#qui gon fluff
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The Guardian
Chapter 9: Ancient Implements
Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader
Warnings: Angst, fluff, banter, medical scans/lingo, reference to injuries, exhausted Reader, descriptions of violence, anxious/concerned Obi :(
Summary: Following a rainy conversation, Obi-Wan accompanies you to the Jedi Infirmary in hopes of finding some answers about your condition from Healer Rig Nema. Consequentially, in the face of new discoveries and futile coping mechanisms, the Master Jedi is driven to finally intervene. Through an unconventional strategy, nonetheless.
Song Inspo: Broad-Shouldered Beasts — Mumford & Sons
Words: 9.4k
A/n: Hope everyone celebrating enjoyed New Year’s! Some references to events/thoughts in Star Wars: Wild Space here. No context needed, just some short moments not covered in the Prequels/TCW. So, this chapter very much sets us up for the absolute DOOZY that is the next one, so best to buckle up LOL. My bad about the delay in this one. I had to teach myself brain chemistry 🤪 (sorry to any med students reading in advance). Made up for it in length 💀
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The earth laughs in flowers — Ralph Waldo Emerson
Obi-Wan reclined, allowing his back to press against the inner glass of one of the Infirmary’s privacy dividers as he folded his arms snugly across his chest.
Internally, the Master Jedi was hoping to disguise the slight unease that crawled up and down his spine for deep concentration, furrowing his brows as if he’d entered a profound state of thought or meditation.
But no matter how carefully he postured impressions of levelheadedness in the face of your paled features, Obi-Wan couldn’t ignore the low thrum of concern that occasionally tugged on his sternum. He couldn’t help but feel the air around him thicken from newly discovering a weeks-long affliction impacting The Guardian.
Impacting you.
A being, that if ever unwell, could place a critical prophecy in jeopardy.
A being, on account of those responsibilities, he promised to protect.
It was to the point where his steadily swelling desire for some answers had languished passing minutes into what seemed like hours. All while he waited across from you for your examination to be completed.
However, once Kenobi glanced at the chronometer’s green glow on the opposite side of the observation room, he soon realized the actuality of how much time had elapsed. Obi-Wan couldn’t believe it’d only been twenty minutes since he escorted you to the Infirmary. Twenty minutes since you were both welcomed with open arms by one of the Temple’s prime physicians, Master Rig Nema, at the facility’s main entrance.
As a Healer known not to waste time, she immediately submitted an inquiry into why you were visiting. But it wasn’t until Master Nema took in your slightly sluggish form, that the doctor was quick to usher you both into a private cubicle, barely enabling the bearded Jedi to finish his symptomologicol report as he was whisked away alongside you.
Clearly, the presence of painful headaches pervading for weeks on end had stoked the Master Healer’s intrigue just as equally as it steamed Obi-Wan’s smoldering wariness. A fascination so zealous, that she pointed to and instructed the infirmary’s only two available medical droids to carry out a number of cranial scans as you all walked down the hall. Their wheeling bodies materializing by your side once the three of you entered one of the far observation rooms. Whirling and weaving to gather that first set of images before you even had the chance to sit down.
Master Kenobi couldn’t argue with the efficiency with which Master Nema accomplished her work. Nearly all of the ordered scans had been completed in a relatively short time.
But the urgency with which the doctor questioned you, while a whirlwind of droids circled your head like a pack of strike-Vultures, still had the repercussion of stoking Kenobi’s apprehension to the point of slowing down time itself. The longer Master Nema professionally fired query after query while dissonantly beeping droids traveled to and fro, the more Obi-Wan’s mind drifted to the idea that something really was wrong. And his anticipation of that theory swelled enough to knock each minute beyond his reach. As if shore waves towed sequential seconds farther out to sea.
Of course, as a broader consequence, Master Kenobi could already feel the delicate kindling of a faraway guilt emerge in his gut. Especially once he considered his delay in approaching you.
Had he spoken to you sooner, would the doctor have found her concerns to be less pressing? Would the results you were both still awaiting have proven to be more favorable?
But these thoughts only had the effect of stimulating a dull ache throughout Kenobi’s already tensed back, tightening around his spine like sentient vines as your short conversation with Master Nema reached its end.
Even as the Healer excused herself, his constant mix of disquiet and curiosity about your condition drove his eyes to follow the doctor, all the way up until her marbled head crest disappeared around the corner framing the narrowed doorway. As if her vanishing figure held the answers he sought.
Still, your mysterious affliction was not the only item that’d stoked an air of unease in the resting Jedi. Returning to the inside of the Infirmary’s borders had yanked back memories of his last dalliance with its muted decor and antiseptic aroma. The wounds he’d earned from the Battle of Geonosis were tended to by a similar set of droids in the chamber parallel to this one. A sliver of glass scarcely separated him from recollections of bruised ribs, broken bones, and an exceptionally disorienting concussion.
And, transparently, with reminders of discomfort came booming echoes of the harrowing days that bookended that medically invasive afternoon.
Memories he didn’t want to explore again.
Admittedly, in addition to masking this compounding unease, Master Kenobi had other motivations for his steadily declining posture, amplified as he leaned further back into the sturdy, sleek dividers that bordered you both. It happened to also be the only way Master Kenobi could offer you any semblance of space in such a cramped compartment. One that was so obviously designed for a single patient and no visitors.
You were tiredly perched on the infirmary bed’s side, legs dangling loosely. All while the last stubby medical droid completed a few final, even waves around your head with its hand’s built-in scanner. Yet, despite being planted in the opposite corner from the Master Jedi, the two of you still stood mere feet away from each other. A fact that was further highlighted by that same, pesky droid bumbling into Obi-Wan’s resting elbow for the fourth time as it maneuvered between you and the short wall of green luminescent data screens installed to his right.
Indisputably, it would’ve been easier to vacate these tight quarters to solve such a matter.
But Obi-Wan decided against it. He was still reticent to leave you completely alone.
Both of you knew Master Nema would be returning soon. The Healer had assured you that she’d only be gone down the hall for a few minutes to scan your results from the datapad in her private office. Yet, despite this mutual understanding, Obi-Wan immediately clocked from your shifting eyes toward the empty doorway that her brief withdrawal had fueled second thoughts about your decision to come here. This, in combination with the subtly doubting expression that stuck to your face the whole journey here, had easily convinced the Jedi Master that stepping out would’ve electrified that arch as a beacon of escape, driving you to follow those faintly perceptible impulses.
So, hence this observation, Master Kenobi decided it best to instead act as a tenuous deterrent, marking his territory between you and that sweet exit with an additional cross of his legs as he settled further into the glass wall.
The quiet beeps of scanning droids and ding of pinging monitors faded into a duller tone as Obi-Wan released his mind to wander through the events that led up to this point. It was true, that the Master Jedi had long been pondering what exactly was plaguing you in the time since you’d arrived at the Temple.
The bearded man was quite observant, first catching signs of sleeplessness during those few days on the shuttle back. And in those instances, the occasional flicker of despondency that cursorily contorted your features at the mention of his former Master’s name.
But those rare moments had never succeeded in dulling that reassuring spirit and attuned presence he’d become so accustomed to these past few weeks. It’d never challenged the composed strength that saturated your being so absolutely that it leaked from every inch of exposed skin like water from a wringing towel.
At least, not until the last week or so.
It was around then, Obi-Wan soon realized, that something had changed. And while he didn’t quite understand what exactly was occurring, he did know that some undisclosed element was uniformly snatching away threads of light from those two bright, silver eyes of yours. A physical feature that he’d recently registered as having one unintended effect:
They refreshed his senses from a mere glance alone.
Master Kenobi couldn’t deny to himself that after only a month or so of war, he’d become exhausted by not only the newly amplified duties placed upon him, but also by their militaristic, warlike nature. Missions of peace and humanitarianism had quickly devolved into defending free territories from heavily encroaching enemy lines.
The Council meetings that followed only stoked more of the same. Strategizing troop movements, assigning interplanetary campaigns, addressing casualties…
Had Obi-Wan had the ability to expose his former Padawan self to this future, he knew that young Kenobi would’ve never believed that the Jedi could ever be so entrenched in the politics and military responsibilities of a conflict at this scale.
But when he caught a flash of silver reflection from down a hall? At the corner of the refractory closest to his quarters? Near the edge of his vision in the Temple Gardens?
