he had already discovered the spot that had your toes curling.

The power rush combined with Anakin's attention to your clit had a knot forming on your abdomen. Supporting yourself on your elbows, you looked down at Anakin’s work, not wanting to miss the scenario in front of you, in case you climaxed earlier than anticipated. But what you saw only pushed you closer to said ending. Anakin was playing with your clit like a cat with a toy, giving rapid licks that had your head spinning, while staggering eager sucks onto your nub. Anakin’s lips enveloped your clit with such care, only to roughly slurped on it, only backing down until he heard you whining. Or moaning his name. Whichever came first. 

“Anakin-” You bravely attempted to cry his name, unsure of his reaction. 

Anakin took the opportunity to analyze your flustered image, his gaze inevitably drawn to your falling cleavage, given that he was pulling down on the fabric by shouldering your legs. He could see the top of your boobs spilling from your undergarments and he dreamed of the looks of them. How perky they would be, how firm and squeezable they must be. Fantasizing about your young tits had him rolling his hips against the wooden leg of the table.

If Anakin locking your legs around his shoulders to dig deeper into your cunt wasn’t enough to have you convulsing, his tongue breaching into you and maneuvering it like it was actually fucking you, did.

“Anakin, I’m close- Oh,” You could barely hold yourself, deciding to lean limp against the hard surface, waiting for Anakin to sweep you off your feet with an outstanding orgasm. 

“That’s right, you’re gonna come on my tongue. How does that feel?” Anakin pushed, squeezing your ass and bringing your core over to him to devour. Like the certified slut you were, you rocked your hips against his face, relishing on the massage his nose inflicted on your most sensitive part. “Fucking your boyfriend’s dad face. This has to be a world record.”

Anakin stared at you over your mound, drinking the heavenly sight of your face contorting in ecstasy by his doing. Such a pretty, young thing, so slick and wet… coming undone by his tongue. And his tongue only. 

“Such a slut… my slut.” He degraded you with darkened eyes, amazed at how those words only had you trembling harder. “Only wanting to come on my tongue, by my cock. Isn’t that right?”

You nodded, taking the little spaces he gave you in between words to fight off the pending peak; you didn’t want this to be over. You needed more from him, you needed everything. 

“Y-yes!” You closed your eyes, preparing yourself for the familiar wave of satisfaction. 

“Yes, what?” Anakin teased.

Would you dare?

“Yes, daddy!” You screamed when your climax toppled you over. 

Anakin had the minimal kindness of not rubbing your choice of words on your face as you came over his fingers, dripping not only on his hand, but his table. This climax in particular had you weak; the aftershocks prolonged for more than you were used to and legs trembled as if you had just worked out. It could have been because you hadn’t had one in so long, or maybe because of his skillful tongue. Probably a combination of both. But truth be told, it was the best orgasm of your life. 

Even with dizzy eyes you could spot the bulge twitching inside his fitted pants. He had promised you just a little taste, but it was so unfair to leave him like that. Right?

Right?

Boosting yourself up, you directed your hand straight to his waistband, actively searching to fish his cock. 

“What are you doing?” Anakin questioned but did little to no effort to stop your wandering touch. 

You didn’t give an answer, instead lips pouted with a fixed stare, you let your actions speak for you. After unbuckling his belt, you loosened his pants, being faced with the opportunity of a lifetime. Anakin sucked his breath in when he saw your nails dipping under the elastic of his underwear, shaky exhales at the expectation of contact. You were unaware of it, you wouldn’t even believe it, but it had been a while for him too. Besides his own hand, he hadn’t known the touch of someone else in so long and Padmé didn’t even do the trick by now. 

So when Anakin saw your widened eyes as you scope up his erection from its confinements, he felt the same rush he used to savor with other conquests whenever Padmé and he were on a on-and-off break. But this was better, so much more electric. Your surprised gasp at his big cock elevated his ego to new highs. It just confirmed what he already knew: that you’ve dealing with stupid boys, when you deserved a real man. 

And Anakin was exactly that. 

His eagerness pushed you to envelope your hand around his shaft with more confidence, your fingers struggling to meet around it because of the delicious girth. Anakin let go as soon as he felt you tugging his length, crumbling on your shoulder, barely supporting himself on the edge of the table at each side of your hips. Being the big man he was, you didn’t expect Anakin to be so vocal during sex, but fuck were you wrong. Whimpers started to spill from his lips, landing right on your ear. It was the most exquisite sound you’ve heard. 

It was just so hot to have him completely surrender to you, to the will of your hand. Gladly, you pumped harder and faster, expecting to hear more of his inviting sounds. Having the upper hand encouraged you to try and lead the situation, turning his head by his chin with two fingers, sucking in his bottom lip as a first move before properly kissing him. Jacking him off while he still had his pants on, had you squeezing your thighs, the sight turning on a switch for you.

He followed your initiative and dipped his very own fingers to take care of you again. He would do it as many times as you needed, just for his own amusement. Closing his eyes, he sighed in content when his digits were fully installed inside of your warm walls. 

“That’s it, that’s the stuff.” He smiled into the words, making you cry even louder at the intrusion. He couldn’t stop praising you, he was too fascinated by you. “Always so wet for me. Fuck, yes. So wet and slick, ready to let me in. I adore this young pussy.”

You sobbed at the last words he pronounced, Anakin cracking a wicked grin. He was mesmerized by how unfiltered and vulgar your dark side turned out to be. Finally a worthy opponent.

Anakin and you worked on each other until you were both grazing the edge: sloppily kissing, moaning on each other's mouths and exchanging the same air by just how close you were. The scene replicated the rush and eagerness of a young couple who couldn’t keep their hands off each other’s pants. It was so intimate, yet distant at the same time.

Because he wasn’t technically fucking you his conscience weighted a bit less. Using that logic, Anakin found comfort that, as long as you two kept your shenanigans at hand stuff, there was no reason why he should be called a cheater. It was two people exchanging favors.

It was him shaking you off his system.

“A-Anakin, you make me feel so good. Please.” You squealed when he circled around your clit with his thumb as his thick fingers worked in and out of you. 

“Next time you touch yourself, you’ll think of these fingers, you’ll think of me.” Anakin grunted, flicking your nub without care. He relished on the little scream you let out.

Anakin felt the exciting clench when he inserted his third finger in, your contorted face tattling you anyway. That was good news, because he was close too. It was hard for him not to when you were looking like sin itself with your dress discarded at waist level, cheeks flushed and mouth hung open, begging to be fucked by his tongue. 

Anakin wanted to grip you, rip you apart, crush you under the weight of his desire. He needed to have all of you in order to move on, so the next half of his life was spent dreaming about the feeling of you, as an alternative of a lifetime simply wandering. And as much as he wanted to extend this moment forever, your constant spasms were threat enough to let him know release was right around the corner.

Gushing on him again, you felt your body going limp. Smiling to the ceiling, you thought about how Anakin had ended your miserable drought with two winning orgasms. It was so intense, you were actually ashamed of how many unholy sounds you squealed but it didn’t make sense why a simple hand job would feel so good.

Flipping onto your stomach at the speed light, Anakin needily pulled up the bottom of the dress until your ass was bare and exposed for him to fondle as he pleased, panting frantically. You didn’t even felt ashamed when he split you open; you offered yourself to him even more and he fucking loved it.

He fucking loved how shameless you were, how excited for his attention you got. A breath of fresh air, that was you. 

But right when Anakin was about to give into his darkest desires, right about to cross the line between wrong and utterly wrong, gripping the edges of the table while trembling as his cock sat an inch away from your entrance…

Just one little push and he would taste heaven.

Just one little thrust and he would know glory in the purest form. 

The debate raged inside of him, a bead of sweat falling from his temple. He was only torn away from his mental debate when your impatient orbs peep from over your shoulder. 

“Please.” You whined, shaking your ass to entice him. “P-please do it, daddy. I’m begging, I really am.” 

Knees weak, Anakin was about to cave.

Just one swing of his hips. Just one tiny buck-

Another whine came out of you, but a disappointing one, this time provoked by Anakin jacking himself off until he was covering your heart-shaped cheeks with the viscous liquid you desperately wanted to swallow. Holding your jaw so you would make eye contact with him, Anakin put two cum-covered fingers in front of you, almost spurting a second time when your eyes rolled at the back of your head at the taste. His jizz was as good as dessert, for fuck’s sake.

But things come to an end.

“This can’t ever be known.” Anakin finally picked himself up from behind you, buttoning his pants as he shook his head, clearing his throat. It felt like he was talking to himself,  “This- uhm, this never happened. Never happened...”

“But it did. And I liked it.” Not fixing your dress so he would be greeted by your perky nipples, you turned to face him. “In fact, I loved it. I kinda want more.” You tilted your head, eyeing his groin without a filter. “Don’t you want more, daddy?” You had found a weak link and Anakin was making absolutely no effort to hide the effects of the word on him. 

Of course he wanted more. He wanted everything. Especially when you were staring at him with those eyes, and that hair, and those tits- God, those firm, perky tits were getting to him.

The phone he had installed for inner communication inside the house rang. It was Padmé calling him to sleep, the noise from his workshop disturbing her dreams. A nerve-wracking feeling took over you as soon as the phone call ended, you evidently awaiting for his next statement. 

He would either stay or leave. As simply as that. 

In or out?

When Anakin took one bite of the pie as he fixed his eyes on you, you smirked as a mirror of his own smile. 

taglist : @darthgloris @ingrid69ers @shulipp @bookishnights03 @anakinswh0re419 @fuckmyskywalker@dxviiin @bby-imasociopath @adoringanakin @d0llfacehgwts@daddyissuesbabygirl

let me know if you wanna be tagged in the upcoming parts!

[chiaraanatra]

Intoxicating

∘₊✧────✧₊∘ ! 18+ MINORS DNI ! ∘₊✧───✧₊∘

Summary: Anakin just cant help himself.

Warnings: SMUT, dom!reader, sub!ani, mentions of male masturbation, panties (stealing, sniffing, used as gag), mild somno (kinda?[he steals your panties while your asleep]), hand job, mentions of fingering(f), overstimulation(m), orgasm control(?), scent kink(?), pet names (reader calls Ani baby, puppy & sweetheart). IDK what to tell you, Ani and reader are little perverts! No use of Y/N. (Let me know if I missed anything.)

