Peter Parker should have turned to dust on Titan. But when the Snap tore the universe apart, Peter was ripped to somewhere far worse - a galaxy far far away.
Pairings: Peter Parker x Padmé Amidala x Ahsoka Tano
Genre: Multiverse Crossover, War, Smut!
༺✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻
Chapter 6 No One Is Fiction Anymore
The air outside the medical tent was still, but Peter felt it shifting. Something in the atmosphere had split open and begun to bleed through the quiet. The stars above shimmered faintly behind thin clouds, flickering like they were trying to disappear altogether.
Ahsoka sat beside him on the crate, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms looped loosely around them. Her montrals tilted slightly as if listening for danger that would not come. One lekku draped over her shoulder, the other curled down her back. She was close enough that their shoulders touched, but she left space between them. That space felt like a rift, full of everything unsaid. It held the storm Peter was still too afraid to release.
He opened his mouth, then closed it again. His hands were still stained with dried bacta and the sour sting of antiseptic. They trembled faintly. Through the canvas wall, Rex's breath came slow and even. He was alive. The chip was gone. But it wasn't enough.
"I need to tell you something," Peter said.
Ahsoka turned her head toward him. Her gaze was calm, but not blank. She watched him the way someone might watch a tower beginning to tilt, not with panic, only with quiet readiness. There was no fear in her expression. Just patience.
Peter looked at her, then away. His throat tightened. There were too many words, and none of them would come. He could have told her about the prophecy, about what waited at the far end of the war. He could have said Anakin's name and seen the warmth in her face break like shattered glass. But silence stayed in his mouth.
"I'm not who you think I am."
That was all he could manage.
Her hand slid over his. It was a quiet gesture, not asking for anything. Her fingers curved around his knuckles. The warmth of her skin made his chest ache.
"I know," she said.
He turned to her, startled, but she wasn't looking at him anymore. Her gaze had shifted to the treeline past the camp.
"I've known for a while," she said. "You knew things you shouldn't have. Not just about me, but about Rex. About Anakin. About Padmé. You never looked surprised when you met us."
Peter felt something crack open. He had spent too long holding himself together with silence. Now it spilled from him with every breath. He looked down. His throat ached. The stillness between them pulled tighter.
Then Ahsoka leaned in and kissed him.
She kissed him slowly. A silence that finally found its voice. Peter responded without hesitation. His hand rose to her cheek, fingers curling behind the base of her lekku. Her skin was warm. She smelled faintly of smoke and copper and something old beneath the surface. Their kiss deepened. Her tongue touched his gently. They breathed together.
She climbed into his lap without pulling away. She straddled him slowly, her thighs framing his hips, her knees bracing on the crate. She eased herself onto him, her hips lowering with quiet certainty. Her arms circled his shoulders. Her forehead rested against his as their kiss softened again.
Peter's hands found her waist. His fingers slipped under the hem of her tunic, meeting the heat of bare skin. The rhythm of her pulse beat beneath it. He kissed her once more, slower now. She drew back just enough to look him in the eye.
"Come with me," she said.
Her voice was quiet but steady.
He nodded.
She rose from his lap and took his hand. Neither of them spoke. The short walk to her tent passed beneath dim perimeter lights, their shadows long and quiet. A sentry droid rotated in place behind them, registering nothing of consequence. The stars above remained distant and cold.
Inside her tent, the air smelled faintly of incense and worn armor polish. Ahsoka had already stripped off her boots and armor. Only her cloak and thin tunic remained. She lit a small lantern beside the cot. The glow spilled outward in soft amber, illuminating the curve of her shoulders, the long lines of her legs, and the quiet stillness in her posture.
She turned toward him and began to unfasten her cloak. Peter watched her, heartbeat thick in his chest. She let the fabric fall.
Then she lifted her tunic over her head. The motion was smooth and unhurried. She wore nothing beneath. Her breasts lifted slightly as she inhaled. Her nipples were already firm. Her skin, still flushed from the cold air outside, glowed softly in the lantern light. There was no hesitation or shame in how she stood.