That weight suddenly felt just a little bit lighter.
The General wasn’t entirely sure why he became so overwhelmed with this sensation just at the mere sight of you. A sudden ease, a calmness that permeated his being in a way he’d never been able to summon on the battlefield.
Though he did have a few guesses.
You had always carried an air of serene confidence, of compassionate power, that struck at Obi-Wan’s core. Yes, these were all attributes expected of a Jedi. But your being didn’t simply carry these characteristics, Kenobi maintained. It was as if you had the artistry to will these qualities into existence from deep within your being. Like the vivid, lapping flames that encompass the entire mass of any radiant star.
And, to him, you wielded such strengths with absolute grace.
It was one such instance that Obi-Wan was still trying to wrap his head around. During your first duel with Anakin, the inclusion of one, brief conversation about his emotionally-charged behavior seemed to have knocked more sense into his impatient former Padawan than Kenobi had ever personally precipitated.
When he later inquired about the dialogue, The General readily respected your decision to keep the specifics of the exchange private. But it was when you relayed to him the vague takeaway of the power of compassion that Obi-Wan realized the reality of your statement.
That had he been in your same boots, applying that same dogma, Master Kenobi still wouldn’t have had much success.
The blue-eyed Jedi had always tried to be considerate with his former Padawan. He was hard on him at times, sure. And the two of them certainly had their many rows. But in the end, Obi-Wan always aimed to keep Anakin’s past in perspective.
He’d tried to protect him by teaching him of the importance of letting attachments go. Dispelling his fiery emotions, his ruffled history, and the people that were now a part of his past.
He tried to be a friend to him. A gentle reminder here. A reference to the Code’s importance in the life of any Jedi there. Yet still, the results were never so transformative.
And it was hard for the Master Jedi not to blame himself for that.
Though that load was slightly lifted by the hope your presence imbued.
Truly, Kenobi was thankful that one of Qui-Gon’s previous Padawans had emerged to partially aid him in fulfilling that deathbed promise he’d made to his former Master so long ago. Even if it was during a time following Anakin’s Knighthood.
Training the boy encompassed not only combat, but also the mastery of softer elements pertaining to becoming a wise Jedi capable of realizing The Chosen One prophecy. It was those latter skills that Obi-Wan never found complete success in communicating as Master to Padawan, having himself become an instructor the very same day he’d completed the Knighthood trials.
Yet, it seemed that addressing those weaknesses in his teachings came to you with relative ease. Something that made him wonder how things may have differed on the day of Geonosis had he discovered your existence earlier.
It was his inability to properly drill the importance of patience in the young boy that later led to the loss of his arm. Obi-Wan was convinced deep down, despite Anakin’s self-punishments, that in the end, it was his own fault. Kenobi’s fault for not equaling your effectiveness in addressing these matters.
Kenobi’s fault for the loss of Anakin’s arm.
Had he found you sooner, could it have all been avoided? Would you have made a connection with little Ani and trained him out of that nearly fatal mistake before he made it?
And what of the days that followed? When Anakin was recovering from that calamitous wound in this very Infirmary.
Obi-Wan vividly recalled the striking images from when he first visited his former Padawan after the battle’s devastation. He could never forget the complete agony that radiated off Anakin’s gnarled face as he stirred from a nightmare. He could never shut out from his mind those words that chestnut-haired Jedi screamed at him, red-veined eyes pulsing as he let slip his mother’s passing.
“And it’s all your fault!”
His heart clenched at the memory.
He didn’t know the details of her death, but he understood vaguely the visions which plagued Anakin in the leading days. Specters that he didn’t realize pointed to a surmounting danger.
And Anakin blamed him for it.
Would you have figured it out faster than him?
If so, then maybe, things could’ve been different.
The possibilities dashed by the delay in rescuing you from that desolate ice planet only lengthened the Jedi Master’s perceptible regret. Possibilities that would’ve become attainable through some mastery of connecting with Anakin’s being. Some familiarity so remarkable that it must’ve been willed by the prophetic elements of the Force itself long ago, Obi-Wan convinced himself.
A conclusion that left him to wonder why you were having an oddly similar effect on him.
Perhaps it was due to your separation from the war. Your lack of experience on a real battlefield freed your being from the weights chained to every Jedi who’d experienced its turmoil. Because even when news of ongoing skirmishes trickled in through visiting clones— tempering moods and gradually effervescing the bubbling anxieties among him, Anakin, and Ahsoka— you still appeared to ignite the surrounding air with sparks of anti-gravity the moment you entered the room.
When any one of them expressed concerns about the front, your soothing smile, teasing jabs, and intelligent reassurances had soon acclimatized the bearded Jedi to associate those hopeful eyes with your comforting existence, and the relaxation it imbued in him.
It was probably also why now, much like the last week in a half, Obi-Wan felt particularly disconcerted.
Without fail, he would be the first to catch on to those subtle dips in your lips in the refractory. The uncomfortable quirk of your brow in the Archives. Sometimes, even, an unexpected twitch of the nose while strolling down a Temple walkway. Always to be followed by a quiet farewell and your quick yet controlled retreat, leaving him without the opportunity to inquire about your condition without necessitating chase.
So it goes without saying that the Master Jedi was particularly relieved when Anakin approached him. Of course, not by the story of your incident in the Starfighter. But by the fact that he finally had a valid excuse to seek you out and investigate this ongoing issue. A trouble that he’d originally surmised as related to Qui-Gon before he was proven to be severely wrong.
Your reality was quite more bothersome.
Honestly, had you not been a force-sensitive being, Obi-Wan would’ve been less concerned. Headaches can be quite normal for the average individual.
But for a Jedi?
It had far more serious possibilities.
Pain in the mind could’ve pointed to an imbalance in the Force. And considering your true identity, and Qui-Gon and the Council’s reasons for hiding it, Kenobi had reason to take note.
Still though, you‘d been through a lot these past few weeks. The death of a Master. Leaving a home you’d known all your life only to be thrust into a far busier and more complicated environment. Finally facing down a dangerous legacy with galactic implications. It was an existence far more demanding than was expected of the average Jedi. Perhaps these migraines were simply a reflection of that fact, he considered.
Nevertheless, Obi-Wan wanted to make sure. He was no specialist in the medicinal aspects of the Force nor in how its energies physically manifested. And that meant the only other option was to consult someone with more expertise. Someone he equivocally trusted to make the right determination.
Qui-Gon was right. Kenobi did think about the future a little bit too much.
“Obi-Wan, if you keep staring at me like I’m about to drop dead, I’m gonna kick you out.”
Master Kenobi’s vision instantly refocused, lips parting slightly as he realized his gaze had accidentally wandered and stuck to your subtly dulled, silver orbs.
Immediately, he used his back to push off the screen, summoning a hand to check his beard’s placement in hopes of hiding the chilly embarrassment that ever so slightly crimsoned his cheeks. No matter, he doubled down, approaching you in a few steps with broad shoulders declaring self-assurance.
“You’re not getting rid of me quite that easily,” he casually quipped, dropping his arm loosely to the side once certain that brief flush drained from his ears.
At the same time, the pine-green medical droid stationed before you embraced this sudden split in the previously long-held silence as his cue. The machine wheeled around Obi-Wan, this time rudely knocking into the back of his leg in its scurry toward the screens spread out on the far wall. All the while releasing a flurry of affirmative beeps to signal the examination’s completion.
Of course, Obi-Wan’s eyes were careful not to reflect his mild agitation at the droid’s lack of spatial awareness while his gaze followed it.
Continuing to observe the green machine, Kenobi spoke, paying careful attention to its arm’s mechanical tendrils that extended into the wall’s receiver.
“I was taking the time to consider your situation.”
“What situation?” You emphasized rhetorically.
Obi-Wan’s features sobered in an effort to remind you of the potential gravity of your symptoms.
But you brushed aside his hardened brows, instead bouncing your gaze toward the uncoordinated droid as it finished retracting its arm from the console. Your vision remained locked, following its triangular head while the machine spun toward the room’s doorway, clipping the frame with an unfortunate clunk and shocked beep before reorienting itself to swerve down the parallel hall.
Even then, you extended the interval, allowing its buzzing gears and occasional clicks to grow more distant before continuing with a lowered voice.
“I went from living my life on an ice planet to now spending weeks in a much warmer climate. I’m probably not used to this environment yet. That’s all.”