Word Count: 1.2k

AN: Think of this as a belated May 4th gift! Apparently I think any character played by Hayden is just a panty thief. I'm not sorry. Thank you to my wonderful boyfriend for being the inspiration for this! Jay, your dirty dreams are truly an inspiration!

《 m.list || ao3 》

At what point do I just accept that sleep isn't going to happen...?

Anakin woke up next to you hard as a rock with a sheen of sweat covering his body. He wanted to just go back to sleep, he really did, but the only thought on his mind was how desperate he was to cum. How he needed to cum.

He tried to be discreet, palming himself through his boxers in an attempt to ease the harsh ache he felt while trying not to wake you. His eyes followed the streams of light coming through the curtains as they illuminated your peaceful form sleeping quietly next to him.

As if on cue, your body shifted and the sheets that once covered you now left you exposed. Anakin couldn't help but stare as the only thing covering you was a pair of cute cotton panties.

Of course, the thought crossed his mind. Maybe I could just... "Fuck..." He shook his head trying to shake the idea from his head. Little good that did.

Before he could register his movements, he slowly made his way closer to you. He didn't want to wake you just to appease his own perversions, but they were right there, squeezed against your plush hips, and he knew that your scent would send him straight over the edge.

He started to slowly ease the tight fabric off your body. He groaned when he noticed the patch of wetness left behind by your weeping pussy, the sight only causing his lust and need to grow. He continued to move the fabric over your hips, down the soft skin of your thighs, and over your pretty little legs and feet.

Finally, he had them.

Anakin wasted no time bringing the fabric to his face, inhaling deeply before moving his boxers down so he could stroke his cock.

Your scent was beyond intoxicating. No amount of alcohol or drugs could compare to the euphoria that your scent brought. Anakin could feel himself getting closer and closer, not only due to sheer sensory overload but also the perverseness of his actions.

His eyes were screwed shut feeling himself so close to reaching his peak. He was so overwhelmed that he didn't feel the bed shift under your weight as you moved. He only noticed your presence when he felt a soft hand touch his chest. His eyes shot open, a mixture of fear and embarrassment occupying his blown pupils. He was met with a devious little grin and utter delight plastered all over your face.

"You are such a little pervert. Stealing my panties to try and get yourself off..." Your voice was mocking and sultry, doing nothing to ease his embarrassment or how hard he still was. "Well... did it work?"

Anakin couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, still embarrassed he was only able to shake his head.

"Aww, do you need help baby?" Anakin could only nod, "Let me help you."

You moved to rest your back against the headboard and spread your legs. "Lay your back against my chest." Anakin sat between your legs, strong back pressed against your chest. Your hands roamed over his skin with feather-light touches. Gods, your touch made hell seem cold.

Anakin’s breath hitched when your hand finally made its way to his dripping cock. You started slow, painfully slow.

“Faster…” His request came out more as a groan.

“What was that, Ani?” you leaned closer to his ear, “You’re not in any position to be making demands, sweetheart. A pervert like you should be thankful for what I’m willing to give.”

“I’m sorry… I-I ju- mmph!”

You cut him off, shoving your panties in his mouth, “Gods! You are making so much noise, puppy.”

At that moment, all thoughts left Anakin as he was swallowed by pleasure. Muffled moans made their way past the fabric in his mouth. Even quieted, they sounded so desperate and needy. All Anakin wanted to do was cum, he could feel himself getting so close but not able to quite get himself to fall off the edge.

You could tell he was struggling, “Aww, you're trying so hard puppy...” Your mocking tone only made his eyes roll back as his head made contact with your shoulder. “I know what will help.” He could hear the mischief in your tone. What he didn’t notice was you reaching between you, running your fingers along your slit before fingering yourself, just enough to coat your digits with your wetness, knowing that it would push him right over the edge.

You held your glistening fingers up to Anakin’s nose. You smelled divine, so intense. “Open, puppy.” He did just that allowing you to remove your panties from his mouth before replacing the fabric with your fingers.

Anakin groaned at the taste of you in his mouth, you could feel his body tense and his cock twitching. You tasted so good, so sweet. Anakin wanted more but he was distracted by the waves of pleasure that enveloped my body and the familiar feeling of pressure build up.

You continued your brutal pace, fingering Anakin’s mouth with one hand while fucking his cock with the other. Only you got to see this side of Anakin and Gods, he was never prettier than when he was falling apart in your hands.

You kissed his neck, “You wanna cum for me, puppy?”

“Mmhmm” Anakin tried to reply, before giving you a small nod as he continued to run his tongue along your delicate fingers with fervent desperation.

You pressed one more kiss to his neck, “Cum.” As your simple command left your lips, you bit down hard on the juncture between Anakin’s neck and shoulder.

Anakin’s body tensed as his orgasm washed over him like a tidal wave, his cum spilling over your hand. You removed the hand that was in his mouth moving it to wrap partially around his throat. You angled him so you could continue to leave open mouth kisses and bites along his neck and shoulder.

The pace of the hand still on his cock slowed but you weren’t ready to stop yet, despite the soft protests that left Ani’s lips. “I can’t, I-I can't… Please I can't…” You two had a safe word for a reason, if he really wanted you to stop he would tell you. Till that word was spoken, You couldn’t help but overstimulate him just a little. Anything to hear those pretty little whimpers pass his beautiful lips.

Your torture came to an end eventually, much to Anakin’s dismay, though he would never admit it.

Anakin shifted his position so that you were no longer behind him. He watched as you moved off the bed to stand in front of him. “You did so good for me puppy,” his heart skipped at your praise and the smile that graced your features. “Why don’t we get cleaned up and get some more sleep?”

Before you could completely move away from him, Anakin gently grabbed your wrist. You looked back in confusion and worry, “What’s wrong Ani? Did I push you too hard?”

He shook his head, flushed cheeks and fucked out expression still present on his face. “Can… Can I have a kiss... Please?”

“Oh, of course, baby.” You leaned down pressing your lips against his. The kiss was soft and gentle with lips moving slowly in tandem with one another. You were the one to break the kiss, knowing Anakin would be content to kiss you like that for the next ten lifetimes at the very least. “Let’s get cleaned up and when we're back in bed, I’ll kiss every inch of that handsome face of yours.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

Taglist: @bimbo-baggins86 @daisydark @espinathena-17 @Ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[brrmian]

something that so many star wars fans somehow fail to realize is that george lucas always intended for the fall of the republic to be a completely unavoidable tragedy. that’s what makes it such brilliant storytelling.

placing the blame on just one party in the galaxy-wide farce that was the clone wars just isn’t interpreting the story the way its writer intended. neither is saying that all players should be held equally accountable. i don’t think the jedi were at fault for the state of the republic, and (despite the fact that he did horrible things) neither was anakin, on a galactic or governmental scale.

the real villain is palpatine, who shaped the government into a corrupt system by his own hand. the blame for turning a democratic republic into an authoritarian dictatorship (which it was long before it became the empire) under the noses of thousands of incredibly corrupt politicians must be placed entirely on him, and him alone.

by the end of the war, the jedi council recognized that they had already lost the ability to hold onto what it truly means to be a jedi. in their prime during the days of the old republic, the jedi knights were “the guardians of peace and justice.” they’re meant to as diplomats, peacekeepers, mediators, and public servants. when the clone wars began, they were essentially forced into being soldiers, generals, and quasi-politicians by palpatine and the senate. all of those things are antithetical to the jedi’s beliefs, but they had no other choice.

placing even the smallest bit of blame on the jedi for anything leading to the republic’s downfall—and their own—is not only unfair, it’s factually incorrect. the jedi order is a monastic organization. they have no say in the senate and no voting power. saying they’re corrupt, when in fact they were just as conned by palpatine as the rest of the galaxy, is victim-blaming and scapegoating.

palpatine shoved the jedi face first into fighting the war, and pretty much threw the clone army into their laps on top of that. the jedi had no say in the matter, and they certainly had no say in the war itself being started, either. because he controlled both sides, palpatine was able to make the CIS and the republic declare war on each other even though its citizens wanted the same outcome: political independence and survival. if not for palpatine’s schemes, the separatists would have been allowed to secede peacefully, the republic would have continued existing, and the war would have been completely avoided. but that was unfortunately not the case.

so in a galaxy thrown into an unavoidable war by its own secret dictator, with an army of sentient slaves suddenly at their command, and the risk of billions of deaths at the hands of the droid army imminently approaching, what do the galaxy’s official peacekeepers have no other choice but to do? be peacekeepers. why wouldn’t the sworn defenders of the galaxy be out on the battlefields trying to end the war? if they sat in the temple and did nothing, they simply wouldn’t be jedi.

the jedi were forced into a lose/lose situation. every religion and organization has faults, but that doesn’t place any blame on them for the catch-22 they were trapped into falling for. when the clone wars started—and the key point here is that it never should have in the first place—the jedi still needed to be jedi. unfortunately for them, that meant having positions of power not meant for them being thrust upon their shoulders. they couldn’t drop the burden, because that meant actively choosing not to save lives—but the other option, becoming soldiers despite the tenet of their beliefs that dictates they shouldn’t, was no better.

see what a cruel trap palpatine set? it’s like a fish being caught in a fisherman’s net. the net is spread out across the ocean floor, and the fish swim above it, not knowing that the trap is waiting to be drawn in around them from below. in the end, when the net starts to tighten, dragging them closer to the surface, they can’t swim fast enough to escape from the middle to the edge—and to safety—before the net is completely tied. it’s the cruelest kind of trap: the kind that gives you just the right amount of time to think you can escape while being sprung just quick enough to make actually escaping impossible.

in the end, the order actively chose to fight the war because they needed to. there was no other way to continue on as who they were. militarizing the order was not the right choice in a vacuum, but this was not that; this was a situation in which every galaxy-changing choice was the wrong one. the jedi knew they were making a decision that drew them farther away from their beliefs, but it was the lesser of an infinite list of evils, and they didn’t see the walls closing in on them until it was too late.

lucas himself has even said that the order was not corrupt or decaying from the inside, nor did they make a series of bad choices that ultimately led to their own destruction. they were always just trying to do the right thing—but unlike literally everything else in fiction, the jedi order’s death was completely unaffected by any of the choices they made. no matter what they did, they were always going to lose. the fall of the republic wasn’t caused by its defenders choosing what they saw as the least bad choice. it didn’t come down to any decisions, political or not, that the jedi council made with the limited tools that they had. it certainly didn’t come down to one emotionally unstable twenty-three-year-old’s slow descent into insanity, either. the republic and the jedi would still have been destroyed with or without anakin’s unhinged nervous breakdown.

anakin, just like the order, the republic, and the separatists, was taken advantage of by palpatine. even if a person’s choices are their own, they don’t exist in a vacuum.

anakin would have made better choices if not for palpatine, but he didn’t. the jedi order would have kept the peace if not for palpatine, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t. the republic, and democracy with it, would not have crumbled if not for palpatine. not the order, not anakin, not the separatists, and not the republic.

in the end, they were all just pawns in a decades-spanning plan, one that none of them saw coming until it was too late—and by then, it was already irreversible.

