#he was like my dumb former padawan will not let himself be happy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tennessoui · 3 years

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omgggg yes number 45 gimme some number 45 obikin PLEASE

ok,,,,,,this is no. 1 Soulmates + no.45 in love with best friend's partner but it kinda got away from me so it's almost 2k and also like there's world-building im awful at snippets. This is obikin but also mentions of qui-gon/anakin BUT it's a fake relationship. it's not in the story, but the premise obi-wan doesn't know is that anakin needed coruscanti citizenship to get their healthcare for his mom, and qui-gon decides to help him out by marrying him to give him automatic citizenship i uh might continue this if people like it because it was fun to write whoops

“We met at the spaceport three days ago,” Anakin says with a demure little smile, curling further into Qui-Gon’s outstretched arm. The soft lamplight glints off the golden band Anakin’s wearing on his finger. Obi-Wan has had a hard time looking anywhere else since arriving in his old master’s quarters, has had a hard time thinking of anything else except that he’d always imagined Anakin wearing a more bronzed shade of gold.

It had been a shock to hear that while Obi-Wan had been out on a mission, Qui-Gon had returned to Coruscant with a husband in tow. Yes, alright, short courtships aren’t rare anywhere in the galaxy, especially between soulmates.

But Obi-Wan knows intimately well--better than anyone else in this room--that Anakin and Qui-Gon aren’t, in fact, soulmates.

Mace seems to be thinking the same thing because he states, with a slight question in his voice, “I was under the impression that your soulmate had passed into the Force, Qui-Gon.”

“We’re not soulmates,” Qui-Gon corrects placidly, arm moving away from Anakin’s shoulders--Obi-Wan can breathe again--so he can fiddle with the cuff around his wrist, which hides the faded name of his mate. “But now that the Jedi Order has lifted its marriage ban for non-Soulmate couples, I thought, why spend the rest of my life alone?”

Anakin catches Qui-Gon’s hand and places a kiss on the back of his fingers. Obi-Wan is going to scream.

When Anakin looks up to the assembled Jedi watching, he doesn’t look at Obi-Wan once. It’s the worst thing in the galaxy, the fact that other than very briefly an hour ago, Anakin hasn’t looked at him at all. It’s been five years. “And I’ve met my soulmate, but they…decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me.”

Obi-Wan inhales sharply at this and forgets to bite his tongue. “Maybe your soulmate had other obligations that they had to fulfill,” Obi-Wan bites out.

He’d thought Anakin ignoring him had been awful, but that’s nothing compared to the pain of having him look at him with eyes as cold as Hoth. “I think I’d know more about my soulmate than you would, master Jedi. Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name.”

Obi-Wan almost tells him to check his wrist if he needs a reminder about Obi-Wan’s name, but the words get stuck in his throat.

It’s probably for the best.

Obi-Wan’s spent five years and the duration of a war hiding the name of his soulmate from the Jedi Order, and he can’t say it now. His other half has made it quite clear that he can’t say it now.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan says, standing suddenly. He knows he should stay, should sit through the rest of the intake interview the Council gives to all non-Jedi sentients that marry a Jedi, soulmates or no, but he can’t. He’s the youngest person to sit on the Council in written history, he’s survived a war, trained the stubbornest Padawan of her generation, and this--this--looking across the table at Anakin Skywalker, dolled up and petty and full of hatred for him as he wears another man’s ring, Obi-Wan’s former master’s ring--this is going to be the thing that kills him.

Luckily, no one tries to stop him as he leaves. Maybe they think he’s just reacting to the fact that his fifty-eight year old master came home with a twenty-five year old husband. Maybe everything he’s feeling is written out on his face. Maybe he should never have tried to hide Anakin away. Maybe he should have called for extraction from his deep cover mission as soon as their hands had touched and their soulmarks had appeared. Maybe these past seven years should never have happened.

Force knows Obi-Wan would sleep easier if he had never walked into that Tatooine bar. If he had never met Anakin Skywalker.

He tries to meditate in his favorite spot in the Room of A Thousand Fountains, but it’s an impossible task. Mostly, he sits in a classic lotus position and broods.

A few hours later, when Obi-Wan thinks he’s recovered some of his composure, the person who’s always been able to ruin it sits himself down in front of him with a lot of unnecessary noise.

“When you talked about this place, I thought it sounded like the biggest waste of water in the entire galaxy,” Anakin’s voice sounds...normal. Like they’re picking up the thread of a conversation they had just dropped a moment ago, as if five years and a wedding and a war don’t stretch between them.

But if Anakin wants to talk to Obi-Wan like they had before, he’ll try his hardest to meet him there. Slowly, he opens his eyes. Anakin’s lounging back, still wearing the ceremonial robes of a Jedi’s bride, the loose blue silk barely hanging onto one of his shoulders. Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes again, immediately. “The greenery wouldn’t be able to survive without the water.”

Anakin nods, looking around as if slightly disinterested by it all. When he’d been eighteen, he’d soaked up every story Obi-Wan could tell him about the Temple, about the Jedi. Those piercing blue eyes find him again. It’s as if he knows Obi-Wan’s thoughts, because he smiles in the most humorless way. “I used to think I’d live here, and then I could see for myself if the beauty was worth the excess.”

“And?” Obi-Wan asks. It’s all he can get out of his throat. It’s very clear what Anakin isn’t saying. That he used to think he’d live here with Obi-Wan. That they'd be--that they'd be.

“Now I understand that there’s no winning that argument. What one man sees as a waste, another might see as a treasure.”

Obi-Wan can’t do this. He thought--maybe he could--but. He can’t. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, moving to stand on his feet. “I hate to leave, but I must attend to--”

Anakin scrambles to his feet and latches onto Obi-Wan’s covered wrist. “Do you?” he asks intently, his hold tightening. “Did you?”

“This--this is most inappropriate, Chosen Skywalker, please remove yourself from my person.”

Anakin, blast him, moves even closer. Obi-Wan wonders if he can hear his heartbeat from that far away or if it’s just in Obi-Wan’s ears. “You have to tell me,” he demands. He’s always demanded things from Obi-Wan. Stories, and kisses, and comfort, and promises. Obi-Wan had given him everything he’d asked for, up until the very end.

Unsurprisingly, nothing has changed.

“Tell you what,” Obi-Wan snaps, yanking his wrist away from Anakin’s touch. Even through the covering, his skin feels burned. “Tell you that I hated having to leave you? Tell you that I’ve thought about you every night since then? Tell you that there was a war, that I had to fight, that I didn’t choose to go? That I had a duty to the galaxy, to the Jedi, to my family?”

“You had a duty to me!” Anakin snarls back, squaring his shoulders and shoving forward into Obi-Wan’s space. “I was your soulmate and you left me and I waited and you never once called me, never once tried to visit! And then the war ended and you never came back!” His voice breaks and the flood of words Obi-Wan desperately does not want to hear breaks with it for just a second. “Why didn’t you come back? I don’t...I don’t care that you had to fight. I knew I couldn’t leave with you, not until I had freed my mom. But you just. You left.”

“I’m not the same man I was, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says softly. His voice shakes and he has to turn his head away from his soulmate’s watery blue eyes. “The war--it changed me. It hurt, to fight and kill and strategize on how to more effectively fight and kill the next day. Four years of that, and I knew at the end I wasn’t fit to be anyone’s soulmate, least of all yours.”

When Obi-Wan had first met him, Anakin had been laughing. His head had been tipped back, curls falling over his shoulders. The noise had been loud and honest. He’d been radiant in the Force. It had taken weeks for Obi-Wan to really believe something so bright could be the other half of his soul.

“I wanted to,” Obi-Wan whispers. “Every night I wanted to, and it only got harder after the war ended. I never stopped wanting to. Wanting you.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Anakin asks. Obi-Wan wants to ask him why it matters if he believes him or not, but Anakin’s words from earlier float back to him. They decided they didn’t want to stay with me, that they didn’t want me. He can’t let Anakin continue to think Obi-Wan didn’t want him, not when he wanted him so badly he ached from it.

With shaking fingers, he moves to pull down the collar of his robes, just far enough that he can pull out the japor snippet he’s worn around his neck since the day Anakin gave it to him. He slowly lifts it over his head and presents it to his soulmate. Anakin’s eyes are wide with wonder as he stares down at the necklace, worm almost smooth by how often Obi-Wan had rubbed the carving with his thumb. “Always, Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmurs, reaching out to grab Anakin’s hand and dropping the wood carving into his palm. He carefully folds the man’s lax fingers around the necklace.