The unconvinced man spied your eyes soften.
“I’d rather not be wasting medical resources for something that’s probably nothing. Especially in the middle of a war.”
Master Kenobi’s mouth twitched into a frown. “It’s not a waste if it provides the answers you’re looking for.”
“I’d agree if I believed the answers were medical,” you argued.
“This is a Jedi Infirmary,” he spotlighted. “Master Nema will be considering all phenomena that may affect a force-sensitive. Even an imbalance.”
Your brows fluttered inquisitively at this. “Is that what you think is happening? Some sort of imbalance?”
He hummed, hand reaching for his chin as his eyes drifted in thought. “I’m not quite sure. The mind of a Jedi is a complicated thing. The way in which it realizes our connection to the Force is often unpredictable. But headaches resulting from an imbalance are not unheard of,” he exhaled. “Although, I don’t feel anything strange in the space in or around you.”
Obi-Wan cocked his head, stretching out to the swirling energies around you both to confirm his observations from the last few weeks before meeting a familiar wall in the connecting strands.
“But I must admit, I do have trouble sensing your mind within the Force. So, I may be wrong.”
The nearly imperceptible sigh that escaped your nostrils drew his searching orbs back toward your lowered gaze in an instant.
“However,” he readily subsisted. “These are no ordinary scans. If these headaches are related to an imbalance, Master Nema would be the first Healer I trust to make that determination.”
But the one-sided stillness continued. The General spied your eyelids fold shut while you breathed deeply into the emptiness, kindling your despondency in such a way that it intensified Kenobi’s own discomfort. Mostly because he was growing more and more convinced that his reassurances were clearly making things worse.
“I know it’s not what you want to hear—“
“That’s ok, Obi-Wan,” you smiled at him tiredly, legs stretching as your gaze drifted toward your knees. “I heard something similar from Master Windu. If these scans don’t reveal anything, I’ll just return to those meditation sessions he suggested. They’ll have to reveal something eventually, medical or otherwise.”
Once again, Obi-Wan crossed his arms, a silent protest to the security you placed in that impractical solution. Assuming he’d properly understood your version of events from that earlier, rainy conversation, meditation had only made your migraines more unbearable.
A notion that certainly disturbed the seasoned Jedi.
Throughout his life, Master Kenobi took great comfort in connecting with the everlasting serenity that was the Force. Even as a youngling, when his imagination wandered less and less into daydreaming realms, he’d cherished these moments of silent outreach as a way to center his mind and hone his presence in the Galaxy.
But for you, in the last few days, it had only caused you pain. For you, these headaches actualized a blockade, sequestering your being from one of the most sacred acts known to any Jedi. Isolating you from peace.
And he refused to allow that to continue
Obi-Wan was dragged from his thoughts as your straightened legs limply fell back against the bedside, drawing his blue eyes toward spots of perspiration on your now stretching neck and sinking eyelids.
Seeing you like this, pushing yourself to the physical brink as a last-ditch attempt to tame these incidents, heaved upon him a draining atmosphere similar to those that weighed him down more heavily in these months of war.
Sensations he was still trying to put a name to.
But Obi-Wan didn’t need a title to know that his being was firm in at least one judgment— he didn’t want this affliction to torment you any longer.
Those words…
Name. Title.
It drudged up an abrupt thought in the ruminating Jedi. It was something you’d said. Or more, he soon realized, something Mace Windu had instructed you to do.
“Remind me,” he began with a punch, drawing your sparkling eyes toward his as he unstitched his shoulders. “Master Windu advised you to give a name to these incidents, yes?”
You nodded, eyes wandering toward the doorway as Obi-Wan continued steadfastly in his speech
“Silvey,” he called softly, drawing your attention back to him.
“What was the name—?”
“I’ve had a chance to review your scans, Silvey.”
Master Nema spoke resonantly as she materialized, carrying a polished bearing while pivoting through the open-aired doorway and toward your seated figure. Her cerulean-tinted eyelids and lips stood in stark contrast against lime-green shoulders, a distinction emphasized by bowed eyes that held affixed to the blue glow of the datapad in her dominant hand.
Regardless of the thickly sliced air, the Healer continued to evenly scroll through the device, having unknowingly cut off the previous exchange before you’d even had the chance to absorb Kenobi’s inquiry.
“And I don’t see anything of note. Just some heightened activity here.”
Obi-Wan watched as the gray-robbed Halaisi finally raised her gaze, extending the datapad toward your now curious form.
Taking the device, you scanned it quickly, eyes squinting while you mulled over some image stamped at the screen’s center beyond Kenobi’s view. Though you only mulled over the datapad for a few seconds before glancing up at the Healer candidly, a somewhat sheepish expression attempting to push through your unbending forehead.
“I’m not very familiar with the anatomy of the brain,” you admitted.
Shimming to your side without bumping into the bedside, Master Nema pointed a long, viridescent finger at the datapad. “This brighter, center portion here consists of your amygdala and hippocampus. They are responsible for several functions related to memories and emotional processing.”
She glanced at you.
“May I ask you to describe the weeks leading up to these migraines? Primarily, I’d like to know which locations you’ve visited and the activities you were engaged in.”
Obi-Wan sighed internally, biting his tongue. Even before Master Nema had finished her inquiry, the bearded Jedi was swift to realize a new issue— that your inevitable yet necessary response may undermine the accuracy of the Healer’s determinations.
And for an instant, Kenobi nearly imagined that you’d read his mind.
Not a second later, you subtly glimpsed at The General’s now very watchful stare, only to confirm with determined eyes that you knew what you needed to do.
And that he had no chance of changing your mind.
Because Master Yoda and Master Windu advised that such truths must remain hidden. As revealing your real identity could amplify the very real threat to your life. So, without their permission, your predetermined fabrication needed to become the truth to Master Nema as well.
“I’ve recently returned from a years-long mission for the Council,” you dispassionately parroted. “However, I’m unable to discuss it in detail.”
Master Nema nodded unflinchingly, having become long accustomed to the importance of discretion in most Jedi matters.
“I understand,” she relayed, retrieving the datapad from your outstretched hand. “Can you share if you’ve had any occurrences similar to these during your assignment?”
Unblinkingly, you confidently answered.
“I did not.”
“Good,” she expressed, satisfied. “Further details will not be needed.”
Lowering her arm to rest the datapad by her side, the doctor angled herself more fully toward both you and Obi-Wan as she delivered her diagnosis.
“From these symptoms and affected regions, and with no other indications of illness on your scans, I understand that you are experiencing a side effect of prolonged stress.”
Obi-Wan covertly peered at your reaction, curiously taking in the unexpected neutrality that characterized your countenance.
“Stress?” You repeated, asking for confirmation.
“Yes,” Master Nema established, unbothered by your unconvinced manner as she turned away and strolled toward the gentle green glow of busily flashing screens plastered by Obi-Wan’s side.
“It’s quite common,” she maintained, her exposed upper back greeting you both as the displays’ ceaseless stream of looping data commandeered her sight.
“But I must admit,” she noted. “I’ve only seen these cases more recently, since the war began.”
Cunningly rearranging several charts of what Kenobi saw as an assortment of disparate numbers and calculations, the Jedi Healer soon centered on a corner window before beginning the long trial of analyses inputs, gathered from the occasional glance toward her purposefully angled datapad as she expounded.
“The Jedi are involved in prolonged duties of war that they were never meant for. And without time for meditation, it has caused many to internalize these experiences. This is why the symptoms of these strains usually begin after returning to the Temple. When their bodies are given a chance to rest and connect with the Force, the effects of prolonged stress are then allowed space to materialize.”
“Materialize as headaches?” Obi-Wan questioned from his once quiet perch.
Master Nema broke away from the left screen mid-data entry, angling to face the bearded Jedi with golden-rimmed eyes and a forthright manner.
“This is the first time I’ve heard of headaches as a symptom,” she admitted. “But from the general history described, the causes appear to be the same. Also, the hippocampus and amygdala are known to respond to stress-inducing environments. And headaches are not a far stretch from the primary indicators. Lack of focus, exhaustion…”
Master Nema stretched to eye your figure thoughtfully.
“I believe you’re showing the latter.”
At that remark, Kenobi immediately noticed a chink in your impartiality as a flake of disappointment slipped past the corners of gently pursed lips.
