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#because I’m writing a fic where Obi wan is taken by a master from another temple

thechaoticfanartist · 9 months

Note

Ooh for the ask game…Obi-Wan and Grim’s first meeting from Obi-Wan’s POV?

Send me "POV" and I'll write a scene from one of my fics/wips in another character's POV.

Please, I've always joked that their first interactions would be even funnier from Obi-Wan's perspective and you have proved me right.

Originally from Chapter 1 of TCWGANV.

Word Count: 939

The battle was going smoothly. Obi-Wan led the 212th against the droid army. Everything was normal - and then there was a shift in the Force. A powerful one. He could not place it - he had never felt anything like this before.

Then he noticed a young girl hiding behind a rock, but it wasn’t as much cover as she thought it was. He ran in front of her and deflected a droid’s blaster bolt. Then he turned around, she couldn’t be any older than fourteen. “Are you alright?” He asked her.

She blinked. “Holy shit. You’re fucking Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He elected to ignore her profanity. She was in shock - clearly. How had she even ended up in the middle of this battle without anyone realizing? “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked again.

She blinked again. This time he could tell she was registering his question. “Yeah, thanks to you, you saved me, thanks,” she replied, clearly shaken.

“You should get to a safer area, it’s dangerous for you to be here,” he told her.

She nodded. “Okay, yeah, I’ll do that. Do you know where a safer area is?”

Obi-Wan gave her instructions on where she could go to avoid being in the middle of an active warzone. She nodded, and he hoped she was paying attention, her life might depend on it. Once she started to follow his directions he ran off back to the battle, hoping the child would be okay.

He had dropped his lightsaber. Before he could pick it up - the girl from before used the Force to do so. She ignited his weapon and ran in front of him before he was hit by a blaster bolt. Obi-Wan was taken completely by surprise.

She turned around and handed him back his lightsaber. “You dropped something,” she informed him, casually. He wondered if she had any idea of what she had done.

Now he was the one left in shock. It almost took him a moment to register what had happened. Although he didn’t let it show - he was the Jedi Master here after all. “Thank you,” he said, slightly embarrassed. Keeping a calm composure he then said: “Though I believed I told you to get someplace safe?”

She blinked. Clearly only now registering what she had done. “Right! I’ll, uh, I’ll go do that now.” With that she awkardly ran off.

How strange. He thought. He would have to talk to her after the battle about her clear ablity to use the Force. But first, of course, he had to win the battle.

When the battle finally came to an ending however, it was not Obi-Wan who found the girl, but rather she who had found him. She approached him, and he could tell she seemed a little nervous. “Hello, do you think you could help me?”

“What do you need help with?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Okay so, first let me introduce myself, I’m Grim Kennet, and I’m from another universe where all of this is fictional, anyways I’ve seen a lot of this universe and I don’t really like the ending. It’s super upsetting and a lot of people die, and I don’t want that to happen. And I think, because I’m from another universe and all, I can prevent that from ever happening, I mean it’s going to be hard, but I have to try! I can’t let people die if I can stop it! I know it’s crazy, and you probably don’t believe me, and I understand! But do you think maybe you can help me?”

He blinked. She was right, it was crazy. Another universe? Did that mean the multiverse existed? He had a hard time believing her, but he wasn’t going to outright tell Grim that. “Well, you seem like an ah…spirtited young person, and you’ve already demonstrated your….potentional today.” It was true, at least. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I believe we’ll be seeing much more of each other in the future, but I also believe we’d better figure out where you’ll be staying before I can bring you to the Council. Shall we?”

She grinned ear to ear. “Alright!”

“What does your home look like, young one? Perhaps I can help you find it.”

She frowned. Oops. “You don’t believe me. How can I prove it? I’m being honest with you. How can I prove to you I’m from another universe and know about this one?”

She was certianly smart. He had an idea for her. “Perhaps inform me of something you wouldn’t be able to know otherwise.”

She smiled. “Alright.” She thought about it for a moment. “How long has the war been going on?” She asked. “Just so I don’t spoil the future.”

A smart idea. He was about to tell her when she answered the question for herself. “Know what never mind it’s still season one territory you’re wearing armor, possibly season two, but I feel like it’s season one.” He wanted to ask how she figured that out from his armor and what it implied but didn’t get the chance to. “Okay, something before The Clone Wars show…”

Show? This war was a TV show in her universe?

Grim continued to think for a moment before she settled on something. “This is something you said to Qui-Gon many years ago: ‘you were right Master, the negotiations were short,’ or is that not enough proof?”

Obi-Wan was left speechless. There was no way she could have known that. She was indeed telling the truth. “Alright,” he said at last. “You’ve made your point.”

This was perhaps the strangest day in his life.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @aiylasdrawings @keoxus @dykerebel @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @it-was-rose @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi @arrthurpendragon @shrinkthisviolet

#obi-wan: who lost their small strange sassy child?#grim kennet #star wars #my oc #star wars oc #jedi oc #star wars the clone wars #obi wan kenobi #grim and obi wan #my writing #they're so funny i love them #honestly iconic first interactions if you ask me #they're both so confused 😂😂#but like. obi-wan has 0 context #help him he has no idea that it's going to get worse #obi wan meet your new daughter. she's worse than anakin. have fun.

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starculler · 3 years

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Lead Me Down Another Road (preview)

Word Count: 2975

I fell into a minor rabbit hole and stand before you now with a scrap from the Crèchemaster Anakin AU I'm working on. The full fic is a few thousand words longer than this (and will go up on ao3 within the week), but this is technically the original bit I'd planned on writing (and is thus self-contained enough that I'm comfortable posting it alone here. As a treat). Hope y'all enjoy it and the glimpse of at least one of several Jedi OCs I've been having to come up with for this lol Note: I'm using crèche-minder in place of crèchemaster because it fits a little better with how I've set up the role in the au -- the particulars of which will be explored in the full fic.

Anakin stood from where he’d sat among the younglings in Targon Clan when he caught sight of his master standing just inside the room, all ten pairs of eyes straying from their painting to watch him stretch. He grimaced briefly at the splotches of bright paint he could already see on his tunic and pants, but made it a point to smile at a scowling nautolan making a grab at his ankle. He shuffled back, just out of reach, and had to dodge another two pairs of eager, sticky fingers with a put-upon sigh that failed to fully mask his amusement. It was the same song and dance every time he was sent to Knight D’nali for crèche-duty, and he’d long gotten wise to the initiates’ tricks.

What made today’s game of Catch-the-Padawan novel was Obi-Wan’s presence hovering at the edges of Anakin’s focus. His master hadn’t come to collect him like this since his first few weeks, confident that Anakin would neither get lost on his way to and from the crèche, nor try to dodge his punishment after that awful first and final attempt. He shuddered at the memory even as he leaped nimbly over a pair of near-humans who’d thought to tackle him from behind. He laughed when they turned, eyes wide and betrayed for a moment before trying for a frontal attack.

He dodged, weaving between ten tiny, determined younglings — baiting them with the promise of his capture before stepping just out of reach once more — until he hit something solid from behind. He blinked, stunned for a second and sure that he’d had enough space still to maneuver around, only to yelp when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him off his feet with an ease that spoke of more than a little help from the Force.

“Master!” He groaned, his protest drowned out by mixed cheering and jeering from Targon Clan and their minder’s own loud laughter. Anakin shot Knight D’nali as much of a betrayed look as he could while caught, but the traitor only laughed harder. He huffed.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, grinning and smug and just as much of a traitor as the kiffar knight, “it seems I’ve won a prize to take back with me. A whole padawan all for myself.” A chorus of “No’s” and groaning followed the statement, and Anakin, face warmer than it had been a minute ago, suddenly found the floor much more interesting than a gaggle of disappointed initiates. Obi-Wan, still being a traitor, only laughed.

“Alright, alright. Settle down now,” Knight D’nali interrupted, wading into the chaos so she stood between them and the younglings. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have other duties to attend to, and you little Jedi have a latemeal to prepare for.”

With only a mild amount of protest, the little ones acquiesced. In true, and still vaguely eerie to Anakin, Jedi fashion, they bowed in sync, calling out a discordant mix of goodbyes and thank yous. Anakin nodded in return, starting to wriggle in his master’s grip in a futile attempt to free himself. Obi-Wan held fast even after two of the younglings, a zabrak and the same nautolan who’d first tried to grab onto him, crept around Knight D’nali to hand him four sheets of flimsi splattered with a variety of bright, clashing paint.

He sighed, resigned to the embarrassment of being gifted their paintings under the too-amused gazes of both knights, and murmured a quiet “Thanks” that made the pair smile so wide he thought their faces might split. Their obvious happiness made something warm bubble up in his chest and his hand tingle where flimsi met skin. It was hardly the first time one of the younglings in any of the clans he frequented had given him something small like this to take back with him — he had a wall in his room dedicated to doodles and paintings and a corner set aside, free of his usual clutter, for knickknacks and crafts — but the shock and awe and tingling warmth it left in him never wore off.

Anakin’s gifts had never lied with children. His temper ran too hot and he never quite knew what to say to anyone his age, much less younger than him. It had, in fact, taken months of constant supervision, patience, and teaching from the crèche-minders who’d agreed to take on his crèche-duty punishments for him to build up any sort of rapport with the little ones under their care. It had been hard and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding, work even if it had been borne out of his master’s own frustrated desperation.

The arm around his waist squeezed briefly, and Anakin had to fight down yet another burning flush when he realized Obi-Wan had most likely noticed where his thoughts had wandered. He floundered for something to say or do, but settled for a heavy sigh that drew a brief chuckle from his master.

“I apologize again for stealing Anakin back so early, Knight D’nali,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could picture the apologetic smile on his face as he spoke.

“No need,” said Knight D’nali, smiling just enough that the wrinkles in her eyes and the upward pull of her cheeks distorted the two, bright red tattoos — one line the width of her thumb and the other no more than half a centimeter — cutting vertically down from hairline to jaw over her right eye. “I may be getting older, but I remember well enough how busy a padawan’s life can be.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin groused and earned himself a huff from his master and a bark of laughter from Knight D’nali.

“That’s sweet of you padawan, but the gray in my hair tells another story. And not another word about it,” she said the second Anakin opened his mouth. “There’ll be no buttering up this old knight. I told you, if you’re back here in less than a week I will sit this clan down for a four-hour meditation at least. Force knows your master certainly won’t object.”

“Yes Knight D’nali,” he said in the dull tone every chastised padawan seemed to affect, much to Targon Clan’s delight if their stifled giggling was any indication. Knight D’nali simply nodded, satisfied. Obi-Wan, again, laughed.

“And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave now. Knight D’nali.” Obi-Wan bowed as well as he could with an armful of padawan still pinned against him. “Targon Clan.” He offered the still-giggling younglings a much shallower bow. “May the Force be with you,” he said, echoed only a moment after by Anakin, before turning on his heel and striding out into the hall.

Anakin wriggled again and said: “Master, you can put me down now.” Obi-Wan hummed but didn’t so much as slow down until Anakin huffed, rolled his eyes, and added an only somewhat petulant “Please.”

It took him a moment to find his balance when Obi-Wan suddenly let go, but soon enough he was keeping pace with his master, just shy of being at the knight’s side. They walked in silence, past the doors to other clans of exuberant younglings and down the almost confusing pattern of turns that made up the Temple’s Crèche. It was, he knew, meant to be confusing so that intruders would have a harder time reaching the Jedi’s most vulnerable members on the off chance they made it through the Temple, guards, and every Jedi in between. He also knew that Obi-Wan was purposefully leading him through the longest route rather than the faster shortcuts one of the other crèche-minders, a young pantoran knight he’d only met with a few times so far, had taught him.

They nodded at the pair of guards stationed at the Crèche’s primary entrance once they’d finally made it through, and again to any Jedi they passed along the main corridor. Anakin glanced curiously at his master when he led them not towards the dormitory or refectory, but instead toward the salles and meditation rooms. He pursed his lips, unsure if it was a good or bad sign.

The salles meant lightsaber practice — Anakin’s favorite — but he doubted they’d stop there. He had, after all, been in the crèche because he’d let his temper get the best of him again, and Obi-Wan had made a point of steering Anakin away from as many potentially aggressive outlets as he could until he was sure Anakin was cool-headed. That didn’t stop him, however, from reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, shiny and still new considering he’d only just built it less than half a year ago. The trip to Ilum had been terrifying and exciting in equal measure, just the two of them instead of waiting for the next crèche clan’s planned gathering. It still awed him sometimes, to brush the warm, steel cylinder and find it there or to sit and listen to his crystal’s song virtually anytime he wanted.

It was a scrap of undeniable proof that he was a Jedi. That, late-comer or not, he belonged here just as much as any other padawan or knight.

Obi-Wan slowed, looking back at Anakin with the kind of unbearably soft, caring smile that told him his master had probably felt where his thoughts had gone. He held an arm out and Anakin hesitated a moment at the familiar invitation, torn between embarrassed frustration and elation at being invited close in a fairly public space, before stepping up so he was beside rather than behind Obi-Wan. He stiffened when Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder, but relaxed before his master could even think about pulling away. Anakin pressed into his side, deciding that, right now, eleven-nearly-twelve wasn’t too old for the show of affection, and just about melted when Obi-Wan’s arm shifted to briefly squeeze his shoulder.

His vain hope for the salles was, of course, dashed as they walked passed to duck into one of the smaller, unoccupied meditation rooms. Despite not wanting to complain, Anakin couldn’t completely stifle a sigh as he took in the room: bland, small, and box-shaped, with a few colorful cushions laid out and more stacked against the walls with a few other types of seating for those who might need it. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and settling on an older-looking, dark blue cushion. Anakin breathed in, held it for a count of four, and breathed out in an effort to brace himself for the ensuing lecture or meditation he was sure to suffer. He picked up a red cushion from the far wall, calling it to his hands with the Force, and sat himself down in front of his master, close enough that their knees almost touched. Then, he waited.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started after they’d sat in silence for a few tranquil-bordering-on-nerve-wracking minutes, their slow, even breathing the only sound in the room. Anakin met his master’s gaze, shifting slightly as a small kernel of icy unease sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not in trouble, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled, still soft. Still caring. Anakin frowned.

“You don’t usually bring me here unless I am.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He seemed to speak mostly to himself, brow furrowed and a wry twist to his lips, like he’d found something funny. Anakin cocked his head to one side, watching as Obi-Wan breathed deeply a few times like he was trying to center himself. Or, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, bracing himself. Anakin squirmed in place, hardly daring to breathe himself as the unease in his stomach grew a fraction larger. “I’ve been talking to a few of the crèche-minders you’ve been working with.” Anakin swallowed, thoughts flitting towards the many mistakes he’d made the last few months and especially at first. “They’ve given you rather glowing reviews if I do say so myself,” he said, a small but pleased curl in his lips. And Anakin—

Anakin blinked.

“Really?” he asked, and wished the question hadn’t come out quite so bewildered. His master grinned and Anakin swore there was pride gleaming somewhere in his eyes.

“Really. They’ve enjoyed having you there. Knight D’nali says you have an uncanny ability for distraction,” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin stuck his tongue out and earned himself a bark of laughter. “Master Benni,” he continued, sobering once more, “made an interesting suggestion when I spoke to him last week. I—” Obi-Wan stopped. Inhaled.

“Master?”

A fine tremor had started in Anakin’s hands at some point. Excitement at first, quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of nerves. He’d once thought, at first, that Tatooine would drown in rain the day Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t have a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. A nearly three-year partnership with the knight had broken the facade a bit by now, but the sight of Obi-Wan struggling to put his thoughts together unnerved Anakin even after his master smiled reassuringly, reaching forward to clasp one of Anakin’s hands between both of his.

“There are many paths to becoming a Jedi, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Guardians, Council members, diplomats, teachers … crèche-minders,” he said, emphasizing the last. Anakin’s breath caught, eyes wide as the implication sunk slowly in.

“Did— Did Master Benni,” Anakin started, strangled and halting. Obi-Wan nodded. “But—But I’m horrible with younglings! I’ve made so many mistakes. I—”

“You are learning, Anakin. No one expects you to be perfect at anything. Much less in dealing with younglings.” Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Floundered in his incomprehension until—

“Are you … Are you getting rid of me?” he asked, voice suddenly small and hurt. He turned his hand in Obi-Wan’s grip, wrapping his smaller fingers around his master��s wrist as if he would disappear from Anakin’s sight at any moment.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, one of his thumbs stroking the back of Anakin’s hand. “You are my padawan, Anakin, and I will never abandon you.” Obi-Wan paused there, earnest and scorching in his focus until Anakin nodded, more numb than anything else at the moment. Satisfied, his master continued: “But I do think that this is a good opportunity for you.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down to their hands and then back up, meeting Anakin’s once more, steady and confident and calm. “You’ve changed a little since you’ve been around the crèches. I can see a confidence in you that wasn’t there before, and better control. Not just with the Force, though I’ve no doubt entertaining younglings for hours has done wonders.” Anakin flushed, fuzzy warmth buzzing in his chest at the praise.

“You feel things — everything — so strongly, Anakin, and I fear I’ve not been able to help you much in that regard.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Obi-Wan held a hand up for silence and settled for a quiet pout instead, much to his master’s amusement.

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said with a nod, “and I do not doubt that you would learn a lot at my side alone. But I’m coming to realize where you might need more than I am able to give, not because I don’t want to. Force knows I’d do whatever I could to help you, Anakin, but there are simply things I won’t be able to understand. Haven’t been able to understand,” he added and Anakin frowned at the brief, bitter note he could pick out in his master’s tone. “Master Benni’s offer has as much to do with your potential as it does with your connection to both the initiates and their minders. I— We think it’s something you should consider, despite how it’s likely not the path you first envisioned for yourself.

“You will still be my padawan, always,” he said and squeezed Anakin’s hand to reinforce the sentiment, “but you would split your time between myself and a rotating number of the crèche’s minders under Master Benni’s supervision. You’ll be busy, and kept in the Temple more often than not even if I’m sent out on missions. It may cut into your classes or lightsaber training, in which case you’ll have to work harder to keep up, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”

Anakin nodded, mind whirling and thoughts spinning. There was more Obi-Wan wanted to say, he could tell, but Anakin was grateful for the lull granted to him to gather his thoughts.

“I—” Anakin swallowed, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. He held his master’s wrist a fraction tighter. “Can I think about it?” He winced at how his voice cracked, but Obi-Wan only nodded, smile still firmly in place.

“Of course. You don’t have to decide on anything until you’re ready. Master Benni made it quite clear to me that the offer is open to you whenever you wish to take it, whether that time is now or after you’ve been knighted.”

Anakin blinked, balking at the magnitude of not only the offer, but the old Master’s apparent faith in him, even as the buzzing warmth from earlier threatened to consume him fully now. He felt a fresh flush rise on his cheeks and a sheen of stinging tears prick at his eyes, held back by sheer force of will because he refused to waste the water just yet. Slowly, carefully, Obi-Wan squeezed his hand before leaning forward, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Anakin’s outer tunic. When he pulled, Anakin went as easily as he used to into his mother’s arms, overwhelmingly grateful for the contact just then.

“I’ll think about it, Master,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s robes, his face pressed into his master’s chest. “Thanks.”

Obi-Wan only hummed in response, tucking Anakin close and rubbing soothing circles into his back while Anakin clutched at him in return.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #crechemaster anakin #creche master anakin #my fanfic #i've been enamored with this au for the longest time lol #so i'm excited to finally be working on my own spin so to speak

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giggles-and-freckles · 3 years

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Okay woohoo some fic recs incoming!!!! These will probably be all over the place, but I’ve just got to scream about them for a second!!! PS gonna try to do these more frequently because this is fun!!!

Click below the cut if you dare!

Declarations by Nny11

Summary: A series exploring Obi-Wan and Ahsoka's relationship as Grandmaster and Grandpadawan.