Hating himself for doing it, but needing to do it anyway, he brushes his lips over his fingers in a ghost of a kiss. Beneath his mouth, the wedding band feels warm from Anakin’s body heat. It’s a shockingly cold reminder.

“May the Force bless you and your Chosen, and reunite you at every end of your every day,” Obi-Wan whispers the Council’s official blessings for newly-wed couples into Anakin’s skin.This is the last time he’s ever going to touch him. He doesn’t want to let go.

He must. He does.

#qui-gon definitely knew anakin was obi-wans soulmate when they started talking #he was like my dumb former padawan will not let himself be happy #so im going to wingman the shit out of him #by marrying his soulmate so they have to see each other again #and hopefully even talk about everything!#this cannot possibly go wrong #(it did)#but obi-wan and anakin end up together because qui-gon and anakin have their marriage annulled to the relief of everyone #asks #obikin #my fics #if all these prompts are going to be 1500 + words I do not know how fast i will finish them #but im trying #it's doing wonders for my writers block #prompt fill

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

Context: SW Suddenly Omegaverse AU (Original Post), Interior Design (Nesting Divots), Chrono Rating: T+ Relationships: Anakin & Obi-Wan, Quinlan/Obi-Wan

This is like 90% cuddles and scenting that’s a few steps to the side of a/b/o standard. There is a lot of non-sexual licking. It’s a little odd, but I’m assuming that’s what you’re here for. It’s also over 5k words, so, you know. There’s that.

Note: “Ternary” is to the number three as “binary” is to the number two. Binary gender/sex refers to IRL male/female distinctions, and ternary refers to alpha/beta/omega. Gender and sex are much more complicated than is touched on in this particular fic, and trans identities exist within both the binary system and the ternary system. (More notes at end.)

-----

“Sorry to tell you this,” Quinlan says, sliding into the room as quickly as he can, “but we can smell omega distress from several rooms down the hall. What the hell is going on?”

“We’ve having a lot of feelings,” Kenobi says drily. He’s on the couch, looking damnably normal, and Skywalker’s got his face shoved into his master’s neck. Kenobi’s fingers card through the curls, and it’s... well, it would be easy to tell which of them was having said feelings even if Quinlan hadn’t already been able to tell them apart in scent.

“I’m distraught,” Skywalker moans, mushing himself somehow closer.

Kenobi’s eyes go to the ceiling, and he visibly prays to the Force for patience. “I know, Anakin.”

“You think I’m being dumb.”

“I think you’ve had a few months to prepare for this, but that your reaction is understandable nevertheless,” Kenobi says carefully. “Quinlan, would you like to take a seat?”

He hops the back of an armchair in a way that earns him a long-suffering, fond sigh. Quinlan grins encouragingly. “So, do I get to know what this is about?”

“I’m having trouble keeping it out of the Force, but at least I can do that,” Skywalker mutters. He does not lift his head. “I can’t control the scent stuff.”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Do you want me to go get Tano? Might make you feel better.”

Skywalker just whines, high and pained, and tries to curl impossibly closer to Kenobi.

“Anakin,” Kenobi tries. “Anakin, do you want me to explain?”

“I want my--” Skywalker cuts himself off with a choking noise, and then keens. It’s a very omega noise, in the sense that his vocal cords can make it, and non-omegas have trouble mimicking it, and it makes Quinlan want to go over and do his best to fix things in whatever way he can.

(This, everyone is finding, is the truly awkward element to having Skywalker and Kenobi around. They don’t have any experience with controlling their ternary sex instincts, and it makes everyone else react poorly when they do, well, almost anything. They can’t be blamed, considering exactly how inconvenient this is for them, as well, but it’s not a great time for anyone.)

Quinlan tries to keep his own scent pleasant and calm, as soothing as he can make it through the blockers. He doesn’t think it works. “Your what?”

“His wife,” Kenobi says. “Because apparently that was the other way he broke the Code.”

“I looked her up,” Skywalker moans, dramatic as anyone. “She’s already mated and married, in this timeline. To that artist. She’s totally happy and she’s never met me and I’m never gonna be able to work with or around her because I won’t be able to act normal about it and I miss her.”

‘A lot of feelings‘ Kenobi mouths at Quinlan over Skywalker’s head.

“Well, at least it explains the position you’re in,” Quinlan tries to joke. The blank look he gets from Kenobi tells him clearly that the joke didn’t land. “Uh, scenting at the neck like that.”

“Inappropriate?” Kenobi hazards a guess. He doesn’t pull Skywalker away.

“Sort of,” Quinlan says. “You’re family, or as good as, so between that and the need for comfort, nobody’s really going to judge you for it, especially given your backgrounds, but that kind of prolonged neck-scenting for comfort is something kids outgrow in pre-adolescence. It’s only really used for either comfort for extreme emotions, like this, or, uh, between lovers. Post-coital, or during foreplay before, you know, mouths get involved.”

Kenobi grimaces. “Lovely. And what do you mean by ‘of our backgrounds’ in this case? That we have less control, or another factor?”

He doesn’t sound offended. Quinlan appreciates that. “You didn’t have ten years to get that comfort. It’s like... touch starvation, but for scenting. Anyone who knows what’s going on with you, even in the vague sense that doesn’t involve dimensional travel, is going to give you leeway on scenting because you didn’t have that, growing up.”

Kenobi’s grimace doesn’t go away until Skywalker’s breath hitches, hand curling in his master’s robes. “Anakin?”

“I don’t like feeling like this,” Skywalker mutters. “It sucks.”

“I know.”

“And we can’t delay the war much longer, and she was one of the only reasons I stayed even kinda sane through it.”

“I know, Anakin,” Kenobi sighs, running a hand through Skywalker’s hair and, awkwardly as anything, pressing a small kiss to the young man’s forehead. “You’ll have other ways to de-stress this time around. Maybe you’ll actually attend your meditative retreats.”

Skywalker huffs out a breath, in a laugh wet with what might be burgeoning tears. “Shut up.”

“I think you’ve known me far too long to think I’ll ever run out of words,” Kenobi says. He meets Quinlan’s eyes again, but before either of them can communicate about whether Quinlan should leave, Skywalker lurches to his feet, muttering something about a shower.

He’s gone before Kenobi can get more than two words out, and the man is left looking ruffled and confused by his former padawan’s sudden departure. He stays watching the door, and slowly wilts in a way that doesn’t speak well for his state of mind. The man sighs and drops his head into his hands, cradling it with his elbows on his knees, and whatever calm he’d had fades into pure stress, the air curdling with the smell of it.

Quinlan waits, unsure of how to handle this; Kenobi’s Quinlan Vos probably would have known how to deal with the change.

“What am I doing?” Kenobi breathes out, the words almost inaudible from behind his hands.

There are a few moments for Quinlan to consider the many complications and ramifications of getting involved, and then he decides to do so anyway. He stands up and steps around the caff table, and sits down next to Kenobi. He wraps an arm around the man’s shoulders, and brings him in close.

“You don’t have to do this,” Kenobi says, though he makes no move to pull away. “I know you don’t... this is just an obligation. The Council assigned you to gather information and keep an eye out for us in terms of the whole omega thing, since you already shared my heat, and... I know I’m not a friend to you. You barely know me, and the fact that you have to look out for me is something that truly grates. Such care shouldn’t...”

Quinlan waits for him to finish, but he doesn’t.

“I won’t say that they didn’t give me that assignment, because that would be a lie and you’d know it,” Quinlan says. “But I do want to be friends with you. We’re sort of there, already, even if that’s mostly you knowing my other self, and my psychometry, but I’ve seen what a friendship with you could be like, in what you let me see. We’ll never have that same dynamic, because I didn’t grow up with you, and the ternary sex adds an element that changes things, but I do want to be your friend.”

He hesitates, unsure if the rest will make things worse or better, but says it anyway. “As for taking care of you, looking out for you... I do feel a need to do that on an instinctual level, yes, but I can ignore it. It’s an instinct, but one that I, like everyone else that’s grown up as a human or near human in this galaxy, can work around. I am doing more than the minimum the Council requested, and it’s because I do actually like you as a person, and want to know you better.”