His forehead crinkled at the trickle of confusion dripping down his hairline. Obi-Wan thought you’d be relieved to hear that this affliction was not as dire as it had the potential to be.
It appeared that the Jedi Healer must’ve noticed the same shift in expression as she offered you a diplomatic smile. Those that are often reserved by doctors for their more unfamiliar patients.
“Rest, Silvey. Meditate. Do something to take your mind off of the stresses of your mission. It’s over now.”
And, in response, you offered a simple nod.
“Thank you, Master,” you relayed sincerely, offering a flash of amicability. “I’ll try to do that.”
You pushed off the medical bed with sudden haste, toes landing on the floor gingerly as your legs briskly steered through and out the doorway. The skilled maneuverings easily drew Obi-Wan’s attention, compelling him to detect a precise shift in your most noticeable features as you passed by.
How your eyes submerged into a subtle, gray glaze, and how your jaw inappreciably tightened.
It was enough to provoke him to launch a pursuit of his own, hoping to make up for the past few weeks of mistakes in not doing exactly this. All with the intent to close the distance with your quickly departing being after exchanging a parting nod with Master Nema.
“Silvey,” he projected, pacing toward your weaving form beyond the last few cubicles that pointed to the Infirmary’s exit like an arrow.
He caught your gate slacken as you entered the connecting Temple walkway, casually pivoting toward his quick steps while you waited for him to catch up. Still, you didn’t give Kenobi a chance to finish his approach before beginning to speak unapologetically, offering a straight face and a hand on each hip as you made a particularly bold statement
“It’s not stress.”
Had he not been present in the observation room, Master Kenobi would’ve unequivocally believed your statement right then and there. From three, fearless words alone. Spoken with such sheer simplicity that it was as if you were reminding him that Coruscant’s sky was, in fact, blue.
Still, disregarding the momentary speculation your confidence imbued, Obi-Wan held onto the reality of your situation. Or, more accurately, the relative soundness of Master Nema’s diagnosis while his pace effortlessly eased by your side.
“You don’t know that,” he contested as you pivoted, carrying on your trek down the pillared and lilac-carpeted walkway while his legs seamlessly moved in sync with yours. “The history you provided may not be accurate, but that doesn’t mean stress isn’t the source. Master Nema said the scans support her diagnosis.”
“It’s not stress,” you reflexively repeated, the same, unshakable conviction as pulsing as before that locked Kenobi’s gaze onto you while you continued.
“Stress is natural. It’s our being’s way of telling us something. Reminding us to take a break. To take time for ourselves. But whatever this is,” you gesticulated into the air, hand twirling as if it was conjuring the very affliction from the surrounding pillars’ essence. “It isn’t natural. It’s different. Deep inside me, but not. Disconnected—“
From a lightning flash of sliver, Obi-Wan was temporarily taken aback as he was forced to absorb your stilled yet rich perseverance. Bleeding through eyes that whipped over to challenge his stare, drawing you both to a sudden halt.
While emphasizing each consonant, you calmly declared once more your obstinate verdict.
“It is not stress.”
For a few seconds, the Master Jedi searched your face, keeping an eye out for any inkling of a quiver in your fortitude. Any sign of withheld doubts. Any indication that there was something you weren’t comfortable sharing.
But quite immediately, The General realized that even if he’d stood there for days, all would’ve remained the same. There were no hints that you could’ve been convinced otherwise. No way for him to persuade you that stress affected the body just as mysteriously as the Force.
So, he acquiesced.
“Alright,” he acknowledged, a gentleness enveloping his tone. “For now, let’s agree that it may not be stress. You’ve been managing them with the same approaches Master Nema suggested, no?”
“I have…” you skeptically concurred. “But it’s not sustainable.”
The sound of your exhale roped Obi-Wan’s attention as you reached up to rest a palm on your eye. Your cheeks sagged in resignation, subduing your voice while you spoke.
“I guess I’ll just try to get some rest.”
Obi-Wan’s brows creased in an unpleasant recognition.
Those disjointed eyes? The carefully constructed monotonousness you’ve held since making your escape from the Infirmary?
Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was quickly becoming a master at pinpointing the signs.
“It’s happening again, isn’t it?” He delicately inquired.
You shook your head incredulously, a small smile inching out of the corner of your mouth as you peeked at him.
“Is it that obvious?”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly why he did it. Why his arms reached for your shoulders, grasping their cold frames with a pleasant squeeze. As if some foreign entity now controlled and commanded both limbs with a set of knotted strings. A mind other than his own that believed the only way you’d hear his words was through physical and visual touch alone.
For a split second, at the base of his subconscious, with eyes locked onto yours, Kenobi speculated that perhaps it was a piece of Qui-Gon left behind that commandeered his actions. You’d mentioned to Obi-Wan that your former Master believed your stubbornness to be a considerable strength, yet a ramifying weakness. Something the bearded Jedi certainly recognized as he spent more time with you in the past few weeks.
Knowing the dearly departed, your at times cloaked stubbornness on such affairs plausibly necessitated Master Quinn to rely on similar measures to finally break through.
So why not do the same?
“Let me help you. You’re not on Hoth anymore. There are beings that can assist you here,” he frustratingly exhaled. “You told me yourself that rest has done nothing. I can provide a suitable distraction, if you’d allow me.”
Kenobi’s careful gaze caught the minute disorientation that blinked from reactive brows. You clasped your hands and, for the first time since he’d known you, an air of timidness encircled your ears.
“I appreciate the offer,” you began conscientiously, displaying a thankful smile “But that wouldn’t be fair to you. I know that there are probably a number of Council tasks you’ve sacrificed to check on me, which I appreciate. But I shouldn’t keep you away from those responsibilities any longer.”
“You and I both know that the Council’s activities have laxed since the incident with the communications system,” he securely reminded you as the bud of a perfect excuse blossomed into the puff of levity that captured his voice.
“Besides, this would be more of an exchange than a sacrifice.”
“Oh?” You uttered.
Your demure smile stretched into an infectious smirk, which only amplified Obi-Wan’s gaiety through brightened cheeks.
“You seem to have forgotten your promise,” he bantered.
Your head tilted.
“My promise?”
“The Muntuur?”
The bottom half of your face instantly transformed into a broad grin.
“Ah, yes,” you exaggerated teasingly. “How could I’ve forgotten a promise as dire as that.”
“Then you agree?” He quickly inquired. “You instruct me on how to use the device, and you can be confident that I will ask enough questions to keep your mind occupied.”
“I believe you may be on the better side of this deal,” you poked.
Kenobi watched as your eyes wafted toward the far-reaching Temple ceilings in thought. And in pondering his request amidst the absurdity of this exchange, Obi-Wan was fortunate enough to just barely catch your attempt to stifle a laugh.
“Alright,” you feigned defeat, silver orbs flickering as you glanced at him.
“I agree.”
—
Kenobi drifted deeper into his settled posture, legs folded in angled balance as he extended his deliverance into the swirling energies of the Force. Straightening his back, his focused mind welcomed the omnipresent stream to encircle him in the empty training dojo, never to be hindered by its milky white walls nor wood-bordered panels.
Wherever he was, The General sensed this to be true. That the Force would always be with him.
Rationally, Obi-Wan knew that any second, you’d be strolling through those two gray sliding doors to join him, Muntuur in hand after retrieving it from your quarters per his request. Yet still, Kenobi found that even in the most cursory of moments, meditation proved to always be a feasible endeavor. Despite sometimes having only a few seconds to fully connect with his surroundings, Obi-Wan found that stretching into the constant flow would still center his mind in a manner that could last for hours. Perhaps days, if he’d found particular focus.
But he hadn’t always had the aptitude to enter those cavernous reflective states so rapidly. Especially as a Padawan, when his mind took a little bit more tugging to wrench it away from concerns of the future so to focus on the here and now. It was a realm he always had to strive toward. A speedy existence he’d been further compelled to master had he any hope of engaging in such comforts during the ceaseless activities of war.
A lifestyle he knew he’d be returning to soon.
From the final review of the Temple’s security system this morning, it was ultimately discovered that there had, in fact, been a leak in the communications system. Specifically, an exposed transceiver code. And, of course, of the many technical specialists and machines tasked with rooting out the issue, Artoo, Anakin’s prized blue-and-white droid, was the one to discover it.