Okay, so this is one of the first fics I can genuinely remember reading with a heavy emphasis on the relationship between Obi-Wan and Ahsoka where I was like 'hey oh my god I love them?’ It was a monumental moment for me because now I am so obscenely ride or die for them and I truly do think back to this fic often with utter fondness.

A moment I loved:

“From a certain point of view,” he finally conceded, motioning her to start again. “At least I know you’ve learned something from me!”

“Well I couldn’t learn the secrets of your hair routine!”

the flood comes rushing in by @kenobilovebot

Summary: "I have done this for you. I have put you first." Or, Anakin finds out.

A little bit of sith!Obi-Wan? As a treat? Hm, well...all right!!!!! I don’t want to say too much here because I would really prefer you read it than read any more of my mindless babbling but–it’s good.

A moment I loved:

He can hardly think around the smothering darkness that has so wholly encompassed his master, so effectively destroying the light that has always been. He’s always been able to reach for it at the worst of times. Now he can’t feel it at all.

a time to say goodbye by Sokaless

Summary: Ezra isn't the only one facing the temptation of change in the World Between Worlds. Just minutes after facing Vader, Ahsoka falls through a portal seventeen years into the past and must relive her final encounter with Anakin and Obi-Wan without drastically altering the future. But Anakin Skywalker taught her many things. How to push her luck was one of them.

This is a short and sweet time-travel fic that finds Ahsoka back in that moment in the hangar with Anakin right before they unknowingly have their last goodbye. She knows more now than she did before and struggles not to say it all. But the theme of learning from loss is really special and powerful and I feel this sad sort of closure when I finish (I say that actively because I have...read this fic several several times). Painful, poignant–all the best things.

A moment I loved:

One last thing she learned from Anakin- teaching a lesson often requires holding your student to higher standards than you hold yourself.

With the knowledge that she’s holding him to a standard she herself might never reach, Ahsoka tells Ezra, “I’m asking you to let go.”

good morning, sun by @katierosefun

Summary: “You look miserable.” Ahsoka dropped her hand, spun around. Obi-Wan stood behind her, one arm carrying a cloak and the other half-extended to Ahsoka. [or: After she leaves the Order, Ahsoka has one last encounter with Obi-Wan.]

Let’s see how many of Caroline’s fics I can get away with posting before someone reports me. This one-shot is full of all the good post-wrong jedi stuff. Soka and Obi have a conversation at Dex’s that hurts a lot but also feels real and I will never not respect Caroline for understanding the nuances of the disaster trios intricate and intimate relationships with each other and how they shift and mold around different circumstances. This feels so authentically them that it hurts.

A moment I loved:

What came out instead was a small, half-choked sound.

When Obi-Wan opened his arms, Ahsoka fell right into them. “It hurts,” Ahsoka said, her voice cracking. “A lot.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied thickly. “We’ll take care of it.”

You Haunt All My What-Ifs by @kckenobi

Summary: But then she saw the way Obi-Wan’s lip was quivering, and his eyes were shining, and she realized— He hadn’t called because he needed to tell her. He’d called because he needed her. “Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “Oh, Obi-Wan…” And she wanted to reach out, to hold him. To be his refuge, his shelter, his home. Instead she just watched as he shook his head, palmed at his eyes, apologized. She reached out. Touched the hologram. It flickered. — [Satine and Obi-Wan—then, now, and every echo of what if between them.]

One of the first fics that got me on my Obitine grind!! Just the right mix of angst and angst to create the perfect recipe of absolute sorrow. These characters feel so real I could reach out and hug them–and oh, how I want to after this incredible little fic.

A moment I loved:

And then suddenly she was thinking of every little what if—the other paths they could’ve taken, the millions of ways they could’ve ended up here. She imagined a future where he’d stayed. She saw white weddings, crying infants, painting nursery rhymes on a pale bedroom wall. She saw herself rolling over in the middle of the night, bumping shoulders, feeling his warm breath on her face. She saw family dinners, rushed breakfasts as they hurried the kids off to school. She saw laughter. She saw a lifetime. And at the end, she saw herself old and gray, holding his hand, his eyes the last thing she’d ever see.They had arrived at the end now. But she was not old and gray.

Dying Words by @cloudyskywars

Summary: Anakin is trapped beneath a collapsed building, and has one final conversation with Obi-Wan.

One of my favourite febuwhump contributions from within the mountain of wonderful fics that the second month of the year created!! Some good ol classic Obi & Ani pain. Hint of a deathfic...but mostly just the moments leading up to it. And they...hurt. Also!!! Melanie took the care to make Anakin’s final words be about Obi-Wan, which is very special to me for the reason she includes in her author’s note.

A moment I loved:

“And,” he said, “if you ever see Ahsoka again, tell her she was the best padawan I could have asked for.” His breaths were coming in rapid pants, now, and the room was spinning out of focus. “Obi-Wan?” he asked, voice barely audible. “Yes, Padawan mine?” he responded, his own voice shaky as well. “Thank you for being my Master,” Anakin said.

i’m only me when i’m with you idiots by @renegadeontherunn

Summary: who let Obi-Wan pick the holo? and where's the remote? they might need a bigger blanket.

[or, Anakin, Ahsoka, and Obi-Wan have leave on Coruscant and holo night is the perfect excuse to all squeeze onto a couch together, bicker, and be, well, a family]

Fluff, fluff, fluff! Yes, please! My dear Fiona does a wonderful job wrapping these three up in a blanket and plopping them in front of a holo for a night of witty banter and so-cute-I-could-melt platonic cuddles. I love these three, I love this fic!

A moment I loved:

“You met a civilized Padawan? Couldn’t have been ours.”

get home by @curse-of-men

Summary: After a mission goes wrong and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker goes missing, it is up to Obi-Wan Kenobi and Ahsoka Tano to bring him home.

[or: a Grandmaster and a Grandpadawan go on a road trip to rescue chaos personified]

What? Me? Rec’ing another Obi-Wan and Ahsoka centric fic? HUH? Hehe, I love that Lou says this is the missing Obi & Soka arc in their author’s note because um, did they look into my heart and know that’s what I most desire? Anyway, this three-parter is incredible from start to finish and I demand you all go read it immediately. :-)

A moment I loved:

Making their way to the cockpit, Ahsoka tilts her head into Obi-Wan’s general direction and says: “You know, Master, Anakin would probably think things so far have gone excellently.” Obi-Wan returns her look and sighs.

“Now you surely must get why I am so worried about this.” Ahsoka grins and gestures back and forth in the empty space between them with one hand.

“For what it’s worth, I think we make a good enough team.”

we stand here, together by @nightdotlight

Summary: Master Depa Billaba and Padawan Caleb Dume.

Windu worries for them, out in the wider galaxy. Waging war, while he and Anakin sit here, waiting.

But he trained Billaba, and Billaba is training Dume. Anakin once took lessons from her, when he himself was a Padawan, and he knows she is skilled enough by far, to ensure that both she and her student make it back to Coruscant safely.

It’s ironic, that when cut off from the Force he can understand other people better than he has in years.

ZOWEE!!!! This fic made me ugly cry on my conference period at school!! Ha! Another fic that culminates in, er...death. But!!!! The lead-up! Ooh, baby! The writing style of this one is also very fresh and unique which I appreciate as someone who essentially reads the same thing eight million ways (by choice, mind you!!!! and loves it every time!!!!). This is just an absolute gem of a fic. Queue: your best crying playlist.

A moment I loved:

Depa, her Padawan braid hanging from her shoulder, hugs him around his middle and drags him to the training salles. The whole way, her laughter follows them– warm, like summer rain. Like the smallest, most ephemeral moments of happiness.

Her smile feels like a sunset on his back, and Mace smiles back even as they spar, as green and purple clash over and over again in a dance unique to teacher and student.

He does not need to reach out to know the galaxy is at peace. When they take a break from their own spar, Mace feels a light tap on his presence in the Force; when he turns, Ahsoka Tano stands there in training robes, her own Master a few paces behind– and beside him, Obi-Wan Kenobi, face lighter than it has been in years.

Her Padawan beads hang from her headdress; when she smiles at the banter behind her, turning to retort, they catch the light, and the half-formed impression of those beads torn asunder and held in gloved hand is dissipated by the glare.

Only Hope by @tessiete

Summary: The infamous "Year on the Run".In the wake of her father's death, Satine is assigned two Jedi to escort her safely back to Mandalore, but in the chaotic aftermath of a civil war, there is more at stake than one person's survival. Together, they work to unite Mandalore, overcome ancient grudges, and bring peace to a world ravaged by bloodshed.

Man, oh man, do I love a good year on the run fic! And man oh man am I loving the heck out of this one. It’s in progress so go ahead give it a bookmark and a subscription while you’re at it!!!! But the banter! The sass! The (I assume soon to come) pining! The Qui-Gon third wheeling! READ IT! Cannot recommend highly enough.

A moment I loved:

“...and you’re bound to be hungry.”

“I assure you, I’m not.”

“Well, Obi-Wan is,” Jinn asserts. His back is to his apprentice and so he cannot see the mutinous glance which darts his way. “And as you’ve seen, he’s trouble when he isn’t fed. You have five minutes.”

Goes to Ground by jerseydevious

Summary: Obi-Wan has a question for Anakin following his experiences on Zygerria.

Silly Jedi boys trying and failing to communicate, gosh dang it!!! They get there, eventually, though. :’) Some post Zygerria angst and some tough discussions. HERE. FOR. IT.

A moment I loved:

“You are a bad influence, padawan mine,” Obi-Wan said. He gave Anakin that smile, the one that made Anakin feel like he shared a secret with his Master, something only for them.

In Sacrifice, Peace by @ilonga

Summary: “Shh. . .” Anakin says, gathering the younglings around him, reminding Obi-wan of all those whispered arguments where he had insisted to Anakin that yes, he was good with children, he’d be just fine teaching Ahsoka. He can almost feel the terror rising off Anakin from the hologram; Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening either. But he isn’t letting the younglings feel it. “You need to listen to me very carefully, okay? This--” his voice breaks, “--this is going to be scary. But you have to be calm, and strong. Just like Master Yoda taught you.” [Or, the ROTS au where Obi-wan finds a very different type of pain while looking through the Temple's recordings of Order 66.]

PAIN AWAITS YOU HERE! But that is exactly why you should click, kudos, comment, bookmark, and let this fic live in your head rent free like it’s living in mine. Truly couldn’t get it out of there if I wanted to! AND I DO NOT! Yet another deathfic and angst with The Team (TM). Read it, peeps.

A moment I loved:

“And then?”Obi-wan closes his eyes, pretends he can’t feel the weight of the body in his arms, pretends it’s really Anakin he’s talking to and not some worrying coping mechanism. “And then we fight.” he says.

to hold by @katierosefun

Summary: “What—” Ahsoka looked up and, where she had expected to find a mumbling drunk, she found instead—

“Master Kenobi?” Ahsoka asked, stunned. She straightened, already swinging her backpack around herself again.

“Ahsoka,” Obi-Wan managed. He was breathing hard, just barely bent over because he was supporting, Ahsoka realized dumbly, Anakin.

Anakin, whose head was lolling against Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Whose face was two shades too pale and eyes fluttering and lips parted in a soundless groan that brought Ahsoka right back to battlefields and med bays and other places that she hadn’t been in a long, long while. [or: after leaving the Order, Ahsoka runs into some familiar faces.]

Caroline at it again with the post-wrong-jedi disaster trio angst comin’ in hot! Some platonic bed-sharing, some confused Anakin, some conflicted Ahsoka, some pained Obi-Wan. Well–strike that. They’re all in pain. But what do we expect, honestly? What do we want, honestly? Pain. We want pain.

A moment I loved:

“Only another dream,” Obi-Wan said. He looked at Ahsoka, his face just barely shadowed. “Seems that it’s passed.”

Another.

Ahsoka’s stomach twisted. She looked at the hand she was holding. It was strange—she couldn’t remember if she had ever actually held onto Anakin’s hand this tightly before, but now she could feel the familiar callouses, make out just the faintest of old scars. Ahsoka squeezed it once.

Not near as many as I planned to do or have saved and ready to rec, but...this already got, er...quite lengthy. So! Same time, next week! I’ll have some more! (Well, probably not same time and maybe not even next week...but soon.)

#fic rec #how is this only thirteen fics hahahahahaha #I literally just cannot shut up #go kudos and comment and reblog their stuff PLS I beg you!

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penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories · 4 years

Text

No Matter How Many Skies Have Fallen

A/N: I really have nothing to say for myself at this point.

Sequel chapter to this fic here, if you’d like to catch up.

Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv for being my incredible beta and to @maybege for letting me rant to you and giving me so many wonderful ideas when I hit my walls. Also to the Obi-Wan fandom in general: Y’all are some of the kindest, most supportive people I’ve ever encountered on this hell site. Thank you for your support and your content!

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force Sensitive! Fem! Reader (no Y/N)

Word Count: 11.9K (I lost all control)

Warnings: SMUT!!! Soft Dom! Obi rights, Also, Sub! Obi vibes, Foodplay (but not how you’d think), Inappropriate use of the Force, Voice Kink, Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Hands Appreciation Society, As Usual: Too Many Feelings For Porn, Emotional Competence Kink, Trust Kink, TW: Pregnancy, TW: A character draws blood on themself unknowingly

Title from one of my favorite quotes:

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

What infinite irreverence the galaxy has for Obi-Wan Kenobi.

As if his master and only semblance of a parent wasn’t taken from him when he needed him most.

As if a boy who needed a father wasn’t entrusted to Obi-Wan quickly following, far too young and full of his own loss.

As if he wasn’t thrust onto the pedestal of parenthood when he really only wanted to be a brother.

As if that isn’t what they became anyway, and as if that wasn’t the exact cloud that hung over the atmosphere of your lives ever since you’d arrived on Tatooine.

As if the being whose life signature resided in your abdomen didn’t throw a punch into each of those blooming bruises by its very existence.

Which is why, you knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that you couldn’t tell him yet.

Normally, it’d be no small feat to keep something of this scale from him. But these days, he’s so focused on having his shields up around you, keeping you from both being hurt by or helping with his torments.

You have to take great care to control your body language, because even when he’s shut off from you in the Force, his keen perceptiveness will pick up on something being off anyway.

The art of a convincing lie is having layers. If he senses your feelings and decides to dig, then only give up one layer, and he’ll stop looking.

In this case, it’s your worry over him. It is true you’re trying to shield him from feeling that, not wanting him to carry the burden of it on top of having to work through his own pain.

But it’s not everything you’re trying to hide from him. So you let a small projection of your fear over his well-being escape, like you’re losing control of your feelings. It’s enough to convince him, and something critical inside you dies at the victory every time.

He deserves your honesty, and you’ve never given him anything less until now.

You hate how well your strategic deceit takes root. Because only part is due to your talent as a liar. The rest comes from how much he trusts you.

You’re not stupid, though. You know it’s only a matter of time before the biological changes in your body betray you.

Obi-Wan said he needed time, and you’re going to give him as long as you possibly can before dropping this anvil on him, hoping the further he gets from it all, the better off he’ll be.

You could kick yourself for not being more careful. You hadn’t missed any dose of your herbal Ho’Din contraceptive. It was one of the few things you shoved in your bag with the mere minutes you had to leave Coruscant for good. It was from a reliable medicinal shop, and there’s no good reason it should have failed in any way.

But here you were anyway.

Of course, there are options that free you from the obligation of carrying the child to term. All are expensive, and Tatooine is sorely lacking in any trustworthy medical facilities. The alternative methods could put your own life in danger as well.

Even if it wasn’t, you’d feel so strange making that kind of decision without Obi-Wan. Not that he wouldn’t support whatever decision you needed to make for yourself if you did, but going behind his back is something you’re not sure his trust could recover from.

And really, far too much has been decided for him in his life.

The worst reason why you can’t bring yourself to move towards any solution that ends the pregnancy now, the reason you abhor, is because somewhere within you, despite the awfulness of the time and place, you want this baby.

You couldn’t give a definitive explanation for yourself, but you did. Undoubtedly

Obi-Wan doesn’t press when you ask to cease your combat training for a time, asking to start learning the new offerings of the Jedi texts instead.

He’s concerned when you tell him, but if he’s suspicious as for your reasoning, he doesn’t show it outwardly, at least.

The way he doesn’t even ask about why, though: It makes you wonder if he had a reason all of his own why he’d rather not fight, even in imitation.

The Jedi writings given to Obi-Wan by Master Yoda are often more cryptic and mystifying than logically applicable without deciphering, which you are at first annoyed by, but then strangely thankful for, as Obi-Wan verbally processes his understandings of it, knowing what he does of the Jedi way, and you adding your thoughts from the stance of fresh eyes.

The conversations distract wonderfully, and you savor any way you still get to connect with him.

You don’t push for the ways he doesn’t allow you to connect with him anymore. The way he won’t let you in his mind. Because now, you too have a reason to not let him in yours.

*******

When it’s time to go into town for supplies again, you make up some feeble excuse which you know Obi-Wan sees through as a lie, and this time, he does pry, eyes soft and concerned. He knows you love going to the markets. You simply explain that you’re tired, which is true enough to satisfy him, leaving you behind with a kiss on your forehead before you watch him saddle up your eopie and ride off.

You sigh, sagging against the closed door once he’s disappeared into the horizon. You do love the markets. They’re the most colorful thing the planet has to offer, textiles and rugs and shiny, hanging things.

But the spices. Fragrant and potent, usually so appetizing and intoxicating, you know would turn your stomach alone. And that doesn’t even account for the strange meats being cooked at different vendors, and Maker help you if anyone was selling raw meat of any sort today. You’ve done your best to keep your nausea at bay, at times even tapping into the Force for centering when the world felt like it was rocking. But you know the market would be too much, too many variables.

It’s not a fast journey, even on the eopie, and you don’t expect Obi-Wan to be back for hours. Which is why when you hear a knock on your door, the tool in your hand clatters to the floor, as does the remnants of your project.

You quickly grab one of the long staffs you and Obi-Wan had only begun to use in your defense training, trying to recall the lessons as adrenaline begins to rush through your veins. Tatooine isn’t known for its pleasant company, and if anyone was going to try to rob your home, now would be as good a time as any.

The knock sounds again, and you shout from the inside, “What do you want?!”

“A peace treaty in the form of baked goods,” comes the feminine voice, one you recognize.

Opening the door, you lower the weapon in your hand as Beru Lars blinks at you.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were…” You step aside, gesturing for her to come in.

She waves a hand, dismissive. “I understand.”

You lead her over to the small living area as you fix two glasses of water from the kitchen.

When you set them down on the table, Beru speaks. “I apologize for the intrusion, if there was another way of contacting you before coming here…”

“It’s absolutely fine, I’m glad to have you.” You smile in what you hope is an assuring way. “Although, I’m surprised at it just being you. Where’s Owen?”

Her eyes flick to the stone floor. “He um… doesn’t exactly know I’m here. He’s out on a business deal today.”

You feel your eyebrows go up at that, waiting for her to continue. But instead, she changes the subject. “Where’s Ben?”

“In town. We needed some things from the market.”

Awkwardness settles in as a conversation topic evades you.

She breaks the beat of quiet. “Here, I brought these for you.”

You take the basket in her hands from her, peeling back the thick woven cloth to reveal a simple form of bread. It looks so appetizing your stomach clenches, and you instantly realize you haven’t had anything since breakfast.

But then the smell hits you, hard and powerful, and stars, it’s just bread, there’s nothing that should do that about bread, but you’re on your feet in a minute, forsaking the basket on the ground as you bolt to the fresher, barely making it in time to the sonic sink before you start heaving.

In a moment, you feel soft hands at the nape of your neck, gently holding back the fabric of your shirt and blowing cool air as you continue to wretch.

