The Rogues were glad to have their Commander back after Bespin, but it was obvious to his friends that something besides the new prosthetic was wrong. So the fantabulous four dragged him aside to find out what had gone wrong on the city in the clouds, not expecting what they got, but not completely surprised either.

The Clone Wars were long over, barely touched upon in history except as the proving ground of the Jedi Conspiracy. But they lived on in the memories of those who would never forget the days of blood, sweat and tears that history forgot. They would never forget when those flashing sabers meant reinforcements, leadership, hope. Would never forget when Skywalker was a name to be in awe of, when Kenobi was calm personified. Then a silver cylinder reappeared in their lives. A Skywalker walked down the ramp. And they dared to consider, they dared to hope. A series of one-shots examining the thoughts of Clone Wars veterans, because Luke was the Last To Know.

Obi-Wan is exhausted, drunk, and just about out of fucks to give.

In the aftermath of the assault on Starkiller base, Finn struggles with his recovery, and Poe struggles with his feelings.

Rey is different from Finn; all sharp angles with kinetic energy beneath pale skin, eyes wide enough to take in the sky. A completely different kind of beauty from Finn, but beautiful all the same. Oh no, thinks Poe Dameron, with a sinking realisation.

“An exciting change for the greatest pilot in the Resistance,” the General tells him, “I would hope that we have a more successful trip than last time.” “I would argue that my last mission was very successful, ma’am.” In more ways than she knows. It’s early enough that Finn is still pretending to be asleep, and Rey is curled next to him, a tiny lump in the pile of blankets. (a sequel to room of heartbeats)

The idea brings its own problems, of course. Rey was a one for so long that it’s been hard to get used to being a two with Finn, but at least for that she has seen models that she could learn from, even living and scavenging in the wastes of Jakku. There were some raggedy families headed up by parents; one or two young couples who shared their food and took turns sheltering each other from the sun. She has no frame of reference for this, for threeness, but she knows she wants it. Never mind that she’s never seen it done before. She’ll have to make it up as she goes; at least she’s good at that. There’s the family you’re born into, and then there’s the one you make for yourself.

someone said "touch-starved Finn" and the next thing I know I'm writing a tragic backstory and sickeningly cute OT3 cuddles - “Pick yourself up, FN-2187,” they’d tell him. And then they’d hit him again.

Finn is somewhat underprepared. Poe is only trying to help.

“Shut up and hand me that tiara,” she snarls at him, flapping her hand at the dresser where it's perched jauntily on top of his blast helmet.

Rey steals Finn’s clothes. So in some way she’s stealing his clothes.

An alternate take on leupagus's Space Princess Poe.

He hears: “turn here” and “listen carefully” and Poe nearly trips as a Stormtrooper says the words that wrap around Poe’s right thigh.

"So either you're not here or you're not living," she says. "I'm definitely here," he replies, and there's amusement in his voice.

In which Tobirama is sort of Obi-Wan, Madara is Anakin but not quite, and Obito and Kakashi don’t quite fit the roles of Asajj Ventress and Luke Skywalker but try their best regardless.

The stars in a little slave’s eyes when she falls in love with a glamorous boy are the same as they would be in any other universe.

After much deliberation, careful study, and scientific analysis, Wes Janson decides that the Fate Of The Galaxy is entirely dependent on the state of Senator-Princess Leia Organa's hair.

Lightning Squadron’s been in some pretty tight places since the war started, but Ponds has to admit that slavers are a new one.

It’s always been something of a point of pride, for Ponds, that he never really has to worry about his general.

There’s a child hiding behind his robes. Mace looks down, brow rising like a warning flare, but doesn’t move. Leia looks back, all big, innocent brown eyes and perfect guilelessness, and pulls a fold of brown cloth over her head as she practically stuffs herself under his chair.

“There’s too much to be done,” Padmé says, and looks back to meet the holo’s flickering gaze. “Our base on Ithor was compromised, and I can't take the time to vet a bodyguard—” “Then it’s a good thing,” Obi-Wan says with careful cheer, “that I found one for you.”

The ancient people of the Zeffo contact the Jedi in a cry for help,they need force users who can connect to the living force,who can save something dear to them. But the price of life is itself something dear,and one Obi-Wan is not sure they can pay.

The sight of Obi-Wan sprawled out in the warm, shallow pool, eyes closed as he drowses, is too much for any sentient to resist, and Kit certainly isn't about to try.

Agen digs his fingers into the silver-veined bark, smiling a little. Pushes upright, flicking his hair back behind his shoulder, and pulls his outer robe off, draping it over a branch. “A trooper in distress,” he says, stepping forward. “I believe Jedi are supposed to rectify such things.” Two pairs of dark eyes snap to him, and Fives's widen with glee. He wriggles harder under Echo's pinning weight, like a landed fish, and cries, “General Kolar, help! I'm being overrun!”

A shadow falls over the mountaintop just as the first droid drops down onto the rocks above Fives.

“One more,” Alpha decides, and beneath him Jon can't do anything but moan, hitching and ragged.

“Are you really sure this is necessary?” Jon asks, faintly hunted.

“This,” Xanatos says with perfect conviction, “is going to be an absolute disaster, I can't believe you agreed to this.”

“Be careful,” Jon says, though Nico likely doesn’t need the reminder. “If the Sith Lord notices—” “Then he’d best not,” Nico says, and vanishes with a ripple of light. A moment later, the door opens, then shuts again, and Knol snorts. “Fancy tricks, all of you,” she says, amused, and takes the hand Jon offers her. “Says the woman who eats fire,” Jon says. “With the Force.”