Due to Count Dooku’s formerly wide access to sensitive Temple data, Master Yoda had decided to alter all related security measures so to ensure that the Separatists were not given a tactical advantage after The Battle of Geonosis. That included identifying and deactivating the extensive array of transceiver codes that Dooku was aware of.
But, unfortunately, it seemed that one was missed. A single line of digits once only privy to Council transmissions during Dooku’s short stint as a member, long before Obi-Wan’s time. An easy mistake that proved to have significant consequences, setting back the Republic’s stance by forcing the Jedi off the battlefield as clone battalions temporarily took command.
And just after they’d finally gotten one step ahead of the Separatists following the Republic victory on Christophsis, no less.
Either way, The General understood that he’d soon see the damage himself once given his first return assignment. A mission that would include you, considering Master Yoda’s decision to separate you from Anakin on the battlefield for the time being.
But there wasn’t time for such considerations any longer. No more musings about what the future held. Not in a time when he should’ve been blending his mind with the rippling stream.
A time cut short.
The whoosh of an automatic door releasing tickled his ears, followed by a cool gust of creeping air that further drew Obi-Wan out of his concentrative state. A quick wrench akin to similar interruptions by Commander Cody during those off-world campaigns in the months prior.
His eyelids peeled open at the new, subtle presence before him. And in the moments that followed, it didn’t take long for Kenobi to take note of your more upbeat figure, revitalized by the prospect of the coming distraction in the form of teaching a lesson on ancient implements, Obi-Wan hoped. A divertissement to be governed by The Muntuur whose glint caught the bearded Jedi’s eye.
“Excellent,” Master Kenobi expressed, raking his gaze over the half-circle metal headpiece that hung loosely from your fingertips while he untangled, placing a hand on his knee to help him stand. “Now tell me how it works.”
Obi-Wan spotted a quirk in your brows as you steadily approached, a token of entertainment at his eagerness, no doubt.
You hummed flippantly. “It would be easier to just show you, you know.”
And Master Kenobi wholeheartedly agreed, but that wasn’t why he was doing this. He couldn’t deny that he’d been ardently waiting since you told him about The Muntuur to put the apparatus to the test. But, right now, he had more important matters to address than his budding curiosity.
To focus your mind on easier topics. On the intricacies of a long-lost Jedi device. And on the concentration required to explain it to him.
And that meant putting some skin in the game.
“I’d much rather hear it from your own voice,” he contended, nonchalant gaze somewhat lowering to meet yours as your shorter, slightly amused figure stalled within arms reach of his chest.
And with your quick-beat response, it was clear to Obi-Wan that you’d in some measure caught on to his ruse.
“Well, how could I deny such a charmed request?”
A tickled smile crawled across Kenobi’s features at your faintly sarcastic tone. An expression that persisted fervently despite noticing a sincerity wash away your brief masquerade.
“I must warn you, Obi-Wan. What I’ve learned about this device was through significant trial and error. Not even Qui-Gon really understood it.”
Still, the Jedi Master’s encouraging regard never quivered. A long-held desire to grasp and digest your knowledge radiated from his being. Strong enough, it seemed, to persuade you to continue as you held up The Muntuur for easy viewing.
“If you have the imagination, and the specifications, you can program it to simulate virtually anything. Any drill or duel you can imagine. Any environment. Any foe. As long as you know the strengths, behaviors, and appearances involved in your desired program, then it can be created by inputting them here.”
Obi-Wan adjusted as you turned your back
toward him to display the device’s rear. Specifically, the small, anciently designed input panel whose miniature screen emitted an amber gleam between your secured fingers.
He craned his neck farther over your shoulder, the fragrance of star jasmines wafting from your loose hair and into his nostrils as he strived to take a closer look.
“My holobooks often provided enough information for me to recreate their contents for training purposes,” you continued to explain. “Honestly, I’ve used The Muntuur so much that I still have a number of designations memorized. Including…”
Master Kenobi scrutinized the tiny display as your fluttering fingers tapped away, making selections and adjusting parameters so expeditiously that it was as if an invisible memory bank of numbers and terms were stored in your wrist. You readied the device so expertly, in fact, that the brief trailing off of your voice was smoothly picked up following the short, concentrative pinch.
“…this little guy.”
He watched while your thumb danced to the small, circular black button resting in the panel’s corner, pressing and holding it down until a startling beep cheered from the device. An unexpected noise that swiveled your figure back toward the Master Jedi, arm outstretched in offering as a barely hampered enthusiasm elevated your features.
However, with an undetermined inspection narrowing on the instrument, Obi-Wan suddenly felt hesitant to accept.
He often found comfort in understanding the more nuanced aspects of unknown technologies before diving right in, unlike his former Padawan. Consequently, The Master Jedi had honestly been anticipating a more detailed explanation. But from the rapid fire of input codes and language specifications that manifested from your exceptional proficiency, Obi-Wan now realized that, even with your guidance, such in-depth adroitness was sure to take weeks if not months.
Time he, unfortunately, did not have.
“Don’t worry,” you brightly assured, arm still extended with the gleaming metal headpiece. “The safety protocols are engaged. It won’t bite.”
Kenobi’s stare snapped toward yours as he cautiously took the device.
“Safety protocols?” He inquired, turning over the cold metal in his palms as he observed its ornate craftsmanship. “I’ve never heard of a simulation creating a safety issue.”
“It’s more than a simulation,” you elucidated, jutting a thumb toward his grasp. “Notice how there’s no visor?”
Obi-Wan flipped the device, realizing the accuracy of your statement as his befuddled eyes met its rather barren fore.
“It functions by triggering the electrical impulses in your neurons. Because it creates the simulation with your mind, certain programs need to be active to prevent the more subconscious parts of your brain from confusing artificial injuries with reality.”
“That is…quite fascinating…” Obi-Wan uttered, taking one last scan of the unique instrument before glancing at your intrigued features, captivated by a typhoon of ruminations on the device’s remarkable functions, he assumed.
“So I won’t feel pain?”
You shook your head heartily, emphasizing each word that followed. “No, you’ll certainly feel pain. But you won’t receive any grievous injuries.”
And the General’s spine stiffened from shock at this. Eyes wide as he searched your matter-of-fact countenance for clarification.
“Silvey, are you saying this device can cause real-world harm?”
“Only if the safety protocols are off,” you undauntedly reminded before your voice relaxed into a fonder, more reminiscent timbre.
“I learned that piece of programming the hard way,” you chuckled. “Qui-Gon almost threw the whole thing away after I nearly bled to death from a stab to the shoulder. A fairly treatable wound in the likes of Coruscant, I’m sure. But when you have no choice but to work with a few, expired bacta pads, it can become a little dicey.”
Master Kenobi’s once intrigued disposition had slowly devolved into a frown.
He knew this implement was old. Likely used by ancient Jedi who followed a widely contrasting set of rules in a lawless world of dark adversaries. But he never predicted that their training equipment would allow for such risk in the name of growth. There was a reason younglings learned on training sabers. So that they need not face the same life-threatening dangers that you seem to have faced every day at their age. Whether through an unpredictable apparatus or the nature of your icy asylum.
Obi-Wan barely noticed the thickening of a faintly simmering temper, mixed with frustration and confusion as he finally considered the reality of your upbringing. The bearded Jedi cared for his former Master deeply, and he clearly understood that Qui-Gon had done his best to protect you under severe circumstances. But the auburn-haired man couldn’t get over the sheer recklessness that characterized his decision-making as your custodian.
Had he not checked this device thoroughly before handing it off to a child? That didn’t sound like the wise man he’d known for all his life. Though Qui-Gon did have many responsibilities on top of your secret existence. Most of which likely prevented him from imparting the same thoroughness and circumspect to which he gifted Obi-Wan.
Still, it was no excuse.
And the longer he sat with that realization, the more your recollection ruffled Obi-Wan. Especially when your cavalier attitude proved your innocence to the underlying issue that Kenobi was so peeved by.
A reaction that you just seemed to notice, but failed to correctly attribute.
“Obi-Wan.”
You spoke gently, reaching out a cold, comforting hand to rest beneath his, providing a little extra lift in supporting the gadget’s portable weight. His eyes followed your arm, naturally landing on the two, strikingly silver orbs that relaxed his tensed muscles and unsettled thoughts with mollifying memories of uncomplicated talks and silent company.