By the time everything has settled again, you’ve dealt with the aftertaste in your mouth, and splashed on your face with a precious cup of cool water, hot shame rises in your cheeks at how this must seem to Beru.

You wipe at your face with a rag, half muffling your words when you address her. “I’m so sorry, I’m sure they’re absolutely delicious, It really has nothing to do…”

“How far along are you?”

Your spine straightens instantly, and you let the cloth drop to the floor.

“I… what?”

Now she’s the one to flush. “My apologies, it’s just that it’s known for being a very gentle bread, it’s one my mother used to feed me when my stomach ached. If that smell turned you... I just assumed, and I shouldn’t have.”

Your lips purse as you consider your options. It’d be easy to say nothing, or just to nod.

“Two months,” you hear your own voice answer despite yourself. You’ve never been one for easy anyway.

A surge of emotion wells up in you at even being able to speak it aloud, aloud to another human, and next thing you know, to your absolute horror, you’re crying into your hands as your shoulders crumple in on themselves.

Why now, of all times? In front of Beru Lars? Whom you know accepted Luke with her husband without question because they couldn’t biologically have any children of their own?

“I’m… so… sorry,” You manage to choke out through the sobs, disgusted at your own lack of control.

At some point Beru must join you on the floor, patting her hand soothingly on your back. “Shhh, it’ll be alright. You’ll see. It’s not so bad having a young one around, you and Ben have so much to look forw…”

“He doesn’t know.”

Her hand pausing briefly on your back is the only indication she gives of shock.

“Would he not be happy?”

You take a steadying breath in, trying to calm yourself. “I don’t know,” you whisper, small and almost frightened to let the room hear you say it.

It falls silent again, but it echoes around in your brain, bouncing against your thoughts until you feel the onset of a headache.

After you’re to a numb enough state to enjoy yourself, you and Beru make tea and bring it back to the living area.

She lifts her glass to yours, clinking them. “To secrets kept from men and the mischievous company they bring.”

Your head now throbs with pain, but you smile anyway. “Thank you,” you say to her, and you mean it so very much.

********

The next time Obi-Wan goes into town, you’re feeling well enough to go with him.

You’re not visiting the food portion of the market, after all, so you’re not as much of a risk to set your stomach off. He’s taken to fixing small machinery for trading with the Jawas recently, the extra income helping with the projects around the house.

There’s a trap door that you found within the first day of being there. The staircase carved out of the bedrock beneath the hut leads to a small room that has now served as additional storage and a place for Obi-Wan to work. It’s also quite cool during the day, so if you can stand the smell of the various meats hung to dry, you’ll sit down there with some sort of project, or even reading material if you come upon it.

So today, he’s looking for a few specific tools that will streamline his working.

It doesn’t take long to find a promising stall among the maze of shopkeepers, selling everything from trinkets to weaponry of questionable legality. Obi-Wan finds what he needs easily enough, and it looks like the trip is going to be as efficient as it is successful as you walk through alleyways with him.

At some point, he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, projecting an assuring strand of affection toward you. It’s such a small gesture, but you’ll never tire of the feeling of his hand clasped in yours.

You’re almost back to where the eopie, Rooh, as he named her, is stabled when Obi-Wan abruptly slows his pace, dropping into a stall. An alarm goes off in your head when you watch him pick up a frivolous trinket on a table that you know he has no interest in.

You open your mouth to inquire at his actions, but it answers itself once you see him glance out of his peripheral vision to where the holonews plays in the stall adjacent.

Battle footage on what you recognized to be Kashyyk at the presence of the many Wookies plays with the Emperor addressing the viewers in a very two-dimensional, sugar-coated, thinly-concealed threat to any other world that would try to resist occupation.

There’s wreckage and uncensored violence, and you turn your head away.

“May it be known that Lord Vader is quite capable and willing to help those into compliance that require assistance... “

The item in his hands crushes, ceramic tile cracking into his hands, breaking the skin and drawing out drips of red.

But he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even seem to register the glass he’s pushing into his own hand. His eyes are wide and he makes a wounded noise from the back of his throat, eyes peeled to the holonews now, not even trying to feign disinterest.

His signature sparks, giving a flash and then a severe cry of anguish, and it hits you then. Pieces of information coming together as you feel Obi-Wan tear apart at seams.

Anakin Skywalker turned to the Dark Side, and Obi-Wan thought him dead. There’s a new Sith Lord now; the correlation and timing can’t be coincidence.

The Toydarian male behind the stall shouts something about paying for it in full, and you quickly hand over the credits with a glare.

You start to pull Obi-Wan’s other hand off the table, but you quickly realize your mistake in that.

The moment it isn’t holding his weight anymore, his knees start to give, and you’ve only a second to react, jamming your body under his arm to keep him upright. His momentum nearly pulls you forward, but you plant your feet and remember at the last second to call on the Force to assist you.

He seems to come to himself enough to walk somewhat as you steer him to the nearest alley away from the vendors.

He braces a hand on the stone wall, but even it isn’t enough as he drops to his knees. He doesn’t even seem to have the will to stand.

Crouching beside him, you place one of your hands on his chest.

“I…. I…” The tremor in his usually so crisp wording and steady voice crushes your chest, making it hard to breathe. “I failed him. I failed him.”

“Obi-Wan,” you start, trying to grasp at anything, everything to comfort him, not even thinking of how you can’t call him that here, even if there’s no one in sight.

If he registers your call, he doesn’t let on, continuing in his whispers to the wall. “He was burning. Burning, but I couldn’t do it. It would have been mercy to kill him, it was my mandate to do it, but I could not...” his voice gives out on the last word, and his shoulders fall forward in a shuddering inhale that transforms into a cut-short sob on its exhale.

“And now…” as the words pour from him, his shields fall, and so do the floodgates on his emotions, and it takes all the training you know to not be washed away in the torrential current of his grief. Does he even know he’s doing it, or has the insurmountable weight of his burden finally overridden his innate control over them?

“I’ve sentenced him to a fate worse than death.” He’s only barely choked out the end of his thought before his shoulders start to shake in earnest and he crumples in on himself as he begins to weep for his brother.

Giving no heed to the odd angle, you throw your arms around him. Trying to get your arms around his body is exactly the embodiment of the feeling of the moment, this anguish you don’t even begin to be enough to cover.

What could you say? What could you do? What would even begin to…

When you press your fingers to his temple, it’s light, a show of how unforced this is, how much he can say no if he needs. Because this isn’t for you. No, it’d be so much easier to not know the exact depth of his pain and rip your chest open with that knowledge. But you’re offering it, meaning it absolutely, desperate for him to take the hand offered to him. “Please let me in. Don’t do this alone. Let me…”

Then he’s pulling you in, not just letting you come in yourself, clinging to you like a person drowning. You remember to steady, to try to keep your own head above the water as wave after surging, overpowering wave of soul-crippling agony like you’ve never felt it engulf you in their surge.

You can’t hold out against it no matter how hard you try, so you refocus from centering yourself to pulling his signature into yours as you wrap your arms tighter around his torso.

And you begin to weep with him.

*********

The suns are drifting low by the time both of you have any intelligible thought, far too late to start the journey back to the hut.

At the inn, as Obi-Wan falls into the beginnings of a restless sleep, a thought emerges, clear and crisp in its awful truth.

You cannot tell him for a long while still.

*******

It’s different now. Because when he wakes in the night, he doesn’t give you falsehoods you see right through. He lets you into the terror and distortional dreams that all reside over one theme.

There’s silence in the first days after. Just silent tears and still embraces and the way time seems to freeze when grief is at its worst.

But then he starts talking. It comes in little pieces, then in larger ones.

The loudest thing his signature screams is guilt.

You tell him how it isn’t his fault, how Anakin is responsible for his own choices, but he just gives you a new reason every time as to why it is his fault, how he could have stopped it.

Because even in what he considers his worst failure, his verbiage is indicative of how it’s not his own image and pride hurting that he’s even considered. All of his thoughts, all of them, are on what Anakin needed that he didn’t give.

At first, it’s just impressions from his mind, unsorted, blurry thoughts and feelings, but it eventually begins to become words.

“After his mother died… I know that he blamed me. How couldn’t he? He told me of his dreams, dreams he knew were foresights, but I dismissed them, multiple times, at that. And the council… advised me against comforting him, but he… I… I did anyway.” His shoulders are forward, body sagging with unsureness that doesn’t fit him right in the slightest. “But it was far too late. I know there was something pivotal about the death of his mother, and I am...” he hesitates, seemingly not because he doesn’t know what to speak, but because he does. “Terrified. Terrified it’s all because I didn’t validate him sooner. If I had not...” His voice breaks off, as he shuts his eyes.

Fear is not something admired by the Jedi, you know. When he speaks of his own emotions, he speaks them like he’s confessing them.

And as he confesses and confesses, you comfort where you can, cry with him when you cannot.

*****

The swells of sorrow ebb and flow in their intense bursts and receding stillness, and despite the moments of not being able to breathe under the weight of it, there are miniscule, almost violating, hysterical intervals where smiles and life spring to the surface, gasping for air.

Or in this case, the inexplicable desire to dance.

You don’t even really know when you start, simply going about cleaning clothing in the sonic washer, and the next, some ridiculous, repetitive tune sweeps you to move your hips and feet, uncoordinated and graceless. The tune itself played from a datachip, scrapped with some pieces Obi-Wan was repurposing to make repairs. You’re not even familiar with the type of music, and it’s hardly the type of music you’d normally choose, but you find that today, it’s an improvement on the quiet that falls upon the house as Obi-Wan works outdoors.

The song swings into a bridge, and you slide across the stone floor, imitating something you saw in a music holo years ago, as you do, your foot catches on the rug you recently added, sending you fumbling for your footing. You eventually catch it before you fall, but as you look up, you decide to lower yourself to the ground anyway at the sight of Obi-Wan, leaning up against the door frame, watching you with an amused expression, the fingers of one hand tracing between his lips and chin.

You sit splayed as tactless and gangly as you danced and let out a short, startled laugh.

“Please, don’t stop on my account. I was quite enjoying myself.”

Maker, could you just hide under the rug you tripped over? “Please tell me you haven’t been standing there long.”

He pushes off his lean on the wall, crossing the room to you. “I won’t tell you lies, my love.”

Shame twists in your gut at his words, chasing the laughter in your throat away. But Obi-Wan extends a hand down, and you take it, letting him draw you to your feet.

He kisses the back of your hand before taking it in his, extending the clasp out to the side of your bodies as his other hand rests hot on the small of your waist.

“But I will join you, if you don’t mind a style change.”

“I don’t know how to dance like this,” you say, factually.

“Then allow me to teach you.” When you look in his eyes, they’re lined with the etches of heartache still, but there’s something else too, brimming to the surface.

“What, to this music?” You give your last, unconvincing protest.

He simply drops his forehead to yours, and the small sounds of the room fade to white as a sweet, moving melody replaces it. It’s not perfectly clear, and it takes a moment to realize that it’s because it’s coming from Obi-Wan’s memory.

The music has a distant, foggy quality, and it has potential to be eerie, but instead, it just lifts you into an ethereal feeling.

He steps, and your feet follow, not as graceful, but he makes it easy for you, the steps hinted out in his thoughts before taking them in actuality.

When you start to feel confident enough in the movements, you look up at him. “Does this mean I can teach you my dances next?”

He laughs, laughs, unabashed and with no emotion harbored under it, and some torn piece of your heart mends at the sound.

“Certainly not.”

You laugh too, even at the thought of him trying. The laugher rolls into a smooth quiet, and you let yourself bask in the feel of his body against yours, the press of his hand on your back as you rest your cheek against him.

Obi-Wan cradles you to him, forsaking the pattern of the dance as he encompasses you in his arms, lowering his lips to your cheek, then your mouth in a blazing kiss.

He takes your hand in his, lifting it above your head. Then you’re guided into a spin, and the room spins double with it as you abandon all endeavors of trying to get the dance correct. Your hand drops protectively to your belly before you can even think better of it, and by the time you know you’re not going to throw up, it’s too late. You already feel Obi-Wan’s unmistakable concern right before he asks, “What’s wrong?” extending an arm out toward you.

His complexion is ashen with worry, and when you don’t respond, you feel him start to reach out to your mind; a spike of panic zaps down your spine, and you’re suddenly not sure you’re not going to throw up after all.

Your shields crash down, not enough time for subtlety, and he retracts both his hand and inquiring tendril of energy as hurt and confusion shape his features.

You can’t do this. You can’t keep up this facade or cover this moment with a lie you know he’ll see through. But you can’t tell him either. After all the weight he’s carrying, the weight of the being that grows in you should be yours alone. You can’t thrust that upon him.

But it’s a delusion that you can keep this from him forever. You’re going to hurt him one way or another, and the weight of your silence and lies multiply every day you insulate him from the truth.

You take in a shuddering breath as dread settles into your bones. You know what you have to do.

Even as you slowly lower your shields, opening your signature, your mind screams at you in opposite directions, ripping you in half, and your hand shoots out to the nearest wall to stabilize yourself. How could you be so sadistic to tell him this? How could you not tell him? After all the trust you have in each other?

But he doesn’t take the invitation. “I will not touch your mind if you are still unsure you want me to,” he says softly but resolutely as he approaches you, but stays an unthreatening distance away, as if approaching a frightened animal.

No, no, no. You won’t have him being the one to sturdy you through this. You need to be strong, be ready, don’t force him to coddle you through the blast to his own chest.

So you dial down your own emotions and switch your absorption to amplifying the still tiny, barely recognizable life you’ve been carefully censoring ever since you heard it yourself.

You want to close your eyes, blockade the pain of both how it impacts him and how it will impact you, but that’s not how you two do things.

Summoning every iota of bravery and resolve running in your veins, you force yourself to look up at him as you watch understanding coat him.

His eyes go wide, and his hands clench and flex at his sides in an erratic, nervous pattern.

You can’t keep your signature open to his mind’s reaction, you just can’t. He’s seen enough, and you can put your shields up again. His face is enough to confront all on its own.

Obi-Wan steps toward you, slowly, dazed in a completely uncharacteristic way. With the way he seems to ever be prepared for the blows life throws at him, you hate how you have to be the harbinger for the second one that’s knocked him off his feet.

When he stops in front of you, he places his hands on either of your shoulders and looks into your eyes, searching for confirmation, and you nod, trying to not let fear seep into your expression.

One of his hands covers his mouth as he takes it in.

And then he’s sinking in front of you, off of his feet indeed, and onto his knees. You want to follow, ready to hold him through the heartache sure to follow, at the second child he didn’t ask for while he still grieves the loss of the first.

But his hands instead take purchase on your stomach, tightening the fabric of your tunic around the barely-visible bump before bunching it up and lifting, just enough so he can tilt his forehead against the skin there.

You can feel him reaching out, not taking him long at all to find what he’s searching for, and curiosity beats self-preservation at the last moment, prompting you to open your mind again, just for you to be able to catch elation coursing through Obi-Wan.

You don’t even bother trying to stifle your confusion as he looks up at you with glassy eyes.

Sinking to your knees to meet him, you take his face in your hands, trying to make sense of it all as he takes your hand in his. “I never... “ when his voice comes out unsteady, he clears his throat and tries again. “I never thought I’d have... That we could… didn’t occur to me that now...stars above, how long have you known?”

You don’t recall when you start crying, but tears are falling freely down your cheeks as you shake your head. “I’m so sorry. I… I would never want to keep something like this from you, Obi-Wan, but I couldn’t tell you, not with everything, not with all you already have…and i’m so sorry.”

“Oh, heavens, no. You should not have to do this alone. Please don’t keep things from me, even if you think it to be for my sake. We can…”

You fix him with a pointed, unamused stare. He exhales as he must notice his hypocrisy.

“Your point is well-put and taken, but the sentiment still stands. We’ll not keep secrets from each other anymore. Do we have an accord?”

Despite it all, you smile at his overly-formal phrasing, something you’d normally have a quip about if it weren’t for the concern still nagging at you.

“Are you not angry then? Or disappointed?” you watch him carefully, praying to any deity listening that he doesn’t concoct some half truth to placate you. His first instinct is always to protect, but you’d never want it at expense of his authenticity.

Bafflement marks his brow at first, then he takes your face in his hands. “Darling, no.” He says your name, gathering every bit of your attention. “I dreamt of you. During the war, when I was away. I did not sleep well, even then, but when I did, I’d sometimes dream of you, holding a child that I knew to be ours. When I woke, I would remember it so vividly, so painfully, because I never thought that was an attainable future for us.”

But that doesn’t need to matter if you… do you want this child?” His eyes are so full of hope, and it was the last thing you expected, but here he is laying it down on the altar of your preference, and maker, are you glad those two things aren’t opposing each other.

Because his hope and yours are one in the same, and once he knows it too, at your whispering, choked, “yes,” he’s clutching you in his arms.

And for the second time in a month, you’re both huddled on the ground in tears. The first, bowing under the mass of catastrophe. Now, at the glowing relief of the sprouting of a dream sown in tears, too tender before to even say aloud.

But now? You’re saying it, back and forth, from him to you as your walls fall, permitting him into your mind as he welcomes you into his, and finally you take true comfort once again in the home you’ve built in each other.

*******

The night after, you lie side by side, hand in hand, on a blanket splayed not far from the hut. The suns have sunken, but the pinks and oranges of their palette still paint the sky where it hasn’t yet turned to midnight cobalt. The light of the lantern gives off a similar hue, dousing everything in your reach in soft, warm hues.

It has taken Obi-Wan some convincing, being so out in the open with everything he had to worry about wasn’t his first choice, but you compromised for a small alcove in the rock formations which surrounded you on two sides. More easily defensible. Not that he needed it, but if he was cautious before, it was borderline unbearable now. With the added danger of the Empire knowing without doubt that he lived. With more than ever to lose.

So, he was in charge of safety, you were in charge of snacks. And if they so happened to be almost entirely comprised of those melons you couldn’t quite get enough of lately? That was no one’s business except yours. You brought a few things you knew Obi-Wan liked too, of course.

What little remains of the miscellaneous spread you push to the edge of the blanket so you can both lie down.

“I dare say it’s almost pleasant out tonight.”

You turn your head to him, a snort ready at him discussing the weather of all things, but it instead forms a cloud in your throat at the sight of him.

His eyes are closed, hair rustling in the slight evening breeze, a tranquil ease over his profile.

The small patches of grey in the part of his beard next to his ears catch the first glints of moonlight in a way the rest of his hair doesn’t, giving them away.

The mellisonant lowness of his voice brings you back to yourself, cheeks heating.

“I can feel you staring, little one.” He opens his eyes, leisurely rolling to his side. “Some say it’s quite impolite.” Slanting over you, he lifts a brow, daring your response.

“And is that a problem?” You look up at him through your eyelashes, feigning innocence.

Obi-Wan’s gaze follows back up to the stars, as he plays right along, pretending to have to think on it. “I suppose it depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you allow me to return the impropriety,” he responds with a coy smile, moving back to you, so close now you can feel his exhales on your cheek.

Warmth blooms through you as you answer back, “You can always look, Obi-Wan.” You lift yourself to close the short distance between your face and his, pressing your lips together, which he deepens right away. Using the hand not supporting half his body off of you still, he fans out his fingers across your belly, towing the line between caressing gently and clutching protectively.

You pull your lips back from his as an uninvited slither of insecurity slips into your chest.

He senses it, of course, so you speak before he even needs to ask. “Are you really, truly, certain this is what you want? Now? I don’t want you to just say so because…and we could wait, we have...”

“I am,” he says, adamantly, before you even have a chance to finish. His eyes flash to the side. “I…” He rolls back onto his back, looking straight up as he talks seemingly half to you, half to himself. “There is not much I know for certain these days. Some days… I scarcely can remember who I am anymore.”

He turns his eyes back to you, unwavering. “There are seldom few things I haven’t questioned of late, and my love for you isn’t one of them. And from the moment I’ve known, from the very first instant you let me feel the life within you, my love for them hasn’t been one either.”