[catboydogma]

'til our hell is a good life

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 1 prompts, sol edition: no/different order 66, lightsaber/lightsaber training

notes: title from our hell by emily haines & the soft skeleton. i've been having a comically disastrous week/month (it's only the 4th? jesus christ) but god willing i will post for all 7 prompts (+ bonus anniversary prompt?). im not gonna lie i had to pop out the soju to finish this beast and i think that did set the tone for the rest of the week's writing. BETTER LATE THAN NEVER AMIRITE FELLAS

wc: 3,099

cross-posted to ao3

Obi-Wan supposed it might have all started because someone gave Cody a lightsaber. No, it had not been Obi-Wan, and even if it might have been, he knew to always cover his own ass. Qui-Gon had been an excellent teacher, for the most part, and there was one thing he had drilled into Obi-Wan above (almost) all else: never drop plausible deniability.

No, he’d no idea where the lightsaber had come from. No, Cody could keep it now. He wasn’t going to take the damn thing away from Cody when the good Commander had, evidently, come across it fair and square. Obi-Wan knew his Commander; it wasn’t like there was some fresh-faced thirteen year old Padawan wandering around somewhere sans ‘saber. If he had to take a stab at the quandary, he supposed it probably would have happened the time Cody’d dogpiled Grievous with the rest of his Command Corps. No, not that time. The time after that one, perhaps.

Regardless, there came a time when Cody’s tac belt had two lightsaber clips, not just one for when Obi-Wan strategically left his lightsaber in a secure place for safekeeping. The two of them never discussed the fact that Cody was likely Force sensitive. It didn’t seem something Cody was at all interested in; given the givens, Obi-Wan was predisposed to let him take the lead on the topic. Or not, as it happened.

But Obi-Wan couldn’t let that stop him in the face of something so egregious as this, even if Cody seemed determined to duck out of the conversation at every turn.

“I am not a Jedi, sir,” Cody told him for the fifth time that day. “I fail to see what tactical advantage there would be in meditating with a weapon.”

“It isn’t entirely a tactical advantage, per se,” Obi-Wan demurred. “But it can be. It’s difficult to articulate.” Especially when most resources for teaching lightsaber forms and meditations were meant for Initiates first starting out, or struggling Padawans; not outsiders to the Order, and certainly not ones that hadn’t grown up in the Temple. If they’d had the time—if not for this bloody war—Obi-Wan might have taken Cody to Jedha for insight. “Would you learn to fight with a particular blaster even when you haven’t familiarized yourself with its base components, or haven’t learnt how to disassemble and repair it?”

Cody frowned. It was a minute thing, barely a twitch of the corner of his mouth and a slight tilt of his head.

Aha. Obi-Wan pressed his advantage, absently touching Cody’s elbow to direct him around a group of techs as they walked through the halls of the Negotiator. “It’s the same for a lightsaber. The kyber—or heart of the lightsaber—is not just a power source; a strong connection between oneself and one’s kyber is paramount to maintaining a good working relationship with the lightsaber itself. And a good working relationship leads to better results in a fight; not just anyone can pick up any old lightsaber and start swinging it around and expect good results, you know. That’s why the black market money is mainly to be made in the raw kyber itself, not in the weapons.” Obi-Wan made eyebrows at Cody over this, who simply glared at him. Ah, well. A man had to find his fun somehow.

“You have me there, sir,” Cody sighed. He was graceful in his concession, at least. Unlike some others Obi-Wan could name upon learning that, yes, meditation with a new lightsaber was practically required…

“We can clear up an evening for it,” Obi-Wan said, magnanimous even in victory. As ever. “And perhaps I can show you what I mean, rather than trying to talk in circles around it.”

“But you do so love talking in circles around things, sir,” Cody said, dry as anything. Obi-Wan mimed shocked outrage at him, and they passed the next few hours in good humor.

“This can be done anywhere, really, but for your first time I thought to make it somewhat more formal,” Obi-Wan told Cody. He’d somewhere unearthed a spare meditation mat to set in between the cramped space between his ‘fresher and desk. Incense in a lump-shaped holder wafted smoke into the air; one of his last good joss sticks. But this was a special occasion. “Many Jedi like to do it in the salles, and many Consulars perfect it in the field.” There had been the especially memorable time during Obi-Wan’s own Padawanship in that nest of gilloms…

Cody inspected his new outfitting and seemed satisfied, though it was hard to tell. He sat on the mat with no complaints and suffered through Obi-Wan running a hand across his shoulders, then nudging Cody’s legs with his own into something more closely approximating a meditative pose.

“The floating is optional, then,” Cody remarked.

“Well, yes. It’s up to personal preference,” Obi-Wan told him, resolutely not letting his flush creep above the collar of his tunics. It was Obi-Wan’s personal preference, really, and usually something more commonly found in the creche than not. “You can hold your lightsaber, or set it in front of you, or in your lap. Many Jedi like to hold themselves in the Force with the lightsaber, hence why this is often accompanied by one’s lightsaber floating in front of oneself. For today, do whatever feels right to you.”

Cody nodded, then opted to hold his lightsaber loosely in his lap. After a moment of consideration, he mirrored Obi-Wan’s own pose: one hand folded atop the other in his lap, thumbs pressed to each other, lightsaber cradled in his palms and just under the arch of his thumbs.

Obi-Wan guided Cody through the preliminary steps of a light meditation, discarding many of the more Force-oriented aspects and focusing on the connecting to one’s lightsaber, on opening oneself up and letting the kyber reach out in turn. When he felt Cody slip deeper, into a state simultaneously more introspective and more concentrated on his lightsaber, Obi-Wan turned his own attention to his kyber.

The heart of a lightsaber could be a curious thing. This wasn’t all completely altruistic; Obi-Wan had left out the bit about also needing to meditate with his ‘saber, because then Cody might have given him one of those looks. But it was good to refamiliarize himself with his kyber, in a ritual both utterly familiar and yet somehow foreign. He just hadn’t done it in so long, or at least not as thoroughly as he might have liked. They had changed, the both of them. The war, Anakin’s Knighting, Obi-Wan’s own views of the galaxy at large and perspective of self… such was the nature of having a malleable brain and being subject to the rigors of time.

Some interminable time later, the soft beeping of a timer brought Obi-Wan up out of the depths of his meditation. He cracked his eyes open and took a moment to settle himself back down onto his mat, still feeling like a great river was still carving its way through his skull in vast, sweeping currents.

“Don’t give me that face,” was the first thing Cody said when he finally deigned to open his eyes.

Obi-Wan, caught mid-insufferable-smirk, quickly arranged his face into something with less smug. “I shall endeavor to do nothing of the sort. So?”

“I see what you mean,” Cody grudgingly allowed. He looked like he was still chewing something over, so Obi-Wan let him stew in silence while he packed up the remains of the incense and their mats. They shared a quiet dinner over formwork together, as well as a quick update sent to Mace when they dropped out of hyperspace to shift to another lane.

They continued to meditate together. Over time, not always with their lightsabers; Obi-Wan didn’t say anything about it, because a Commander Cody was—at times, very rarely—a creature easily spooked, and Obi-Wan had to be careful in his approach to certain things. But it was—good. To have someone else to share time and space together like this. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until it became a regularity in their schedules; oh, he meditated plenty with Ahsoka, when the 501st and 212th was berthed together or they were sharing missions, and sporadically with Anakin in these same instances, but it… was somewhat another thing, to come to look forward to meditation with another.

Now it wasn’t just Obi-Wan—by himself, in his silent quarters—but it was Cody-and-Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan was also realizing how much he had missed teaching. It wasn’t the same flavor of interaction as between a Master and Padawan, but Obi-Wan enjoyed that Cody was an excellent listener and genuinely enjoyed hearing Obi-Wan ramble on about whatever topic of the day it was. Or topic of the hour, as it sometimes happened. Not only that, but he was the most delightfully clever conversationalist—something that Obi-Wan had always known, at heart, yes, but was coming to explore more and more, as of late.

And then there was the other side of Cody’s learning how to wield a lightsaber.

“You’ve been holding out on me, darling.” Obi-Wan reset and swiped his hair out of his eyes with his shoulder, sweaty fringe just flopping right back over his brow. Of course. He needed a trim was what he needed, but first… he had this to sort.

“I bet you say that to all the men who try that shoulder lock on you.” Cody snorted and readjusted his grip with a quick twirl of his lightsaber. Obi-Wan felt something molten and shivery slide through him, because he had taught Cody that. He manfully ignored the quiet whisper in the back of his head that Cody’s fighting style, after this, would have the hallmark of Obi-Wan’s hands all over him.

The good Commander took Obi-Wan’s split second of distraction as his cue. Bastard. He’d probably been doing it on purpose. Obi-Wan very carefully ignored the frisson of feeling that thought gave him, focused on defense, and then, when Cody had settled into a rhythm, pressing the attack.

“Only you, my Commander,” Obi-Wan said warmly. He ducked under Cody’s guard when his step faltered at that little exchange and the quick twist of the wrist Obi-Wan gave his ‘saber, but didn’t quite press his advantage. This match wasn’t about beating Cody into the ground, though Obi-Wan had no doubt that his Commander would give him a run for his money even if that were the case; no, this was about teaching Cody, and drilling the muscle memory into him.

Cody had taken to lightsaber fighting like a quacta to slime. They’d rotated through each form, but Cody had returned to the first they had drilled for a strong foundation, and Obi-Wan had to say that it quite suited him. This variant of Shii-Cho focused more on lethality than disarming, something which might have given pause to the Jedi Obi-Wan of five years ago had been—but Obi-Wan of now couldn’t argue with results, if those results were what kept Ghost Company alive and well and the Sith from overtaking them. His Commander fought with a combination of focus and brutality, utterly utilitarian but almost elegant in its most efficient economy of motion. Obi-Wan found himself almost comparing Cody’s style to that of a Nabooan ballet dancer’s, famed for their relentless discipline and endurance.