“I promise you, you’re not gonna get hurt. I would never have agreed to share The Muntuur with you had I believed for a second it would cause serious harm.”
And there it was again. Those gentle, sparkling features that cozily blanketed Obi-Wan’s line of vision with honest poise. Accompanied by relieving words that freshly astounded him in every instant they fell from your lips.
Your life. Your upbringing. Devoid of connection and saturated with harsh dangers in an inhospitable habitat. Yes, a Jedi was expected to forgo all attachments, but this isolation had been to an extreme.
Yet every day. In every moment he had the chance to grace your presence. To get to know you. You’d shimmer like a being who’d known unconditional love from the galaxy, and was simply acting as a conduit to relay that benevolence onto others.
But that wasn’t your reality, Obi-Wan reminded himself. Besides Qui-Gon’s disbanded guidance, you had only known the cold.
Still, even that jarring refuge was likely more enticing than the prospect of facing a dark nemesis too soon.
You’d only known struggle, yet diffused compassion.
You really were something.
“I trust you,” Master Kenobi finally spoke, raising The Muntuur to secure its chilly, rigid form atop his head.
While his hands lowered, Obi-Wan felt a slight dig as the device morphed to fit his skull’s dimensions. A low, mechanical purr was followed by strange tingling sensations that danced across his temples like docile Endorian ants.
But after a few, stagnant seconds, in which a stillness recouped the air, nothing else occurred.
The Jedi Master knew that you’d intended for some program to run, yet he saw nothing. Just the dojo’s durable, cream-tinted walls supported by pillars of hickory brown wood.
“How do I know if the simulation has begun?” Obi-Wan questioned, eyes glancing toward your figure as you purposefully ambled backward to grant more clearance to the focused Jedi.
A delighted smirk tugged up at your countenance from chin to ears as you slowed to a halt about twelve meters away.
“Oh, trust me. You’ll know.”
A deep, guttural roar bellowed from behind, provoking a somewhat startled Master Kenobi to detach his lightsaber mid-whirl as he faced the blare with the blade’s instantly ignited, blue glow.
Coiled into a stalking pose at the opposite wall was the brown-gold body of a particularly irate Nexu. Its four, beady red eyes pierced Kenobi’s senses, drawing considerable attention to the broad set of dagger-like teeth that stretched across half its face as the beast soon began to circularly prowl. The inchmeal movements of its sharp claws and flicking tails quickly compelled Kenobi to step into a cautious counter, sidestep after sidestep so to avoid closing that precarious gap.
“I believe we have different definitions of what qualifies as a ‘little guy!’” Obi-Wan sarcastically called out, his readily extended saber maintaining the standoff while he kept a slow, methodical distance.
“I think he’s kinda cute!” You gushed.
Obi-Wan’s head whipped to stare at you in utter disbelief, hoping to communicate his complete disagreement with such a statement. In fact, he manifested with his eyes alone the question of whether you were truly seeing the same ghastly brute as him.
But any answer he sought would have to wait, it appeared. The momentary glance at your chuckling figure was cut short by the beast’s consciousness of Kenobi’s brief distraction.
Its paws struck the ground with a sharp crack, signaling the Nexu’s powerful charge toward Obi-Wan as the latter’s attention snapped back toward the rapidly closing-in creature. One, he now noticed, whose approach could be viscerally sensed, further persuading the Master Jedi to poise himself for the coming strike that he felt through the surrounding flow.
“I can feel its movement within the force!” He called out while dodging a quick slash of the right set of claws. “How is that possible?!”
“It’s part of the programming,” you leveled candidly while Obi-Wan sprinted for a better vantage point toward the far wall, slithering beast on his tail.
“I think that’s why Qui-Gon assumed it was built for the Jedi,” you continued. “Never could figure out how that part worked.”
Drawing on the stream around him as he reached the dead end, Kenobi leapt onto the wall, maintaining his momentum while he followed its architecture around the training room.
Still, the slobbering huffs of the Nexu stayed close behind, especially once the creature’s biting claws lodged into the same partition, empowering it to launch into a rather slippery chase while its talons fought against the smoother sectionals.
However, the agile Jedi persisted, formulating a plan as his eyes locked onto an abruptly nearing corner.
With the blustering beast just a few steps behind, Kenobi broke away toward the opposite intersecting wall. Then, with cold air resisting against his face, Obi-Wan exercised the boost to reach and thrust against this new push-off point, barreling into a flip back toward the growling beast that still struggled to skitter across this raised vantage point.
Swiftly, while the Master Jedi glided midair, Kenobi brought down his blue luminescence to slash at the Nexu’s back. It was in that instant, that he successfully severed several of its sharp quills, a pink ooze soaking the creature’s fur while it wailed out in agony.
Embracing the Force to cushion his descent, Obi-Wan partially floated to the stone floor, toes centering his landing as the beast once clawing across the dojo wall writhed into a short plummet, striking the floor with a boom just meters beyond his feet.
Kenobi watched on while the Nexu pitifully rolled to its side, emitting a flurry of pained squeaks and whimpers in its parade to expose its underside, a symbol of surrender.
But that white flag wasn’t what prompted Obi-Wan to abruptly unfasten The Muntuur from his skull and end the program, leading the now docile Nexu to fade into nothingness as the device hummed through its deactivation.
No.
Instead, the slightly panting Jedi’s attention was seized by a sudden burst of laughter from the far corner, flinging his bewildered yet slightly curious gaze toward your bent-over form leaned against the dojo’s gray doors.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t laugh. It’s just, this is the first time I’ve seen someone use The Muntuur from an outside perspective and I’m—” Another fit of giggles poured out of your gut, squeezing Obi-Wan’s brows to raise in delight at the sound.
“I’m just now wondering how Qui-Gon kept a straight face! With nothing there for me, it just looks like you’re running around in circles, and—“
Another howl of laughter colored the air, touching his chest with a strangely familiar sensation. One that he couldn’t quite clearly recall, but knew still that it had been something he’d experienced a couple times a year as a young Padawan.
On those few evenings in the fall when his training had ended early for the day, young Kenobi would run off to the Glitannai Eslpanade to experience the Festival of Stars. And while he appreciated the joy of dancing beings and the artistry of performative acrobatics, he’d only really had one motive for sneaking off with a nut brown robe tightly concealing his Jedi identity amongst the bustling crowds.
It was to gawk at the falling Ithorian rose petals, flung from the sky like euphoric tears at each year’s parade on Coruscant.
A sight he could never drag his eyes away from, no matter how hard he tried.
This wasn’t exactly what Obi-Wan had planned when he decided to focus your mind on matters separate from those stress-induced headaches. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain about finding success through other means. The undeniably beaming expression on your face meant that something he did had lessened the headache that’d emerged following your infirmary visit, at least.
Perhaps that was what gave rise to his inner appreciation for your enlivened state. Because when he heard your laughter spring throughout the room, it confirmed for him that he’d finally taken a little bit of your pain away.
And that idea alone tugged fiercely at his facial muscles, coaxing him to give rise to a smile.
But Obi-Wan shoved that down, instead adopting a rather unimpressed gaze as his voice oozed with sarcasm.
“I’m pleased you find my defensive techniques so amusing.”
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Confessions {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}
approx. 1,000 words
Summary: You and Anakin blow off some steam by getting drunk together. When you return back for the night you are greeted by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan Kenobi who insist you get to bed. As Qui-Gon prepares you to sleep, he hears your drunken confessions; of love and insecurities.
Warnings: F! reader, insecurities, drunkenness, (Anakin and reader are in their 20s), reader and Anakin are platonic, angst, 18+
As you return back to the grounds from your impulsive bar hopping with Anakin, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon are the first people you see. Disappointment is clearly written all over their faces, since two of their best Jedis are coming home past curfew and three sheets to the wind.
"sshhhh Ani, someone could hear us," you giggle out whisper yelling as he trips over his feet like a new born giraffe.
"Sorry, which way do we go," he asked with a tilted head, not sure if he could recognize the corridors in the dark.
"This way, follow m-" you started as you turned left but were cut off by the strong chest of Master Qui-Gon who was just around the corner.
Behind Qui-Gon was Obi-Wan, who could not hold back his giddiness. He wasn't angry at your antics. He loved that you and Anakin were acting like normal young people but had to put on a poker face for Qui-Gon as he handed down punishments.