Your thoughts split into two, one wanting to lean into it, to take him for his word that’s always true, and the other cautioning you, telling you to keep distant and watch for the surface level honesty he gives that hides the brutal one he safeguards you from.

But you’re not hiding anymore, feelings unconcealed in your energy and on your face, so he leans back into you, grasping your arm in his hand, squaring your shoulders to him. You cringe at yourself when you know he’s heard the impression of you questioning. It’s redundant, but self-doubt always is. “Know, please know, my darling.” Taking your hand in his, he brings it up to his temple with an insistence that you have no desire to counter.

And it’s there. Right there and sparking in its clarity, right at the threshold of his mind as you enter it. How much he means his words, no holds barred, no cleverly crafted glazes to an unly underbelly of reality. His reality was this, how severely he craves starting a family with you. How much he already loves the being within you, how he looks forward to the day he gets to hold them in his arms.

The fear is there too, quiet, but not kept from you. The fear of failing as a father, unsure of assuming any role that resembled a mentor again, all-too-familiar with the ghost that will float over him in every lesson he teaches.

What shocks you there is his faith in you. In how much he’s already learned from you about the impact of open affection, in how you don’t let your feelings lead you, but you let them breathe, not suffocate them. It’s part of how he even can acknowledge his fears to himself and to you without berating himself under the too-simple phrase “fear leads to the dark side.” There’s truth in it, but also inaccuracy.

Because he’s afraid, and yet, there is so much light in the acknowledging of it to himself, and in that very act, it loses much of any power it could have had over him. Oh, how deeply he wishes he could have articulated that understanding to Anakin.

The pain is fresh, but so is his anticipation for the future, swirling together in a potent drink, and his throat bobs with the effort to swallow them down simultaneously.

He knows you’ll help ground him through it, he trusts you, even in his uncertainty in himself.

It breaks your heart but also warms it: the knowledge that he lets you into that place where he keeps the questions of himself, the place only you and the man who’s caused most of this doubt have been permitted.

With a thankful short farewell, you part from his mind as you know exactly what you want to do.

The remains of your snacks still rest on the edge of the blanket, including the shells of the deep purple-pigmented melons. The one draw-back to their delightful taste was how badly they stained your fingers. You had to break them into tiny pieces, plopping them into your mouth without allowing them to touch your lips unless you wanted your mouth to stain too.

But right now? The staining quality was just what you needed.

Although first you needed a blank canvas.

“May I take your tunics off?” you ask, sitting up.

Despite a short twitch of confusion and then interest, Obi-Wan follows, raising himself up into a kneel, slightly lifting his arms in compliance.

The paleness of his skin catches all the light of the lantern, highlighting your view as you slowly slide the fabric up and off, gliding your hands up the line of hair dipping below his navel as it becomes more exposed. It grants you a quiet, steep intake of breath from him and you suddenly give halt momentarily, distracted by the alluring appetite you’ve created.

No, you won’t give in. Not yet. He needs to know this.

You take one of the broken pieces of melon rind in your hand, where little tart bits of the fruit still cling, dribbling pigment, but before your finger makes contact with the taut skin of his chest, you pull back at the realization you might have bitten off more than you can chew.

How do you even begin to describe him? Obi-Wan is so many things at once, so many attributes, and every descriptor that comes to mind falls blatantly short of him.

Then you recall Obi-Wan going through the motions of Alchaka, watching his body fight to maintain the poses at times. Being such a personal practice, you felt honored that he let you see him go through the exercises, and even more honored that he opened up to you about the purpose behind it later. It was an exercise of both physicality and Force use, and the goal was absolute exhaustion. That was the destination. Trying, knowing from the start that he’ll fall short in the end, but doing it all the same. Because there’s so, so much to be said for the trying.

So you do. You bring the messy fingertip to his clavicle, smearing the first word you know to absolutely be true of him, as if starting the premise with a whisper of I know you’re even more than the sum all of these singular praises.

The word “complex” appears in your penmanship on his skin as you drag it to life. You look up to his eyes, and his curiosity is clear there, but also so is the tenderness that is elemental to any time he looks at you. And just like that, you have your next word.

Kind.

And at the way he flushes so lovely for you at that?

Beautiful.

You feel his protest before you see it, the objection in his signature, and you know you’re going to have to switch methods.

Just then, a droplet from where you’ve written the last word on his pectoral falls, down, down, threatening toward the hem of his trousers, but you’re fast, dropping your mouth down and catching it all on your tongue before it can stain the bleached beige of his remaining clothing.

When his stubborn revolt at the affirmation quiets in his mind in exchange for a flash of searing lust, you know exactly how you’re going to continue.

Because Obi-Wan Kenobi, general, warrior, negotiator, Jedi Master, legend, has rarely ever been affirmed as such, and he squirms under the thick blanket of his humility and deprivation anytime someone endeavors.

So you need his mind to be preoccupied enough, guards down low enough, so he can even hear the message get through.

When you place your hands over his waistband, locking eyes in inquiry, stopping when he hesitates, scanning the area around you, vigilant as always. Overly so now.

“We’re alone. And wouldn’t you be able to sense it if we weren’t?”

He looks down at you as he answers. “If I stay mindful enough to do so, yes.”

Good, he’ll be even less prone to fight you if he has some of his mind sensing outward.

You look back up at him with the facial equivalent of asking “well?” to which Obi-Wan sighs in response. “Very well then.”

With your familiarity with ridding him of clothing, it only takes moments before you can finally taste him where you want to, where he’s already hard and swollen for you.

You know you won’t be able to take him as much as you want, a recently-developed overactive gag reflex preventing you. But it just so happens to be convenient tonight, as the resulting taunt should have him right where you want him.

A gentle kiss, right to the head of his cock is all the warning you give him before taking the whole tip in your mouth, swirling your tongue around him, pulling a choked hum deep from his throat.

Oh, oh, Maker, have you done a grand miscalculation, because you forgot an entire factor in this equation: the way you have been borderline hysterical in hunger for him.

You’ve kept so much from him, and part of how you’ve even managed is starting to convince yourself of less than fact. Facts like how many times you’ve had to change underthings recently, physical evidence of desire unwilling to comply to your head’s demands. Facts like how you’ve literally had to bite your finger to keep the feelings at bay.

You’d expected changes in your body even before your belly grew, but this was one you hadn’t anticipated. In some ways, it wasn’t that different than usual. You never knew you could want someone with the breadth that you want Obi-Wan.

But this? Of late? It feels like it’s been amplified tenfold.

You’re not keeping any cards close to your chest anymore, but you do have to ignore your own body’s screaming cries as you complete this.

He needs to know.

Nerves still serenading his brain with feedback, you re-wet your finger with the purple juice and write the next words across his abdomen.

Wise.

Perceptive.

He’s caught on to your scheme by now, cued by the all-too appropriate addition of the last word, and he lets you know it, an impression projected, speechless but still unobstructed. He’s still powerless against it. Or rather, letting himself be powerless. Trusting you with the control he has left, trusting you in his vulnerable places. The places where he’s weak.

Strong.

The word spread over his right upper arm, where he’s obviously just that. But may the tint of the word bleed through his skin, may it run through his veins, because that’s how deep and deeper still that his strength runs. It’s in the way he doesn’t flaunt it. It’s in the way he chooses to wield it.

Gentle.

He closes his eyes, flinching at the onslaught of acclamation, and you dip your head down again, wrapping your lips around his cock, letting him slide to where you can take him comfortably, just starting to build a pace as his hips squirm in harmony with his suddenly erratic breaths. Oh, how you’d love to let him deeper, allow his cock past your lips beyond the teasing amount you can take now, but the little writhes his body gives in protest are enough to almost make you okay with how your mouth won’t agree with your ambitions. He says your name, groaned out in bliss as he cups a hand on your cheek.

His barriers are down, so it’s easy to hear when his deprecating thoughts quiet again, and you switch back to coloring him again.

You know the moment you look up at him that it’s a mistake, because he’s flushed, so torn, suspended in the limbo of your give and withdrawal, mouth ever so slightly open, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.

You’re only human, so before you draw anything else, you bring your lips to his, which is yet another mistake, because among the many things Obi-Wan is, he is a deep kisser, and as his tongue delves into your mouth, your will power takes a devastating blow.

You pull back, reeling at the reminder of how easily he can take back control, knowing you have to complete this before you let him.

Stars, how you want to let him.

For now, you need that control back, so you take him into your mouth again, filthily wet and not nearly long enough as you quickly pull back, watching in satisfaction as he heaves forward at the loss, correcting himself quickly back into straight posture.

With a smirk, you drag your slippery, pigmented finger across his lower stomach.

Disciplined.

There’s so many more words, so much more he needs to know, and if you covered every inch of his skin in the smallest writing it still wouldn’t be sufficient of all that he is.

Or you could whisper it all through the Force, embed it all in his mind.

But because you’ve been there, know his mind inside and out, you know every time he sees his own skin, all he sees is the red of blood on his hands. The blood of his brother.

And that’s exactly why you’re going to stain it in your own colors. Take back territory and push back the front lines that the army of guilt has taken over on him.

Your Jedi, ever-adorned in unassuming beige, now drips in the color of royalty.

Charming.

Humble.

Confident.

Steadfast.

You’re only left with enough space for one more word, and you want some sort of conclusion to it all, something to summarize the expanse of the man kneeling in front of you.

Nothing can.

But maybe, just maybe, one word encapsulates what he is to you.

Treasure.

This time you do chant it across his thoughts, prompting him to open his eyes and look at you.

Cerulean blue blinks open, slowly, almost painfully and nearly overflowing with emotion.

Thank you, is all he says, unable or unwilling to say it out loud, much too heartfelt and newly-budded for that.

You know his pain has older roots than those tended to in this moment, but you vow to yourself that you’ll never stop trying.

Lowering your mouth around him once again, you don’t tease him anymore, at least not intentionally, even though you still can’t take more than half of him.

“Look at you, you’re…” he hisses in a breath as you swipe your tongue against that vein on the underside of him. “Stunning. You’re doing so well, little one.”

The taste of him compels you as much as his words, seizes you in spice-like addiction, and how interesting it’s going to be explaining that taste craving to him, among your sudden adoration for those damn melons.

“Darling, I’m…”

You feel it in his energy before he says it, already pulling off, replacing your mouth with your hand, dropping your lips down even lower, mouthing at his balls, and the feedback is instant. An outpouring crest of his pleasure blasting outward as he lets out a depraved moan, netting his hands into your hair.

Your hand is wet and so is where he’s spilled on his still flexing and releasing stomach, clear white maring the lettering halfway through “disciplined.” You’d clean it with your tongue if you weren’t sure how your overly sensitive taste buds would react now.

It’s not the first time you’ve had sex since you’ve known you were pregnant, but it’s the first time since he’s known, and it’s the first time you’re not hiding the symptoms. Before, you carefully shied away from anything that might give you away, and between the preoccupation of everything on his own mind he was trying to keep from you and his respect for your boundaries, he never pressed. He had questions in his eyes, but you knew how to carefully reveal partial vulnerabilities to keep him off your trail.

Your chest flares at the memory.

We’re not hiding now.

It’s your chant, your reminder, your comfort. How nothing of this caliber will be kept between you again.

His eyes confirm it, sincere and exact as they fight to break through their dazed slipping.

Never again. His voice in your head is home, so consoling it can and has put you to sleep before.

Right now, it wakes you up in a different light, dowsing you in heat as Obi-Wan takes your hand in his, wiping it on a piece of his discarded clothing before wiping the spend off himself.

Then he’s taking your face in both his hands tilting you up before kissing you soundly.

I love you, he says across the wire that ties your minds, the wire that keeps growing stronger every day. So, so very much.

You say it back, a fact as simple as breathing. You love him.

You want him, borderline need him the way you need your next inhale, you don’t say, but he must hear it anyway, because that cocky little smirk that’s been gone far too long is back.

“Shall we do something about that?”

You’re about to just lift your shift dress up and off in response, but he halts you, grasping your wrists.

“Allow me.”

He pulls you into another sultry kiss, completely neglecting the task of ridding you of clothing.

Or so you think.

There’s buttons all the way down the dress, and you’ve never used them, always wondering at their purpose if it can so easily lift over your head.

At first, you don’t even know he’s doing it until you start to feel the coolness of the night air on your nipples. Opening your eyes, you pull back from him to watch as seemingly in thin air, your buttons undo themselves.

“You needn’t seduce me further. You already know how much I need you,” you gasp, breathless from the kiss.

Obi-Wan just gives a small smile as he drops a hand, dragging it down your side, then down your thigh. “Hm. So impatient. All this from just pleasuring me?”

Maker, he knows! He knows that you are. You always have been, and it’s not as if you weren’t projecting your feelings too.

When he reaches a hand between your thighs, parting them and making a single, tempting stroke through them, his fingers come back glistening.

“I should think you could feel that I am.” You let the tide of your frustration spill over into your connection to his mind.

You know he had to hear you, but he gives no indication that he did.

“Mm. Desire needn’t always be indicatory of impatience,” he punctuates his statement with a hand at the base of your skull, tipping your head back to expose your neck. “I need you to be patient, little one. Let me savor you.” And with that, his mouth makes contact with your neck at the same time his other hand plays with one of your exposed nipples.

You whimper at the attention, quietly pleading with him for more. Among the still slight changes to your body, this has been the most notable one. How sensitive your breasts have become to even the scrape of the fabric of your clothing.

And with the rough pads of his fingers working only one, leaving the other to pang in want...

“Obi-Wan,” it’s a prayer, a request. He doesn’t need his hands to cause sensation, and you’d beg him right now if he asked.

He lets up on your neck, only barely, lips moving against the now throbbing skin. “Answer me first.”

Clearing your throat, you give the most cogent response you can muster. “Depends on if you’re definition of savor is synonymous with torture.”

He locks eyes with you then, gently grasping a breast in each of his hands, dragging his thumbs over the nipples as you moan out your assent.

His chuckle is far too self-satisfied to be becoming of a Jedi, but you’re already too far gone to call him on it.

“Is that what you want, little one? For me to torture you so?”

An affirmative whimper is all the response you can give, and Obi-Wan reacts quickly, taking your chin in his fingers and tilting your eyes up to his again.

“Then you will be patient for me. Because I’m always happy to stop, and we can begin again when you decide to adhere.”

Your brain short circuits on the spot, and all energy is redirected much, much lower. His voice, stars above, his voice when it takes a commanding tone.

It’s intimate, it’s personal, and yet this game is almost inappropriately playful for how sincere the moment is.

But such was being loved by Obi-Wan. Full of dissimilar feelings that shouldn’t fit, but moved together in liquid consistency. Like metaphors that didn’t rhyme but still somehow gave their own life-giving rhythm, not dissimilar to the sound of his heartbeat when you lay your head against his chest at night.

Making quick work of the remaining buttons of your shift and underwear, he beckons you to join him as he lies back down, large, warm hands guiding you to turn around so you’re facing away from him.

You know that the purple stickiness of the fruit will smear from his body to yours like this, but you can’t at all bring yourself to care.

You gasp a sigh of relief as one of his hands finds your breast, brushing a knuckle over the too-sensitive nipple.

“Please.” Your whispered beg sounds pathetic, even to your own ears. But as you arch against him in a frenzied attempt at skin contact, Obi-Wan juts his hips forward, grunting into the exposed column of your neck, and stars, yeah, maybe he didn’t find that so pathetic after all.

“What do you want, darling?” His voice doesn’t divulge any desperation, and for only the hundredth time do you envy his immaculate self-control.

“You know, don’t pretend you don’t.” Leaving any doubt to the wind, you push your chest against his barely-touching hand.

“Specificity can be a virtue; that I also know.”

You change techniques, driving your hips back softly into where he’s hard and insistent against your ass, hoping it compels him.

Then you simply… can’t anymore. You’re frozen, unable to move your lower half at all.

Tangling your desires into a knot and tucking it away, you find the mindfulness to reply. “Yeah, so is mercy.”

“Indeed it is. I shall concede when you do.”

You won’t win a battle of the wills with him. You’re not sure anyone could.

So you bring his hand over to your nipple. “Touch me here.”

You feel his smile without even seeing it as he starts tweaking the bud. “Like this?”

It’s so much sensation, all concentrated on such responsive flesh, that you want to beg for him to switch to touching you between your legs.

You haven’t even finished the thought when you feel his unmistakable metaphysical brush against your thigh.

Extending a tendril of your own energy, you invite him in, and he takes it eagerly, ever as eager if not more to be entwined with your mind as with your body.

He hears it all, the besottment, the arousal, the neediness. The panic that he might drag this out longer, that you’ll have to go a single minute longer without...

“It’s alright. It’s alright.” He sends soothing waves through your connection, and he swaps the positioning of his hand with the curl of power. He turns his hand so that the back of it runs through where you’re aching for him, gathering up your slick on the backs of his knuckles. You have to contort your neck to see what follows when he takes the hand back behind you, and your mouth goes dry when he sucks the knuckles in between his lips.

You want to hear, you want to know what he’s…

He’s welcoming you in, navigating you to the brink of his mental barriers, letting you take that final plunge into the unsuppressed fullness of your bond to each other.

Now it’s your turn to hear it: how his carefully constructed unaffected persona is not at all a match for his naked, wanton need for you.

And under that, the foundation on which that desire is built, not the product of it, is his love, his unyielding, unashamed, iridescent love for you.

It’s all you can do but to pour it back, affirming and soothing and calling his love into action with your own.

You both don’t want anything else except the most complete of entanglement, and that’s exactly what he moves to do, situating your bodies, hiking your top leg in the crook of his arm as you feel the initial breach of his body into yours, and all breath leaves your lungs in an exhilarating evacuation.

His audible gasp is an echo of his emotions, how he thinks he’s prepared for this onslaught of feeling, but how you take him off guard, how his equilibrium threatens to teeter every time.

The web of his consciousness enveloping you, it’s easy to pick out a single thought blaring within him: How much he adores the way you fit together. Your back against his chest, how your breast fits in his hand, how the snug joining of where his cock presses into your body sends you into trembles, how comforting your very presence is to his soul when he lets you in like this.

Tears, without warning, seep out of your eyes as he starts to move against you, slow and deep. You close your eyes, willing the powerful emotion away, but glimmers of light flash out behind our closed lids the moment you do, and how the kriff does he stay composed?

Anchor. Anchor against me.

He stills, letting you have a break from the barrage of pleasure blinding you as you search him out, looking for the cords of his intellect that seemingly both steam downward and beam upward, grounding him.

You find it, and you clasp on tightly.

But the moment he starts moving again, you lose sight of it all over again.

Your heightened hormones make your flesh so susceptible, and the tears start to fall again. Obi-Wan rolls your nipple in between his thumb and index, and he’s so good, and you’re so full, and you can hear his pleasure as your own, adding, doubling everything…

Scorching, electrifying heat speeds through your veins, hitting hard and fast, leaving you astounded and even more sensitive than before.

Obi-Wan’s signature spikes as your climax resounds through him, and you can feel the vibration of the wanton noises he’s making right where his beard scratches against your neck.

But he doesn’t allow it to overtake him, letting it run through him without resistance, making himself pliable but unmovable, keeping himself back from the edge.

You still have much to learn.

Because that control? Gives him the ability to not even stop, not even hesitate once, even at both yours and his own ecstasy flowing through him.

When he starts striking his hips hard into yours, the weight of him inside you dragging exactly in the right place, you start to cry in earnest. Obi-Wan stops for a millisecond, concern radiating off of him, even when he can hear how much you want this so clearly, has access to every little passing thought.

“Don’t stop, I’m fine, I pro…” He does just as asked while moving his hand down to your belly again, a soothing touch to his rough thrusts. Your eyes are blurred with wetness, overwhelmed with him.

