Shows [Reverse Harem x Reader]

Forty-Nine

Padme made your life for the next two weeks hard, especially after seeing the ongoing flirting between you and Anakin.

And yes, seeing the jealous ruler of Naboo is the most amusing thing.

However, you discover why he was angry.

It's all because your version in that universe also sleeps with Padme.

That's why you are here in the first place.

You sit on the edge of the examination table, staring at the small medical droid’s holographic display. The words blink in sterile blue: Pregnancy confirmed.

Estimated gestation: 6 weeks.

Your stomach lurches, and not from morning sickness. The droid beeps softly, oblivious to the chaos unleashed in your head.

Pregnant. In Star Wars.

Also, you don't know who the father of your unborn baby is.

Hopefully, it's not a heteropaternal superfecundation case.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, muttering, remembering the pregnancy Adam mentioned before transporting you here.

"Adam, you absolute little..."

That smug multiversal puppet master probably thought it’d be hilarious to throw you into this mess.

"Multiversal muse? What a blessing!"

You shove the droid away, its polite 'Would you like nutritional recommendations?' cut off as it powers down.

It's ok, you don't have to tell anyone about your pregnancy.

Your version in this universe should deal with it instead.

It's not like you are staying here for long to tell them.

--

"You are pregnant?"

"Who told you?" you ask, keeping your voice steady, though your pulse hammers in your chest.

Padme's jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek.

"Does it matter? I had to hear it from a med droid’s report. A report, Y/N! Not from you.”

He takes another step, his presence is overwhelming, the atmosphere rippling around him like a storm barely contained.

"Is it true?" You hesitate, the weight of the question pressing down on you.

The truth is a mess, six weeks along, no clue who the father is, and a multiversal trickster named Adam to blame for dropping you into this chaos.

You could lie, dodge, or deflect, but his eyes are locked on yours, and you know he’d sense any deception.

"Yes," you admit, lifting your chin defiantly.

"It's true."

His expression shifts, shock, then something raw, vulnerable, before it hardens again.

He runs a hand through his dark hair, pacing a short line before you.

"And you didn’t think to tell me? After everything? The nights we’ve spent, the things we've-" He cuts himself off, exhaling sharply, his gaze flicking to your stomach.

"Is it mine?"

"I don't know" you admit.

"You don’t know," he repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief and betrayal.

He steps closer, his robes swaying with the motion, the faint scent of spice and silk hitting you as he invades your space.

"You don’t know if it’s mine, yet you stand there, defiant, as if this isn’t a mess of your own making?"

You blink, taken aback by the raw edge in his voice, the way his delicate features twist with self-reproach and anger.

"I-"

"No," he cuts you off, stepping even closer, his voice dropping to a fierce, controlled whisper.

"I should have claimed you from the start, made it clear to everyone, to him, that you were mine. I thought I was being cautious, protecting my rule, my image. But all I did was let Anakin steal you away, let him think he had a chance to take what’s mine."

Your breath catches, anger growing inside you.

"I'm not some game for you two to fight over."

"You're right. You're not a possession. But this child." his intense gaze drops to your stomach, then lifts to meet your eyes.

"This child is mine. I have decided. Whether it’s Anakin’s by blood or not, I will claim it as my own."