Peter stepped closer. She met his gaze and didn't look away. He placed his hands on her waist, palms warming against her skin. He traced the shallow dip of her sides, the ridge of her hip bones, the soft swell of her lower belly. Then he leaned in and kissed her collarbone.
Her breath caught. Not from surprise, but from the heat of being touched with care.
He kissed lower, his lips brushing over the curve of her chest. He cupped one breast gently, thumb brushing across the peak. Her nipple tightened beneath his touch. He leaned in and closed his lips around it, suckling with slow intent.
Ahsoka exhaled through her nose, steady but trembling.
Peter moved to her other breast. His tongue circled the peak in slow, deliberate spirals, flicking gently. She arched with a soft gasp, just enough to offer more. Her hands slid into his hair, fingers threading through the strands. She didn't press or guide. She held him there, steady, letting him taste her. He suckled gently, then drew back to flick his tongue over the sensitive nub until she trembled. Her breath hitched. Her thighs shifted slightly, a slow burn spreading low in her belly.
After a moment, she eased back and reached for his tunic. Her fingers tugged the fabric over his head, baring the bruises scattered across his ribs. Her gaze softened. She leaned in and kissed each one, slow and reverent, lips brushing the mottled skin like she could erase the memory of pain with her mouth.
Her hands traveled lower. They found the waistband of his trousers and worked the fastenings open. She tugged them down past his hips, fingers grazing the trail of hair below his navel. His cock sprang upward, flushed and hard, the head already wet with pre-cum. It twitched slightly in the cool air.
Ahsoka glanced down, then raised an eyebrow.
"You still haven't trimmed," she murmured, smirking. "Definitely a you thing."
Peter let out a breathless laugh. "You didn't complain last time."
She wrapped her hand around the base, her grip firm but careful. "Still not complaining."
Her thumb stroked slowly along the underside, gliding over the thick ridge beneath the crown. Her other hand rested on his hip, steadying them both.
Peter's breath caught. He exhaled through parted lips, his hips twitching into her palm. She began to stroke him, slow and measured. The warmth of her skin around him made his knees ache.
He reached for her and kissed her deeply. Her hand remained wrapped around him as their mouths moved together. Her tongue slid against his, unhurried. She guided him backward with her body until the backs of her knees touched the edge of the cot. She sat, then lay back without a word. Her legs opened with quiet precision. It wasn't a submission. It was an invitation.
Peter knelt between her thighs. He kissed her again, then made his way lower, mouth trailing down her navel, her hip, the soft skin of her inner thigh. He paused there, letting his breath warm her. Her scent filled the space between them, earthy and sharp and already heavy with need.
He parted her gently with his thumbs and leaned in, pressing his tongue to her. She gasped. Her hips jerked in response. He licked her again, slower this time, then flattened his tongue and dragged it from her entrance to her clit. Her thighs trembled.
His mouth found the small, swollen nub at the top. He circled it slowly with the tip of his tongue. Her fingers clenched in the bedding. When he sucked lightly, her moan cracked in the back of her throat. Her lekku twitched against the cot, one brushing across her shoulder.
Peter could feel her pulsing against his mouth. He licked her again, letting his tongue press just a little deeper, tasting her completely.
But she reached down, caught his chin, and gently pulled him up.
"That's not enough," she whispered, voice thick with heat. "I won't be satisfied with just your tongue."
Peter met her eyes and nodded.
He rose and guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. She was wet and open, her slickness coating him immediately. He pressed forward, inch by inch. Her folds parted, and her inner walls stretched to take him in. Her breath broke as he slid deeper.
He pushed until he was fully buried inside her. Her pussy clenched around him, snug and hot, drawing him in completely.
"Stars," she whispered. Her head tilted back, montrals twitching slightly above the cot.
Peter kissed her temple, her jaw, her lips. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Her legs bent, cradling his hips. Her heels hooked behind his thighs, keeping him close.
He began to move.
His thrusts were slow, deep, and steady. Every motion pressed a soft sound from her mouth. Her walls gripped him with each stroke, fluttering slightly as he pulled back, tightening as he slid in again. Her slickness coated his cock. The rhythm built gradually, matched breath to breath.