The bout ended when Cody broke through Obi-Wan’s guard with a clever bit of bladework and bashed the crown of his head into Obi-Wan’s face, narrowly missing breaking his teeth in.

Obi-Wan laughed through the blinding pain—literally, his vision was still sprinkled with bright lights and strange afterimages—and said, lying on the floor, “I was right.”

Cody narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan, lightsaber—now off—imperiously leveled at Obi-Wan’s chest.

“You have gotten better, now that you’ve been meditating with it.”

So, yes. It might have started when Cody found that lightsaber—and held onto it—and learnt to wield it properly. Obi-Wan had a suspicion—well, he had a number of suspicions. This primary suspicion, however, was how it ended.

It was supposed to be a routine inspection; rote, trivial, something necessary but not a thing anyone truly looked forward to. But a gaggle—or perhaps drove—of senators had decided to invite themselves along, some kind of publicity stunt, Obi-Wan didn’t know. Usually Adi handled these sorts of things, or else one of the other PR- or legal-inclined Masters. Thus, of course, Chancellor Palpatine had to say some words at the landing pad—some inane drivel about whatever the hell sentiment Palpatine was using to drive through his bill of the week. Obi-Wan tried not to grimace too obviously at the thinly-veiled warmongering the Chancellor was using to drum up support and inclined his head toward his Commander, about to comment on the daring sartorial choices of one bold politician, when Cody tilted his head towards Obi-Wan and nearly knocked him on the temple.

“I didn’t know the Chancellor used to be a Jedi,” Cody said.

Obi-Wan’s comment died halfway up his throat. He blinked at Palpatine, then at Cody. “Pardon?”

Cody shifted infinitesimally backwards on his heels, allowing Obi-Wan a better view of where Palpatine stood on the other side of Cody, with Anakin flanking the Chancellor’s left.

“He’s got a lightsaber in one of those concealed carry holsters at his back,” Cody told him, eyes still forward, settled in a textbook-perfect parade rest. “I was.” His eyes shifted to Obi-Wan and then back forward in a rare—and unsettling—display of trepidation. “Doing a bit of meditation. As it were. Haven’t had the chance to get the ‘saber out in too long with all these… press tours. So I felt it. First.”

Obi-Wan gaped, forgetting all about the attendant senators and cam droids and the battalion of clone troopers at his back. There were… well, very few reasons he could think of to explain why Senator Palpatine, of all people, had a lightsaber. In a concealed carry holster meant to hide it away even from the eyes of Jedi, of all things. Because—“He most certainly is not, and never has been, a member of the Order,” Obi-Wan said. In fact, he had never been a part of any Force sensitive sect. In fact, Obi-Wan had it on good authority and as a matter of public record that the Chancellor was as Force sensitive as a brick.

Allegedly.

Well. This would either be very, very funny, or disastrous for all of them. Obi-Wan held out a hand and yanked, not letting himself think of any other outcome. A cylinder of cool metal slapped into his hand, stinging his palm and sending an unpleasant shock down his arm. If not for his long history of battling Sith, Obi-Wan might have dropped it on the spot for how it reeked of the Dark, now out from Palpatine’s immediate sphere of control.

Mas Amedda’s blathering stuttered to a halt. Obi-Wan stared at the hilt in his hand, then at Cody’s expression slack with surprise. He thought he knew what the color of the blade would be even before his thumb hit the switch; it was almost like a dream, or a barely-remembered dreg of an old nightmare.

A venomous scarlet light sprang forth.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “I suppose now you can say that Sith lords are our specialty.”

Palpatine shrieked something hysterical and reached out, fingers curling into hooked claws and expression contorting from that of a kindly grandfather into a spitting tyrant. Obi-Wan braced himself for something—he didn’t even know what—and—

Brilliant green light split the morning. Cody caught Palpatine’s chain of Dark lightning on his blade and bared his teeth in a fierce challenge. The stark shock on Palpatine’s face was almost enough to make Obi-Wan laugh. Instead—he leapt forward with his own lightsaber raised in a cross with Palpatine’s—cutting off whatever poison Palpatine had been about to spit at his Commander.

In the end, it came down to the timely and swift intervention of the Coruscant Guard. Anakin had been too busy torn between shouting at Obi-Wan that there must be some mistake, and being goaded by Palpatine into drawing on Cody. Palpatine kept trying to say something to Cody, or else to the nearest officer—Gregor, taking potshots at the Chancellor or else keeping the other senators away from harm—but every time, Obi-Wan or Cody drove him back to the edge of the landing pad and parried another round of lightning or dodged Force shoves.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Fox said to Cody, after, as the scene was taped off and various senators’ statements were taken. He’d shot Palpatine just under the heart, giving Cody the chance to take Palpatine’s head off. Obi-Wan would have been shiningly proud, except he was currently trying to keep his ribs from puncturing his lungs and steering Anakin away from going into histrionics.

“Er, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, tugging on the sleeve of Cody’s blood- and char-spattered greys. There was something very pressing he had to do, right before Mace got here, and his ribs were as supported as they were going to get until a medic got to see to him.

Cody turned, resplendent in his sweaty flush and still breathing hard. Fighting with him in a duel like that had been exhilarating; just as on the battlefield, they worked together like a well-oiled machine, and if not for the circumstances of it all, Obi-Wan would have been enjoying himself immensely.

“I’m tendering my resignation as an officer, effective immediately,” Obi-Wan told him, watching the way the Coruscant sun limned Cody’s tight curls from behind and gilded the edge of his cheek. With that out of the way, he fisted a hand in the front of Cody’s stiff uniform and pulled him down to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Quite a few troopers whooped at the sight; that was likely Gregor who was wolf whistling in a truly obnoxious manner.

“You had to do this in the most dramatic way possible,” Cody said, but he sounded fond, despite it all. He pulled back, cast a critical look at the way Obi-Wan was holding his ribs, then ducked back down for another—more chaste—kiss. “As long as you’ll take me with you when you go, my General.”

From just beside Obi-Wan, Anakin let out a sound previously only heard from gravely ill massiffs and tipped right over his breaking point.

[stealthetrees]

Shout out to the author of The Way of Conquest for being the funniest motherfucker on the planet. Din Djarin gets yeeted into the prequels, kills Palpatine and becomes chancellor, and still thinks he’s in the new republic. The Jedi think he’s from the distant past. Din congratulated Bail on finding a new planet. Everyone should read this fic.

[kenobisrightboot]

a love letter to cody: some fic recs

for a character that probably has less than an hour of actual screen time, this squatter lives in my head rent-free every day. fanon has done for his character what lorge gukas should've in the first place, crafting a guy packed with so much narrative and emotional potential for the wider sw universe that i regularly tear my hair out over the topic. i'll climb on my soapbox about that later, though.

so have this: a list of some solid cody-centric fics, organized roughly < wordcount-wise. fics are either complete, update regularly, or i'm hoping a boost of attention will encourage the writers. i plan to do a separate post dedicated to cody ships. if you want to find me on ao3 and rifle through my raw bookmarks, dm me.

eat up.

"Su Cuy'gar, Vod" by Triscribe. ~7k words, part of a series, rated ga. the clones get thrown back in time, and cody finds himself on melidaan

"these dry lands" by qigiined. ~10k words, rated t+. au, cody is trying to keep his little commander alive. features non-human obi-wan and qui-gon. this author has a lot of great non-human au fics that feature tons of humorous whump and well-written disabled characters

"glory be" by never_going_home. ~15k words, rated ga. time-travel, but sideways and back - disabled characters and interesting force shenanigans. (send this author some encouragement! ^^)

"Gold Leader" by TheShinyLizard, wanderingjedihistorian (RangerJedi67). ~15k words. cody's quest to find obiwan, post order 66

"The Force of My Love" by Quarra. ~20k words, rated m. eldritch clones, need i say more. crack treated seriously

"little warrior (be careful who you trust)" by TheGodWith5Yen. ~25k words, rated t+. desert husbands healing from trauma together

"keep" by TallNegotiations (dionova). ~30k words, rated t+. angry, angry cody. whump. what makes a human?

"Spring Thaw" by handdrawnisopach, SniperAnon (The_Big_Reveal). ~40k words, rated t+. obiwan is a recovering sleeper agent, and cody and alpha-17 take care of him

[ceruleanvermillion]

Do the jedi have like. the star wars equivalent of sword dances? I mean lightsaber fights already look like dances, but like what about the ones that are actually intended to be dances? like imagine dancing with a lightsaber- that would be sooo pretty to look at. I imagine that obi-wan isn't like super good or an expert or anything, but there's a couple that he knows and loves and does really well, especially when he's on his own. Qui-gon was really good at many and taught him to do them and it stuck, and on those nights he was grieving he just dances listening to the force. Nobody dances quite like obi-wan, though. Like he doesn't know a lot of dances but he's really really good on the ones he does know, and plus points to the fact that obi-wan is probably also musically inclined.

Anakin is really good, too, like qui-gon, he caught it much more easily than obi-wan did. It probably started out as him accidentally seeing obi-wan do it when he was younger, and then trying to emulate and failing lmao, and then it became like, and alternative way of meditating for Anakin? like at some point Obi-wan realized that dance could totally work as a way of moving meditation and decided to teach anakin himself and enroll him in classes, and I think anakin would really get into it especially during the war. Padme would like it, she has an eye for stuff like this so sometimes she helps point out details to anakin.

Ahsoka learns from anakin because anakin is definitely the type to add sword dance into ahsoka's curiculum, but he prefers teaching her himself because he just so happens to be really good at it. Ahsoka would like it! like she's not as into it as anakin is but sometimes she practices when there's a lot on her mind or like, when she wants to show the clones what she learned. oh, the clones would absolutely enjoy watching ahsoka dance, and ahsoka would totally convince anakin to do it with her. Sometimes they'd convince obi wan. When she leaves the order she still practices, it's her way of staying connected even though she'd never come to realize it herself. And when (if?) the whole oder 66 thing happens, the sword dance is one of the few jedi culture bits that not many outside of the order knows, and she preserves it.