Your cheeks were flush, scarlet with embarrassment for getting caught by someone you respected so highly. You were always trying to please Qui-Gon. It was an unspoken truth that you were his favorite padawan; because of your discipline in learning the ways of the force and in the longing glances you both exchanged over the past many months.
Qui-Gon's piercing gaze fixes on Anakin, and then shifts to you, his brow furrowing as he detects something beneath the surface. He knew that bar hopping wasn't your idea. Anakin was corrupting the sweet girl beside him, and Qui-Gon was not going to stand for it.
"Anakin, Obi-Wan will escort you back to your quarters," Qui-Gon ordered, putting an end to the night's activities. "And you," he turned and lowered his gaze to your sheepish figure, "come with me."
You nod in comply and Qui-Gon gently takes you by the hands, leading you to your bedroom. Yawning the whole way there, Qui-Gon's anger fades into protectiveness, just wanting to make sure you don't hurt yourself and sleep off as much as you can of what will be a massive hangover.
He shuts the door quietly, as to not startle you with any loud sounds and sees you struggling to remove your tunic. Your arms are stuck three quarters of the way out and the twisting of your shoulders isn't making the fabric roll up your back as you hoped it would.
"hhmph! Qui, could you help me, pretty pleasssssse," you slur out to him for assistance. He doesn't want to risk any impropriety but seeing you struggle was enough to throw all of the norms out the window.
"Relax your arms," he said, reaching for the hem of the shirt to pull over your head. Free from the straight jacket tunic, you stood before him in your lilac lace bra.
He let out a shallow breath as he looked down at you, remarking to himself how soft and cuddly your skin appears to be, and the way the lace of the bra seems to be painted on your breasts, fitting perfectly to the swell of your chest.
In no time flat you have removed your bottoms and exposed you cheeky bum to him, clad in lilac panties, matching your bra.
Oblivious to the tension of the situation, since your mentor is a foot away from your practically naked form you ask, "would you tuck me in?"
He nods, and follows you to the edge of the bed. He watches you cuddle into the silky soft sheets and nuzzle up to your pillow. Qui-Gon loosely drapes the blanket around your form and shift to get up as you reach for his wrist.
"Is there something else you need of me?" he asked, thinking you would ask for another blanket or for a glass of water.
You hesitate, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over you. "Can you… stay? Just for a little while? Just to talk?"
"What is it you would like to talk about?" he inquired, knowing you already confide in him as a mentor for your Jedi training. For some reason he could sense that this would be a different kind of conversation.
"Qui-Gon?" you say barely a whisper.
"Yes?" he replies, his gaze fixed on you with unwavering attention.
"Am… am I pretty?" you ask, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
"What?" Qui-Gon's brow furrows in confusion. "Of course, you are," he says, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "You are beautiful, both inside and out."
Tears fell at the corners of your eyes as Qui-Gon's words wash over you, colliding with some of the negative feelings of your own body's image in your mind. The alcohol had gotten the best of your emotions.
"Then why… why don't boys like me?" you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "I mean, I try to be nice and friendly but no body seems to look at me. Like I train, and I train, and I train but I am still soft and nervous around people. I feel like this is a never ending cycle of disappointment. I'm too ugly for my own good."
You end your rant with a heavy heart and a long silent pause. You slowly lift your head from where it is on your pillow to see if Qui-Gon left. Instead, his gaze meets yours with a flicker of angry passing through his eyes.
"They are complete fools," he said passionately. "They fail to see you for your truest form. You tower over them in intellection, and float by them with elegance and grace."
"But Qui-" you sit up and raise your hand to stop him but he continues.
"No, you should never feel less than because these dumb boys don't see what I see in you."
For the first time in a long while, you allow yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you are worthy of love.
"I'm sorry for getting so worked up. Its time to rest now," he says, settling in next to you in bed, sat up, and rubbing your back soothingly over the covers.
You welcome the feeling of his hands and of his warmth radiating over the entire bed.
"Thank you," you whisper to him as you drift of to sleep.
Of course, starlight. I want you to feel loved. I will always be here for you.
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Personally, I don’t think grown up Anakin and Qui-Gon would get on, at all. Qui-Gon’s expectations seem ridiculously high and I imagine he’d find Anakin lacking in control and temperament. And Anakin’s need to be constantly informed and in the loop with plans and decisions just wouldn’t work with Master “The force told me too” and “Ask for forgiveness rather than permission” and I think would lead to a lot of bitterness.
With this in mind, here’s a Snippet Of Nothing about what, or rather who, they do have in common:
One would think, having one’s beloved Master return from the Force fifteen years after the fact would be amazing, wonderous, and the answer to all of life’s problems.
And it was, at first. Obi-Wan Kenobi (once he had regained consciousness after a slightly embarrassing fainting spell) had wasted no time picking up where he’d left off, relishing in the more experienced Master’s wisdom and knowledge. Their rhythm had been slightly off for a short while certainly, but it stabilised as they both adapted to their new roles; not as Master and Padawan but as colleagues and friends. Qui-Gon’s steady presence at his back once again bolstering Obi-Wan in times of need.
It was similar for most of the other Jedi who had known Qui-Gon, and some who hadn’t; Despite his eccentricities and dislike of explaining his reasoning, most recognised a man who had much to offer the order and were happy to have him back once again.
Some, but not all.
It had been a very disappointing moment for Obi-Wan when he witnessed Anakin and Qui-Gon, the two most important people in his life, seem to mutually come to the decision that they were incompatible. An unstoppable force and an immovable object.
It happened gradually: the first few times they all met Obi-Wan had been delighted to simply sit and watch them be enthralled with each other, basking in their lineage’s completeness. But little by little, over the course of a couple of shared missions and many shared meals, it became clear that it was not going to be the partnership of the Councils dreams and instead devolved into snaping and pettiness as they lost patience with each other’s completely opposing viewpoints and styles.
It was a real shame, because as two of the most skilled and powerful members of the order, it made a lot of sense to pair them as mission partners.
With a buffer, of course.
And so, Obi-Wan Kenobi now had two fully grown Jedi to babysit and keep out of trouble on a regular basis…
“We need to stop at Samutis”
“Why? We don’t have time.”
“The Force wills it, young one. We will stop”
“No we won’t! You can’t just-“
Obi-Wan shook his head at his smug Master and irritated former student for about the millionth time as he crossed the hanger.
“Anakin” he barked. “Get in the ship. And you” he turned his ire on his old mentor “Stop winding him up” he scolded.
The older man opened his mouth to argue and Obi-Wan simply held up a hand.
“We will stop if you can come up with a flight plan that means we get there with enough time” he compromised.
Compromising and adapting seemed to be all he did these days, constantly trying to balance the two large personalities out and disappearing into the middle ground.
It was exhausting. And so incredibly frustrating.
“Something has to be done Mace, I can’t go on like this!” he whined into his rapidly disappearing second pint. The other Council Member gave him a sympathetic look from across their usual table in the Happy Tankard.
“You’re doing so well” his friend reassured him tipsily. “They’re just – they’re just different, they’ll come around. They just need something to bond over.”
Obi-Wan snorted.
“They most cert – certainly will not” he retorted. “They’re completely, completely different on everything.” He grumbled taking another swig of his ale. “Though once they did agree on how much they hated my plan. That was a nice moment I suppose” he added thoughtfully.
Mace arched an eyebrow.
“Did that plan happen to involve you? Maybe…in danger?”
“Well, I suppose, why?” The younger Jedi thought for a moment.
His irritating friend just shook his head.
“Classic Kenobi” he said with a sigh.
“Oh shut up.”
---
The busy Master didn’t get the chance to think on his friend’s words before he was once again on a mission with his two favourite pains in the ass, and it had once again, gone sideways.
“m’fine” he managed to rattle out between chattering teeth as the clone medic he’d been leaning on passed him to a comrade who continued all but dragging him to the medical tent. “Legs are jus’ a bit wobbly” he tried to explain as he shivered in his freezing wet clothes.
“No Sir, you’ve been shot twice.” the medic corrected him in a long-suffering tone.
“Hmm?” Shot? Then why was he so wet? And cold?
“You’ll be fine sir, just stay with me.”
The moment Kix got hold of him Obi-Wan felt himself getting more and more distant from the situation, noises and feelings happening around him as he floated above it all on The Good Drugs.
“Where is he?”
“What happened?”
And then two familiar voices cut through the haze.