Kenobi’s head is resting on his shoulder by this point, tired and heavy, and Quinlan reaches up to brush his knuckles against the beard without looking. His blockers are still keeping his scent down, but the contact seems to make Kenobi relax more. His hands are mostly laced together, and falling into the dip between their legs.

“There’s a way I can help, but it’s, ah... not inherently sexual in nature, but generally only done by those whose relationship is already some degree of sexual,” Quinlan tells him. “To make you feel better, less stressed.”

“I’m assuming you’re not suggesting an orgasm,” Kenobi mutters, dry as anything. He laughs when Quinlan puts a hand on his knee.

“Not exactly feeling it,” Quinlan agrees. He squeezes Kenobi’s knee, and then says, “No, it’s mostly scenting in a way that’s usually only done by lovers; it’s more effective, but very intimate in a way many find uncomfortably sexual, because the amount of tongue involved is very reminiscent of foreplay.”

Kenobi laughs, a little harder, and nuzzles a little. He doesn’t seem aware of the fact that he’s doing it. “Alright, then.”

“I’d also suggest moving to one of the nests,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi immediately freezes. He gives it a moment, and then says, “I know you found it helpful after your heat, Kenobi. The nesting instinct is human here. It’s not shameful. There are people who don’t get anything out of it, but I’ve seen you nesting, and it’s good for you.”

Kenobi shudders and Quinlan thinks he might be fighting down a whine. “It’s a change, Quin. I mean, Quinlan. It’s... it’s just another thing out of many that’s different.”

“And one of the few you have control over?” Quinlan guesses. He tries to purr for support when Kenobi nods against his shoulder, and he thinks the deep rumble is soothing to Kenobi. “I get that.”

“Don’t stop,” Kenobi mutters, and Quinlan can guess he’s blushing about it.

“Into the nest,” Quinlan mutters. “It’ll help convince Skywalker to use it, and he really needs that kind of comfort.”

That’s the line of logic that actually works, and Quinlan isn’t the least bit surprised.

“Fine,” Kenobi sighs, and gets to his feet before Quinlan can offer to carry him or something similarly joking. The man walks to the communal nest at the edge of the room, and then looks down into the barely-used mess of blankets and pillows in the floor divot like he doesn’t even know how to get in.

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

Fine. He can work with that. He’s taken this duo on as a project of his own free will, and he’s damn well going to follow through.

“Want to rearrange it?” he asks, in hopes that he can prompt Kenobi into figuring out what’s wrong.

“I don’t... know,” Kenobi says, frowning in a way that’s more worried and uncomfortable than angry. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Quinlan considers it, thinks of how the dust means nobody’s been here, that there’s not even a hint of scent, and then turns and grabs the throw pillows and thick, woven blanket from the couch.

“Wait,” Kenobi protests. “They don’t--”

“We can put them back later,” Quinlan assures him. He holds them out to Kenobi. “Trust me? I may not be an omega, but I do know enough of the theory.”

Kenobi takes the pillows and the blanket, stares down at them and then at the nest, and steps out of his slippers and into the nest. The layer already there is thin, and likely not doing much for anyone, but it’s the bare minimum and Quinlan can work with that.

He turns and scouts the room for spare fabrics, grabs all three of the outer robes from where they hang by the door, and the recently-used dishtowel that only barely carries Skywalker’s scent, and brings them to Kenobi.

“The robes aren’t clean!” Kenobi protests.

“I could grab something from your room instead,” Quinlan says. “Or you could just leave the hems on the outside. But you need more fabric that actually smells like someone.”

Quinlan wonders, idly, if Kenobi would have this kind of reaction to the suggestion without omega instincts at play, or if it’s just the instincts and he doesn’t realize, or maybe that he’s decided to let the instincts happen since Quinlan’s pushed him into nesting already anyway. The man had insisted in perfectly pressing his robes from the beginning, long before their bodies had had a chance to change, and Skywalker had found it normal, so it’s probably, at least a little, just the man’s personality. It probably doesn’t matter, overall, because all Quinlan has to do is sit at the edge of the nest until Kenobi--the person who actually lives here--is done arranging things.

Quinlan takes off another two layers and offers them, noting out loud that he can get them back later when Skywalker can fill in the gaps or something before too many protests can be voiced. Kenobi hesitantly takes them and tucks them in among his own additional layers. Quinlan’s seen enough communal nests to know that most of the placements are odd and not going to work out long-term, but that’s not the point right now. The point is getting Kenobi to recognize the his body, and more importantly, his mental health, rely at least somewhat on nesting now.

“Are you going to come in?” Kenobi asks, belatedly realizing Quinlan’s still outside the lip of the flooring divot.

“Not without permission,” Quinlan says, and sees the realization flicker in.

Kenobi holds out a hand, silent, and Quinlan lets himself get tugged in among the half-stale, half-new nest. It’s not great, but that’ll come with practice. He tucks himself around Kenobi, and rubs at the man’s arms in an attempt to ease some of the tension that’s clinging to every line of his body.

“What now?” Kenobi asks, just a shade more quiet than Quinlan thinks is really required by the situation.

“A lot of the stress you’re feeling is a feedback loop from being covered in your own distress scent,” Quinlan says. “You can shower to handle that, which is what Skywalker is doing, or you can manually remove it.”

“I’d imagine a wet towel,” Kenobi says, a touch wry, “but given that you mentioned tongue earlier, I’m guessing you intend to lick it away?”

“It’s more effective,” Quinlan admits. “Not at removing the scent, necessarily, but it removes enough to help while also generating comfort and relaxation hormones from the close contact, and being scented by a trusted individual.”

“Makes sense,” Kenobi admits. “You, ah, use scent blockers usually, right? Can you, er, scent me?”

Quinlan can see just how much Kenobi dislikes using the words. He tries to keep it quick. “I use a cream blocker over my scent glands, namely at the neck and wrists, since the rest are covered in fabric. It’s... well, it can be wiped off, or also removed orally. Most manually-applied blockers are formulated to be safe for contact with the mouth or genitals. Only really gets to be a problem if there are rare allergies or with specific species. It doesn’t taste like anything, if that matters.”

Kenobi’s discomfort is almost palpable, but Quinlan lets him work through that. This isn’t really something he can make a choice for Kenobi about, and the discomfort is... well, it’s not really the kind of discomfort usually associated with ternary sex and associated behaviors. Everything’s just very new, and comes with changes to the body that Kenobi never agreed to.

“Right,” Kenobi says. “I want to... to at least try it, I think.”

He turns and blushes, eyes anywhere by Quinlan’s face. “I don’t know how much longer Anakin will be. I’d rather he not think we’re, er...”

“Then I’ll take care of that part fast,” Quinlan promises, and is rewarded by Kenobi offering a wrist.

It’s... not sexual. Quinlan knows he has a hard time explaining this to near-humans that don’t have the scent glands, that don’t have the ternary dynamics. He’s had a similarly hard time explaining it to Kenobi and Skywalker. It’s not sexual, just intimate, when he pulls Kenobi’s wrist to his face, closes his eyes, and breathes in the scent of a distressed, uncomfortable, bitter omega that he’s shared a heat with and knows as almost-friend. The smell, this close and this strong, triggers the production of pheromones of his own, and when he feels Kenobi tentatively start pressing kisses to Quinlan’s own wrist, he relaxes. He brushes his lips against Kenobi’s wrist, and then puts his open mouth to it, the slightest press of teeth and his tongue laving across the skin. He hears Kenobi’s gasp, an almost-yelp, and pulls away long enough to press a kiss the the veins under his lips, and to say, “Relax, Kenobi.”

He forces a purr out, low and rumbling, and feels it work on Kenobi just like it did earlier. There’s a tongue pulling, a little dry, to rub away the blocker on the inside of his wrist, and he turns his attention back to Kenobi’s. The scent is even stronger on his tongue, bitter and unhappy, and his body continues to produce calm and comfort as he pulls away the uglier feelings painted on Kenobi’s skin.

More pheromones leak under his mouth, but less bitter. Less intense. He does what he can, opens his eyes and turns and sees that Kenobi is unduly focused on his wrist, mouthing and not quite purring, but oddly fuzzy in the Force. His eyes are closed, but Quinlan’s pretty sure they’d be glazed if not.