I like to think that she'll teach luke, one day. like maybe directly, or maybe she'll leave him a set of holo-recordings that he finds, and then luke would try to emulate and learn, and because he's Padme's and Anakin's son, he'd catch on and learn quickly. It won't be a perfect imitation, so Luke just uses his gut (the force) and adds new bits into the missing portions of the dance. He'd teach leia too, like leia is not super interested as luke is, but this specific aspect is actually super fascinating to her, so maybe she'll learn a bit, while also assisting him in doing some research about it. It surprised her how it helps her clear her mind.

[thesassypadawan]

Behave *part 1* (Burnt Darth Vader x FemPetReader)

Summary: All Lord Vader demanded of you was to behave. Which you’re happily obeying until a certain someone decides to use the force on you. Better not act up, unless you wish to anger him.

Warnings: 18+ (minors dni), because all the lovely smut. Somewhat public fingerplay, misuse of the force, Dom Lord, Sub Reader…and Vader’s magical force fingers.

Note: Hope you lovelies also enjoy Breed *part 2*! ❤️

- “Behave yourself, pet, and perhaps I will reward you.”

- Lord Vader’s demand was simple, one that you are happily obeying as you sit by his side. On the floor, next to the throne. Arms draping over one of his long legs, your head resting atop his muscular thigh.

- You’ve lost count of the number of people who have come and gone. Paying little attention to them and the words they spoke. Only focusing on your lord’s warmth beneath you, his gloved fingers absent-mindedly running through your hair.

- Just as you begin to drift off to the sound of his rhythmic breathing, you feel invisible fingers trailing down your sides. A phantom hand cupping and squeezing your ass firmly. Causing you to jolt slightly, holding back the urge to gasp.

- You stifle the small moan wanting to escape as they brush against your bare cunt. Breath hitching when the sensation rubs back and forth. Slick gathering between your legs. So grateful for your somewhat concealing loincloth.

- Tilting your head, you steal a glance at Vader. His masked face remains set forward while they ghost over your now throbbing clit. Your hips shifting awkwardly.

- ‘What is it, pet?’ His deep voice fills your head, a note of dark amusement in his tone. ‘I sense that you are uncomfortable.’

- At his words, you feel the invisible fingers slip into your needy pussy. Steadily pumping, forcing you to bite your lip harshly.

- ‘Are you misbehaving?’ He mocks, curling them within your depths. Hitting you in that wonderful spot again and again.

- Weakly you shake your head in response. Your mind grows fuzzy, the pleasure consuming you more. As he uses the force to toy with your clit, to seemingly add another into your already overly stretched cunt.

- Leaning heavily against him, you bury your face into his thigh. Tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your nails digging into his flesh. Trying desperately to time your mewls with his mechanical breaths. Praying the sound would help cover them.

- A large, real, hand comes to rest on the small of your back. Drawing soothing circles on your skin. ‘Clever girl.’

- The coil in your stomach is unbearably tight. The waves of ecstasy threaten to crash over you. You’re holding strong, but just barely.

- ‘But not quite enough.’ A growl echoes throughout your mind, followed by what felt like teeth grazing your sensitive nub.

- You can no longer fight it. Electricity shoots down your spine. Blinding heat engulfs your entire body. Your tiny voice finally cries out in pure, raw bliss. You’ve come completely undone.

- The realization of it all sets in and the hot tears now flow freely. You misbehaved; you went against your lord’s demand.

- Aside from his steady breathing, the room fell painfully silent. Broken only when his low voice rumbles out a dismissal to whomever he was speaking with. “That will be all.”

- Too frightened to even move. Your mind fills with dozens of dreadful thoughts of what will happen next…of how he will punish you.

- A phantom hand wraps loosely around your neck, squeezing your throat surprisingly gently. “Pet,” he says coldly. “I wish to speak with you in my chambers…immediately.”

- Rising from his throne, you follow suite. The same phantom hand pulling you to your unsteady feet. “Yes, my lord,” you whimper, trying to regain some balance.

- “We have much to discuss.”

- Without another word, he marches off. You wobbling after, head down as always. A very evident wet spot left glistening on the floor where you had obediently sat.

[granolawriting]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ First time with Anakin (18+) ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: another simple rework of some old work I had lying around, enjoy ;)! And if you like it, make sure to drop a request in my inbox if you have an idea of what I could write next :)

┆ ┆ ┆ ┆⋆

It took a very long time for Anakin to be comfortable being even remotely intimate with you. not because of you of course, but due to his own transgressions. He never really liked being touched in general, mostly due to his own reservations and fear of the ‘Jedi code’, but as you two grew closer as a couple his walls very slowly fell, and he abandoned such code of ethics. 

it was subtle at first, but even the slightest bit of deviation in his usual level of touch threw him completely off his focus. showing a much softer side of him when you did so. hand holding was a big one, for at least a month every time you’d hold his hand to even cross a street, you would be faced with a blushed man with a head turned from yours to hide such a flustered reaction.

though, that was a catalyst for more intimacy between the two of you to be allowed. And once you mustered up to courage to kiss him it went all downhill from there

he wouldn’t say it, God no he wouldn’t, but he craved you. the taste of your lips, the heat of your body against his if only for a second, was one he couldn’t shake from his mind. He even confided in his master about it. and of course, in return, he offered helpful romantic advice that he very blissfully ignored. mumbling on about how a Jedi of his stature doesn’t have the means to waste with silly feelings such as those.. that he should just brush it off.

 though of course, he couldn’t do that. Especially with you. and soon it became apparent to you as well the insatiable desire that slowly overtook him. feeling him gaze at you when he thought you weren’t looking, only for him to catch himself and blush, straightening his posture and looking the other way as he fiddled with his hair and clothes.

 there’s no doubt you wanted him too. He was adorable in that sense, always trying so hard to be mysterious. but if you just watched him you saw how quickly he was to falter. you knew how soft his true demeanor was.

so of course, taking all of that into account one night you took it upon yourself to visit him. letting him know you were there before letting yourself in.

 He was sat on his bed, eyes slightly red and adorning his pajamas, which simply consisted of black pants during the hotter months. He looked up at you, eyes filled with subtle curiosity given that you usually aren’t one to visit him so late at night. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him. you knew what you came there to do, but now that you were confronted with it you froze for a moment.

NSFW

but as you gaze into his eyes, watching his face soften as he looks at you, seeing his love for you painted all over his face as he stares back at you, you go in for a kiss. all you went there to do was kiss him, but that quickly became the least of the things you two were to do that night. As your lips met his, his eyes widened in a mix of shock and excitement. quickly, he lifted his hands to keep your face next to his, feeling the cool touch of his fingers contrast the flustered warmth of your cheek. You were surprised by his advances, but you soon began to deepen the kiss, placing your hands on either side of the bed next to him to better stabilize yourself in front of him. As the kiss you initiated turned into something deeper, hearing low moans escape his lips between each breath, you moved your legs to straddle his.

In doing so you made yourself completely surround him, and not a few moments later did he softly fall back onto his bed to allow you to crawl on top of him. you both were getting very heated, but you could tell it could go much farther very quickly. you let up from his lips, a whimper quietly leaving his mouth as he looks at you in confusion. You ask for his full consent before continuing to do anything more, wanting to respect his comfort zone regarding intimacy. though to your shock, he consents, eyes almost piercing with desire as he holds your face. 

simply, but fiercely stating that he “wants, no needs all of you”.

That was enough for you, way more than enough. you went all in.

You began softly, passionately kissing his neck and chest as you felt his hands run through your hair. whenever you were to hit a slightly more sensitive place, you could feel him subconsciously tug on your hair just a little harder, though you’re not one to complain. As soon as you reached his pants, you met with his eyes again. Reassuring with him that you were allowed to continue. and with the look you saw in his eyes, it seemed more than anything as if he was begging for it. you slowly slid down his pants, boxers included, to reveal his cock. It was obvious he wasn't one to explore its pleasures himself, because at the mere feeling of its sensitive state clash with the cool breeze flowing into the room was enough to make him squirm. You took this into account before you began to toy with it a little. softly stroking it as you held a few of his fingers, feeling him quickly grip onto you following a low moan anytime you hit a weak spot.

After some time of gentle teasing, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. you were obsessed with his sound, with his taste, with how he looked as you played with him. you slowly crawl on top of him again, stripping yourself of your clothes as you stay straddled over his stomach. you saw his eyes follow you in desire, hands spazzing slightly at his sides, not knowing where to hold you.

You place yourself over his cock, gently asking him if you’re allowed to go further. his eyes widened once again in shock at the implications of what you were about to do, but he nodded his head slightly so you could finally begin to pleasure the both of you again. you slowly slid down on him, watching an overwhelming amount of pleasure overtake his face as you went deeper. his hands instinctively grip you by the waist, begging for you to grind on him as you sit on him.

so of course, you oblige. softly moving your hips back and forth on his cock, feeling his hands grip around your waist tight as they beg you to go faster. the room filled with low moans and groans coming from him and you. You try very hard to keep the same pace the whole time, but as he becomes more needy for you, and, as you get closer to finishing, you couldn’t control yourself.

By the end, you were still grinding at a moderate pace, but Anakin's grunting and movements, in general, became more needy. more whines start to escape him as he's essentially moving your hips back and forth. thrusting up into you with his cock to the best of his abilities. not too soon later, he asks you to get off. Finishing on his stomach in a sound of moans and whines that only needed a few strokes to make him cum. 

as realization began to hit the both of you, you just lay in shock. out of breath from your first time, sore all over. All you can do is wriggle up to meet his height on the bed and hold him. you both are completely exhausted, so after he cleans up a little with whatever he had lying around at arm's length, he reciprocates the embrace. softly holding you as you drifted into sleep. quietly thanking you as he stroked your hair. He felt loved.

[turkicartist]

not my proudest drawing but honestly i tried so i am happy xd i love drawing kanan!!

he is such a joy but i heavily fucked up on the face.

[jedi-enthusiast]

My [completed] CodyWan Fic Masterlist

This is going to be a very long list of all my favorite CodyWan fics that are completed. Later on today or tomorrow I'll make another list for all of the CodyWan fics I enjoy that are currently ongoing/incomplete (because we, in fandom, need to start supporting authors during the writing process instead of only after, but that's a whole other post).

The fics are gonna be separated by Modern AU, Canon-Divergent/Canon-ish, Crack, and Canon But a Little to the Left. Full Disclaimer: this is going to be a very long list, so the triggers and descriptions will be brief--make sure you read the tags and warnings before reading!

I don't know who these authors are on tumblr, so I can't tag them, but I recommend that you guys tag them if you recognize them--because they deserve all the love <3 and I think, especially now, we need to let fic authors know that we appreciate them.