She met him with every motion. Her hips rolled upward. Her hands skimmed his back. Her moans grew louder when he adjusted his angle, searching for the spot that made her shudder.
He found it. Her legs jolted around him, and she gasped.
"Right there," she breathed. "Peter, there, don't stop."
He didn't. He moved with growing focus, each thrust hitting deeper. The wet sounds of their bodies filled the tent. Their sweat mingled. Their breath tangled. Her cunt fluttered around him, clenching in waves.
Her orgasm broke over her slowly. Her back arched. Her moan fractured as she clenched around him, thighs trembling, arms locked tight around his neck. Her pussy pulsed around his cock in deep, aching spasms.
Peter didn't stop. He kept moving, his mouth against hers, kissing her through the aftershocks.
When she came down, her breath was hot against his throat.
Then her heels dug into his back.
"Don't pull out," she whispered.
Peter thrust harder. Once. Twice. Then again. His cock pushed deep, pressed flush against her as he let go.
His orgasm tore through him in hot, pulsing waves. He groaned into her shoulder as he spilled inside her, his cock twitching with each surge. Her pussy clenched around him again, fluttering with each throb. Her body took all of it.
Her arms pulled him tighter. Her thighs locked around his waist. She held him there as his cock softened inside her.
Peter stayed buried in her. His cum began to leak out, warmth slipping around the base of his cock, wetting her thighs and the cot beneath them. She didn't let him go. Her arms stayed around his neck, her breath still fast against his ear.
She kept him close, kept him warm, like they could hold the moment steady for just a little longer.
Neither of them saw the tent flap part.
Padmé stood at the threshold.
She didn't speak. She didn't move. Her hands held the folds of her cloak loosely around her body. Her eyes lingered on them. Peter still inside Ahsoka, their bodies warm and tangled, breath ragged and uneven. His cock had begun to soften, but he hadn't moved. Her hips remained tilted beneath him, his cum already beginning to slip from her in a slow, wet trail.
Padmé did not turn away or leave the tent.
She looked at them with something quiet and devastating in her eyes. Just the weight of knowing too much and being too late.
Peter's head lifted from Ahsoka's shoulder. He stayed inside her. He didn't flinch.
Ahsoka turned toward the sound. Her arms loosened, but she didn't push Peter away. She stared, lips slightly parted, heartbeat still thudding beneath her skin.
Padmé stepped into the tent.
"You're lucky," she said, voice low but even. "I was the one in the monitoring room alone when the feed was playing."
Peter's breath hitched. "You saw us?"
"I did," Padmé said. "And I erased it. It never made it to the archive."
Ahsoka stirred beneath him, her body still tender from the aftershocks. She looked between them, breath slowing, heat still clinging to her skin. Her voice was quiet.
"You were with her."
Peter met her gaze. "Yes."
"Before me?"
"Yes."
Ahsoka's breath hitched. Her stomach clenched, low and sharp. She didn't know if it was jealousy, betrayal, or just the shock of realizing she hadn't been first.
Ahsoka's fingers curled into the blanket at her hips. Her legs shifted beneath him. "You should've told me."
"I wanted to," he said. "But I didn't know how to say it without losing you."
She stared at him, jaw tight, eyes sharp. "So you let me find out like this?"
Peter didn't flinch, but the guilt hit harder than he expected. He hadn't meant for her to find out like this. His hand moved to her cheek. "I never planned to lie. But I never planned to fall this hard either."
He kissed her once, slow and firm, then eased out of her. His cock slid free, still slick, still warm from where they had been joined. Ahsoka winced softly, her thighs closing. She pulled the blanket over her lap, eyes still locked on him.
Padmé didn't look away.
"I should be furious," she said. "But I've been living with silence longer than either of you. I've learned to swallow it."
She stepped closer. Her voice remained steady, but her gaze softened.
"I've spent too long hoping the man I married would come back the same. But when he returns, it's like I don't recognize him. Like the war took pieces of him I can't reach."