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

“Guess you haven’t encountered this outside of a heat before,” Quinlan mutters. He shakes his arm a bit, and puts his other hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “Kenobi, hey, look at me?”

Kenobi pulls away, blinking, and then makes a face. “That...”

“Didn’t like losing control?” Quinlan guesses. The answer is clear enough. “It’s a matter of practice, especially for you.”

“Why did I... it smelled and tasted like... like I was safe,” Kenobi mutters lowly, eyes on the nest instead of on Quinlan. “I’ve never associated any sense with safety other than the Force.”

“You trust me,” Quinlan says, as if that’s not a little terrifying in its own way. He already knew that Kenobi trusted him, but he thinks that this strong of a reaction might make him Kenobi’s most trusted person after Skywalker and maybe Tano. “And since you trust me, your body subconsciously takes cues from mine, when it comes to pheromones. I project comfort and safety, and your body takes it as... not fact, but affirmation.”

“So I won’t react to anyone like this,” Kenobi says, not quite begging for Quinlan to confirm, but close to it. “Just you, and... does that same logic apply to those who aren’t Alpha designation?”

“Yeah,” Quinlan says. “Not in the same way, but familiarity and trust does affect which pheromones affect you, and how strongly. Children are largely unresponsive to aggression pheromones from their parents, by default, since their minds process it as aggression in defense of them, rather than aggression at them.”

Kenobi purses his lips, but nods and looks at Quinlan’s other wrist. “Moving on?”

“If you’re okay with it,” Quinlan says, but he brings his cleaned wrist to Kenobi’s and rubs them together until his own comfort scent is covering up what’s left of the distress. “Take a smell at that and see how you feel.”

Kenobi eyes him warily--he’s pretty sure he hasn’t done anything to deserve that, but allows it because, well, Kenobi--and sniffs at his own wrist. His brow furrows in confusion, and he sniffs again.

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

“I... yeah,” Kenobi says. He sounds as confused as he looks. “I like it. It’s... the safe thing, again, but mixing with me?”

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” Quinlan assures him. “Other wrist?”

If he were actually the friend that Kenobi had grown up with, if he’d actually had a Kenobi to grow up with, he thinks he might have thrown in a few joking pet names by now.

But he’s not, and they didn’t, so he won’t.

He thinks he hears Skywalker finish up in the shower, but Kenobi pulls his mouth to the neck, and mutters that they have some time while Skywalker does something to his hair. Apparently, there are products needed for those curls.

The angle’s going to be a little uncomfortable if they try to get at each other’s scent glands simultaneously, so Quinlan suggests that Kenobi handle getting the blocker off first.

“Why?”

“More convenient,” Quinlan says, and then clasps Kenobi’s hands so their wrists rub together. He squeezes, just a little, a touch of reassurance, and smiles and tilts his head. “All yours, Kenobi.”

The man smiles, brittle, and almost giggles. Maybe Quinlan was doing something oddly similar to his counterpart from Kenobi’s dimension. Maybe it was an inside joke he didn’t know. It doesn’t matter, because Kenobi’s leaning in and mouthing along Quinlan’s neck and throat like a man possessed a half-second later.

Quinlan closes his eyes and threads a hand into Kenobi’s hair, focuses on warmth and comfort and protection, rather than anything aroused. Kenobi slows down, lapping at Quinlan’s neck and inhaling, and in the Force he radiates confusion.

“That’s it,” Quinlan mutters, and Kenobi makes a low chirruping noise that he immediately stifles with an annoyed huff. “Hey, no, those are normal. You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

“I want control over my own body, Quin,” Kenobi mutters, and switches to the other side. He rubs his face against Quinlan’s neck, and it’s another point on the list of things Kenobi does that he might not realize are based in newer instincts. “I don’t like something being wrong with me, and not understanding what it is.”

“Nothing is wrong with you,” Quinlan mutters, using the hand in Kenobi’s hair to guide him into actually removing the scent blocker instead of donating a case of beard burn. “Even going as fast as you did just now wasn’t something wrong. Your instincts got a bit confused, that’s all. You’re fine.”

He purrs until Kenobi is done, and gets that chirruping noise again. Kenobi’s still annoyed about it, but Quinlan’s just happy he’s getting less uncomfortable about it.

“Okay, sit up and turn around,” Quinlan says, and Kenobi eyes him again. “Have I steered you wrong yet?”

“No.”

“So trust me,” Quinlan urges. “Just turn around.”

Kenobi does. Quinlan sits up and rearranges his legs so there’s one on either side of Kenobi, half-bent. He pulls the other man closer, blankets folding oddly beneath them, and wraps his arms around Kenobi’s waist.

He breathes for a moment, chin hooked over Kenobi’s shoulder, and asks, “Good?”

“Oddly so, yes,” Kenobi mutters. He might be blushing. “Er, should I... do anything?”

“Hands on mine, if you’d like,” Quinlan tells him. “We can lie back down and spoon after I clean up your left.”

The noise Kenobi makes is low, affronted in a way that speaks to his ongoing embarrassment. Quinlan ignores it, just gets to work taking away as much of Kenobi’s stress scent as he can, mouthing along the man’s neck and managing a purr that isn’t even forced. It rumbles out of him unprompted, his hindbrain piecing together the relaxing omega in his lap and the safety of the Temple and the pride he’s got in doing this right, the knowledge that Kenobi’s happier than he was an hour ago and it’s all Quinlan’s doing.

He rubs his face along Kenobi’s neck as he finishes up, scenting and being scented back, and is gratified when Kenobi starts purring too. The nuzzling is mostly soft, though Quinlan’s stubble is nothing to Kenobi’s beard; the hairs trap Quinlan’s scent where it’ll do the most good. He follows a hint of mischievous intent and tugs at Kenobi’s earlobe with his teeth, earning himself a little whine. He laughs, and licks the curve of Kenobi’s ear, immediately scenting further.

“Anakin’s going to be back soon,” Kenobi says, sounding almost sleep drunk.

Quinlan switches sides and guides them both down to lie, chest to front, in the nest. He works more slowly on the other side, keeps himself propped up on his elbow, forearm slipped neatly under Kenobi’s neck. The scent gland at Quinlan’s wrist rests under Kenobi’s nose, right where it’ll have the most effect. His other hand rubs up and down Kenobi’s side, and by the time Skywalker reenters the room, Quinlan’s done with licking the stress off and rubbing his scent into anything he thinks will help. He’s lying fully on his side instead of having his head propped up, and just doing his best to spread comfort through the room through Force and smell. He maybe nibbles at the back of Kenobi’s neck, here and there, because the man has lothcat response, and

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

The kid--not really a kid, but younger than Aayla, still, so he counts--rounds the couch, and sees them among the added cloaks and pillows and blanket. He stares. Kenobi starts to stiffen back up.

Quinlan increases his purring, and rubs his face against Kenobi’s neck, and glares up at Skywalker for good measure. Kenobi can’t see past Quinlan, probably, and squirms. Skywalker tilts his head, and then puts up a finger in a ‘one moment’ sort of gesture. He runs off.

“Anakin--”

“Kid’s fine,” Quinlan assures him, and Skywalker skids back into the room at unsafe speeds, arms full of what Quinlan’s pretty sure are his own duvet and pillow, and falls face-first into the nest. Kenobi jerks back into Quinlan, but Skywalker ignores this in favor of rearranging the nest into something approaching functional. He’s better at it than Kenobi.

Quinlan’s pretty sure Skywalker was more open to these things from the start. It tracks.

“Now Anakin, really,” Kenobi sputters, as Skywalker finishes layering things in the way he thinks is best. Skywalker beams at him, earlier melancholy forgotten for the moment, and flops down to drop his head somewhere near Kenobi’s chest.

“You haven’t been sleeping,” Skywalker says. “This is good for you.”

Kenobi blushes, and Quinlan scrapes his teeth against the back of his neck again.

“Quinlan!” Kenobi yelps, jolting. “Not--we’re not alone!”

“Helps you calm down, though,” Quinlan says, pressing a few close-mouthed kisses at Kenobi’s hairline.

“Different cultural standards,” Skywalker adds, half-guessing but sure of himself nonetheless. He seems entirely too delighted to be here. “You know what? We should invite Ahsoka.”

“She’s not your padawan here,” Kenobi scolds.

“Yet,” Skywalker corrects. “As soon as I get all my psych evals cleared, the Council’s going to promise. She’s basically my padawan already.”