Modern AU

212th Street Coffee by thosewhowanderwithfire 

Cody runs a coffee shop, Obi-Wan comes in frequently with a different members of his friends/family and Cody learns a lot about his crazy life by eavesdropping.

bury me beneath the tree i climbed when i was a child by stormwarnings 

Obi-Wan's family life is messy, to say the least. Cody and his family work as firefighters/EMTs/etc. and Obi-Wan kinda just gets adopted into the family by constantly needing to call the firefighters/EMTs/etc.

Coruscant Story by TyeDyeBoogers

A mafia AU thing where Obi-Wan and Cody are both in different mafia families, but then they date each other pretending to be regular normal people (bc neither of them know they're in the mafia, much less different families), and then a bunch of stuff happens and drama ensues.

TW: Murder, Violence

cradle my name on your tongue by jynx 

Running from an abusive ex, Obi-Wan and Anakin move to a small town where they set up their tattoo and piercing shop. Obi-Wan quickly falls for Cody, the florist across the street, but bad things happen when Obi-Wan's ex just won't give up.

TW: Violence, Abusive Relationship, Drugging, Attempted SA (this doesn't go into detail, but it's still there)

Foreign Affairs by ro_moray 

Obi-Wan and Anakin come to America as foreign ambassadors, Cody is one of their bodyguards. Both Obi-Wan and Cody fall head over heels quickly, and there's some political drama via Maul.

TW: Violence (I think?)

Hey Bartender by Wxlves 

Obi-Wan and Cody both work as bartenders at Dex's, they become FWB, and feelings ensue.

I've Served My Time In Hell by TheSleepingOne (SleepingNebula) 

There's a zombie apocalypse going on and Obi-Wan is repeatedly fucked over by the universe in the form of being forced to spend time around his ex, Cody, and Cody's very protective family.

TW: Violence, Gore

Liminal Beings by ChubbstheFish 

Cody is the lighthouse keeper in a small town with his family. Obi-Wan and his family move into said small town and become close with Cody's family, but it quickly becomes clear that Obi-Wan and his family aren't exactly what they seem--aka human.

Not Denial by spqr 

Obi-Wan is a PI and Cody is the sorry moron who falls head over heels for him after meeting him exactly once.

TW: Violence

Seeker Prospector by brigitttt

Cody is a bounty hunter looking for his father, Obi-Wan is just trying to study dinosaur bones. The two meet, fuck, and then catch feelings.

TW: Violence, Mild Gore (I think)

We’ll Do This Together by MageOfCole 

Obi-Wan and Cody have a one night stand and Cody accidentally gets Obi-Wan pregnant (of the trans variety, not the a/b/o variety). Obi-Wan tries to hide this from Cody and his family, but Obi-Wan's family doesn't know how to mind their own business. Family hijinks ensue.

What…a sleep over? by Wixiany

Cody's family decides to host a party, but he needs to study, so he heads over to Anakin's brother's house to get some peace and quiet. He wasn't ready for how pretty Obi-Wan was.

You Gave Me the World that I Wanted by Legogirl22 

Cody has to take care of his family, so he swears up and down that he won't fall for the cute bookkeeper he keeps seeing. He fails. Miserably.

Canon Divergent/Canon-ish

A Ghost or a Man by smallandangry 

Obi-Wan makes a life for himself on Tatooine, eventually Cody finds him, and the locals get attached to both.

A New Life by cwiptids 

Rex and Echo hear about a clone on Tatooine...guess who they meet and take another guess as to who they're married to.

end of the road by adiduck (book_people)

Obi-Wan and Cody spar before Utapau and make unfulfilled promises.

Glimpse Of Us by fingerstripesofchaos 

Post-Order 66 angst fic, just like...loads of angst. This is not a happy fic at all, it made me cry.

TW: Suicide Mention/Reference

Haven’t Felt Like This My Dear by Bluebellstar

Cody gets a hangover and is a total baby about it, Obi-Wan is very amused.

little white truths by imperiousphasmid 

Obi-Wan gets injured and only family and spouse(s) are allowed to see him...I think you know where this is going.

Made by Walking by piotsa  

After Order 66, Quinlan finds Cody and then Cody finds Obi-Wan.

not dead yet by keylimemagpie (QuickSilverFox3)

✨ smut with emotions ✨

Our children our future (that we didn’t know of) by Feniksiara   

After Order-66 Cody finds out that the Kaminoans decided to use Obi-Wan and Cody's DNA to make Force-sensitive clones...then the Mandalorian dad genes kick in.

Standard Operating Procedures by galateaGalvanized

A mission goes wrong and suddenly almost the entire 212th is in love with Obi-Wan...except, it appears, Cody. Y'all know exactly where this is going.

all the world in my arms by biscuityskies 

Obi-Wan has nightmares after Kadavo, then shit goes to hell on a mission, and Cody worries--also Anakin and biscuityskies' OC Hex are little shits.

where the fields are painted gold by biscuityskies

The 212th end up crashing in the forest, so Obi-Wan and Cody get some "camping out in the forest" cuddles and also banter.

night spar by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody spar at night, and there is a lot of tension. Not of the fun kind, though.

chain of command by cabezadeperro (minigami) 

Obi-Wan and Cody are undercover and eventually have to find some way to keep the people tracking them from finding them. If you've watched Marvel, you know where this is going.

In the Treetops by ebw_writes499 

After a mission on Kashyyyk everyone needs to go to bed, which they do...all the way up in the trees.

Caretaker by ebw_writes499 

On Tatooine, Cody gets sick and Obi-Wan has to take care of him. Obi-Wan is a worrier.

Love Despite the Distance by ebw_writes499 

After the war, Cody and Rex comm each other to catch up. Also Cody became a senator against his will.

Overworked by ebw_writes499 

Obi-Wan and Cody both had the same idea and that idea was "sneak off to take a nap."

Compartment Syndrome by elwenyere 

After a bad crash, Obi-Wan is knocked out and Cody is injured. Cody carries Obi-Wan through all the danger while reminiscing, certain that he'll be decommissioned after due to his injury.

TW: Mild Gore? (of the "description of injury" variety)

Good Soldiers by elwenyere 

A story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the War and after Order 66, with a happy ending.

Don’t Worry It's A Very High Threadcount by goldleaf1066 

Obi-Wan uses a blanket to warm up instead of Cody and Cody is very fussy about it. It gets a little angsty near the end, but things end good.

And Our Faces Toward the Sun by goldleaf1066 

The War ends and Cody and Obi-Wan share a kiss.

I'll Bend Your Light Around Me (A Sunrise At My Back) by goldleaf1066   

A sweet little story about Obi-Wan and Cody throughout the war, with a happy ending!

Stepping In, Stepping Out by goldleaf1066   

Cody and Obi-Wan take turns covering for each other when they oversleep.

With Both Our Hands Around It by goldleaf1066

Obi-Wan and Cody discuss their relationship while also participating in some extracurricular activities.

Crack Fics

Compulsive Honesty by afoundling 

Cody, Obi-Wan, and some of the 212th get dosed with truth serum and just have to let it run its course.

Fools and Idiots by BehindBrokenWindows 

Somehow everyone gets it in their heads that Obi-Wan and Padme are fucking, and Anakin is not happy when he finds out. We all know who he's really fucking.

Operation “who’s kriffing the General” by Sweet_bubbs 

Everyone finds out that Obi-Wan is in a relationship with someone, but they don't know who--but boy do they want to find out.

Resignation in more than one sense by BitterChocolateStars   

Obi-Wan tries to resign, Mace is a little shit (affectionate) and says no, and hijinks ensue.

Time to Celebrate by Kurosaki224   

Kurosaki's OC just wants to talk to his superiors after the war and ends up seeing a lot more than he wants to.

Rex finds out by The_neurodivergent_nerd   

Exactly what it sounds like.

The Trickster by The_neurodivergent_nerd  

A long dead Sith lord has a great sense of humor.

Canon But a Little to the Left

closed together by numbika 

Obi-Wan is blind AU where Obi-Wan and Cody get stuck in an elevator together.

I Got My Head Checked by frostbitebakery   

Sith Obi-Wan AU where Cody falls in love with Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan changes the course of the War because Cody and his brothers make him realize he still has his heart.

TW: Violence, Self Harm (of the "making a sith" variety)

Marriage in Disguise by bjjones   

Oops! Looks like to make peace with Mandalore, the Jedi will just have to send Obi-Wan to get married to Cody, son of Manda'lor Jango Fett. They totally weren't dating before this.

We’ll Meet Again by little_dumpling

Obi-Wan doesn't become a Jedi Knight and instead works in the MediCorps and becomes a doctor, then he ends up meeting Cody on Geonosis.

TW: Medical Gore (I think?)

What came after by galateaGalvanized  http://archiveofourown.org/works/29595831 

Obi-Wan has gone full Sith and is on Mandalore, Cody and the 212th go to get their general.

[kometqh]

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Captain Rex X F!Reader You aren't special. You don't have any form of magical connection to the force. So why then, are you constantly plagued by vision-like nightmares straight from the pits of Mustafar? Word Count: 4,632 Warnings: Minor swearing, minor cut to thumb, concussion, horror, mention of character death, feelings. A/N: This took so long to write when I have to spend my evenings stressing at work T_T but its here and its out, even tho no one asked for it lol. I'm quite happy with this one, it's a mix of a few different genres (?) and I'm happy with how it came out <33 hopefully whoever reads it will enjoy it just as much <33

Pure, blinding light ignited the hallways in a sterile white glow until you could almost taste the smell of disinfectant on the tip of your tongue. Distant whirring and humming of machinery filled the inside of the building, drowning out the raging storm outside. You had no kriffing clue where you were.

In a flash, the lights blacked out, one by one, until the hallway was swallowed in a momentary darkness. Your eyesight had a hard time adjusting, as the power promptly came back on, and once again you were blindsided.

Although the hallways were barren of any life, your gut churned. Anything and anyone could be lurking about, deep in the shadows where no artificial light could reach. Just like in the deep ocean, creatures lurked. They peered from below, anticipating the right moment where they could strike. Like an innocent, disoriented animal, maybe you were being carefully observed by some predator of a higher strength and intelligence. Maybe they were watching through a camera or watching you from behind the glass.

As thunder roared wildly, a loud creak travelled through the walls, all the lights in the room flickering out with a crackle.