Peter didn't try to argue. He reached for her hand instead. Padmé looked at it, then took it without hesitation.
"I never meant for this to become something secret," Peter said. "But I cared about you. I still do."
Padmé nodded once. "So do I," she said. "About you. About her."
She stood still for a moment, then unfastened the clasp. The cloak slipped from her shoulders in silence.
She wore nothing beneath.
Her breasts were bare, nipples already hardened. Her hips were wide, thighs thick and steady, stomach soft with a faint curve. The light caught the glint of moisture between her legs. She was flushed already, her breathing slightly uneven. Her arousal was not hidden, and she made no effort to conceal it.
Ahsoka stared. Her eyes moved down Padmé's body, then back to her face. Her voice was quiet.
"You're not here to shame us, are you?"
Padmé shook her head. "I'm here because I'm tired of pretending everything is fine. I need something real, even if it's only for tonight. Before the war finishes stripping away whatever's left of us."
Peter stood and stepped back, giving Padmé room. His cock hung heavy between his legs, still damp. He looked from Ahsoka to Padmé, then stepped forward and kissed Padmé gently. Her breath caught, but she didn't pull away. She pressed closer, her bare chest against his, her fingers sliding along his ribs.
Ahsoka watched them, breath slow but steady. Her voice came softly.
"You can stay. If you want to."
Padmé met her gaze. Her own voice wavered just slightly.
"I do. More than I want to admit."
She climbed onto the bed.
Ahsoka watched her move, then reached for her hand. Their fingers met without pressure, just contact. Padmé looked down at their joined hands, her breath catching. Ahsoka's face was no longer guarded. Her mouth hung slightly open, her chest still lifting and falling with quiet aftershocks. The blanket had slipped low. Her breasts were bare, nipples flushed and hard, her skin flushed and sensitive.
Padmé knelt beside her.
She paused only a breath before leaning in and kissing her. The kiss was soft, almost searching. Their lips brushed once, then again. Ahsoka deepened it slowly, tilting her head with precision. Their mouths opened. Padmé let out a quiet moan when Ahsoka's tongue slid along hers. One of Ahsoka's hands rose, cupping Padmé's cheek.
Their breasts pressed together. Warm, trembling skin and rising shallow breaths.
Padmé whimpered when Ahsoka's hand slid down and cupped one of her breasts. Her thumb grazed the nipple, slow, firm. Padmé moaned again, hips shifting involuntarily as heat pooled between her legs. She leaned into Ahsoka's touch, the kiss deepening for one more heartbeat before she broke it with a shuddering exhale.
Peter watched from the pillows, his chest tight. The sight of them tangled in each other, mouths slick, bodies flushed, made his cock stir and thicken again. It rested against his thigh, already swelling, coated in the damp sheen of Ahsoka's earlier orgasm.
Padmé turned toward him, eyes dark with need. She climbed into his lap without a word.
Her thighs spread across his hips. Her breasts swayed as she settled above him, nipples still wet from Ahsoka's mouth. She reached between them, curling her fingers around his cock. He was already hard again, flushed and sticky with Ahsoka's release, the shaft slick beneath her grip.
"Already hard again?" she murmured, a hint of awe in her voice. "You don't slow down, do you?"
Her hand stroked him slowly, spreading the mess along his shaft. Peter's breath hitched. He grunted softly, hips shifting up into her palm.
Padmé lifted herself and guided the head to her entrance. Her folds parted with ease, her cunt already soaked. She moaned as she lowered herself slowly, her slickness mixing with what still coated his skin.
Peter groaned as her pussy stretched around him. Inch by inch, she took him in. Her walls resisted at first, tight and quivering, then opened with heat and pressure. Padmé gasped as he filled her halfway.
"Gods... you're thick..."
She paused there, fingers tightening on his shoulders. Her cunt clenched around him.
Ahsoka moved behind her on the bed. She pressed a kiss to the back of Padmé's neck, trailing one hand gently along her spine. Her other hand flattened over Peter's chest. Her touch was firm, grounding.
Padmé moaned and slid the rest of the way down.