He’s listening to it all, applying every micro-feeling of feedback into action against your desperate, post-orgasmic skin, hand switching back and forth from your nipples to loosely clutching your neck, Force energy focused on applying pressure to your clit.

“You’re doing so well, so good for me,” comes the wisp of his sultry tone, lips pressed against your ear.

Since you aren’t even thinking about changing position, you know it’s his own preference that has him withdrawing, guiding you onto your back.

There’s no inhibition this way, not the way there is when you’re on your side, no separation from your bodies being flush when he pushes into you again. You have to anchor in him, both mentally and with your fingernails clawing at his shoulder blades as your body starts into tremors.

He’s keeping the weight of his chest off of you, even though your belly is still barely swollen into distinguishable roundedness, and as much as you miss the contact, you can look into his eyes like this, can see the unfiltered attachment and all the weight of all the emotion he wills his body to not cave under.

But then the tremoring transforms into series of contractions throughout your body, centering through your slick core, and you thrash your head to the side catching a glimpse of Obi-Wan’s fingers clenching into white knuckles, grasping into the exposed sand from the blanket being bunched up.

He projects his thoughts across the tether to you, how thoroughly impacted by the very fact you’re carrying his child, how affected he is by every little thing about you, honored that he’s allowed to touch you like this.

You roll your hips back up into his, and that’s what it takes. His stuttering body is the lightning, and the searing, molten pleasure across your connection is the thunderous repercussion.

It completely overthrows you, and your body bows against him as his high instantly cues yours again.

You can feel him throb inside you at the very moment you do, his turn to experience the secondary sensory white-out of your mate’s climax through the Force, his shuddering shout meeting your breathy whines in the close distance between your mouths.

And he does kiss you then, soundly but with the haze of afterglow slowing it.

“Have you any idea how bewitching you are to me?” He breathes it out, and despite all the ways you’d normally scoff at such words, his eyes tell the story, and you listen to it’s truth.

His eyes hold that constant infiltrating study of you, the one that could be unnerving if his mind, still tethered to yours didn’t hold such amor, heart bleed such fondness that settles in the creases around his eyes.

How interesting it is watching someone as knowledgeable as him having such an inquisitive outlook on life, and being so frequently the object of those investigations.

Did the galaxy know her debt to him? Did she know the sum owed to inflicting the worst of life’s pains on someone who refused to let it build anything except an even gentler man of himself? When does she plan on repaying him? What does she offer in exchange for her cruelty of the hand she’s dealt Obi-Wan Kenobi?

Then the whisper comes, soft but crisp, from somewhere in the threads of existence around you, “Can’t you see? It’s you, child.”

You could argue it. You could scream how it’s not enough, how you’re not enough, how he deserves so much more from some dark insecure place inside you. Or how love shouldn’t be treated as currency in exchange for pain, how the galaxy could still have your fists if that was how it tallied.

But the finality of it settles in your soul, more impressionistic than in solid wording: there is no easy conclusion that ties the suffering of life into purpose, no experience that erases or mends its pain. But love. Love makes the complicated endeavor of trying to find purpose in the madness worthwhile.

Obi-Wan’s hum of agreement resounds in your ears and through to your head. His Force signature feels so familiar, so at home within yours and yours within his, that you’d briefly forgotten he could still hear you.

With all the strength still left in quaking limbs, you wrap your arms around him, and he melts into it.

The compassion of his soul hardly matches his war-ravaged skin, his guilt-ridden memories. Every good thing here came to be with a war waged, refined and not burnt away in fire at his sheer tenacity.

It’s a growing thing, blooming in the desert. The beliefs in both of you. Your love for each other. Your own trust in the Force.

Healing is no short journey, but her two sojourners here are determined.

And if that tender hope can blossom here?

Then maybe, just maybe: Tatooine is exactly the place for a baby after all.

*********

In the valley beyond the hut, a boy jets quickly away in some mechanical contraption he recently motorized, a girl in a similar vehicularized compilation of junk not far behind.

On the cliff’s edge stands Obi-Wan, eyes scanning the landscape intermittently for any sign of threat between longer affectionate looks at the children before him.

He turns, feeling your approach in his keen awareness as you set a hand on his shoulder from behind. His temples are now even thicker with sun-bleached silver, and his eyes wield the lines of laughter around them.

And you? You’re as roped in by his gravitational pull as you’ve always been.

He puts a hand over yours, clasping it to bring you in front of him, where he can still watch the children and encase you in his arms at the same time.

“Slow down, Luke! You’re going too fast!” comes the distressed cry of your daughter, Ahlina, drawing your attention away from admiring Obi-Wan and back to the valley. Her vowels curl in the same way her father’s does, but her more casual phrasing was certainly thanks to you. Luke shouts back at her, “Come on, keep up!” while he races on ahead.

Obi-Wan smiles, seemingly amused at a secret joke.

“They are much too young for this nonsense still,” he speaks, muffled slightly as he hides his lips in your hair.

“Probably,” you reply with an airy laugh.

Not long after, the engine on Luke’s small contraption gives out, jutting him off and tumbling forward into the sand.

“I told you!” Ahlina yells, her own machine coming to a halt not far away from Luke.

When they make it back up the cliff, Obi-Wan couches and opens his arms, and they both come running with smiles. They’re still young enough to be unshy about affection, and Obi-Wan knows to soak it up, closing his eyes in relishment.

Luke is the first to wiggle down, waving before running over to hug your leg, which you happily return, brushing some of the blonde mop of hair from his forehead. You adored the nights that the Lars let him sleep over.

Although the nights that Ahlina slept over at theirs certainly had their allure too.

“Can we have a snack, Daddy?” Ahlina asks, still happy to be hoisted up on one of his arms.

“Hm. Perhaps I can make some of those ahrisa sweet breads again?”

She wrinkles her nose. “Can Mommy make them?”

“Why not mine?”

“Because you always burn them.”

He bops a finger lightly on her nose with a smile. “Cheeky.”

She goes to bop him on his nose in return, but he catches the finger, holding it.

“Give it back!” she screeches through a giggle.

“No, no. I think I’ll keep it now.”

The suns are dipping low as you retreat into the hut, the two children running ahead, racing to gather the ingredients to help you bake the bread. Luke especially was an enthusiastic sous-chef.

You step to follow them, but Obi-Wan grasps your hand. You turn back to him, and he barely gives you a second before he joins his mouth to yours. Sliding a hand into the auburn beard, you open your mouth to him, letting his familiar taste permeate your senses.

He reluctantly breaks after a long moment, and you take his hand in yours. When you turn back to the horizon, the suns are dipping, blanketing the landscape in the most celestial light of the day.

The planet’s eyes aren’t harsh in the way you used to see them. They’re still intense, and frequently unforgiving.

Perhaps they never changed. Maybe only you did.

But as they sink now, you give a silent, partial farewell, knowing they’ll greet you again in the morning.

Because if Dark’s patience is infinite?

So is the promise of the return of the Light.

Tagging upon request: @million-dollar-legs

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi wan smut #obi-wan smut #obi-wan #obi-wan x oc

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where mace windu or plo-koon took over obi-wan’s training after he returned from Melida/Daan. Maybe from Qui-gin’s perspective, because I’m petty and he deserves to hurt a little...

*vibrates intensely*

At first, Qui-Gon had been disappointed, sure, Obi-Wan made three-for-three padawans that he had failed, but he had been wrapped up in Tahl’s rescue, and then death, and by the time he had gotten his act together and realised he had no idea what happened to Obi-Wan after their return, it was... out of his hands.

Mace hadn’t taken a padawan since Depa more than a decade before, there were whispers he wouldn’t take another until he felt he had mastered Vapaad enough to teach it, but there he was, in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, guiding Qui-Gon’s third failed apprentice through a dynamic mediation.

Obi-Wan no longer has a padawan braid at his right temple, but rather a string of wooden beads draped behind his ear and attached to a simple metal ring piercing his tragus, and Qui-Gon realises the galaxy had moved on without him, again.

The beads are unmistakably Korun.

Only then does Qui-Gon wonder just how long he had been grieving, and how long Obi-Wan had been alone after Melida/Daan before the Council saw fit to step in and assign him a new master. Perhaps... Perhaps Qui-Gon had not failed him yet, when he had gone back to Melida/Daan and managed to bring Obi-Wan home, but now, watching Obi-Wan move and react to Mace’s quiet guidance, Qui-Gon knows that it doesn’t matter, because he’s certainly failed him now.

Easing up off his creaking knees, Qui-Gon brushes off his robes and walks away.

#crispy writes #au #wish you would write meme #melida/daan au #anon #cj answers #to fic #maybe #i'm having some thoughts about the korun beads now

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passable-talent · 4 years

Note

okok so imagine growing up/ training with Anakin as kids in the Jedi temple?? and when he turns to the dark side, you join him and rule by his side???? I- asdfghjjfksa

how did u know that I’m a slut for this kinda shit

i’m not even 100% sure this was meant as a request but anon, you’re in luck, BECAUSE YOU’RE GETTING AN ENTIRE FUCKING FIC OUT OF THAT SHIT

make an entire 70 song playlist just to write this? yes. yes i did.

As a Jedi Knight, you had been assigned to protect Padme Amidala. Such an assignment had been decided by the chancellor himself- he did so adore Padme, and could not stand the thought of her coming to harm.

Darth Sidious, you see, had assumed that Anakin Skywalker cared for her deeply, and so needed her alive, for his plan concerning Anakin to come to fruition. He made a single, harmless mistake, one that had managed not at all to affect his plan.

All that time that Anakin spent with Padme was indeed because he cared for her. She was his best friend- and it was you that he had married in secret some years ago. He did care deeply for Padme Amidala, but not in the same way he felt for his oldest friend in the Jedi Order, besides Obi-Wan. The one he’d grown up with, trained with.

She was your best friend, and his. The three of you were an unstoppable trio (people notice when three of incredible beauty and power like the three of you enter a room), and you trusted each other with everything. She knew and helped hide your relationship with him, she was the only human at your wedding.

And when the Republic was remade into the Empire, you sat in her apartment in Coruscant, her loyal bodyguard and best friend. As you always did when you had much to consider, you rolled a ring around your finger. Anakin had given it to you at your wedding. It wasn’t a wedding band, just a simple ring, one that wasn’t too far out of place for a Jedi to wear. But it was your wedding ring, all the same.

Obi-Wan knew that if anyone would know where Anakin was, it was one of the two of you. And he knew that you’d be together.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

“Yesterday,” you answered, as you often did for the senator. It helped give her that aire of superiority that served her well.

“And do you know where he is now?” He pressed, and you looked to Padme. She shook her head.

“No,” you answered for her again, leaning still against one of the columns of her apartment. You knew she was safe with Obi-Wan, and your guard was as low as it had been in weeks.

“I need your help,” Obi-Wan said, to the both of you. “He is in grave danger.” You stood up straight, surprised.

“From the Sith?” You asked.

“No,” Obi-Wan said, “from himself.” You approached Obi-Wan slowly, until you stood side by side with Padme. “I’m afraid...” Obi-Wan looked to the side, full of sorrow. “Anakin has turned to the Dark Side.”

It felt as though a hole opened up in the floor beneath you, and you could do nothing but fall.

“You’re wrong,” Padme said, conviction in her voice, “How could you even say that?”

You turned your face to the side, eyes cast to the floor, and murmured only a single ‘no’.

Obi-Wan pushed between the two of you, still pain in his voice, and you didn’t know how this could get any worse.

“I-I have seen a security hologram,” he stuttered, voice soft, and you turned toward him. “Of him...” he trailed away as his footsteps stopped, and he brought his hand to his mouth. “Killing younglings.”

“Not Anakin,” Padme said, “he couldn’t!”

“It can’t be true,” you murmured, shutting your eyes briefly against it all, as though you could block it away. Your thumb went to the ring on your fourth finger, just to feel the metal, and to remember who it represented.

“He was deceived by a lie, we all were.” Obi-Wan turned, and now his face was hard. “It appears the chancellor is behind everything, including the war.”

“The Emperor,” you corrected, anger coiling between your ribs, and now you had someone to blame. The same man who had shown so much kindness to you, and your two best friends. And he’d done this.

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord we’ve been looking for,” Obi-Wan told you both, and you flicked your eyes for just a moment to Padme- she looked surprised, and hurt. As were you all. “After the death of Count Dooku, Anakin became his new apprentice.” She paused, taking it all in, and in her strife took a seat on the nearby couch.

“Anakin isn’t a Sith,” you said, under your breath, wishing you could convince yourself of it.

“I must find him,” Obi-Wan said, and your gaze snapped to him.

“And kill him?" You accused, “He’s been deceived, just like the rest of us. You said it yourself!”

“He has become a very great threat,” Obi-Wan insisted, and you shook your head, taking a step in his direction.

“And he can be lead back to the light!” You said, astounded that Obi-Wan could even consider harming him. “Obi-Wan, don’t you see? If you turn on him, it’ll only push him further toward the dark! You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, his master!” You noticed the briefest expression of guilt cross Obi-Wan’s face, and you thought you might convince him to reconsider.

His eyes flicked downward to the ring, and his resolve hardened, and he stepped back toward the balcony, and his ship. He paused, just outside the walls of the apartment.

“(Y/N),” he said, and you lifted your chin toward him. “You’ve married him, haven’t you?”

You kept his gaze, and did not deny it.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, turning from you and boarding his ship.

“Remember what I said, Obi-Wan,” you said, and the conviction in your voice was almost a threat, “If you find him. If he thinks you’ve turned on him, we’ll never get him back.” Obi-Wan nodded, slightly, and left the balcony.

You turned back to Padme with sadness in your eyes.

“You know where he is, don’t you?” She asked, and you reached with your right hand to fiddle with the ring on your left.

“Of course I do,” you admitted, and she walked to you.

“Let me come with.”

“Padme, love,” you said, “if what Obi-Wan said is true, and he has turned to the dark, I want to keep you as far away as possible. I’ll send Captain Typho down, he’ll watch over you while I’m gone.” Padme nodded, pulling you into a hug.

“Take my ship,” she said, “so he’ll know it’s you.”

“Thank you,” you breathed, and when you parted, you felt her run her thumb over your wedding ring. “I promise I’ll bring him back.”

Mustafar- that’s where he was. You flew there, alone with your thoughts for the entire ride, but you knew that it would be your husband waiting for you when you arrived.

You touched down on the landing dock, and for a moment, stared across the fiery landscape, wondering if this was your own, personal hell. To lose Anakin, to stand opposite Obi-Wan, to abandon Padme.

A figure appeared, and dropped his hood, and you’d recognize him anywhere. He ran- and you did the same, opening the hatch so you could meet him. He opened his arms to you, and you fell into them, and if you hadn’t known, you wouldn’t have thought that anything changed.

“Padme’s ship,” he said, posing a question, and you shook your head.

“She’s on Coruscant,” you said, resting your forehead against his shoulder. “It’s just me.”

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, and you swallowed hard.

“I was worried about you,” you said, holding onto his arms. “Obi-Wan...” you trailed off, and thought of your own advice. If there was any chance that the two of them would ever reconcile, it would be affected by your words in this moment.

“We’ve been told terrible things,” you said, and you saw concern in his eyes. How this loving man before you could have done what Obi-Wan said... it didn’t make sense.

“What things?”

“They said you’ve turned to the dark side,” you said, nearly in a whimper, but you chose not to specify who ‘they’ where that told you this rumor. He lowered his gaze, and pressed his forehead to yours, and it almost helped. “That you killed younglings.”

“They’re trying to turn you against me,” Anakin said, holding you gently, and you shut your eyes. Obi-Wan was right, and Sidious had manipulated Anakin. You just had to get him back.

“Anakin, I want to help you,” you said, and you felt him pull from your grip, slowly.

“And I want to protect you,” he said, and his voice was so calm, like he didn’t realize the meaning that was behind them. “Only my new powers can do that.”

As a Jedi, you excelled in decision making. You had strong instincts, and you had been praised in the past that any decision you made was likely the right one.

So here, you needed to make a choice. A choice as to how you would bring Anakin back to the light. You could push, now, and make him feel betrayed. Or you could wait, and tug him slowly.

The problem with the plan, the kink in the line, was that Obi-Wan was on his way, searching for Anakin. Sidious likely was, too. If you didn’t pull him to the light now, things would get worse.

But you were willing to do whatever it took to keep Anakin alive.

You pulled him against you again, in another hug, and wished that you could spend forever here, wrapped within him.

“I am becoming more powerful than any Jedi has ever dreamed of,” he said, fingers slipping through your hair the way he would calm you of a nightmare. If only this were another nightmare, and you would wake up, and all would be right again. “And I’m doing it for you. To protect you.”

You were sure, now, that Obi-Wan was right. Anakin had been taken to the dark side, but you knew he had not yet been lost. You knew you could bring him back.

“We could leave,” you suggested quietly, fingers knotting into his robes. “Leave it all behind. We don’t have to be Jedi, we can just be together, far away from here.”

“Don’t you see?” he asked, and as you pulled away, you saw a smile on his face. “We don’t have to run away anymore. I have brought peace to the Republic! Now we can be safe, Padme can be safe, the Separatists are gone. I’m even more powerful than the chancellor, (Y/N), I-I can overthrow him, if that’s what you want.”

You had to make a decision. You had to choose.

“And together, you and I can rule the galaxy! Make things the way we want them to be, the way they should be!”

Choose- choose between the Jedi way that you’d been taught all your life, or Anakin.

You brought your hands to his face, letting your fingertips settle in his hair.

“Promise me,” you whispered, and your eyes lifted to his. “Promise me that when the day comes, you’ll overthrow the chancellor. Promise me that you’ll choose me over him.”

“Of course,” he insisted, putting his flesh hand over yours, “It’s all for you, (Y/N).”��

“Anakin,” said a voice behind you, and you whirled from his arms to see Obi-Wan, standing at the hatch of Padme’s ship.

“No, no!” You said, throwing up a hand toward him, your other to your side as though you were protecting Anakin from him. “No, Obi-Wan, you’ll only push him away! I can handle this!”

“He’s endangering himself, (Y/N),” Obi-Wan said, stepping down the ramp.

“You brought him here?”

“No!” you shouted over your shoulder, “I didn’t know he was on the ship!” Turning back to Obi-Wan, you brought your hand up higher, and you’d force him back, if you needed to.

“Obi-Wan, trust me. He’s fine, he’ll be okay, I need you to go.” Obi-Wan looked at you for a moment, and you saw no trust in his eyes. Your right hand, which once kept Anakin back, slowly rounded to your saber where it hung on your back.

“Obi-Wan, please. We don’t need to fight.”

You expected, though, that you would have to.

But Obi-Wan let out a breath, and conceded, stepping away.

“Listen to me, both of you,” you said, turning your shoulders just so that you could refer to both of them, but still stand between them.

“Obi-Wan, you need to be far from here. Far from Coruscant. Take Padme, too- far away. I don’t trust the emperor not to harm either of you.” You made a small motion to Anakin.

“We’ll take care of Sidious. He trusts Anakin, we can remove him. When it’s safe, I’ll let you know, and you can come home.” You could feel the way the air between them bristled, but it seemed Obi-Wan trusted you enough to heed your words.

“Take Padme’s ship. Fly to Coruscant, then go, as far away as you can.”

“Tatooine,” Anakin suggested, voice dark.

“Yes, go to Tatooine, and hide, please, Obi-Wan.”

Without a word, Obi-Wan nodded, and turned back to the ship. You watched as it lifted off, and you didn’t look away until it had gone. You could feel Anakin simmering behind you.

“Did he come to kill me?” He asked, and you reached for him.

“No, no,” you soothed, hating yourself with every lie you told him. You knew it was for the best. “He was worried, worried for you, worried that he would have to kill you because of your loyalty to Sidious.” You pet his hair back, holding his face. “But you aren’t loyal to Sidious, see? And now that he knows that, we can all work together. He’ll keep Padme safe until we rule the galaxy.” Anakin nodded, resting his forehead against yours again.