Kenobi sighs, aggrieved in a manner that feels more fond than actually upset, in the Force, and places a hand lightly on Skywalker’s.

Skywalker chirrups and wriggles closer, pressing his face to Kenobi’s tunic with a smile.

“I see someone’s feeling better,” Kenobi notes, and moves his hand up to play with Skywalker’s hair. “The shower helped?”

“Mm-hm,” Skywalker says. “’nd some of the stuff they made me learn in therapy.”

Kenobi hums low in his throat, an aimless vocalization, as he continues to comb his fingers through Skywalker’s hair.

Skywalker blinks, slow and bleary, with a soft and dopey smile, and Kenobi stops.

“What?”

“I like it when you play with my hair,” Skywalker says, almost too low to hear. His eyes close. “Feels nice. Cared for. Family.”

Kenobi freezes, breath hitching, and Quinlan shifts and lifts just enough to see the man is staring at his own hand in confusion and a slight bit of fear.

“Kenobi?”

“I didn’t even question it,” Kenobi says faintly. “I don’t... I haven’t done that since he was just a child, but I didn’t even question it. I stopped myself from commenting that he’s too old to come to his master for cuddles, because he’s not, in this dimension, and I’m getting used to that, but I started playing with his hair like it was normal and it’s not.”

Quinlan puts his mouth to Kenobi’s trapezius, just enough pressure that he’s not biting, just there, and purrs.

It’s several inches away from anything resembling a mating bite, but Kenobi tilts his head and whines anyway.

“Obi-Wan?” Skywalker prompts, brow furrowed. “It’s not... I mean, I’m not going to say it’s okay, since I know we’re both still upset about our bodies being changed without our permission or input or even a warning, but we’re getting used to it. We’re working with it. The hair thing is fine with me, I like it and would have before. And now that you know you’ll want to do, uh, that sort of thing--”

“Subset of grooming behaviors,” Quinlan tells them, pulling away from Kenobi’s neck with a final open-mouthed kiss. He sees the face Skywalker makes in response to the words, and feels Kenobi’s discomfort, so he elaborates. They’ve compared most of what they hear with tookas and lothwolves, so he thinks he knows what this is about. “We’re not exactly going to start licking each other clean--excluding scent comfort, that’s different--like lothcats, but you’ve already noticed that humans and near-humans are more tactile than you’re used to. Most forms of care, especially of partners and children, ends up physical in some way.”

He gestures between the two of them. “You view Skywalker as family, for all that you shy away from defining it, and so naturally gravitate to care. The easiest way for that to manifest when sharing a nest is usually playing with someone’s hair. Since he’s younger than you, and you’ve spent as much time as you have being the adult in his life...”

Quinlan trails off before he can comment on the question of whether they’re closer to brothers or father-and-son. Kenobi’s already expressed discomfort with that topic, well before they started naturalizing to this dimension. Quinlan’s not going to push for Kenobi to acknowledge Skywalker’s importance to him.

(They’ll have to address it at some point, but that’s a job for the mind healers, not for Quinlan.)

(For all that it’s going to impact and be impacted by their dynamics, that much is definitely not Quinlan’s to handle.)

Kenobi shudders in his arms, but doesn’t shake him off, and doesn’t stop Skywalker from burrowing somehow closer. Quinlan settles back in as Kenobi returns to playing with Skywalker’s hair.

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

-----------------------------------------------

Additional notes:

I initially wrote “ternary gender,” but found that it didn’t strike true to how I envisioned gender and dynamic playing out among Jedi culture in particular. While the term ‘dynamic’ is used regularly in a more casual setting, Quinlan uses the term “ternary sex” when talking about it in the company of Anakin and Obi-Wan. I view it as a subconscious attempt to keep a clinical view of the ternary sex system present in the omegaverse dimension, in recognition that it’s new and unfamiliar and often unpleasant for Anakin and Obi-Wan, having come from a dimension that doesn’t have ternary sexes or the associated reproductive capabilities, instincts, or cycles.

I’d like to explore how the ideas of sex, gender, dynamic, and so on intersect within the context of this universe, because I think it’s something I’d have a lot of fun working with, but this is not the fic for that.

#Quinlan Vos #Obi Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #QuinObi #anakin and obi wan #obi wan and anakin #disaster lineage #time travel #dimension hopping #omegaverse #SW Suddenly Omegaverse #past anidala #star wars #the clone wars #nesting #grooming #scenting #we went fully weird with this and I'm not apologizing... much #Phoenix Posts

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hellowkatey · 3 years

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Febuwhump Day 16

Prompt: Broken bones

Warnings: some parts are a bit graphic!

Read on AO3

Care, Trust, and the Force (of course)

The battle was going quite well until Anakin managed to fall off a cliff. It was a rather tall cliff, which is probably why he heard a chorus of yelling from his men as he slipped over the edge and began to plummet to the rocky terrain below, but luckily, Anakin had the quick thinking to use the Force to push himself to a small ledge. Only a few meters down.

Still, he lands hard, his body slamming like a rag doll into the cliffside. He manages to roll, but not before a loud cracking sound rings out like a cannon shot, and Anakin cries out.

Oh boy, I've done it now, he thinks as he lies haphazardly on his side. His arm is tucked underneath him, but he can feel his hand against his elbow of the same arm-- that is definitely not the direction his arm should be. Anakin squeezes his eyes shut, tears soaking through as the sharp pain pulsates up his arm. He hasn't felt this kind of pain in a long time, and the adrenaline of his fall is making it hard to connect to the Force to suppress it. So he lays for a moment, breathing heavily and slowly to try and calm himself down.

I need to get help. Call Obi-Wan... Commlink! He suddenly remembers it on his uninjured arm and raises it to his lips.

"Obi-Wan, come in," he says, his voice tight with pain.

"Anakin? What's wrong?" he replies immediately, the echo of blaster fire in the background.

"I fell... Pretty bad."

A pause. The sound of droids getting absolutely obliterated. Obi-Wan is back, his voice low and calm. His sick voice, Anakin recognizes. Whenever he was ill as a padawan, Obi-Wan's voice would get really quiet and really calm, halfway between a constant lullaby and the tempo of a mind-healer. Like it did back then, it immediately soothes him. It'll be okay. Obi-Wan will help. "Okay, Anakin, turn on your tracking beacon and I'll come get you."

"Okay, Master," he swallows thickly.

"Anakin?"

"Yes?"

"Can you tell me how bad it is? What is hurt?"

He does a quick assessment. He doesn't think he hurt anything else too bad. Maybe a mild concussion from the whiplash of landing so abruptly, and definitely some cuts and bruises pretty much everywhere. But the arm... that's what has his stomach turning.

"Broken arm. Bad broken." The kind with the bone sticking out. He nearly vomits at the thought.

Anakin was eight when he watched the owner of his good friend barge into their lunchtime and begin to beat him. The slaver was convinced Jas had stolen from him, though Anakin had watched a traveler steal the compressor bolt when he came over to pick up his friend. Trying to defend him only earned Anakin a blow to the side of the head that had the world spinning, and he laid on the ground and watched helplessly as the owner took Jas's arm and snapped it in two. His friend screamed, so loud others ran into the shop. They only watched as he collapsed, squirming in the sand as it quickly turned red around him. Someone had the sense to pick him up and throw him into the street. Yelled at him to go back to work. When he showed up back at Watto's, unable to go two minutes without sobbing, Watto had a rare moment of mercy and let him go early.

Anakin dreamed about the incident that night and many nights after. Dreamed about the stark white bones sticking out of his friend's arm. Pointed, like they'd been sharpened like a blade.

He learned the next day that the way the bones broke severed his vessels. Jas bled out on the floor of his master's shop, and his master kept the stain there as long as it remained to warn others of the consequences of stealing. Ever since Anakin hasn't been very good about broken bones.

Obi-Wan knows this. "Alright," he says, even softer. "I'm coming, Anakin."

He lowers his arm back onto his hip, realizing his entire body is quivering. Anakin feels like a kid again. A padawan. A slave on Tatooine. Anything but a Jedi Knight in the middle of battle. But he doesn't care right now. He's in too much pain to fight, too far down to Force-leap back up even if he had the strength to manage it. He would need a proper evac, but his energy is waning and he just wants to sleep it off.