Peter groaned again, jaw tightening. Her heat enveloped him completely, her inner walls squeezing tight, adjusting to his length and girth. She pulsed around him, every twitch sending sharp pleasure up his spine.
She planted her hands on his chest and began to move.
Her hips rolled in slow, circular motions. Her breath fell in soft gasps. His cock dragged along every inch of her, pressing into the spongy heat deep inside her. Her thighs trembled with effort.
"Peter... oh, I feel it," she breathed.
Her breasts bounced lightly with each movement, her nipples brushing against his chest, wet and aching. She rocked into him again, grinding her clit down against the base of his shaft.
Peter grunted low in his throat.
His hands moved to her hips, anchoring her, not guiding. The slick heat of her pussy wrapped around him with every stroke. Her movements sped up. The sound of her body riding his became louder, wet and rhythmic, her slickness coating him with each descent.
Ahsoka leaned forward, her lips brushing soft kisses down Padmé's spine. Her hand moved to Padmé's chest, cupping a breast, fingers teasing the nipple until it stiffened again.
Padmé whimpered.
"Oh... yes... right there..."
She rode him harder now. Her thighs slapped against his. The cot shifted beneath them. Her moans deepened with each thrust. She tilted her hips forward to take him deeper, the tip of his cock nudging her cervix.
Peter groaned.
"Padmé... fuck..." His voice was low, barely a whisper. "You're so tight."
Her walls fluttered at his words. Her breath broke into high-pitched whines. Her whole body tensed.
Ahsoka leaned in close, her lips grazing Padmé's ear. "Let go. Don't hold it back."
Padmé gasped.
Her climax tore through her.
Her cunt clamped down around Peter's cock, muscles spasming in pulsing waves. Her back arched, her hands clawed at his chest, and she cried out, helpless and trembling. Heat rushed through her core as she came, slick gushing around his shaft. Every breath left her in a moan.
Peter groaned with her release still milking him, the tight squeeze threatening to push him over the edge. He grabbed her hips, steadying her, holding himself still inside her as her body shook and clenched.
Padmé collapsed against him, her chest pressed to his, her lips still parted, eyes unfocused.
"That... I needed that..."
Peter kissed her temple, his breath still shallow. His cock was still buried deep inside her, pulsing but held back.
He didn't want to finish.
Padmé stayed on him a moment longer, her breath still shaky against his skin, her thighs trembling around his hips. Peter felt every contraction of her body as it softened in the aftermath. Her cunt still pulsed faintly, drawing out the last waves of pleasure from where his cock remained seated inside her.
Then Ahsoka moved.
She rose to her knees beside them, her body bare and flushed, skin painted in a sheen of sweat. Her chest rose and fell with quiet effort, her nipples still tight, her stomach gently trembling with tension she hadn't yet released. The insides of her thighs glistened with Peter's earlier cum, a thin trail of it slipping from her still-swollen folds.
She watched Padmé for a breath. Then her eyes moved to Peter. She hesitated not because of doubt, but something quieter and reverent.
Ahsoka leaned forward and kissed Padmé's shoulder.
Padmé turned into the touch, lips brushing against Ahsoka's cheek. Their mouths met, soft and slow, just once. When they parted, Padmé shifted aside, lifting herself from Peter's lap with care. His cock slipped from her in a long, wet slide, slick and glistening with her release. The air between them smelled thick with arousal.
Ahsoka straddled Peter again.
Her thighs pressed tight to his hips, her knees bracing against the cot. She reached down between them, her fingers curling around his cock. It was still hard, glossy with Padmé's arousal. Ahsoka's hand stroked him once, spreading the slick across his shaft. She pressed the tip against her entrance and lowered herself slowly, taking him back inside her in one unbroken motion.
Peter groaned. His head tilted back.
Her pussy stretched to take him in, every inch parting her with a slow, wet slide. Her breath hitched at the fullness. She felt tender, raw, still aching from earlier, but her body welcomed him anyway. Her cunt swallowed him to the base, her folds flushed and slick, her muscles fluttering from overstimulation.