“When the time is right, (Y/N), I’ll do it. I’ll kill Palpatine.”

“I know,” you breathed, and it almost seemed like everything would be okay.

~~~

He didn’t kill Palpatine.

Sidious trusted him, and so did what Anakin asked, keeping you alive and nearby. He called you a Sith, and fashioned a saber for you, its color autumn red, with just the slightest reminder of your former orange. You were allowed to be on his left, when Anakin was on his right.

In his office at the senate, he was in the midst of a meeting when you ran him through.

It had been two months since that day on Mustafar. Obi-Wan reported that Yoda had disappeared, and most other Jedi had scattered throughout the system. Padme was safe. And you loved Anakin, but he was taking his time to remove Sidious.

You wondered if it was because of Sidious’ control over him. Possibly, Sidious could sense his intentions. You doubted he could sense yours.

So, from behind him, beside your husband, you ignited your saber, running straight through his stomach.

He fell to the floor, and the members of his cabinet looked at you, stunned.

“Leave,” Anakin ordered, and they immediately obeyed. With Palpatine dead, the empire fell to Anakin.

When the room was empty, you looked down at the monster on the floor. He was wheezing, and bleeding rapidly.

With hands almost tender, you sat him up, and rested his head against the desk.

“With your remaining breath, my master,” you said, sitting back onto the floor, “tell me your plan. Tell me how you pulled Anakin to the dark side. And I’ll tell you why you failed.” He glared at you.

“I could kill you now,” you offered, auburn saber still in your hand. “But I want to know how to do what you’ve done. To pass on the way of the Sith.”

“Anakin Skywalker loved Padme Amidala,” Palpatine wheezed, and you raised your chin. “I promised him that I could save the one he loved from certain death. And when she disappeared, he held loyalty to no one but me.”

“You didn’t count on me,” you continued for him, “If it weren’t for me, it would have worked.”

“Yes,” Palpatine growled. You smiled, wickedly, and collected your legs underneath you as though you were meditating.

“You failed,” you said, holding up your end of the bargain, “because while Anakin loves Padme, he married me.” Sidious’ eyes went wide. How he had managed to discuss Padme with Anakin and it never somehow came up that he hadn’t married Padme, you didn’t want to know.

“His loyalty is to me. And to Padme- who is right now on Tatooine, in the care of Obi-Wan Kenobi.” You lifted your saber, pointing it to him casually, like one might gesture with a pen.

“It seems, Sidious, I never discussed with you my true feelings for Anakin.” You pressed the saber forward to his stab wound, and the blood around it began to boil and sizzle. You went in slowly, making him groan, having not enough energy to scream.

“I love him,” you explained, “I would do anything for him.” You slid the saber up toward his chest, and began the same slow press, this time toward his heart, through healthy flesh.

“And I’ve got to say,” you began, readying to shove the saber forward and stop his miserable, shriveled heart, “I don’t think I appreciate how you’ve treated him.”

One thrust forward, and Emperor Palpatine was no more.

With his lungs empty of their final breaths, you snuffed your saber, and turned back to Anakin. He was still sitting in the chair he’d had beside Palpatine, eyes trained to you, shining in intensity.

“You’re in my seat,” you said as you stood. You approached him and grabbed him by the shirt, pulling him against you. “I’m afraid I’ve taken your place as right hand to the emperor.”

“Is that so?” he teased, his hands on your lower back.

“I believe it is,” you breathed, “Emperor Skywalker.”

No one in the galaxy had ever shared a sweeter kiss.

-🦌 Roe

#reader insert #angst #imagines #star wars anakin #star wars self insert #star wars prequels #Star Wars #star wars reader insert #anakin x reader insert #anakin imagine #poor anakin #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker x Jedi reader #anakin x Jedi reader #darth Vader x Jedi reader #fics

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danger-xylophones · 4 years

Text

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away.

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral.

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

……………………………………

“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe.

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought.

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more.

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated.

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her.

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached.

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way.

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.”

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away.

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look.

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction.

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door.

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps.

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him.

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings.

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece.

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly.

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.”

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly.

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.”

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug.

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say.

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time.

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.”

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?”

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask.

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?”

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?”

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway.

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth.

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?”

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly.

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation.

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route.

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed.

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face.

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!”

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in.

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-”

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.”

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head.

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?”

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?”

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before.

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room.

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all.

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong.

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you.

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.”

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder.

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you.

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever.

#plo koon x reader #plo koon #star wars #clone wars #star wars: clone wars #tcw #wolfpack

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morganas-pendragons · 4 years

Text

pieces of a real, breaking heart | obi-wan

this is to celebrate my 600 followers, and it’s something i’ve been thinking about since my best friend brought it up for my Oc & Obi-Wan in the fic I’ve been revising from back in 2016.

tagging @obiorbenkenobi and @karasong because i see you out there, ILY // @icanbringyouincold by the time you’re done reading this and anything else I write for him, you’ll love him. It’s gonna happen. This serves as a side piece with a different reader, as when I do write for Obi-Wan it’ll have a Mind!Healer Reader instead.

It’s not an easy thing. Learning how to let go is a fundamental teaching of The Jedi - as attachment is strictly forbidden - but unfortunately, Obi-Wan Kenobi had really never learned how to let go.

That was why this was so much harder then it should’ve been.

When a Padawan is knighted, the braid is often given to the Master as a way to commemorate their time together over the course of their training. To thank them for all the knowledge they’ve passed on. His Knighting had been fast and purposeless as Yoda had instructed him that he - barely a Knight for five minutes - was meant to train The Chosen One as his own Master had cast him aside so quickly.

You had been there for Anakin’s knighting. You’d been there, you’d seen the way he bowed to the other Masters and how fast he’d left that room with his hands wrapped around his braid. He clearly had intentions to give it to someone else. Someone who wasn’t Obi-Wan.

You also saw the hidden devastation lingering in a pair of blue eyes that had become as familiar to you as your own.

Falling in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi had not been instant. It had been gradual. Slow. Built over the years you’d known each other and the years you’d been apart. The two of you had been on campaigns together multiple times. To the point where your battalions were so familiar with each other that even though they were biologically all brothers to being with, they knew the others name. You’d allowed yourself that opportunity to get closer with the man - not the general, not the negotiator, the man - who you fought on the front lines with.

And that man was bleeding.

Broken.

And tended to wear his heart on his sleeve. He didn’t tell you that, of course, but you weren’t stupid. You knew how much he loved the people closest to him. Cody. Anakin. The Masters. The Order. You.

Well... maybe. You weren’t sure if you were there yet.

So when you find yourself inside of his quarters on the rare occasion of shore leave, you’re surprised that he’d even asked you to meet him as he often preferred to spend his time with his ex-padawan and grand-padawan or hide away in the salles deep in meditation. This day, however, found you doing the complete opposite of anything you’d been anticipating.

Cleaning.

“You called me here.. to help you clean?”

“I’m just trying to gather my belongings into two piles.” He pointed to the one closest to him. It was the smallest but looked to hold more significant things. Trinkets he’d gathered over the years, little baubles that Anakin had passed off to him as a Padawan, pieces of planets he’d gone to on campaigns and a list of the clones who had served him. It looked like.. art. Like someone had drawn the names of their vode on rare pieces of flimsi and given it to him as a reminder of the people who gave their lives for his own. “Essential and non-essential. Given that I trust you to watch my back and keep my counsel moreso then most people in The Order..” His voice faltered. This almost sounded.. well.. like the very thing you'd been hoping for. “I’d like your help with this.”

Oh.

You’re one of the very few Padawans who, like Obi-Wan, had been assigned to another Master after your own had been taken from you. So few of the Jedi allow their comrades - their brothers and sisters both in arms and in The Force - to see their vulnerability. There is no emotion. There is only peace. Obi-Wan had called you in here because you got it. You understood his problems with attachment (which you hadn’t really realized, not until you’d been formally introduced to Anakin) and how much he struggled with learning how to let go because you too had that issue. You often felt like the ghost of a Master you’d barely begun to know and love followed you everywhere even after he’d been one with The Force.

“Okay.” You murmured in reply. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

His eyes glistened underneath the lights of his quarters and you tried so hard not to notice how much bluer they seemed as you knelt in front of the closet in the largest bedroom and began rifling through the contents there. Robe. Robe. Robe. Robe.

“Ah, yes. That.” Maker, just the sound of his voice is enough to make you dizzy. You peered up at him over his shoulder in mock amusement, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you neatly folded each robe and set it in a pile beside you. You counted thirteen.

“Do you have a robe fetish or something I should know about?” You mused. The blush you elicited was well worth it. “Anakin said you were constantly having to be fitted for new robes but I didn’t realize how many you went through-”

“Take into account how many are ruined or burned.” He said defensively. “And either way, I happen to look distinguished in the Masters robes, thanks.”

“Yeah. Sure. You keep believing that, handsome.”

He parted from you after that to return to the non-essentials. The air in the quarters was quiet but his signature in The Force was so alive - thrumming with the pulse of his heart - and had you not been so engrossed in pulling all his belongings off the floor, you would’ve noticed the ways he kept stealing glances at you with that stupid little smile that said just how moved he was by how you chose to spend your time helping him.

Then your fingers brushed against something coarse. It was a couple of inches long and woven intricately together, but it didn’t take you long to realize what it was because you’d been there for his own Knighting. You’d been there to comfort him that night as it was his first official night without his Master for the first time since he was 13. You’d taken his head into your lap and talked for hours - until your voice was hoarse and your eyes were brimming with tears - and by the time you had the courage to look down, Obi-Wan Kenobi had fallen asleep with his hands tucked against your thigh and under his cheek.

He looked so.. innocent.

You looked down at your hand that now held Obi-Wan’s padawan braid. It was long. Longer then you ever remembered it being, and the very fact that you were holding such a significant part of his life in your fingers felt way more personal then it should’ve.

The way your heart stuttered at the very tiny “Oh.” that resounded from your door should’ve frightened you. It didn’t.

You knew it then in your heart of hearts, the minute you looked up at him and met his gaze at the door. Obi-Wan Kenobi - High Jedi General, The Negotiator - was not just a comrade in arms or even your best friend. He was not just someone you turned to in times of need. He was.. he was..

Well. he was everything. And oh, you needed someone who was everything.

You loved him.

“I found your padawan braid buried in all of this.” You urged your feet to move but to no avail. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen this. Feels like a different life. A different us.” Obi-Wan didn’t say anything for a solid thirty seconds as he stared at you so intently you were sure you’d crumble under such intensity. You were looking for something familiar. Something he didn’t dare show in the real world. You were looking for grief.

“That was a different us. That was before the war. Before I..” Became less of a man. You heard it loud and clear across the bond that you weren’t supposed to have, but you did. “Before I took on training The Chosen One. Funny that now earned me a grandpadawan.”

“You were a good Master to Anakin. He literally never stops talking to me about you.” His head dipped down to his chest and his shoulders sagged as the weight of that braid settled heavily upon him, and you crossed the room to close the widening gap between you. “I wouldn’t doubt the way he loves you even for a second, Obi-”

“He never gave me his braid.” Obi-Wan replied as you gently brought the pads of your fingers across his cheeks. “When Anakin was knighted, he never gave me his braid. Do you know how long I dreamt of that day? How long I waited to give my own to Qui-Gon because of how proud I was of being his student? Did he-” He tilted his head to his shoulder to hide the way his eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “Did he.. did he despise me that much? I know he wanted Qui-Gon. I know he did. I wasn’t going to ever be enough to give him the teaching he needed.”

“I don’t think he knew, sweetheart.” The term of endearment slipped past your lips faster then you could realize what you said, but neither of you flinched at it. It just sounded.. right. “Look at me.” It took a minute. A minute felt like a lifetime before Obi-Wan Kenobi lifted his eyes to meet yours. Eyes that wore his heart in them. Eyes that were broken. Desperate. Pleading. “You’re not a failure. You have never been a failure.”

“Contrary to your belief, my dear-”

You placed a finger against his lips.

“Contrary to your belief, Master Kenobi-” You retorted. “You have and will never be a failure. Not to Anakin. Not to Ahsoka, not to Qui-Gon, and not to me.” You placed a specific emphasis on that last admission because it would always be true. No matter what happened to you both. “Not on your life.”

Both pairs of eyes flicker down to where his now clasped your own in which you still held the padawan braid.

“I want you to have it.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach. Say... say what now?

“It’s not meant for me.”

“It is now. If I can’t give it to Qui-Gon,” His eyes bore into yours in a deep, piercing manner as he lifted your clasped hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss to your knuckles on them both. “I’d give it to the next person I loved.” Mouth agape and eyes wide, you lifted them to meet the blues in front of you. So open and so impossibly... divine. It was like looking straight into heaven. Into divinity.

“Oh, so we love each other now?”

“Oh, believe me..” Closer and closer he’d come, close enough until you felt his breath fanning across your face and his chest slowly pressed into yours. Your brain had started yelling incoherently at that point - against the code against the code against the code - but you were so far past caring about The Jedi and their morals to care about breaking their precious Code. You’d been fighting the front lines of a brutal and cruel war since the first day the clones had deployed. You deserved some happiness. “I’ve loved you for quite some time.”

“Have you now?”

Calloused hands wound around your hips. You were suddenly thankful for the lack of robe in the area. “I have. I think since the day I was knighted. Possibly before,” He replied softly, voice low as he brought his lips just beside the shell of your ear. “It’s hard not to. You made it very easy.”

You loved him. You loved the way he kissed you in that moment - not another soul around - and you loved the way he just bloomed beneath your touch like a flower in the spring. A man who had been deprived of basic touch, of love and desire and want since he was a child.

You loved the way the crows feet around his eyes sharpened when he smiled, and you loved the way his hair fell in his face in just the right way to make it curl when he fought and won against your enemies.

You loved the way he held his lightsabers and you loved the way he sassed people. They didn’t call him The Negotiator for no reason. Obi-Wan Kenobi happened to be very good with his mouth. No one else knew that though. No one outside of you. You loved the way he moved with Soresu as if the form had been made for him. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of the best duelists of the Jedi. He won't believe it though, no matter how much you told him.

You loved him when Anakin fell and the world was plunged into darkness, and you loved him when you fell into each others embrace in the shadow of the Archives - warning all remaining Jedi, if there were any, to flee from your home - because you no longer had a home.

The two of you were the lucky few. You didn’t need four walls. You had each other.

You loved him in the sweltering heat of Tatooine’s dusk, and you loved him when you crawled into bed with him that night - arms wound around his torso and face buried between his shoulder blades - whispering that you wouldn’t fail, not again, to protect the babe of Anakin Skywalker who slept mere hours from where you sat now.

A Padawan braid constantly hangs from the ceilings of a hut in Tatooine. It’s been years since it was passed on, but little did they know that braid would change the world.

#Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader #Obi-Wan x Reader #Star Wars imagines #Star Wars oneshots

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littlespaceporgs · 4 years

Text

Tea or Caf? - ii

Congrats again for your milestone! May I also request 2. moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed with Obi-Wan please? Thank you! 🥰💕

Hey! Congrats on 50 followers 🥳 Could I possibly request prompt 2 from the list with Obi-Wan? Thanks lovely 🤩💞

A/N: Literally I had the time of my life writing this, and it’s officially my longest fic, and my first part ii to a fic that I’ve ever done! And it’s also the first one I’ve ever done with a (albeit very small) bit of spice, so I’m hitting some milestones today! I really hope that everyone likes this one!

Link to part i

Want to Request? See Here.

Tea or Caf? - Part ii

Prompt: #2 - moving around while kissing, stumbling over things, pushing each other back against the wall/onto the bed

Word Count: 1.8k (!!!) Pairing: Padawan!Obi-Wan x Padawan!Reader (Both of which are over-age!) Warnings: Mild spice with a reference to adult activities Description: After Obi-Wan goes missing on a mission, you find yourself deeply worried and lost without him.

Tags for my lovelies: @anakin-danvers @mcu-padawan @saintlaurentkenobi @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @littlevodika @cherieboba @ohhellokenobi @obirain @catsnkooks @kaminobiwan @hellotherekenobi

You sat by the window of your room, watching as speeders of all kinds moved through the skies of Coruscant. A red one was weaving around and through the traffic going a little faster than the others. A blue one had just taken a sudden dive towards the ground before it very quickly swerved back again into the lane, probably a learner. Every time you spotted a speeder that was a colour that wasn’t grey, you tapped your index finger on the side of your cup.

It was a break that you needed, as the rest of your room seemed eerily grey currently. The lively green of the plant on your table, the blue covers of your bed seemed to pale even as the afternoon sun had come over. You turned your gaze to your cup where the tea, which had been boiling hot not too long ago, had gone cold. It was the only semblance of colour you had at the moment, a soft orange. A warm, comforting colour that served to remind you of another time. It wasn’t too long ago that you had argued the true worth of tea, but now you knew what he meant, about it calming the soul.

Of course, that was over 3 weeks ago. Following your mock argument over tea or caf, Obi-Wan had left with Master Qui-Gon to go settle a dispute of some sort on an outer rim planet. For the first six days, they checked in every afternoon at the same time, bringing news that all was well so far. On the seventh day, they missed check-in. This wasn’t out of character for Qui-Gon, but typically Obi-Wan would contact the council with some degree of news regardless, but alas, they heard nothing. And according to your master, that had been the last time they had heard anything from them. The days quickly passed and it wasn’t until the 17th day of no contact that they sent another Jedi team to go and find them. You had naturally volunteered, but your master had not permitted it. It wasn’t until you were both behind closed doors that she told you why.

“I fear your judgement may be clouded in this instance, Padawan. I think it best if you stay here.”

Of course she was right, it didn’t make you any less worried however. So when she left, she tasked you with busying yourself in the Halls of Healing as a distraction. It worked when you were there, because instead of being concerned for your Obi-Wan, you could be concerned with the well-being of other injured Jedi. Bant did everything she could to make you feel better, including coming to your rooms and helping you make dinner, or even just a touch on the shoulder when you needed it. There were a few nights where you’d both just sit quietly and wonder. She understood how you felt to a point.

While physically you felt fine, mentally, you were drained. Everything just seemed to feel so heavy without him, like you couldn’t share the weight anymore. Colours and tastes became bland, as the only thing you could think about was if he was okay.

You stood from where you were sitting and straightened out your robes. You placed the tea cup on the table and left the room, your shift in the Halls was starting soon and you’d prefer to be on time. The tea was cold anyway.