You waited a moment, observing the ceiling expectantly. A small spark crackled from one lamp. But nothing. The power was dead.

Your gaze moved to watch the glass, the waves crashing against it with a vile ferocity, blanketing the facility you found yourself in, in further, deeper darkness. Droplets of water hung onto the glass, racing downwards with the pull of gravity, similarly to bleeding paint on a canvas.

Your body was stuck in a state of distress, and you wondered how you even got to this place. The last thing you remembered was laying in your cozy, warm, queen-sized bed, enjoying the absurdity of some comedy-based holofilm.

The last thing you expected was to find yourself standing in an unknown, bleach-scented, derelict, straight-out-of-a-horror hallway.

As the waves continued to claw at the windows, a shiver ran down your spine. A sudden coldness enveloped you, icy shadows embracing your body.

Anything could be lurking within the darkness, waiting, inching closer, anticipating.

As your vision adjusted to the darkness, you noticed something.

Your reflection moved, but you didn’t.

You blinked furiously, leaning forward and hoping that if you squinted hard enough, your eyesight would adapt to the darkness faster. Your arms wrapped around yourself, providing some warmth amidst the freezing air of the facility.

You could almost feel frost settling in your lungs.

For a split second, you wondered if this is what it felt like. If sheer cold and anxiety embraced one moments before death.

Something moved. Again.

A flash of clarity struck through you. This had to be a really, really shitty dream, you realised.

There was no possible explanation other than this being a nightmare. An overly, awfully vivid nightmare.

But there was a dull ache crackling in your fingertips, and it settled deep within your knuckles and bones as you tightened your grip on your arms, on something.

Something cold. Something hard. Something almost… Metallic.

Your subconscious seemed to clock the nature of the object before your conscious mind could.

You grazed your thumb across the object, feeling for that familiar ridge. You counted six, perfectly equal elevations. Your thumb trailed higher, feeling for the gradual thinning out of the instrument. Until the pain registered in your mind, and a warm sensation enveloped the delicate pad of your thumb in a pooling droplet of blood.

A… Scalpel.

Bile teased at your throat, burning and scratching its’ way up, yearning to see the surface. You quickly averted your gaze, the tool dropping to the floor with a hollow clank.

This felt too real to just be another shitty nightmare.

As you glanced into the window again, you caught a glimpse of a shift in the shadows. It was slight, so subtle you were convinced it was just your imagination playing up again.

Suddenly, you felt movement.

At first, it felt like a shiver on a cool spring morning. Almost as though it was nothing to fret over, something you could insist would pass. But then you felt the unmistakable sting of sharp claws digging into your waist, and the panic settled in. You weren’t alone.

Foreign limbs strangled around your body, suppressing your chortled scream with a hand, pulling you deep into the shadows of the facility. Your vision was slowly blocked, until you could only see a fine line ahead of you.

Your hands clawed at the thin air before you, begging to latch to any foreign surface that could save you from the darkness, and pull you back into the light.

Thunder roared and lightning cracked, igniting the room in a blinding white glow for a split moment, your screams suppressed as your eyes landed on the reflection in the glass.

Your arms fell limply to your sides, the veins in your sclera’s a stressed, bulging red.

A body.

Your eyes fluttered open in a hurry. Your lips were gaping in a silent scream, beads of sweat trickling down the side of your temple. Blood pulsed loudly in your head, almost hurting as you brushed the sweat away.

An involuntary, guttural groan escaped your chest as you crawled backwards in your bed, your hand frantically searching behind you for your bedside light as your gaze never strayed from the space before you.

Whatever that thing was, it was following you. It could be anywhere. It could be hiding in plain sight, and you wouldn’t know it until the lights were on-

The familiar click and the spread of a warm amber glow illuminating your room eased your senses, your fingers lingering on the switch. It took a moment to register what just happened.

You were safe. There was no creature. There was no body.

You took in a deep, shaky breath and hid your face away into the safety of your palms.

It was that dream, again.

Ever since you left med school on Coruscant, your mind has been plagued by these nightmares. Each time they increased in their intensity, in their detail, in their vividness.

Your heart rattled against your ribcage, and your mind raced at thousand miles per hour.

What the fuck…?

This couldn’t be normal, you thought as you slowly settled, your body drenched in cold sweat. Those weren’t just silly images conjured up by your mind.

There was something else at play.

You shook your head as you leaned back against the headboard, looking down at your palms. Shadows hung over them, deepening the scars and creases.

Those nightmares… They meant something.

You weren’t quite sure what they meant, yet, but you were determined.

You’d find out, someday.

But for now, you needed to catch some Z’s, after all, tomorrow was your first assignment.

Blaster fire and pained howls of men coddled your brain like a swarm of wasps.

You couldn’t catch a break. It was constant analysing, bandaging and praying as one soldier after the other were hit with plasma bullets, their agonised screams and cracking of bones and barely contained groans playing in a loop like a broken record.

Heat from explosions blew charred smoke in your face, drenching your skin in more sweat with each passing second. Your hands were painted with ash and dried dirt. No amount of disinfectant was adequate enough to sanitise at a faster rate than the one of injured men coming to you.

You were more of a surgeon than a field medic, but a shortage of medical staff in an already politically unstable Republic was not something you could fight against. You had no choice.

Sure, the GAR could afford to train their own medical personnel, or even better, invest in droids, but the hostility between its soldiers and the mech wasn’t something that could be easily treated.

Either way, you were a surgeon stuck amidst a raging invasion and piling injuries and corpses.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked as you scanned him over, brows furrowed, lips narrowed into a tight line. At this rate you were simply following a script, offering a false sense of comfort to the injured.

“R- Rex. The name’s Rex.” He coughed out, groaning as you gripped his shoulder. Or well, his pauldron. The metal beneath had been grazed with a bullet, cracking under the initial impact.

“Rex?” You mused, testing it out before removing his armour to quickly assess his shoulder for any injuries. Your fingers quickly found your scissors and got to work in cutting some of the black undershirt he wore. “That’s a pretty name, for a pretty soldier.” You joked, sending him a quick wink and your prettiest smile.

You gave him no chance to reply as you moved the piece of fabric, your eyes quickly analysing the extent of the damage.

The armour did absorb most of the impact, though it didn’t prevent him from coming out completely unscathed. There was visible swelling, his otherwise tan skin becoming discoloured where most of the impact had been taken, and tiny, raging, red vessels were swimming aggressively in the bruises. You had seen similar injuries before. This would be a piece of cake.

Something felt off, though.

Something about his demeanour. You weren’t sure what specifically, just yet, but he was brimming with confidence, with experience.

“This’ll need to be checked over later, but a bacta patch will do just fine.” You slapped a patch over the bruising, before placing his armour back into place. “See me after the battle, soldier.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he thanked you, checking his armour was in place.

“That’s Captain for you, doctor.” He threw over his shoulder as he placed his helmet on, his voice quickly turning robotic under the modulator.

Recognition flashed in your eyes as you scanned him over, spotting the navy blue kama, the markings on his helmet, the pauldron that sat proudly atop his shoulder. He was the Captain Rex. Right hand of your new General, Anakin Skywalker. How could you not have realised the moment he spoke his name?

“Kriff.” You hissed out as another explosion erupted, shielding your face. The captain glanced back at you, and without missing a step he hauled you up.

“Come with me. It’s not safe out here.”

The two of you ran, narrowly dodging bullets as Rex manhandled your body out of the way, expertly aiming for the droids’ weak spots. He had done this a thousand times and would do it a thousand times more.

The doorway was just a couple more metres, the clear glass reflecting the colour of plasma bolts and fires. But as always, your luck seemed to run out at unexpected moments, as a droideka pulled up in front of the two of you. Rex pushed you behind him, shielding you away from the mech. It wasted no time in raising its’ shield, had its guns drawn before you could even blink. But Rex wasn’t the Captain of the 501st for no reason.

The droid was blown up almost in slow-motion. From the rolling of the grenade to its downward look as it pierced through the shield. A yelp left your lips as Rex turned, bringing you into a protective embrace as the two of you were flung backwards.

Air escaped your lungs as if you were a deflated balloon, your body feeling hollow as you struggled to breathe. Unexpectedly, the air returned, and you found yourself gasping.

Intense pain bloomed in the back of your head, spreading through your body like a shockwave. Your eyes felt as though they were about to pop out, a heavy ache resting in your skull.

Something was ringing in your ears. All sounds were muffled as you slowly lifted your head. The Captain’s figure was blurry as he leaned over you, his helmet moving slowly, animatedly, his voice drowned.

Were you underwater?

His gloved hand lifted to your cheek, giving it two light taps.

And then, everything rushed in all at once. The sound of blaster fire, the screams, the metallic stomping of droids, the Captain’s voice.

“Talk to me, doc. We gotta get going if we don’t wanna get blasted.” He said quickly, taking your wincing as a response as he hoisted you up, draping your arm over his shoulder. His touch was warm and firm, it enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Confusion overtook you as Rex placed you down against a wall before he took his helmet off.

Your vision was blurred, spinning. But his voice acted as your guide through the blurriness.

“Doc, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, raising his hand up.

Squinting, you looked him over. The explosions outside seemed to quieten down as you looked from his hand up to his eyes. In your hazed state, you were stunned to silence. You never knew clones had such beautiful eyes.

They brought a sense of calm amongst the raging battle around you. You leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fanning over the tip of your nose. Something sparkled in his eyes; and it drew you in like a bee to honey.

His irises were a perfect mirage of the golden dunes of Tattooine, coated in the amber glow of the setting suns.

His voice, coarse like sands of arid deserts, soothed your mind back to the present, back to his question.

“T- Two?” You asked hazily, rubbing your forehead. The confusion was slowly easing, only to be replaced by a stinging sensation. A hiss escaped through your teeth as you touched the spot, retreating your hand to observe your bloodied fingers.

“S- Stitches…”

“What was that?” Rex asked, rummaging through your backpack.

“S- Stitches… I’ll need stitches.” You huffed out, letting him handle you however he pleased. He was gentle as he pressed a cloth against the back of your head, his breath fanning over the tip of your nose.

“Stitches… That’s catchy. And yeah, you’re right.” He said as he retracted the cloth, the softness that accompanied it gone too. You heard a soft thud before Rex’s hands were on you again. He carefully wrapped a gauze around your head, his fingers careful not to cause more discomfort.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bloodied cloth laying limply on the floor. It was stained a crimson red, laying abandoned by your side. Surely the bleeding wasn’t that bad.