"No time for sleep, young one." Obi-Wan's voice surprises him, and he nearly jumps up at the sound. He hadn't heard him jump from atop the cliff or land next to him.

"Obi-Wan," he says tearfully, curling in on himself even more.

His former master approaches him slowly, his eyes scanning over him with an emotionless expression. It must be bad, he isn't saying anything... Finally, he kneels next to him, placing a hand softly on his shoulder.

"Alright, we're going to sit you up."

"But my arm--"

"I know. Trust me. You don't have to look, but I need to check it."

He nods, biting on the skin of his cheek. Obi-Wan helps him roll to a sitting position, positioning him so he's sitting with his back against the cliffside. He immediately shuts his eyes, turning his head in the opposite direction. He will take no chances of having to see such a gruesome sight. But he can feel Obi-Wan doing the usual checks. Ribs, brushing dust off his cheek, straightening his legs out. It's methodical, soothing. It takes his mind off the pain that continues to radiate up his arm and shoulder.

"Anakin," he finally says. "Open your eyes."

Panic surges through him.

"Master, no, you know I can't."

"I know you're afraid--"

"I can't."

A hand on his cheek. Another on his shoulder. "Trust me. It's not what you think."

Feelings of calm and peace are being filtered through the Force, and Anakin fights back the sob and slowly opens his eyes. He sees the horizon first, the side of the planet not affected by the war because it's too mountainous. Slowly, as slow as he can, he pans toward Obi-Wan, who kneels at his side, looking at him with clear eyes and a slight smile.

"It hurts," he says, deliberately keeping his arm out of his peripheral.

"I know, but it will hurt less once you look."

Well, that doesn't make sense! But Obi-Wan's eyes are saying trust me, and so he does. Anakin looks down at his arm, expecting the worst, but rather than a mangled mess of bone blood, and skin, he sees an entanglement of metal and wires, his prosthetic half torn off. He blinks, stupefied.

"But... but it hurts," he says as he reaches over timidly to feel the edges of the durasteel that have snapped clean off. The stump of his arm is tender, and a little beat up, but otherwise uninjured. "Why does it hurt?"

Obi-Wan slides over to his side, sitting next to him with his back against the cliff. "You haven't had this long. Your brain needs more time to remember there isn't an arm there anymore," he carefully pushes aside the broken prosthetic on the hinge it now has, placing his own arm underneath so that at his perspective it sorta looks like he has a real, flesh forearm and hand there. "Flex your fingers on the other hand," he says, and as Anakin does, Obi-Wan mirrors him. Shockingly, the pain fades, becoming more of a dull ache from landing hard on the rock than the horrible agony of a broken arm. "See?"

He feels dumb now. His tears of pain become tears of shame, and he pulls his arm away, dragging the prosthetic across Obi-Wan's lap. "I'm sorry," he mutters.

"For what?"

"I pulled you out of battle! Acted like a little kid and I'm not even that hurt!"

"Anakin," he says softly, still in that damned sick voice. "The pain was real. It was going to feel real until you could see it was not, and I knew you weren't going to look," he looks down at the ground. "Understandably so. There was little I could do to help you on Geonosis, so I am happy to be here to help you now."

He looks him through his teary vision. He never blamed Obi-Wan for his arm, but he suddenly realizes maybe Obi-Wan blames himself.

Losing his arm was a shock, but Padmé has helped him a lot with accepting it as it is. Technology is so good the only thing he's really lost are the more sensitive aspects of his sense of touch, but he still has his other hand for such things. Sometimes he even forgets he has the thing... obviously. But did notice that Obi-Wan always seemed wary of the thing. For a while he thought he was disgusted by it or something but... if he felt guilty for some reason...

They sit in silence for a long moment. Long enough that two comms with nonurgent codes come into Obi-Wan's commlink but he silences them.

"How did you know that would help?" he asks when his tears finally dry up and they hear the distant sound of gunships overpowering the little blaster fire that remains.

"Research. I wanted to know what to possibly expect after you got your prosthesis. How to get you back to as normal as possible as quickly as possible," he says softly, looking off into the distance as though he's embarrassed. But it makes Anakin smile and a feeling of warmth. He can just imagine him spending hours in the archives trying to make heads or tails of medical literature. Force forbid, he may have even gone to the Halls of Healing to ask for advice, which is unheard of for him to do on his own fruition. It's all just... the most Obi-Wan thing he's ever heard.

"Well... thank you, Master. Really," he says. The rattle of an approaching gunship comes from around the corner of the cliff. Rex stands in the open end, pointing in their direction. "I'll try not to forget I already lost this hand next time."

A chuckle. Obi-Wan jumps to his feet while rolling his eyes. He holds out his hand to help Anakin up as well. "I do hope there won't be a next time."

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday16 #broken bones #im caught up!#okay i was in the middle of a lecture when this idea came to me #and i dont think ive ever put down nearly 2k words so quickly #i started it out one way but then realized it fits a different prompt better #so hey i kinda have something planned #which is a miracle for me #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi

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dameronology · 4 years

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the one where you do an anakin (obi-wan x reader)

summary: after you pull a reckless stunt on a mission, obi-wan comes to remind you that you are a good jedi - and perhaps something even more to him (it was originally a drabble based on this prompt but...oh gosh darn this evolved into something much longer)

also: on this blog, anakin is now a verb as well. to do an anakin is to do something dumb and reckless, hence the title - which i am still, for some reason, naming in the style of friends episodes

enjoy,

- val x

Obi-Wan Kenobi had always joked that you and Anakin Skywalker were a match made in hell. Between your impulsiveness and his overconfidence, you were an accident waiting to happen.

And boy, it had happened.

It wasn’t the end of the world. Yes, you had failed your mission and yes, your robes had been utterly barbecued and yes, the Jedi Council were going to be angry and – you’d forgotten where you were going with this. The main point was that you were both in one piece, give or take a few minor injuries. The only thing that had been really hurt was your pride.

‘We probably shouldn’t have tried to take on the droids on our own, huh?’ You played with edges of your charred robes, eyes glued to the floor.

‘I don’t think that’s the part they’re going to be upset about.’ Anakin replied. ‘I have a feeling they’ll be angrier about the fact we blew up seven jets.’

‘Oh, I forgot about that part.’ You mumbled. You dropped your head against the wall, over-dramatically groaning.

You and Anakin had been sat outside of the council room for the better part of an hour. You weren’t really that worried about what they were going to say – you were both still relatively new Jedi knights, and you had a bit of room to mess up. It was Obi-Wan’s reaction that you were dreading – he hadn’t been your master, but he’d very involved in your training and you hated to disappoint him.

‘On a scale of one to ten, how angry do you think Obi-Wan is going to be?’ You nudged Anakin.

‘I don’t think such a short scale can adequately express that kind of thing, to be honest.’ The blonde boy replied.

You shuffled in your seat, trying to get a better view of what was going on in the meeting room. Worst case scenario, you’d have to take the trials again. You’d been pretty damn good at the them the first time so it wouldn’t be the end of the world. Part of you wanted to blame the Jedi Council for thinking that the combination of you and Skywalker would ever have had a happy ending, but you suspected you might make the situation worst by mentioning that particular point.

‘He’s pacing slowly,’ You mumbled. ‘That’s his version of freaking out.’

‘The only thing worse is when he’s stood completely still.’ Anakin commented.

‘Oh no,’ you whispered. ‘Now he’s standing completely still.’

You saw the figure on the other side of the window begin to move again, and a few seconds later, the doors to the council room flung open. Cloak flowing behind him, the Master Jedi made his way down the steps, eyes immediately meeting yours. They darted between you and Anakin for a moment, before settling on your form as he walked towards you. You both scrambled to stand up, preparing yourself for whatever strongly worded lecture was coming your way.

‘You two are going to be death of me.’ Obi-Wan announced. ‘You should be grateful that they’re not banishing you to a desolate temple in the outer rims.’

‘That would be no fun.’ Anakin quipped, but he dropped his smirk when he saw the look on his face. ‘Sorry, master.’

‘And you should be!’ The Jedi pointed a finger at his former Padawan. ‘And you, Y/N. I expected better of you.

‘So, what are they gonna do?’ You pushed.

‘You should consider yourselves lucky that they recognised your new knight status.’ He retracted his hand back, using it to push his hair back. ‘Needless to say, they’re going to be keeping a close eye on both of you. I’m going to be keeping a close eye on you – especially you.’