The night shift typically dragged out, regardless if a Jedi master and Padawan were missing. It’s quiet, as everyone here is asleep or checking on pulses or blood pressure. These were the hours when you healers would do the menial tasks of data entry usually. That’s what you did anyway, entering in the most recent heart rate when the comm on Master Che’s wrist began to beep loudly. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Bant snap up at the same time as you.

“Healer Che?”

“Yes?” Her voice rang out clear despite being low in volume.

“They’ve returned with Master Jinn and Padawan Kenobi,“ your heart skipped a- no more like 3 beats at the news. At some point Bant had approached you and was now grinning with a hand on your shoulder. Your stomach seemed to drop with relief and you shot out of your chair. Vaguely, you registered the voice asking Master Che for help, but you were almost too happy to hear. She pointed towards yourself and Bant and then gestured to the doorway before rushing out herself. In your stomach, you felt deep rooted concern, what if they weren’t in good shape? What if they were brushing against death?

As you ran out into the hall, you shoved the thoughts away, they have to be alright.

By the time you and Bant had made it to the hangar, Master Che had already taken over looking at Obi-Wan. She apparently had taken him straight to his room and left the two of you to check over Qui-Gon. The Master however, was mostly un-injured, only a few minor scrapes and bruises, and possibly looking slightly skinnier than what he had been when he left. This did not however, stop him from grinning and re-telling how the natives hadn’t taken kindly to the Jedi interfering with their dispute and promptly decided to take them both prisoners.

You had hoped that he would not notice, but you were nearly rocking on your toes, and your hands had the slightest shake, and there must have been a look of concentration on your face. He did, despite your hoping, notice and put a hand on your shoulder. His force signature seemed to wrap around you at the same time, projecting calm, peace and relief onto you.

“Obi-Wan is fine, mostly exhausted and hungry, but otherwise he wasn’t really hurt.” You felt your own signature sigh in relief and had to forcefully plant your feet on the ground so you wouldn’t run off to see him.

You sent Qui-Gon on his way not long after, and contemplated following to go and see your alive Obi-Wan, but ultimately decided that you should let him sleep tonight and just see him tomorrow, despite everything trying to drag you to see him. Entering the code to your room and stepping inside, a feeling crept up your neck and began to press on the base of your skull. Someone else is in here.

Your stomach lurched and your heart started racing as your hand moved to your lightsaber on your hip. Squinting into the dark, a figure near the window moved slightly. You reached out with your signature, trying to brush whoever was there, determine friend or foe. You didn’t expect to find a familiar signature instead wrap you up and rapidly tell you to calm down. Dropping your hand, your heart seemed to stop. The corners of your eyes started to burn hot.

“Obi?” He stepped forward and grinned, opening his arms up. You launched yourself at him, holding tight. “Force Obi! You scared me!” You pulled back to look at his face, and sure enough, it was free of dirt. There was a dark bruise on his cheek and his hair looked overly fluffy, like it had just been washed. You struck him on the shoulder. “Why the kark would you do that?” He rolled his eyes.

“Oh hi Obi, good to see that you’re alright,” you laughed lightly.

“Careful, if you roll your eyes any harder you’ll see your empty skull,” He mocked a gasp before kissing your forehead. “I missed you.” He seemed to sigh heavily and sunk into your arms.

“I missed you too.” You pulled away again and rested your hand on his bruised cheek. You frowned in concern.

“Are you ok?” He moved a hand to cover the one that was on his face, pulling it to his lips and kissing the tips of your fingers. A shiver ran down your back.

“I am now,” he stopped for a second before continuing, “I love you.” You felt your cheeks flush and a warm feeling settled in your chest.

“I love you too.” There was silence again, although, he was looking at you differently now. There was still the adoration, but it was mixed with something else. Your heart skipped a beat and your stomach churned with anticipation. Neither of you moved for a second, and then he lurched towards you, kissing you firmly on the lips. One of his hands was on the back of your ribs and the other was on your cheek now. When you kissed him back, his mouth parted slightly and another chill ran up your spine. You began stepping back, hitting the wall and pulling him with you as the kiss began to grow a little more feverish. He moved his lips away from yours and went to your jaw and then down your neck, still pressing into you, and pulled you away from the wall and around the room. You tilted your head slightly, and gasped out a quiet moan. He bit harder at the sound and moved you backwards faster, moving back up to kiss your lips again.

When your back hit the table, you barely registered the dull flick of pain. Your hands moved to the edge of the table as you felt yourself being lifted onto the table. Obi-Wan pulled away, looking at you with a silent question. You noticed the puffy red lips that you would surely have as well. You nodded once, and he wedged himself between your legs and kissed you once more. Once the robe was off your shoulders, he pulled back again to push the undershirt over your head. You felt him grin as he kissed you heatedly again. Your signatures had long since melted into each other as your bare chests pressed together. The tiredness was pulling at you both, but sleep could wait awhile you supposed.

BONUS:

At some point, you must’ve moved onto the couch, because you woke up with a thin blanket covering you and Obi-Wan missing. You sat up, wrapping the blanket around yourself just as he appeared in the doorway. You murmured out a greeting when he kissed your forehead, before spinning back around into the kitchen.

“Tea or caf?” You snorted under your breath.

“Is that even a question?” You could practically feel the amusement roll off his force signature.

“Sorry, I forgot you drink gundark wast-” Indignation and arrogance mixed with little sleep combined with amusement seemed to trigger the usual ‘conversation’ between the two of you.

“Excuse me? All you drink is leaf juice that tastes like s-”

“Leaf juice? How-“

“I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; tea tastes like its come straight out of the sith hells!”

#fluff and spice #obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #padawans #tea or caf #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #star wars #star wars fanfic #fanfiction

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darling-i-read-it · 4 years

Text

Young Jedi

Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: the whole child slaughter thing but only the beginning, wounded reader

Author’s Note: I love Obi-Wan Kenobi confirmed and he is such a baby and I love him.

Requested: by @ladyofhellhounds Ok so I have another request, what about an Obi Wan imagine where in the middle of Order 66 the reader (Jedi) is able to save some younglings in the temple, when Obi returns he finds her wounded on the ground because of Anakin,the children are hidden in some room and are worried about their master. Obi Wan is so worried and Yoda let him take care of the reader, when she wakes up they kiss and confess,they visit the kids who are happy to see her again. Dear! Sorry if this is duplicated.

Summary: the request

Genre: idk angst fluff

(not my gif)

You were so confused at what was going on. There was always an element of chaos in the Jedi tower but right now everyone seemed to be going somewhere and no one stopped to explain to you what was going on. You went searching for Obi-Wan and Anakin, holding your lightsaber hilt close to you so that you could use it if necessary.

You thought perhaps they had been stuck in the training rooms or the classrooms. You knew sometimes Anakin stopped over there was Padme asked him too and you recalled there being a class that afternoon. Although you could feel something wrong with the force you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was, feeling a sense of imbalance that you couldn’t shake.

You figured even if Obi-Wan and Anakin weren’t with the children you could check on them either way. Your paced picked up when you heard a confused scream of a child and the blue of your lightsaber illuminated off of your face as you ran forward into the room.

Finding a child sleigh was hard enough any day but seeing the face of a man you knew and trusted killing them, that was something else. It nearly surprised you enough to move away from him, to leave but of course you couldn’t do that.

“Anakin?!” you screamed in disbelief. His lightsaber stopped moving and he turned around slowly to look at you his eyes dark. You didn’t know this man.

“Leave Y/N,” he stated simply. You had known Anakin since he was only a child. You had taken part in raising him with Obi-Wan. You considered him to be a friend, a brother. You raised your lightsaber and moved across the room, the children hiding behind you.

“Anakin you don’t have to do this,” you told him. He raised his own lightsaber and you felt a stab at your heart.

“The Jedi can be no more and if that means killing you then so be it.” You gave yourself no time to let that sink in.

“Hide,” you hissed to the children and jumped forward into battle, yours and Anakin's lightsabers clashing quickly. You had fought him before but never with actual stakes. You figured there was still a part of you that didn’t want to hurt him and that was your down fall. It didn’t take you long to fall but you weren’t dead yet. Anakin seemed distracted though and he rushed away, leaving you on the floor to die slowly. He had gotten your stomach and you were pretty sure that there was something very wrong.

The second Anakin was out of sight a few children crowded around you.

“Master Y/L/N,” the were whispering, trying to talk to you and thank you and help you but your brain was all over the place.

“Obi-Wan. Get Obi-Wan,” you managed out before you passed out.

When you woke up the room you were in was familiar. It wasn’t you room but it may have well been from the comfort of it. You caught sight of the sheets that were over you and recognized them immediately.

“You’re awake,” Obi-Wan whispered. You turned to look at him, confused as to what had happened.

“Oh Obi-Wan, the children and Anakin and...what happened?” you asked. You were feeling better but you could still feel the discomfort of your stomach. You didn’t want to know about that now. He grabbed your hand and you watched his face go dark for a moment.

“You were very valiant. You saved many of the children. Anakin went to Mustafar and I followed him.” He paused and you waited expectantly for him to tell you the fate of your friend. “He’s dead. Padme gave birth to twins.” You looked at him longer and he looked back up at you. “She died in childbirth.”

Your head fell back on the pillow as you took in the information.

“Their children?”

“Alive. I’ve taken the son and vowed to protect him on a different planet but Master Yoda gave me permission to nurse you back to health.” You squeezed his hand.

“That’s good. The children being alive and you protecting the boy.” You stared at him for a minute. “But I don’t imagine you would have told me that if there wasn’t something else you needed to tell me.” Obi-Wan smiled softly.

“I want you to come with me. We’ve been together for too long to split up now and now that I’ve lost Anakin..I can’t imagine losing you as well,” he told you seriously. You nodded and brought his hand up to your lips closing your eyes. You were still quite shaken up at everything that was going on but feeling his skin against your lips concreted you.

“I would have come whether you wanted me to or not,” you breathed with a shaky smile. He caught your eyes and you could really see how broken he had become over just a few days.

“I love you,” he whispered. You nodded, smiling softly.

“How bittersweet it is that I love you too,” you said. You leaned forward and he wrapped his arms around you from the chair he was sitting in, kissing you softly and then burying his face in your neck. You ignored the pain of your stomach and relished in him being there with you.

He pulled away, brushing some hair out of your face.

“There are a few people who would like to see you if you feel up to it.” His demeanor changed and you couldn’t say no to that.

“Of course.” He got up and walked quickly to the door and then out it, calling someone down the hall. You raised an eyebrow as he came back in and then laughed lightly at the hoard of children running in after him.

“Easy, she’s still healing,” Obi-Wan chastised but they were already hugging you, wanting to thank you.

“We’re so glad you’re okay!” one of the little girls said and there was a nod of agreement. You looked up at Obi-Wan with a soft smile and he was leaning against a wall, admiring you.

“I’m glad you’re all okay as well! I’m sorry if I scared you,” you said and they shook their heads.

“You were so cool with the woosh and the woosh!” one of the boys said. You giggled and completed a conversation with them, answering a few questions as best as you could and trying to keep them light hearted. The children of the Jedi were alive.

As they played at your feet, talking to each other about the ordeal, Obi-Wan made his way to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“The little boy, Luke, will need both of us to train him despite the fact that these few might miss you,” he whispered. You nodded and grabbed his hand.

“I’m not leaving you.” His smile looked relieving.

“I wouldn't’ dream it.”

Ewan: @daphne-fandom-writing, @satanslov3r @records-and-stardust @broodybats @starwarsprequelfangirl

Obi-Wan: @fic-e-veryone

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagines #star wars imagines

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calltomuster · 3 years

Note

3, 4, and 5

Hello, my friend! Thanks so much for the ask!

From these fic asks:

3: Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

I do indeed have a few uncompleted WIPs! I'm working on a few things for the Kenobi Gen Exchange (@kenobi-gen-exchange) -- a fic for my assigned person, and a few treats for some other people! Can't give any details about those because I don't want to ruin the surprise.

I've also got another WIP cooking that has me super excited. It's an AU where Maul reappears much earlier and, completely out of nowhere, kills thirteen(?) year-old Padawan Anakin Skywalker right in front of his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Seeing his Padawan killed right in front of him by the same man who killed his Master + the strain of two broken bonds in his mind leaves Obi-Wan pretty shattered mentally.

4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

Hmmm... I had a lot of half-baked ideas for Whumptober 2020 that I never got very far in, mainly because of time. I am a full-time college student with two part-time jobs, so whenever I get anything written fanfic-wise in the school year, I count it as a win. But yeah, there were lots of Whumptober prompts that I wanted to write that I just didn't have time for. Like I had an idea for Day 3 (prompt: "Forced To Their Knees") where Obi-Wan was enslaved on Bandomeer and spent a while there and then was rescued and taken in by the Mandalorians. I didn't really consciously abandon it, tbh I had forgotten about it until now, so maybe some day I'll return.

5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

Sure! Here's something from the next chapter of The Moments That Time Remembered:

He looked up at the massive mountain of ice in front of him. This was where Padawan Bulo had led them? It seemed to be a dead end...

“Close your eyes, younglings, and direct your focus on the Force,” Padawan Bulo’s face was inscrutable under her mask, but her Force presence was bright. “Only together can we enter.”

She turned and outstretched both her hand and Force presence towards the ice. Hesitantly, Obi-Wan and his clanmates did the same.

A great rumbling noise could be heard over the shrieking wind, loud like the engine of a starship. The ground shook beneath them, almost as if the sky was falling down around them. Obi-Wan looked up to find this wasn’t far from the truth. The great sheet of ice was crumbling to reveal a door. Amazed, Obi-Wan looked at Garen, who was staring just as wide-eyed at him. Padawan Bulo calmly led them inside, where Master Yoda sat in the center of a beautiful temple hall.

You can see another snippet that someone asked for here!

Thanks so much for the questions!

fic ask game

#sorry for the late response!#I was at work patching concrete #and then it started raining so now I am home early 👍🏻#ask games

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trialds · 4 years

Text

G L A S S ;

Info:

Obi-Wan x Sith!Reader.

Part 1 of 12.

2096 words.

Pre!TPM.

Currently SFW.

A/N: I haven’t written a fic since I was about 13. It may take a while for my writing to even begin to resemble something a human being would say lmao.

---

Safe to say, fighting for his life had not been on Obi-Wan’s itinerary when he woke up that morning.

It was meant to be a simple recon assignment for him and his Master, figuring out how and why the people of a small but powerful planet seemed to be gathering military resources at a speed unreasonable for peacetime. Important, yes, but easy enough - in, observe, a little bit of digging if needed, and back out by day’s end.

Instead, both him and Master Qui-Gon had sensed a dark presence on the planet upon landing. Whether this was just the natural existence of the Gardinoan population was arguable, as his own Master had remarked that he had not felt such unease from the Force in a long time, and that it was unlikely that the Council would have sent the pair of them alone to a planet with such a … festering darkness. In any case, they almost immediately found themselves at the wrong end of a blaster and being guided to a prison cell by three thinly necked and heavily armoured Gardinoans.

Hours had passed since that first aggression, with his Master being dragged off to be questioned somewhere else. Qui-Gon was determined, Obi-Wan knew, not to get out of the situation using the Force if it could be avoided; ‘cooperation is the key in situations like these’, he had told his imprisoned padawan before being moved, ‘and if we can convince them to work alongside us now, they’ll be much more favourable towards us in the future.’

If Obi-Wan was being quite frank with himself, he didn’t particularly care about the future. Stuck in a dingy and cold prison cell, he was more concerned with the present - especially as it involved what he was fairly sure was a Sith, strolling into the room containing his cell alongside his jailors. At a cursory glance, the figure did not scream Sith - a cloaked individual with a half mask covering the bottom half of their face was not entirely out of place around most parts, afterall, and the force aura around them did not seem disturbed or even that different from Obi-Wan’s own. However Obi-Wan was not one for simple cursory glances when his life was at stake - given the sheathed lightsaber that could be glimpsed between the robe’s folds, and the yellow tinged eyes of a humanoid woman poking out between their half mask and hood, Obi-Wan knew this was no longer a simple recon assignment.

The woman turned to the Gardinoan escorting her, and murmured for them to leave them. The Gardinoan - after turning towards Obi-Wan as if to make sure that the padawan was still in the cell - nodded, and scuttered away from the woman, the door to the room clicking shut behind him and a heavy silence filling the space left behind.

Obi-Wan remained still within his cell, waiting for the cloaked woman to speak, or even act. Instead, she watched him from beneath her hood, eyes stuck to Obi-Wan’s face as if she was judging a piece of work and found it lacking. The silence stretched into the minutes, and Obi-Wan felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand - should he talk? Should he question her? If he talked first could he get the upper hand, convince her play her hand or let him out, maybe even -

“No, not what I expected at all.” The woman said, words cutting into the silence - and it wasn’t the voice of an old woman, or a monster, but of a young woman - his age, or even younger maybe. Someone that could hopefully be bested by a padawan, if needs be … although Obi-Wan was grateful for the bars that surrounded his cell, for the little protection they offered from the Sith on the other side.

Fighting the urge to reach for his lightsaber, sheathed at his own waist - it was time to stall.

“Oh really? Well, I do hate to disappoint. Who exactly were you expecting?”

A scoff, quiet and as full of humour as it was of mockery.

Yellow eyes ran quickly across his face, before the woman reached up, sweeping her hood back and pulling her half mask down in quick succession so that, Obi-Wan imagined, he could see the disappointment on her face. Which, of course, was there, but she was …. not what he expected either.

Force users were not creatures from children’s tales, he knew. Whether dark or light, a force user could come from any planet, look like any of the millions of the universe’s designs, and he had seen before the mask’s removal her eyes, and that she was shaped in a similar enough way to any of the many humanoid species that littered every space between stars, but still. He had imagined, beneath the mask - as far as he had gone to imagine her at all - a monster. Like he imagined all the Sith. Not hideous, not grotesque, but evil. Visibly evil, because if her force aura wasn’t going to mark an obvious and unbridgeable difference between them, surely something should.

But no.

She was just … an attractive woman. A very attractive woman.

(The type of woman, perhaps, in a different universe, where Obi-Wan was not good and she was not evil, or he was not beholden to the Jedi Code, or in a universe where Jedi did not exist at all - as terrible as that would be, of course - that he might ask her out for a drink. Or perhaps to a picnic underneath the stars on Naboo. Maybe they could have grown up together as children.)

Why could the day not have gone as planned?

What was she staring at now?

Oh. He hadn’t heard a word she’d just said, and by the looks of it - by how she had rolled her eyes and recovered her face, by how her back was turning and she was beginning to walk towards the shut door - she wasn’t planning on staying much longer.

Qui-Gon was going to kill him if he let a Sith walk away from him without any information. He needed something, anything, that they could tell the Council, something important -

“Can I at least get your name?”

Dammit. What was wrong with him?

The woman paused at the door, laughing quietly as she turned back to face him without taking a step closer.

“No, you cannot. What you can have, Jedi, is a secret - would you like it?”

Padawan. I am not a Jedi yet.

But Obi-Wan nodded, words kept pressed down in his throat, crawling around like snakes. The woman seemed pleased at his answer, taking a few steps closer and beckoning him to the bars that separated them - and almost subconsciously, Obi-Wan found himself at the edge of his cell, leaning against the cold metal and watching her.

“Well, Master, you’re very lucky - and please understand, I am not in the business of telling Jedi scum my secrets, but neither am I in the business of leaving Jedi unharmed after being in my presence. So, Jedi … I’m sure you’re honoured to know that I have given you the gift of being my first, and hopefully only.”

Oh.

She was leaving him alive.

(But that means she really was here to kill someone who wasn’t him, she wasn’t here for Obi-Wan at all - his master, Qui-Gon, would she go to him next? Would Obi-Wan have to stand here as she plunged her lightsaber through his chest, or across his neck - he had to get out, he had to find Qui-Gon, he needed to get them out of this place -

But the woman was already leaving, she was already back at the door, and it was already open, she was already stepping out, but Qui-Gon - )

“I can feel the fear rolling off you, Jedi. You might want to work on that.”

And with the last words spoken over her shoulder towards him, she was gone.

What was he going to do?

- - -

What he was going to do, in the end, was have what may have been a small panic attack as he remained in his cell for another hour.

His lightsaber couldn’t free him from the cell - the bars, whatever they were made of, seemed to absorb the energy.