Padmé watched from beside them, lips parted, chest still rising quickly. Her gaze followed the movement of Ahsoka's body, the way her hips ground down, the way her breath trembled when Peter filled her again.
Ahsoka settled her hands on his shoulders and began to move.
Her hips rolled forward, slow and deep. The motion dragged Peter's cock along the slick grip of her walls. Each thrust ground the base of him against her clit. Her mouth parted. Her head dropped forward. She kept her movements controlled, but tension curled through her with every motion.
Her thighs tensed. She lifted and dropped her hips in a faster rhythm, her breath falling into sharp gasps. The sound of their bodies meeting was wet and unmistakable. Peter's hands slid to her waist, then down to her ass. He gripped her firmly, anchoring her as she rode him with rising urgency.
Ahsoka leaned forward, her breasts brushing against his mouth. He kissed them immediately. His tongue circled her nipple. She whimpered when he caught it between his lips and sucked. Her hands tangled in his hair, her fingers shaking.
Her rhythm faltered. Her voice cracked.
"Don't pull out."
Peter's hands tightened. He thrust up into her, snapping his hips into each stroke, driving deeper. His cock filled her in thick, punishing thrusts, slick with the cum still inside her from before. Her walls clutched at him, tight and wet and trembling with each movement.
Padmé moved closer.
She kissed Ahsoka's shoulder again, then trailed her mouth down the line of her spine. Her hand smoothed along her back, fingers curving over the swell of her ass. Then she leaned over Peter and kissed him deeply, their mouths open, breath mixing as Ahsoka rode them both into the center of the heat.
Ahsoka cried out.
Her orgasm hit hard.
Her cunt seized around him, muscles locking down in tight, pulsing waves. Her entire body arched, her thighs pressing in around his hips. Her arms clung to his shoulders. Her walls clutched him with rapid spasms, milking his cock as she trembled above him.
Peter groaned into her skin.
His release surged through him. He thrust into her once more, buried to the hilt. His cock twitched violently inside her, thick pulses of cum spilling deep into her heat. It filled her instantly, their combined fluids slicking her walls, leaking out around the stretch of him. He kept moving until the spasms faded, grinding into her with the last slow thrusts he could manage.
Ahsoka collapsed against him, her breath stuttering. His cock remained inside her, still thick, softening slowly. Her pussy fluttered around him, holding him tight. Her thighs stayed spread, streaked with sweat and cum, her inner lips swollen and wet.
Padmé lay at his side, her hand resting along Ahsoka's spine, her head against Peter's shoulder. She looked at them both. Her expression softened.
She reached out and brushed a strand of hair from Ahsoka's face. Her fingertips lingered at her temple. Something passed through her eyes. A mixture of pride, sorrow, and astonishment.
She's not a girl anymore, Padmé thought. She hasn't been for a long time.
Their bodies remained tangled in silence, the heat between them slow to fade.
Sweat cooled across flushed skin. Ahsoka's thighs still cradled Peter's hips, her chest rising gently against his. Padmé's fingers moved in faint, thoughtless strokes along his ribs, not with intention, but with memory. His cock remained inside Ahsoka, no longer hard, but held in place by the warmth of her cunt, her body reluctant to let go. Each lazy throb pushed another slow rivulet of release between them, slicking her folds, wetting his groin.
Neither of them moved. Neither of them wanted to. The weight of what they had shared settled over the room like a second skin.
The cot creaked beneath their weight. The air inside the tent was thick, not just with scent, but with something unspoken. Vulnerability and aftershock. A quieter, more intimate sound.
Peter's throat tightened.
He had no armor left. No breath to stall. Only the truth pressed behind his teeth, aching to be let out.
He exhaled, voice low.
"I have to tell you both something."
Ahsoka shifted against him. Her breath caught. Her lekku stirred where they lay across his chest. Padmé's hand froze, her fingers stilling mid-stroke.
Peter kept his eyes on the tent's ceiling, the dim lanternlight catching the sheen of sweat still glistening on their bodies.
"I'm not from this galaxy," he said, voice low, raw. "Not even this universe. I wasn't born under any star system you've ever heard of."