He ripped the ends of the gauze, tying them into a knot. It sat tight against your head, and you fought the itchiness in your fingers to rip it off. You weren’t usually one to be injured. Though you had to admit, the added gentle pressure kept you grounded.

“We need to go and get backup. C’mon, this way, Stitches.”

You concluded that the hallways were endless. Rex had been hauling your body for the duration of the journey, narrowly avoiding colliding into another clone. A Commander. After that, time became a blur yet again.

It didn’t help that you were feeling tired, sleepy, nauseous.

The three of you headed down the hallways, searching for any other lingering troopers. The sound of distant conversation caught your attention, your head turning in the direction it came from.

“You hear that, Rex?” Commander Cody asked, his helmet turning to face Rex’s.

“I hear that, Cody. We’ve got backup.” He proudly said, exchanging quick glances with him.

As the three of you rounded the corner, you were able to pick up on their conversation. They were discussing their next course of action, it seemed.

“What are we going to do?”

“We fight.” Rex replied as you came into view, his hands reaching to take his helmet off, your vision swayed though a steady hand quickly supported you. As the rest began talking, Rex propped your body against a wall, and you couldn’t help but glance over the other 501st members.

One of them, Fives, you heard his name earlier, had a goatee and a tattoo. He seemed fiery and so damn sure of himself – not in an arrogant way, no – as he spoke encouraging words to the young cadets. The other one, Echo, seemed shyer and more reserved, and was constantly glancing up at Fives. He looked like any other normal Reg. Freshly shaven, distinct regular haircut, no identifying facial marks like scars or tattoos.

Something twisted at your gut with a molten fist. He was so familiar, and yet you couldn’t understand why. The answer was settled just on the tip of your tongue, scratching at your brain like an unreachable itch.

The pain in your head had shrunk into a dull ache and blurry vision whenever you attempted to walk on your own, so resting and letting the actual soldiers do the rest was not up for discussion on your part.

With a boosted morale, the clone, 99, began talking about an armoury. Rex used that moment to kneel beside you. His gloved hand felt warm on your shoulder, his grip tight and comforting.

“I’ll be back for you in a sec, Stitches. Don’t close your eyes, understood?”

“Yessir.” You muttered in response, attempting a mock salute. He rolled his eyes at you before departing, his steps hurried and glances anxious as he disappeared behind a corner.

The walls were painted a filtered red, doing little to quench your own anxieties. Were you going to get out of here? Would Rex and the others come through? You had very little experience with a gun, nethertheless facing a whole group of bloodthirsty, unfeeling droids. You reached for the strap of your bag, fiddling with the bumpy material. A soft hand on your shoulder shook you from your thoughts.

“You’re a new face around here, what’s your name?” The clone asked, Echo, as he eyed the gauze wrapped tightly around your head. You eyed him up and down, the itch returning as you thought over your response.

After a moment, you let up, rubbing the strap between your fingers.

“I’m the new medic for the 501st.” Your reply was short and curt as you pulled the bag atop your lap, unzipping it.

“New medic? That’s perfect. But, what’s wrong with your head?” He asked as he watched you pull out a bacta patch. It probably wasn’t a good idea to put the substance onto your hair, but you had no other choice. Not if you wanted to avoid having to be stitched up.

Recognition flashed in Echo’s eyes as he watched you unwrap the gauze. His gaze followed it as you let it drop to the ground. It was bloodied, dirty with sweat and gunpowder and hair sticking to it in a weird mixture of odd substances.

“A concussion?” He asked, offering his palm to you. “Let me help.” He said, and you reluctantly dropped the unopened patch into his hand. You were hoping he’d know what he was doing as he gently moved your head away from the wall.

His fingers were delicate, practiced, as he moved some hair away. He remained quiet as he opened the patch and applied it to your injury, but a soft huff bubbled in his chest at your relieved sigh. The cool liquid was amazing, to put it simply. It latched to your scalp, tiny cyan tendrils reaching out for your skin. A quiet curse left your lips, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let yourself lean against the cool metal of his armour.

“Thank you.” You muttered against him, relief blooming in your chest. Your heart swelled as he caressed your hair tenderly.

Rex’s voice cut through the barracks as he, Cody and 99 returned, essentially interrupting your strange, little moment with Echo.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on Echo’s shoulder as you looked the three of them over.

They had stacks of guns in their arms, the cadets cheered as they crowded the three of them. You quirked a brow at Rex, noticing his quizzical expression as he looked you and Echo over. What you failed to notice was the stunned look and deep blush adorning Echo’s face.

“Ready up, boys,” Rex spoke, handing the last gun to Fives, “This might be a tough one.” His sight fell upon you again, his stare stern and yet tender as he remained focused on you, and you only.

“Doctor?”

Your body stuttered at the sound of a voice, your shaky hands almost dropping your datapad. “Captain?” Your voice was laced with confusion as you looked up. There he was, shoulders relaxed, gaze tender as it locked onto some feature of yours. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like a follow-up on my shoulder, Doctor.” He replied almost instantly. He’d only ever gone to Kix for medical examinations, but unfortunately – not - his usual go-to medic was suspiciously nowhere to be found.

“You can look at me, y’know.” Your voice softened as you set your datapad down. Guilt began to tug at your heart as his gaze met yours. The last time the two of you were in a room together, you had made a grisly confirmation of 99’s death. He had not only protected the others, but he even risked his life to save yours. He hadn’t even known you for more than a couple of minutes at most. He was a soldier, through and through, no matter what cruelties life and Kaminoans had thrown at him.

“Doc?”

Your attention snapped back, your body taking in an involuntary breath. Rex’s eyebrows were furrowed, a small wrinkle formed between them as he eyed you.

“C’mon, let’s see what’s underneath all that armour.” You breathed out, hoping to distract him. You didn’t need the Captain to study you under a microscope.  

Rex nodded, remaining quiet. He began to carefully remove his armour, one by one, his touch careful, practiced. He had done this a thousand times, and he would do it a thousand times more.

You distracted yourself by reaching for a medical cart. His armour would not be going on the floor, nor the bed. As you returned to his side, cart in hand, his stiff figure had you quirking a brow. His hands were hesitant to lift his shirt, itching at the hem.

Rex wasn’t a shy man by any means, he had been friendly with many fine women. So why did his heart stutter at the thought of being undressed around you?

“I’ll need to watch to assess for any impairment.” Your voice startled him. His throat grew dry, his fingers restless. He wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. This is just a normal checkup, Rex, he scolded himself internally.

With a quiet nod, his arms crossed over and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He lifted it, hissing a little as his shoulders shrunk in. It was nothing to worry about, you noted, as that was where the bruising was.

However, you supressed a choked gasp. The sight of his naked chest had your well-practiced professionalism struggling. Tan, sun-kissed skin, taught muscle and broad shoulders, numerous scars littered across the expanse of his chest, stomach and waist. A few freckles here and there.

Something bloomed in his chest, something warm, and a smirk tugged at his lips, his chest almost puffing up with pride as you stood motionless for a few seconds. His hands were resting on his lap, and you wondered for a moment whether the flex of his biceps was forced or natural in this position.

“Doctor?” His voice was raw, guttural as he leaned his head to the side. That was when you finally averted your gaze, settling on looking at his shoulder instead. The bruise was still there, discoloured skin and blood vessels swimming around in patches. It must have hurt like a bitch.

“Let me get a patch for that.” You said quickly, moving to rummage through a drawer on the side of the bed. They contained all sorts of supplies and materials, in case of emergencies. “We’ll check for your range of motion – in case the damage is deeper than just surface level.” You mused as you placed the bacta patch and gauze beside him.

You moved around him, poking at different muscle as you inspected him. So far so good, no abnormalities or bumps.

“Try and raise your arms above your head,” You requested, observing as he does so with little difficulty, “And now stretch them behind your back.” You continued, placing your palms on both of his shoulders, applying gentle pressure.

No swelling, no stiffness, no difficulty in movement.

“Now place your arms by your sides, then slowly lift and extend them until they’re above your head.” You requested, showcasing an example with your own arm. Starting from your hip, you kept it straight before slowly lifting it to the side, from your hip to your head. Rex followed your instructions, and you found yourself quickly dismissing any concerns about the damage to his shoulder.

“Your shoulder seems to be doing just fine, Captain,” You said as you stepped away, typing away on your datapad, “Try not to apply pressure onto the bacta patch, or else it might pop. Come back in two hours and I’ll take it off for you.” Your fingers were careful as you placed the bacta on, softly smoothing it over as you ensured it stuck.

You reached for the gauze, your arm brushing against his.

“Sorry.” You muttered, facing him.

Your breath hitched, realisation striking you like lightning.

His face was just inches away. His breath fanned over your nose, his warmth reaching out to you.

You could count every freckle, every scar, every imperfection across his features. Thousands of tiny stars and speckles flickered across his face, the light above you serving as his little sun, casting shadows to dance over his features.

And just like a shooting star, you disappeared from his orbit in the blink of an eye.

His gaze remained trained on you, observing every little movement and twitch. He was studying you again, like bacteria under a microscope. A blush fought its way to your face, painting your cheeks a shade darker.

You moved away from Rex wordlessly, keeping your attention fixated on wrapping the gauze over his shoulder.

As you stepped back, Rex uttered a small thank you, easing back into his shirt.

The two of you remained silent, you watching him put his armour on, and him fighting to keep the poker on his face. His heart was beating fast, hard against his ribcage and he worried you could hear it in the silent confines of the medbay.

You continued watching, quietly, even as he uttered another ‘thank you’ and headed for the exit.

Your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Captain?”

“Doctor?” He asked, his body half facing you.

You swallowed, taking a sudden, deep breath.

“Thank you… For saving my life back there. I owe you.” You said, offering a small, rigid smile.

He shook his head at you, mirroring your smile. Much softer, though.

“I guess you do, Stitches. I’ll see you around.” He said, before stepping outside. The doors closed behind him with a woosh, and you should have felt relief. You could breathe again. But your chest ached. He saved your life, he took care of you, so why did you feel so tense in his presence? So nervous?

Stop being silly, you thought as you made your way over to your desk, the screen of your holopad lighting up. You did your best to focus on the reports at hand, and yet you couldn’t fight off the giddy smile that ghosted over your face, or the nervous, unsteady racing of your heart.

Or the recurring memory of his lips so close to yours.

Tags: @flamingbisexual08