He couldn’t persuade anyone to let him out - not a soul had graced his presence since the woman’s exit, leaving him with nothing but her ghost and the fear and the images.

(The woman, unmasked and beautiful and terrible. Qui-Gon in a cell of his own, weaponless and restricted, and her over him, and her lightsaber in hand, and would Qui-Gon be able to fight her off? Surely Qui-Gon would fight, and surely Qui-Gon would win, he always won, but what if he didn’t? What if he died there, or died trying to escape her, dead on the floor like an animal or worse, his corpse taken by the woman like a trophy back to wherever she had emerged from. Would Obi-Wan ever leave, would he ever become a Jedi, could he without Qui-Gon, and - )

Breathe. Fear is the path to the dark side. Breathe. Fear leads to anger. Breathe. Anger leads to hate. Breathe. Hate leads to suffering. Breathe.

Qui-Gon is going to be fine. She may not even be here from him, Obi-Wan reminded himself. And realistically, she can’t have been - she clearly did not recognise him as a padawan, and if she had been here for Qui-Gon and known the man was nearby, she would surely have taunted Obi-Wan with whatever her plans were, knowing that the younger man would be able to do nothing about it.

But what if -

Safe to say, it was a very long hour until his Master walked back into the room, alongside one of Gardinoan jailors from earlier, looking unharmed and only mildly annoyed.

Qui-Gon nodded towards his padawan: are you okay? Unhurt?

A smile, small and quick, back.

A sigh of relief from the older man, and a look towards the Gardinoan.

“Now that you have your answers, can my padawan be released?”

The Gardinoan - as thinly necked and heavily armed as ever, but now with a distinct look of embarrassment on his face, pale skin flushed and gaze almost constantly lowered - nodded quickly at the Jedi Master, hands quickly finding the keys to open the cell’s door and free the younger man.

(And Obi-Wan really did need to do some digging into exactly what the bars were made of, when they were free and away from the whole damn planet.)

Once free of the cell Obi-Wan walked quickly up to his mentor, and the two of them turned and left the room, leaving the Gardinoan behind them with their longer strides. With neither of them particularly looking forward to remaining amongst the people that had imprisoned them - and for no reason, at that - Obi-Wan was not surprised to see the Jedi lead him back towards the hanger in which their ship had originally landed.

“What in the world was that, Master?”

Qui-Gon sighed, resting a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Unbelievably, mistaken identity - apparently, the two of us resemble a pair of bounty hunters some of the locals had a fair bit of issue with a few years ago. You would think that given we are very clearly Jedi here on Jedi Council business,” he spoke louder now, with the Gardinoan that still trailed a distance behind the pair able to hear him if their now redder cheeks were any indication, “a few moments questioning would be enough to convince them that we are not two low-rate rogues, but alas. Apparently not.” Qui-Gon dropped his voice again, concern colouring his words. “How were you, young one? Nothing too unpleasant?”

Well, Master. There was, or at least I’m fairly sure there was, a Sith in the room. Her force aura was barely any different than yours, or Master Windu’s, or mine own, and she was quite beautiful, and she didn’t kill me, but a Sith nonetheless, I think. I barely listened to a word she said, and I hadn’t even thought to try and question her until she was halfway out the door, but -

No chance.

“No, Master. I was left alone for the most part, anyway, aside from someone who came in to watch me for a while. I - I am just glad you are well. I was worried for you.”

At Qui-Gon’s weary smile at Obi-Wan’s barely half truth, the padawan’s heart seemed to stutter.

What in the world had he just done.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan imagine #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #glass #my writing

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randomaliha · 5 years

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Tagged by @luvvewan <3

Name: My original fic-writing name is randomalia (already taken on tumblr), and I spent some time on LJ as spiny, then ao3 as spilinski as well. But I’ve been randomalia since my first fic back in HP fandom one million years ago, and that’s the one I’ve come back to now.

Fandoms: I feel like I never actually leave fandoms, they just go into the background (and sometimes I get the urge to write for them again). Currently writing in Star Wars. I read HP and Stucky and Merlin too, but wouldn't mind adding another fandom.

Where You Post: ao3

Most Popular Oneshot: By kudos and bookmarks it’s Stir, a Teen Wolf sterek one-shot set and written during the first season (when the show had potential to be good, and had Stiles who as a character is absolutely made for fanfic). I do actually like this one because I think I got Stiles’ voice pretty well and that makes all the difference.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: So I posted Currents (Star Wars, Q/O) on ao3 as a one-shot, but actually I think of it as a story in two parts because that’s how I wrote it (it’s labelled Currents and Currents 2 in my files 😋). I think it kind of works like that as well. This fic is the most popular thing I’ve written in any size, format and fandom. I’m so touched that people love this one, and I think it’s an example of other people enjoying it when you write what YOU love and what YOU want to read -- I had been thinking about that horrible tension we get a glimpse of when Qui-Gon tells the council that he can train Anakin because Obi-Wan was ready to become a knight. There is so much in that one quick moment -- echoes of Qui-Gon’s early rejection of Obi-Wan (especially compared to his insistence about Anakin), a lingering question about why Qui-Gon hadn’t spoken of Obi-Wan’s readiness before -- and it’s really interesting to think about in the context of Qui-Gon surviving. What would it do to their relationship? A hasty switching from one padawan to the next, and Obi-Wan out on his own? It’s an angst goldmine, is what I’m saying :D Throw in some lovesick obliviousness and Obi-Wan figuring out his own path and a list of planets, and you get Currents.

Favourite Story You Wrote: I think Rain Wakes Me (Merlin RPF, Colin/Bradley). It's got angst and tension and a reveal which I'm happy about, but also it's such a great ship and setting to write, I just really enjoyed it.

I had to go back and scroll through ao3 to answer this one. It’s tricky, because whether the fics are ‘good’ or not, I tend to have good memories attached to lots of them, like the excitement and love of a new fandom, or sharing it with fandom friends, etc. Some of the fics I’m proud of are the ones that people haven’t responded to much, and I think that can skew my thinking. And I find it hard to actually finish fic so every time I do I’m happy to be putting something out there.

How You Choose Your Titles: I do one-word titles a lot, and I just try to capture something about the emotional story of the fic, e.g. Submerged for a oneshot on suppressed feelings (in which Obi-Wan takes a bath haha). It doesn’t always take much thought though, I tend to go with what feels right. For longer titles they’re usually pieces from poems and songs.

Do You Outline: No, I find that the fic ideas I try to outline usually never get written! It’s like I’ve gotten it all out of my head by outlining and so it never goes anywhere. Mostly I have an idea I want to express (e.g. Obi-Wan is cheeky and has hidden feelings and also feels wretched about it) and then just start writing randomly and see how it goes. I do feel like being able to plot out a story would help me write longer stories, but I find it really challenging.

Complete: I don’t know what this is asking exactly but those WIPs are just resting and they will be along any time now. For sure.

Coming Soon/Not Yet Started: I have several thousand words of a Star Wars time travel fic because I wanted to see what it would be like if Clone Wars/RotS-era Obi-Wan met his former master twenty years in the past. Love and angst and beards, obviously. Most of the angst is me not finishing it so far, but lately I’ve felt motivated to get back to it.

Do You Accept Prompts: Not really. I struggle to write to a deadline so I tend to feel like I’m letting people down if I can’t meet their prompt. But I DO find it super helpful to see and join in on fandom discussions about characters and events, because it helps me figure out my own thoughts and that usually leads to fic.

Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited To Write: um, an AU of some description?? Because I usually stick close to canon. Maybe in a series of oneshots so I can write without feeling like it has to be a novel. Hmm, I just talked myself into feeling excited about that!

Tagging anyone who reads this and wants to do it :)

#star wars #My fic #brolin

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gffa · 6 years

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What are your favorite time travel fanfics?

Hi! I LOVE TIME TRAVEL FICS, as you can see, and Star Wars fandom is really good for them! I have a set of time travel recs here (though, there are some that I’ve read since or haven’t yet read that aren’t on that list, so don’t take it as complete, for all that it’s monster length already!), but my primer of WHERE TO START would be: (MORE UNDER THE CUT)

✦ Shadows of the Future by stormqueen873, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, 129.3k

ObiWan lost the duel on Mustafar, but instead of dying, he finds himself on a ship leaving Tatooine, with his old Master and a familiar young boy. As events begin to unfold, can he stop the future he knows from occuring?

It’s softer and fluffier than I usually go for in the beginning, but once the fic gets into its swing I was absolutely hooked on it and read it in just a handful of sittings. The emotional payoffs, when they happen, were incredibly satisfying for me and it was a pure, giant ball of big, fluffy fix-it with some emotionally cathartic releases along the way. I read this early on in my SW fic reading time and I will always hold fond memories of it!✦ time to change the road you’re on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 37.4k

The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future.

This is, at its heart, an Ahsoka story with Anakin playing an incredibly important role, and it was ALL ABOUT forcing these characters into a situation where they had the breathing room and nudging needed to talk through some shit and it’s so very, very cathartic for that. My favorites were the scenes with Obi-Wan (well, they would be) but the whole thing was beautifully done.

✦ The Dark Path Lit by Sun and Stars by A_Delicate_Fury, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & cody & cast, time travel, 27.7k wip

After a disaster on the cosmic scale that Obi-Wan is still trying to wrap his mind around, he finds himself back in the early days of the Clone Wars, Commander Cody loyally at his side, Anakin at his back, and Sidious plotting against the Jedi at every turn. He’s been given an unasked for chance to do everything over again. And with the Force as his ally, he intends to set the galaxy on a brighter path than its current trajectory.

Oh, this one is gorgeous, the characterization is spot-on (there were moments of Obi-Wan characterization that made me want to weep for how much I fell in love all over again, through subtle gestures and the sheer amount of good that he is) and it’s done in an interesting way and I am so, so eager for more. The reunion was satisfying, but yet there’s still so much excitement about what’s to come and it really is an amazing fic.✦ Soldier, Poet, King by Glare, obi-wan/anakin & qui-gon & mace & dooku & palpatine & cast, sith!obi-wan, NSFW, 102.5k wip

Second chances are very rarely given, but the Force smiles upon two of its favorite children and returns them to a time before their actions have met their consequences. Anakin Skywalker, also known as Darth Vader, seeks redemption while Obi-Wan “Ben” Kenobi, disillusioned with the Jedi Order and its Code, falls to the Darkness.

SPK is one of the first fics I read with the trope of Soft Sith characters and I fell in love with the concept of it (thanks to this and wicked thing) and it’s still one of those that I will be forever fond of, because it really knew how to write tension being built up and then resolved in a satisfying way, while still keeping the plot moving forward and giving me my Obikin feelings! As much as I love so many of Glare’s fics, this one will probably always be #1 in my heart just because it made such an impression on me and was so very much fun to read and got in all sorts of tropes that I love (time travel! fun Sith antics! a very mild d/s relationship at times! all things I ate up!).✦ The Exchange by MissLearn, obi-wan & anakin & some anakin/padme & ahsoka & qui-gon & rex & cast, time travel, 77k wip

ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels.

This is another I was catching up on today and I’m always sad when I get to the end of what’s been posted because it’s such an incredibly solid story that hits on exactly what I want. There are a lot of typos and such, but the characterization really gets who these characters are, it’s all about the various connections between the different versions of Obi-Wan and Anakin, it deeply cares about both of them and mending or clarifying things from both sides and, oh, the most recent chapter had an incredible scene about emotions and stuff that I just glowed after reading! It’s one of those that I would happily, happily sit here and read another 100k of if you gave it to me and not come back up until I was done.

✦ Threads of the Past by Magier74, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & xanatos, 37.8k

Obi-Wan and Anakin make an unexpected detour returning home from a mission.

This is a fic that I wound up really liking for how much better it made me feel–maybe not in the way I hoped for or expected, but still gave me something that really helped with the crushing angst SW sometimes delivers. Obi-Wan and Anakin travel back in time to meet Qui-Gon and Padawan Obi-Wan is a thing that should happen more often!✦ Futurus (-a -um) by cadesama, obi-wan/anakin/padme & cast, time travel, 60.8k wip

Cracked hyperdrive? No problem. Just hold it together with the Force. Time travel? Well. That could be a bigger problem.

I haven’t reread this one in ages, but it was actually one of the early fics I read, when I was pretty Anidala-only and it sort of helped me ease into the idea of Obikin and Obianidala, in addition to having a fun plot! A really good, solid read!✦ White Rabbits by Butterfly, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia & han & cast, NSFW, time travel, 102.5k wip

Through the Force, everything is connected. Anakin and Obi-Wan find this out first-hand.

I read this really quickly and it’s still hard for me to believe that it was over 100k, because it did not feel that long to me! It’s just as much about Obi-Wan and Anakin being in the future and trying to puzzle their way through all of this as it is about Anakin’s terrible love life (freaking out about Padme, his feelings for Obi-Wan coming to a head) and it’s been awhile since it updated, but what’s there is really worth reading!✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast, time travel, 357.3k wip

Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. Major AU.

I haven’t read all of Reprise yet (not for lack of desire, just time/it got buried on my reader) but I’ve enjoyed everything of Elfpen’s that I’ve read so far and this one is nice and long and I’ve heard nothing but good about it!✦ Ouroboros by bedlamsbard, obi-wan/anakin/padme, time travel, 458.6k wip

Considering that he had picked up what was probably a Sith artifact, promptly passed out in the middle of a war zone, and apparently woken up twenty years in the future with Obi-Wan having taken up residence in his head, Anakin thought he was entitled to have a few questions.

I’ve only read Wake the Storm so far, so I can’t vouch for the others, but I liked that one a lot and it was well-written and does a nice slow burn on the Obi-Wan/Anakin front and has them traveling through time and seeing different worlds in a really fun, engaging way!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obikin #obianidala #ahsoka tano #fic recs #star wars fic recs #oops i meant to drop that into the queue so as not to overpost this afternoon #since the queue is already running orz #but accidentally hit post OH WELL ENJOY SOME QUALITY FIC if you like

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sethnakht · 6 years

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tagged by the lovely @azalea-scroggs (forgive me for this incredibly late response)

Rules: choose any three fandoms (in random order) and answer the questions, then tag 10 people you want to know better

Three fandoms:

Star Wars

Coco

Harry Potter, if only because it lends itself to this meme

The first character you loved:

Luke (in childhood) - mostly, I think, for his moments of Extra, such as: a) the choice to take death-by-abyss over Vader’s offer, b) his black outfit, with its aura of faux-mystery (the product of brooding over Vader, it seemed), c) the fact that he Force-chokes his way into Jabba’s palace d) and that his solution to killing the Rancor is to send a barbed gate into its windpipe, e) the showiness of his flying kick on Jabba’s barge, f) how he reaches for Vader’s hand not long after having chopped one of them off

Mamá Coco - the beauty and dignity of great age, all of the implied little acts of resistance she’s hinted at having taken throughout her lifetime, strewn throughout the house

Harry - I think what instantly endeared me to him is his resilience, what one might even call spite - the way his hair grows back after Petunia cuts it shorter than he wants, for instance, and then the sheer nerve, the cheekiness of some of his responses to adults - the constant presence of repressed or unacknowledged wells of emotion beneath the calm surface. I learned a lot about what I like in a narrator from him, because he’s highly observant but completely unreliable, often coming to realizations with great belatedness

The character you never expected to love so much:

Leia - I remember seeing ESB in theaters as a child and being inexplicably drawn to the shot of her watching the blast doors close, to her eyes - feeling a sense of such longing it almost hurt. But I didn’t like her romantic subplot and totally lost interest after her bikini scene. It took far sharper eyes than my own to realize just how complex she can be, and years to recognize in her grief, in her struggles, in her determination, in her resistance just what it was that had sparked that initial response

Imelda - she reminds me almost uncannily of my real Dominican grandmother, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to think about her too closely at the beginning. But she’s emerged to me as That Kind of Character I love to write about - headstrong, resentful, masked, walled on the outside; she’s open to many metaphorical readings as well. Cheech, Victoria, and Elena have also grown on me to a surprising degree

one of the great joys of Potter is that nearly every character has a remarkably skewed perspective. I kind of love the cast as a whole - from weirdos like Aberforth and Filch and the Lovegoods to the worst-ever purebloods to Lily and the Marauders - and over time have found the adults especially fun to think through, not least because of how settled-in-their-ways and batshit some of them have become

The character you relate to the most:

I’m going to rephrase this as “the character perspective you find most rewarding to write”, because that’s how I relate to characters --

Vader - because anger! and a journey! because he’s a sad but hilarious murderbot! have explained the fascination a bit here

Héctor - he’s a trickster, immensely changeable and fluid, and yet also caught in something of a traumatic loop, one both of his own making and not. He's in some way the character who can cross every boundary but the one he wants to cross, or rather who has to cross all kinds of boundaries, who keeps crossing boundaries despite being denied passage to the one place he wants to be by an apparatus that regards him as an outsider. There’s lots one can also do with him to think about class relations, about the history of the twentieth century, about time more generally (time in music, time in poetry), about language (he’s a poet). And on a psychological level, he’s got all the baggage I love: guilt, shame, persistence in desperation, a particular form of good-natured obliviousness that has a way of getting in the way of clear communication on his end and also of setting him up for betrayal

Snape - he’s a miserably depressed, endlessly spiteful, hopelessly guilt-ridden young teacher who can’t keep his anger or his tongue in check, is ridiculously partial to the sort of rich prat who helped ruin his life in the first place, is obsessed to the most obsessive degree with Harry and his parents, is probably on a whole bucketload of potions to get through the day, is physically a total mess, and gets to wield some of the most cutting sarcasm in the books - of course his perspective is a riot

The character you’d slap:

other than Anakin? or Padmé? probably Obi-Wan pre-ROTS. Which is not to say that I don’t love him (love his sass especially); more that there are things he does in TPM and AOTC that remind me too much of real people - of bad teachers I know. Much could have been avoided without his grudge in TPM, with a franker acknowledgement of the fact that his charge looked up to him as a father and not as a brother and was vulnerable to predation from those who could see the disconnect. The difference a sharper ear for tone ( “I do my best, Master”) might have made . . . not unlike Snape, he’s a poster-boy for bad teaching, and in a very different way from Snape, he’s arrogant and fairly privileged at the same time. That he’s never called out on his behavior until it’s far too late is harrowingly realistic

Ernesto - boy becomes a media star and yet has never heard of communication, apparently. if he’d simply asked Héctor to write him songs from home, the entire mess might have been avoided

Snape deserves to be in this category, but I think the character I’d want to actually slap is Draco Malfoy - just - i mean

Three favorite characters (in order of preference):

Vader, Leia, Ahsoka or Aphra

Héctor, Imelda, Coco

Snape, Harry, pretty much everyone but Voldemort and Draco

A character you liked at first but don’t anymore:

I still love Luke, so this isn’t quite the response being asked for, but I also don’t seek him out, don’t want to write about him. As a kid, I devoured pretty much every Luke-Vader story out there; now, when encountering Luke-Vader, I confess I struggle to muster interest if Leia (or Ahsoka, or some other female character) isn’t present

this movie hasn’t been out long enough for that, I think . . .

Hermione is a character I adore still, but as with Luke, she’s no longer for me what she was as a child, when she was my role model - idk, I love a lot of the qualities in her that tend to be overlooked in fic, her brutality for instance, her more hidden impulses - how much she wants to belong, how much her marriage says about her structural needs and wants (love Ron, btw, another totally under-appreciated character). I think she’s super interesting, if not in her prescribed role as the know-it-all ex-machina. As the character used to always playing that role and under pressure to remain in that role, however, she’s fascinating

Three OTPs:

Leia + Vader gen, of which there is not nearly enough in this world - Vader spends two films chasing / capturing her, Leia spends two films escaping / defying him, he doesn’t want her dead because she can lead him to things he wants, she absolutely wants him dead and is driven to lead by her hatred for him, they’re extreme versions of each other and understand each other extremely well as a result, possibly are even drawn to each other, if only to really hurt each other - you bet I want to see this dynamic further explored

Héctor/Imelda - guilt-fest, psychological drama ahoy, plus they’re musicians, connected through time and language

aside from the stuff I somehow avoid like the plague (H/G, Drarry, anything with Voldemort), I’d read pretty much anything with an interesting narrator. Rarepairs are where it’s at for me in Potter, tbh

I tag @glompcat, @marythegizka, @chancecraz, @songofthesstars, @force-scream, @cyberdyke-industries, @thewillowbends, @babycharmander, @lloronadeazulceleste, @pengychan

#fandom meme #meme #long post

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