Star Wars Guys x Reader

Wish Me Luck pt. 1: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

A/N: so a while ago i watched season 5 episode 18 of clone wars and my heart was ripped out so i decided to rewrite it except you're anakin's jedi friend not padawan if you get me

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR CLONE WARS SEASON 5, betrayal, tricks, pain, death,

Translations: ner jetii = my jedi,

Word count: 1321

You never thought you'd have clones chasing after you. The brothers of the men you command, the brothers of what seem like your brothers, firing stun rays at you, hunting you down, massifs straining at the leads in their hands. It breaks your heart to see them fanning out, hot on your heels as if you're some criminal, some fugitive wanted by the Council, not a Jedi framed for murder, not a Jedi who can't bring herself to attack the clones that in any other situation would obey her every command.

You know Anakin's with them somewhere. You know he's the one who issued the order to set blasters to stun, and for that you're grateful, but you know he's also hunting you, following the scent your Force signature leaves and trailing you through the sewer system with accuracy that the clones don't have.

Water splashes under your feet as you choose turns at random to sprint down. At this point, speed is more important that stealth, and with every step, you boost yourself forward with the Force, knowing that it will leave an easier trail for Anakin to follow and not really caring anyway. You can hear the status reports from the clones, the muffled sound of familiar voices, and it rips at your heart again that these are the men tracking you down, men whose lives are entrusted to you to protect, men that you feel obliged and ready to love even as they follow you down the massive pipes of the central viaduct. They don't know what they're doing. A sob tears at your throat, partly from the sheer unfairness of this all - you aren't the Jedi who Letta Turmond was fearful of, yet you are being treated as if you are; you aren't the one that killed those clones in the prison compound, and yet you are charged with their deaths anyway.

Maker, who can hate you enough to put you through this? Who can despise you enough to not only set you up for killing a civilian, but clones, beloved clones, who are only children? There have been nights in this war when the only thing that has lulled you to sleep is their soft murmurings of Mando'a in their sleep. Stars above, there have been nights in this war when the only thing that has lulled you to sleep is their arms wrapped around you, around each other, warm bodies entwined around you in a soft huddle of comfort, their eyes drifting closed as they murmur goodnight, ner jetii.

You skid to a halt as a clone turns the corner before you, and you block his blasts with your lightsaber, ducking into a nearby tunnel because you can't bear to hurt them. The thought of clone blood on your hands sickens you to the very core, and even if the Jedi Council thinks that killing them isn't beyond you, you know that you'll never be able to look one of these men in the eyes and murder them in cold blood. They may all be genetically the same, they may be treated as nothing but an expendable resource by some, but to you, these are people. These are the family you never had. You know you could not look into the eyes of the men of your own legion without the weight of their brother's death on your shoulders, so you choose not to kill them.

Glancing behind you, you check you aren't being followed as you duck through another tunnel, not sure where you're going, just certain that you need to leave the clones behind you, that you need to put distance between you and them to keep them from danger.

Your breaths come out in harsh pants, your legs becoming leaden. You're tired, confused, betrayed - you know it's another Jedi setting you up, and it hurts you. Tears of frustration prick at your eyes, and you wipe them away, telling yourself that it's just rain water as you flee down the pipelines, saddened that you must be chased by these men who deserve more than a life time service to the war, angered that someone would betray you like this - in a way that means you can barely think, you can only run.

And then, all of a sudden, the pipe cuts off, ending in a dangerous, lingering precipice, the Underworld of Coruscant staring back at you. Wind rushes past you, tugging at your robes, beckoning for you to drop down, to topple over the edge of the pipe and down down down. Ships whizz past, close enough for you to drop down onto with some aid from the Force. There's no way out but this, and yet your feet are stuck to the lip of the pipe, suspended on the edge as if they're waiting for something. Or someone.

'Wait!'

You whirl around, already igniting your lightsaber, even though you know who that voice belongs to. Just seeing him makes your body relax, your shoulders slumping even as your brain flies at hyperspeed: what if he doesn't believe you? Who will you rely on then? What if he turns you in, because Maker knows he's powerful enough to?

'Hey,' Anakin says, and you look away to hide the tears in your eyes. 'Love, please. You have to come back. We can plead your case to the Council, you know that. They sent me to find you, and even if they didn't, I'd still try to find you. My love, please, I believe you, just - '
'No, Anakin,' you interrupt. 'You know I can't. Even if you believe me, no one else will. Someone's setting me up, I... You know I would never kill those clones - '
He takes a step forward, a step closer. 'I believe you,' he whispers. 'I believe you, love. Just - just come back.'
You find you can't meet his eyes. 'I can't, Ani. You know I can't.'
'Trust me,' he whispers. 'Please, love.'

Tears flow down your cheeks, hot tears, tears that you can't blame on the rain any more. Your lightsaber arm goes limp by your side, and you switch the weapon off and latch it onto your belt, hanging your head so you don't need to meet his gaze. It hurts you to refuse him because you've never refused him before - you've never had to - and the pain in his blue eyes makes you sick.

Glancing up, you see the sorrow in his eyes, the resignation, and you step forward, wrapping your arms around him. He closes his eyes, burying his face in your hair, and you hold him tight, not sure if you'll ever have the chance to do so again. Hands trembling, you cup his face, fitting your lips to his as the water rushes around your ankles, as the world hurries on by, as clones who believe you have murdered three of their brothers hunt you, and none of it matters, not while Anakin is this close, not when he clutches you to his body, his kiss a desperate, last plea for you to stay. You can taste the salt of your tears on his lips, and your breath shudders as he pulls back to kiss your eyelids, his strong arms wrapped tightly around you.

'I'm sorry, Anakin,' you murmur against his rain slick skin. 'You have to trust me.'

You break away from his grasp, and he cries out wordlessly, a sound that echoes in your head like pain, like desperation as you slip through his fingers like fine sand. It spears through your heart like a blaster bolt, and you glance back at him, seeing the shock and sorrow lining his features, seeing the way his hand is out stretched to bring you back into his embrace, yet he doesn't pull you back to him, he leaves the choice to you.

'Wish me luck,' you whisper.

And then you leap off the edge.

pt. 2 coming eventually :))