‘Why me?’ You scowled.

‘Were you not the perpetrator in all this?’

‘That is insulting!’ You tried to argue, but then you saw the look of doubt on Obi-Wan’s face. ‘Yeah, okay. I kind of was.’

‘So, we’re not in trouble?’ Anakin pushed.

‘Not with them.’ He replied. ‘I’m not going to forget about this though, not for a long while.’

Some deep-seated, childish part of you was slightly thrilled at that. It went without saying that you’d always had a certain fondness for Obi-Wan; it had started as a juvenile thing, as a school-girl crush on a more mature man. But, now you were an adult, and not much younger than he’d been when he’d become a new knight himself. You’d started to like him for his humour and wit, and his kindness – and his endless patience for you.

After muttering a sheepish goodbye, you scurried off to your quarters. You were more than ready to shed your robes and finally catch a break – you’d spent the last three days living on a ship, losing sleep over Anakin’s perilous piloting skills. It would be nice to sleep in a bed that didn’t run the risk of flipping upside down in the night.

Dropping your bags onto the counter, you headed for the refresher. You picked out some casual clothes and turned on the shower. You almost revelled under the icy cold water, washing the dirt marks and soot off of your arms. There’d been on longer missions, and harder missions – but that had been as a Padawan. There was a whole new weight on your shoulders now.

Once you’d dried off and dressed in some loose trousers and a large t-shirt, you turned your focus to unpacking your things and warming up your room. It had been vacant for several days, after all.

A few moments later, there was a knock on your door. There were very few people who knocked this late – younglings would occasionally come to you for advice, and Padme would sometimes swing by to show you a new outfit (naturally).

‘Come in!’ You called, rushing to hide some of the mess on your bed.

You were surprised to see Obi-Wan Kenobi – you weren’t entirely sure what he was usually up to at this hour, but you were certain he’d never been to your room this late (or ever, for that matter). Part of you wished that it was slightly tidier; your robes were strewn across the floor, and there was a pile of books scattered across the desk.

‘Obi-Wan,’ you greeted him. ‘You’re in my room.’

‘Really?’ He quipped, raising his eyebrows. ‘I hadn’t noticed.’

You thinned your eyes at him, shutting your suitcase and motioning for him to come in. He peered around the room, almost curious to see what it was like. It was quintessentially you; filled with all the books and weapons needed to make a good Jedi, but they were a little skewwhiff. That summed you up fairly nicely.

‘Let me rephrase that – why are you in my room?’ You leant against one of the posts of the bed. ‘Not that I don’t like your company, of course.’

‘I spoke to my former Padawan a bit more about the stunt you pulled on the mission.’ Obi-Wan replied. ‘I know that you didn’t mean for it to go wrong, and that you had both yours and the missions’ best interest at heart.’

‘I don’t do dumb shit like that for fun.’ You muttered, eyes falling to the ground. ‘It’s a big step up from being a Padawan to being a knight.’

He took a step closer to you, faltering slightly when he saw the change in your body language. He’d come here to try and clear things up, not remind you of your mistakes. It came from a place of caring; he hated to admit it, but he was attached to you. Seeing you grow from a reckless, young adult to an even-more-reckless Jedi knight was something he considered to be an honour.

‘My point is,’ Obi-Wan cleared his throat, ‘that you are a good knight, and an excellent Jedi. It’s shown in your intentions – perhaps not so much your actions, but that’s something that improves with time.’

‘Thank you,’ you smiled up at him. ‘Though somehow, I don’t think the council will be sending me on any more missions in the foreseeable future.’

‘I have something for you, actually. I’m off to Corellia tomorrow for a few days. It’s not a lot, just a security detail, but it’s something, and you’re welcome to join me. And the city is nice – there’s a lot of places we can visit in our free time.’

You poise swayed for a minute, and you tried to hide the surprise on your face. You knew it was a mission, and literally your job – but why was he asking you? Why not Anakin? Or literally any other Jedi who hadn’t just been chastised by the council a matter of hours ago?

‘Are you sure?’ You asked. ‘Like, are you certain you don’t want somebody who’s a bit less…well, me?’

‘Perhaps that’s why I’m asking – because you are so quintessentially…well, you.’

You smiled. ‘In that case, I’ll join you.’

Obi-Wan beamed at you. ‘Then it’s a date.’

i might do a part 2, a what happens in corellia, stays in corellia kinda thing

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagines #star wars preferences #star wars x reader #star wars oneshot #star wars fanfic #star wars imagine #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan x you #obi-wan x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x y/n

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animymind · 4 years

Text

What lasts

(An Anakin Fanfiction)

Another busy day at the jedi temple.

Everyone around Anakin is just really in hurry. Jedis keep passing by, barely saying hello, followed by beeping droids and exhausted padawans. War just has everyone under his claw. Everything of the daily routine becomes faster: eating, sleeping, even meditating.

And Anakin is just... tired. This war isn't fun anymore. If it ever was. The people around him are changing. Even his master is more and more torn apart between the code and his duty as a general. If anyone told Anakin a few years ago that his master would lead a battalion on battlefield, he would have laughed. For him, Obi-Wan always has been like the personification of peace. If he was reckless, his master would always calmed him down. And now? Obi-Wans peace seems to be gone. He barely sleeps more than him. He is just as tired as Anakin.

Anakin stops. He doesn't even now where to go, he did not have any destination when he left his room. He just stands in the middle of the hall, the sun shining through the window next to him covers his face. He sighs.

"Master Skywalker?", a small voice next to him suddenly says.

Anakins head turns right. There is the head of a tiny Twi'lek lurking through the door of a training room. Another one follows, this time from a bit older human boy.

He must have roamed around long enough to end up in the training area. The two younglings are looking up to him with a question in their eyes.

"What?", Anakin says. "Aren't you supposed to have training?"

The boy snorts angrily. "Master Petua was told to come to the council. He didn't came back. Maybe he had to go on a mission all of the sudden and nobody told us."

"We're without a trainer", the girl says.

Anakin rubs his neck. "Are you?" Both kids nodd.

He enters the room and the younglings quickly jump aside. The room is full of children between four and eight years. Some play around with their training-lightsabers but quit as soon as they see him. Others are just talking and one of the kids even tries to meditate. All of them stop what they are doing. Almost twenty pairs of eyes lay on Anakin.

"Master Skywalker, will you train us?", one small boy with blue hair asks happily, but the kid standing next to him gives him a knock on the head. "Are you dumb? When Master Petua didn't had time for us, why would Master Skywalker have?"

"Hey!", Anakin says. "Thats no reason for hurting someone."

The kid looks surprised, but nods and faces the ground. Anakin looks around. "What did you train?"

"Some fighting. And Master Petua always tells us something about the force after the training."

"We are pretty good! Really! Can we show you?"

"Toka! A Jedi don't show off, forgot that?"

"Hey, hey!", Anakin interrupted the kids. "There is nothing wrong about showing me your progress."

A memory flashed through his mind. When he began to have lightsaber training, there was a time Obi-Wan couldn't train him by himself. Instead, Anakin went to the fighting classes of the younglings.

One evening, after not seeing Obi-Wan for a couple of days because he had been out for a mission, he met him sitting with some other Jedi, talking about something. Usually he was supposed to meet him the next morning, but full of excitement, he run to him. Obi-Wan was glad to see him too, asked about the training. And Anakin, just like the kid called Toka, told him how good he already was and that he's learning very fast and asked if he could show him.

He got interrupted by one of the Jedi Obi-Wan was talking to. "This is not a very proper behaviour, young man. A Jedi does not show off."

As a young boy, that hit him hard, because he thought he had done something terribly wrong. Especially because it felt like he is doing things wrong so often. But Obi-Wan defended him immediately. "When my padawan asks me to see what skills he achieved", he said, "then there is nothing wrong about it."

Anakin smiled remembering how glad he felt that moment. He looks into the faces of the younglings. "Okay, so begin."

He stays till the evening. He forgets about time. He corrects the moves of the kids, he even teaches them some new things. And, very often, he tells them how good they already are. He answers questions about the force, and the kids want him to tell stories, tales, they are so curious about everything.

At the end of the day, Anakin leaves the room with a smile on his face. The kids are running by, to their rooms, thanking him for the great lesson.