Ahsoka didn't pull away. She still straddled his hips, her breath warm where her breasts pressed lightly to his chest. Her walls fluttered faintly around him. Padmé's hand, resting on his stomach, stilled.
Peter went on. "My home is called Earth. A blue planet in a completely different reality. I was a kid. Still in school. Trying to survive algebra and hide bruises from patrol. I wore a mask. I called myself Spider-Man."
Padmé lifted her head slightly, lips parted. Ahsoka tilted her head, her lekku brushing against Peter's ribs.
"I wasn't a soldier," Peter said. "I was just trying to protect a few city blocks. Stopping car thieves. Catching falling buses. Swinging between buildings in Queens. I thought that was enough."
He swallowed.
"We had our own wars," he said. "I was in the Infinity War. An alien warlord named Thanos wanted to bring balance by killing half of all life. He got his hands on six cosmic artifacts. We called them Infinity Stones. Each one controlled a different part of existence. Time, space, power, mind, reality, and soul."
Padmé's breath caught. Ahsoka's fingers curled faintly at his side.
Peter swallowed. "When he got them all… he snapped his fingers. I felt myself vanish. I remember Tony's arms around me. I remember saying I didn't want to go. And then I was dust."
He blinked up at the ceiling. "But I didn't stay dead."
Ahsoka stayed still, barely breathing. Padmé shifted, her thigh sliding along his. She placed her hand on his chest again, where his heart beat steadily but strained.
"I didn't wake up on Earth," Peter said. "I woke up here. Middle of a battlefield. Mandalore."
Ahsoka's breath caught faintly. Her thighs flexed where they still cradled his hips. Padmé stayed close, her hand on his chest, her skin warm and flushed.
Peter's voice lowered. "I came through fire. My body slammed through steel wreckage. I hit hard. My suit barely held. Systems flickered. The air was thick with plasma and dust. My HUD kept warning me about toxins. But I was still breathing."
He closed his eyes.
"I thought I was dead again. Or hallucinating. Then I saw the armor. Blue-striped clones. Jetpacks. Smoke and fallen domes."
His hand slid along Ahsoka's side, fingers curling gently around the curve of her back.
"I saw you."
She didn't speak. Her lekku shifted slowly where they rested against his shoulder.
"I recognized the markings. The color of your sabers. The city around us was Sundari. I had watched its fall before. But never like that. Never from the ground, with real people bleeding and screaming."
Padmé leaned into his side, her hair brushing his neck.
"That's when I knew where I was," Peter said. "Not just in space. In time. The tail end of the Clone Wars. The Jedi Order's last days."
His voice grew quieter.
"I knew your names before I ever met you. Skywalker. Tano. Amidala. I had watched your stories on screens back home. In my world, they were fiction. Films. Holos."
Padmé's breath hitched. She pushed herself upright, her breasts rising and falling with each breath. Her thighs slipped against his. Ahsoka shifted in his lap but stayed straddling him, still bare, still silent.
"You... knew about me?" she asked. Her voice was low, but it held weight.
Peter nodded.
"He's supposed to become someone else. Someone terrible. Darth Vader."
Ahsoka flinched. Her lekku tensed against his chest, coiling faintly. For the first time since he started speaking, she pulled back just enough to sit upright. Her breath hitched. She turned her face away, the truth landing like a blade between her ribs.
"He was my brother," she said, her voice breaking for the first time. "And I left thinking it would save him."
Padmé reeled. Her hand slipped from Peter's chest, falling to her lap. "No," she whispered. Her eyes were wide, voice breaking. "He wouldn't. He couldn't." She looked down at her belly, then back up at Peter. "He loves too much. That's always been his flaw."
Peter didn't interrupt. He let the silence stretch.
Ahsoka pressed her hands to her thighs. She stared straight ahead, but her voice came low and thin. "I always felt the darkness in him... but I thought I'd stopped it when I left." She swallowed hard, but didn't move.
The cot creaked faintly beneath them. The wind outside brushed against the canvas, too gentle to reach the heat inside.