“Sir, please,” Kix says, the closest Cody has ever heard him to tears of frustration. It’s enough to make him stop dead, because Kix never sounds like that. “I just need to stitch you up, that’s all.”

With a sound of quiet sympathy, Kit reaches out, tapping his knuckles lightly against Rex's pauldron. “Forgive me, Captain, but I believe you would be far more comfortable without your armor. The beach cannot be a pleasant place for you right now.” Rex pauses, almost startled by the idea of taking his armor off. He’s on a mission, or at least the disastrous tail end of one, and unless he’s on leave, he almost never strips down to his blacks. And it’s been…months, since his last stretch of leave that wasn’t cut off before it even started. “Oh,” he says dumbly, and then flushes, reaching for the clasps on his armor. “Right, sorry, sir.”

“I'm not going to stay with the ship,” Anakin says, outraged. Savage closes his eyes, not quite praying for patience, but—reaching for it, certainly. Having a padawan has been good for his self-control in ways Savage hasn’t even wanted to consider too closely.

Thire's grimace is apologetic, but that doesn’t stop him from saying, “We’ve got a guy from that group of infiltrators who got rounded up last night asking to speak with command.” Fox waits, brow raised, because if every lowlife who wanted to talk to command ended up in his office he’d never do anything else. Thire knows that, too. If this guy rates a mention, there’s a reason. Thire's expression says he needs a vacation, and also someone else willing to play messenger. “He says he’s a Jedi, sir.”

“We’re getting a commander?” a loud voice asks, delighted as it carries through the trees.

“Well,” Kit says lightly. “This does seem to be a predicament, doesn’t it?” Pressed right up against him, gauntlets digging bruises into his almost-bare hips, Dogma squeezes his eyes tightly shut. “I'm going to kill my whole squad,” he says, perfectly certain and resigned to it.

The press of a body sliding into the bed behind him wakes Mace from a light sleep, too alert for any real sort of surprise, and he huffs as thick arms wrap around him, shift him. “So you took my invitation after all,” he says, and there's a sound behind him, rough and amused.

There's a moment of absolute silence as Fives and Echo trade startled glances, Rex gapes at Obi-Wan, and Kix and Jesse freeze, eyes widening. Then, deliberately, awkwardly, Rex clears his throat, face about four shades redder than it was a moment ago. “General, you—you know Quinlan?” No wonder they made it out of the smuggler’s mansion in one piece. Obi-Wan breathes in through his nose, lets it out, and then says, “Very well, yes. Quinlan Vos, I thought you were dead, and instead you were—were—playing hooker to a crime lord!”

“Soon, padawan,” Qui-Gon says, and Obi-Wan doesn’t appreciate the amusement in his voice at all, but his disgruntled look doesn’t win him anything except a raised brow and the calmly bemused glance that always makes Master Windu eye Qui-Gon’s hair like he’s about to pull on it.

Tup gathers his courage, leans in. With a flicker of humor, Mace dips his head to meet him, taking the kiss without hesitation. Behind them, someone chokes.

Fox, Padmé, and a conversation about armor.

“Leia, it’s fine,” a man says, and it’s not quite soothing. More entreating, and Boba wrinkles his nose, shifting slightly. His hands are cuffed behind him, and one of his captors was smart enough to steal the lockpicks from his belt. Boba hates smart enemies. “It’s not fine,” the woman says acidly. “Luke, he tried to kill us!” “Only once,” Luke says stubbornly. “And technically he was taking Han alive.”

The general is asleep. Not his general, of course. At least not officially. But Cody still pauses at the edge of the camp, caf in hand, and watches Mace breathe for a long, long moment before he steps closer and glances around them, checking whether anything has changed in the handful of minutes he was gone.

That sort of tight-curled body almost always means pain. Bly pauses at the edge of the camp, attention caught by the last campfire before the ring of sentries. A man, Human, is seated on a rock by the fire, curled in on himself with his knees drawn up, and the length of his limbs means he’s probably tall, but he’s managed to press himself down into a knot that looks strangely vulnerable. He doesn’t have a cloak, but there's a worn pack on the ground next to him, and he wouldn’t be the first intelligence officer to look a little out of place in the middle of a battalion of clones.

“What is that?” Thire asks, wrinkling his nose as Fox marches past him. He immediately turns to open a window. Fox snorts, lifting a boot to kick Thorn where he’s sprawled out on the couch. Thorn groans, but raises his head, and Fox jerks his head at him. “A Jedi,” he answers, and Thorn freezes, eyes widening.

The Force speaks in mysterious ways. A young Leia Organa listens. Unfortunately, she doesn't quite know what she's hearing. This changes things.

“Queen Miraj is going to betray you,” Feral says, and Cody practically jumps out of his own skin.

Obi-Wan went over thirty years without a heat. It was hardly unusual or unexpected. Everyone knew omega reproductive systems were finicky. Omegas were incredibly fertile while in heat. Nature had, perhaps, compensated for the situation by ensuring they only went into heat when...conditions were correct. OR, the Dark Side AU where the Empire is already in power, the Jedi are long gone, and Obi-Wan Kenobi ends up leading an army to wipe out the Emperor's enemies. Things get more complicated when he goes into heat.

Maul is going to make himself a widower in short order.

“Who’s in the next room?” Obi-Wan asks, low and soft right next to Hardcase’s ear.

“Are you sure about this?” Jon asks a little warily.