Anakin seeks his feelings. He feels good. He feels great! For the first time in weeks, maybe months, he feels like he's done something that will last. The gratefulness of the kids touched his heart, and he don't even try to deny that he really enjoyed being the teacher.

He's so into his thoughts that he nearly ran into Obi-Wan.

He looks tired. But when he sees Anakins face, he smiles.

"You seem happy", Anakins master says.

Anakin just smiles back. "You know, do you think it's possible for me to... train the younglings for... once in a while maybe?"

Obi-Wan seems surprised. "Well, why not? Where did the change of mind come from? You used to not like it."

"You know" Anakin shrugs. "Things change."

Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow. But before he can say something, Anakin continues. "Thanks master."

"For what?"

Instead of answering, he takes a Holopad out of Obi-Wans hands. "You know what, have you the time to... teach me something?"

"Teach... you something?"

Obi-Wan looks like he thinks Anakin lost his mind, but he ignores that. "Yes, master. I just... there is a thing I never understand with uh... I mean, languages. I tried to learn some phrases in particular languages that I could need to use but I'm not sure about some things. Can you help me?"

Obi-Wan stares at his former padawan for a second. Then he snorts, amused. "Well, I don't know what got into you, but yeah, sure. Just show me what, let's go to the archive."

Anakin nods and Obi-Wan runs through Anakins hair as he passes by, just like he used to when Anakin was younger. "Come on, boy", he mumbles, smiling, while Anakin follows his master down the hall.

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inkognito97 · 7 years

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One day, concillor Jedi master Obi-wan Kenobi woke up with Anakin nowhere to be found. Worse, no one remembers an Anakin Skywalker at all.

His headache was there again. Obi-Wan groaned and tried to hide his face in his pillow, against the light that was streaming into his bedroom. It didn’t help. Perhaps he should actually go and see the healers. Then again, he needed to find the time first. Between waging battles in a never ending war, negotiation missions and sitting on the Council, there was not much time for anything else.

The ginger haired Jedi groaned and threw the blanket away. He shivered when the cooler air hit his skin. This was always the worst part of waking, leaving the warm and comfortable bed. But he had to stand up now. Anakin would soon be there.

Obi-Wan had no idea why, but his former Padawan had made it a habit to come to his quarters to make breakfast and have it there. Sometimes, Ahsoka would join them. Perhaps it was the war and the constant danger of never returning back to the temple that made the blonde so clingy, but in all honesty, Obi-Wan didn’t care. He usually enjoyed the company of his former Padawan, unless he was having a headache that is.

Succumbing to his fate, he grabbed clean clothes and stepped into the fresher that was directly attached to his bedroom. Perks of being on the Council, you had the best quarters to live in. Had they wanted, both Anakin and Ahsoka could easily have lived in his apartment too, especially since there was a second, smaller fresher that he called his. Obi-Wan rarely used it, but sometimes Anakin would.

With a yawn, Obi-Wan entered the living space that was directly attached to the kitchen. He had enjoyed the quick shower and it had actually helped against the headache.

“Good morning Master,” a happy voice greeted him.

Obi-Wan blinked. “Good morning Padawan,” he said to the female Togruta, who was seated at the dining table. She was munching at a toast and there was an uneaten one resting beside her.

That was strange, Ahsoka would come with Anakin or she wouldn’t come at all. The ginger haired Jedi Master decided not to comment on it. There was a first time for everything after all.

“I made you a sandwich Master, I know that you are not eating as regularly as you should. Also, I made your favorite tea.”

It took all of Obi-Wan’s willpower - so early in the morning it was a great effort to summon it - not to protest. Deep down, he knew that he was not properly taking care of himself. The war was taxing and the stress was certainly not helping either. So he didn’t comment on it and decided to just roll with it. And from the smile he received from the female, it had been the right thing to do.

“I guess that Anakin is not going to join us today,” Obi-Wan replied casually, after he had looked at the chrono. He had a Council meeting soon.

“Anakin, Master?”

“Yes, tall, blond, loud, reckless and very talented with mechanics and in piloting. You know him.”

“I do?” the female sounded genuinely confused.

Obi-Wan shot his companion a strange look. Was she toying with him? It didn’t appear to, but with Anakin as her Master, you could never be too sure.

“Oho, I am going to be late for class,” Ahsoka suddenly exclaimed. She jumped up from her chair and ran into her room to retrieve her two lightsabers. Before she ran out of the apartment, she stopped at Obi-Wan’s side and leaned down hug the surprised man. “I’ll see you later, Master,” and with that she was gone.

Obi-Wan was more than a little confused by what had happened. Ahsoka didn’t hug him, there was no reason for it, she just didn’t do it. Also, where was Anakin? He usually send him at least a message, if he was not coming. Something was definitely wrong here, even though the Force did not appear to be in any uproar.

The Councillor shook his head and began washing the dishes from breakfast. He would think about it later, for now, he had a Council meeting to focus on.

The Council session was a dull affair, mostly because the topics kept on repeating over and over again. It was exhausting in its own way and Obi-Wan was glad when it was finally over. He remained seated while the other Council members slowly left. Today, he just had did not want to spent more time with them, than absolutely necessary.

“Troubled you look, hm?” the Grandmaster’s voice let him look up.

“Nothing to worry about Master Yoda, just tired.”

The green troll hummed and nodded his head. “Exhausting, the war is. But nor everything on your mind, it is.”

Sometimes Obi-Wan wished that the meddling old Jedi, were not so wise and observant. He sighed in defeat. “I am a little worried about Anakin, I have not heard from him today. It’s not like him.”

Yoda’s ears went up and there was the barest hint of surprise on his features. “Anakin, you say? A contact of you, is he?” he asked.

Obi-Wan blinked. He was sure that his expression must have been something between comical and completely dumb. “I am talking about Anakin Skywalker, my former Padawan.” Was this all a huge prank? He would not put it past Anakin and Ahsoka, but Yoda wasn’t the type to join into such things.

“Your former Padawan, no.” He shook his head, heavily leaning on his walking stick. “Only one Padawan you have, young Ahsoka Tano, it is.”

“Excuse me?” was he going crazy or perhaps he was the only sane one.

“Confused you are.”

“Of course I am,” he sat up straighter in his seat. “Because apparently nobody remembers my former Padawan, except myself.” He didn’t mean to snap, he really didn’t and Yoda must have known this, because otherwise he would definitely have suffered from the walking stick.

“Curious this is, curious indeed. Meditate on this, I shall.” Yoda’s calm voice was the only thing that kept Obi-Wan more or less grounded.

“So you do not remember him either…” he sighed, “If I may, Master Yoda, he was found as a nine year old during my mission with Qui-Gon to Naboo.” He leaned forward, with his arms on his knees and his head slightly bowed.

Yoda nodded in understanding. “Talk to you I will, when meditated I have.”

“Thank you, Master,” at least he could always count on the fact that Yoda would not deem him completely crazy. He could feel the old Master’s worry and he felt cared for. That was enough for now.

“Am I intruding?” a new voice cut in and it sounded so terrible familiar. Obi-Wan didn’t dare to look up.

“Intruding you are not. Finished, we are,” Yoda answered and he began to hobble away. Obi-Wan however remained seated. He suddenly felt very ill. His headache had returned, worse than before and his world was beginning to spin.

“Obi-Wan, are you alright? You look pale,” the deep baritone voice sounded close now. Someone had stepped before him, Obi-Wan could tell despite having closed his eyes. “Are you in pain? Do you want me to call the healers?”

Finally, Obi-Wan forced himself to look up and to his utter shock, he found himself gazing into the worried face of Qui-Gon Jinn, who was kneeling before him. The man had a hold of his hands.

Obi-Wan grimaced and shook his head. That couldn’t be. He knew that Qui-Gon was dead, he had even held the man’s dying body in his arms. So what was happening. Was he hallucinating? Was this a trick of the Sith to get to information through him? Was it a dream, or a nightmare? Obi-Wan didn’t know. He was just pretty sure that this couldn’t be the reality. But the whole day made absolutely no sense. Why could no one remember Anakin and why was Qui-Gon kneeling in front of him.

“Obi-Wan,” the ginger haired Knight did not know what else the man before him said, because at this moment, the world around became pitch black…

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #council member obi-wan #jedi council #yoda #ahsoka tano #padawan ahsoka #qui gon jinn #blackout au

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