"Because I didn't know if I was supposed to interfere. Where I come from, changing the past breaks everything. But then I saw Rex twitching on the floor. I saw what the chips were doing. And I realized this wasn't just someone else's timeline. It's mine now, too."
He turned to Padmé. "You're not just a name from a story. Neither of you is."
Padmé didn't speak. She reached for his hand and brought it to rest on her lower stomach.
Peter's breath caught. She didn't need to say it. But she did anyway.
"I'm not just asking you to stop what's coming," she said. "I'm asking you to help me save this child."
Her voice stayed even. Her fingers curled gently around his wrist.
Peter's hand trembled slightly. He nodded once. "I will."
Ahsoka hadn't moved. She was still seated on his hips, breath calm but shallow. They remained joined; her warmth pressed against him. Her lekku rested across his shoulder, one trailing over his chest.
She watched the exchange without speaking. Then her voice came low.
"You knew this was coming. And you waited."
Peter didn't deflect. "I didn't know if I could change it. Or if trying would make it worse."
Ahsoka met his eyes directly. "And now?"
"Now I know I don't get to be a bystander."
She nodded once. There was no anger in her expression. Just a decision.
Padmé let go of Peter's hand. She sat up slowly, her bare thighs brushing against Ahsoka's. Her breasts lifted with a breath, still flushed from their time together. She didn't cover herself. She had no reason to.
"Then we act now," she said. "I'll reach out to Bail Organa. If anyone will help quietly, it's him."
Ahsoka shifted above Peter, her breath catching faintly as she moved. She lifted herself off him slowly. Their shared warmth clung between them, leaving a wet, open ache. Ahsoka winced from the sensitivity and reached for a cloth to clean herself, moving without haste.
"If Rex believes me," she said, "we start there. One clone at a time."
Peter sat up. His body ached, but his mind was clear.
"We'll need time. And luck," Peter said. "If we mess this up, they'll see it coming."
Padmé was already pulling on her tunic. The fabric stuck faintly to her skin. Her thighs were still tacky from earlier, but she didn't hesitate as she fastened her belt.
"That's why I disappear," she said. "We faked my death. I vanish before they can question anything."
Ahsoka looked at her, the towel now resting in her lap. "Anakin won't believe it."
Padmé sat to pull on her boots. "Then we give him nothing to follow. No voice. No signal. Just silence."
Peter stood and reached for his trousers. "That won't stop him forever."
"It doesn't have to," she said. "We only need time."
Ahsoka nodded. "And while she disappears, we deal with the chips."
"Rex is already halfway there," Peter said. "I'll talk to him first. We isolate the implants. Disable them. Quiet. Clean."
"We'll need droids," Ahsoka said. "And a place to work. Somewhere off-record."
"I know people," Padmé added. "Smugglers. Senators. Friends who still think the Republic is worth saving."
Peter tugged his undershirt over his ribs. "Then we do it now. If we wait for the order, we lose everything."
Ahsoka's expression hardened. "Then we don't wait."
Padmé stood again, her cloak folded over her arm. Her body still bore the flush of what they had done. The red along her neck. The faint marks on her hips. The sheen on her thighs. None of it slowed her.
"Tonight, I vanish," she said.
She looked down, her fingers brushing her abdomen. "If I'm lucky, he'll never find a body."
Peter watched her fingers settle just below her navel. The implication struck harder than any battle had. He stepped toward her, close but not touching. "And after that?"
Padmé looked at them both. "After that, we build something new."
༺✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻✿༻❀༺✿༺❀༻༺✿༻
Thanks so much for reading. This fic is planned for 10 chapters total, possibly more if the response keeps building. It's a slow descent through war, betrayal, and increasingly unwise sexual decisions.
Chapters 7, Interlude, and 8 are now live on P*treon and Ko*fi. If you want early access, you can read the story there.
Commissions and prompts are open. You can reach me on Discord: omni_nymph
Got a kink, a scene idea, or thoughts on this chapter? Let me know. I read everything. If I missed something or if there's something you'd love to see (including specific kinks or plot points I missed), please be sure to comment.