“Sirs I need you to be calm he’s-“
“Obi-Wan!”
“Master!”
“M’fine” he mumbled quietly into his lovely soft pillow. “M’ok.” He tried to prop himself up to look at the two worried faces in front of him, but it was terribly difficult.
“Jus’ tired” he reassured them.
“He was shot off a gun tower and into a frozen lake” someone explained in clipped, unhappy tones. Obi-Wan turned baleful eyes on Kix.
“Wasn’ my fault” he muttered.
“I know Sir.” Kix gave him a gentle pat on the leg. He turned to Anakin and Qui-Gon, now crowding the room. “I’ll be right outside. Do not, under any circumstances, agitate him” the chief medic instructed sternly.
“They’d better go then” Obi-Wan mumbled, smiling a little at his joke and simultaneously waving a clumsy hand to beckon them closer.
“Obi-Wan-“
“Master-“
He patted the hand he now appeared to be holding.
“S’alright, you’re allowed.” The hand was squeezing his now. “Brilliant” he attempted to explain. They were so brilliant.
He tried to look at them but the room was now spinning. Obi-Wan could feel two presences brush fondly up against his own in the Force and he chuckled. They were so achingly similar.
“Wish you’d get along.” He said with his eyes closed. Guilt flooded the force and he attempted to bat it away but the hand holding his own stopped him. “Just need to find something to agree on” the wise council master explained.
It really was that simple.
He could hear the two of them speak, he assumed it was the usual defences and excuses, but couldn’t be bothered to pay attention.
They were so stupid.
“Stupid.” He explained with a quiet sigh, before leaving them to it and having a well-deserved nap.
---
Everything was less fuzzy when he woke up. As a reflex, he cautiously began stretching limbs and tensing muscles, taking stock before fully committing to consciousness and everything it brought with it.
Ow! Hmm not quite 100 percent. Never mind, he’d delt with worse.
“None of that now.”
An admonishing voice to his left has his eyes flying open in surprise, blinking at the bright lights of the medbay, and the form of his old Master, sitting next to his bed watching over him with concern in his eyes.
“Hello there”
His voice was gravelly, and it took a lot of effort to speak, but his characteristic greeting prompted a relieved smile from the older Jedi.
“Good afternoon. Here”
Obi-Wan took the offered cup of water gratefully, as a large arm came behind his shoulders to prop him up whilst he drank.
Anakin bustled into the room with a bundle of something in his arms, his eyes lit up when he saw his Master awake, but seemingly doubted his ability to answer a simple question, he addressed Qui-Gon.
“How’s he doing?”
“Better, but in need of much more rest.” his former Master answered just as Obi-Wan opened his mouth.
“Right yeah, I figured.” Anakin placed the bundle down to reveal a flask of tea, some kind of lunchbox and an extra blanket, a particularly fluffy one.
“Here, thought you might like some bits” he said by way of explanation, giving Obi-Wan an uncharacteristically shy smile, placing the tea and food on the bedside table and throwing the other end of the blanket to Qui-Gon, on the other side of the bed.
“Oh thank you Anakin that’s very kind of-er…” Obi-Wan started smiling gratefully, only to pause as his two companions shifted the blanket across him and started tucking it comfortably.
“What…is happening?” he asked, mildly alarmed as he watched the two move around him, now plumping his pillows, straightening his blankets and filling the water jug.
Qui-Gon shrugged.
“Just making sure you’re comfortable” he said unhelpfully, pouring out the tea and producing a book from somewhere in his robes. Obi-Wan’s current read.
Riiight….
Anakin, nowhere near as cool under his Master’s gaze, flushed a bit.
“We just…thought you might some stuff.”
His dubiousness must have shown on his face because Qui-Gon chose that moment to make a strategic exit.
“Reast well Obi-Wan, we’ll be back shortly.” And with that they were both gone.
The baffled Jedi tucked up in bed stared at the door for a few seconds longer.
What in the galaxy?
---
His recovery was, unfortunately, far from complete (in Kix’s view) when they reached Coruscant, and Obi-Wan was ordered to rest and recuperate for a further few days.
Usually, this involved Obi-Wan promising to be on his best behaviour, and then promptly breaking that promise the moment Anakin and various medical professionals turned their backs.
But not this time. This time there were two of them.
And so he had spent the last two days more comfortable than he had ever been; lying on the perfect arrangement of cushions and blankets in a perfectly clean living room, with a constant supply of tea and books and holos and company.
It was weird.
Extremely weird.
But before his thoughts could turn into a full-blown existential crisis, the door chime went.
“No”
Both Anakin and Qui-Gon pre-empted his shuffling to get up with an unwarranted telling off. Qui-Gon going so far as to hold out a hand as if to push him back into the sofa nest.
“It-“
“Come in!” Anakin yelled at the door. Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.
“Anakin-“
“Good evening”
The curious form of Mace Windu appeared in the doorway, eyebrows raising in surprise at the occupants of the room.
“Hello Mace” Obi-Wan greeted flatly from his nearly horizontal position.
“Master Windu”
“Mace”
There was a strange silence as they all took each other in.
Mace’s lips twitched up in a smile.
A very knowing smile.
Bastard. I hate it when he’s right.
Obi-Wan scowled at him, physically nudging away a plate of biscuits and metaphysically batting away the two concerned and suspicious force presences that filled the space around,
Ugh.
He was pleased, in one way, that the two most important people in his life were finally getting along.
He was displeased, in many other ways, that they had bonded over ensuring he was aggressively taken care of.
Bonding indeed.
#Snippet of nothing#obi-wan kenobi#Qui-Gon Jinn#anakin skywalker#Master Kenobi#Fluff#Lineage feels#everyone is soft for Obi-Wan#Obi-Wan fanfic
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Last Line Challenge
Rules: In a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or however many you like).
Thanks for the tag, @shootingstarpilot! Sorry this took so long, I've been all the over place with stress and also writing ideas, big oof
I have a couple ideas that I've been tossing around but I finally gave in and decided to write the time travel fic of my dreams. I write in my head all day, every day and I don't know if this is going to interest anyone, but it interests me and by god, I am going to write my stupid Codywan time travel/dimension travel shenanigans - fix-it
(I forgot the fucking writing, shit--)
Jinn arches an eyebrow and Cody can see the intrigue flicker through his eyes. “You don’t know?”
“Obviously not.” Cody is impressed at how neutral his voice comes out despite the irritation churning in his stomach. “I don’t even know where I am.”
Jinn’s eyebrows make a break for his hair line even as he’s shoved aside, a young child squirming their way to the front. Cody leans back as the child leans in, eyes wide as they practically vibrate where they stand.
“You’re on Tatooine!”
Cody’s stomach drops out from under him and all he can do is stare. Tatooine? How was he on Tatooine—
“It looked like lightning spat you out of the sky! One second there was nothing, and then—BOOM—you were on the ground, and you wouldn’t wake up, even with the screaming and Mister Qui-Gon trying to talk to you!”
Lightning. Fuck. Obi-Wan, what happened—
Stop.
Breathe.
Cody presses the knuckle into the corner of his eye harder and pulls in a careful, measured breath, focusing on the way the air fills his lungs, forcing them to expand in his chest. He digs his free hand into the sand, rubbing the grains against the pads of his fingers.
Assess.
He’s—apparently—on Tatooine. A few moments ago, he was not on Tatooine. He had been on Coruscant, walking through the Sith-forsaken hallways of the Senate building to meet with Chancellor Organa. Obi-Wan and Ahsoka were due back from their mission in the Outer Rim and were expected to meet with the council before lunchtime. Cody had been looking forward to lunch.
#writing#star wars#drauthor writes#fanfic#blame shootingstarpilot#wip#codywan#fluff#time travel#dimension travel#force time travel#time travel shenanigans#weird force shit#the force doesn't work like this#but it does for me#cody is going to murder qui-gon jinn in a back alley and only be a little sorry when obi-wan finds out#anakin accidentally adopts cody#cody the reluctant father figure#gentleman cody#based on shoulder the sky#shoulder the sky#alternate universe#world state: shoulder the sky
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WIP Wednesday - 5+1 QuiObiAni (1 of 6)
Woohooo an actual WIP this week because @dark--whisperings gave me the idea of a 5+1, and I couldn't help but write something! ...except I only have the first part done, so the rest will come in the following weeks!
May I present: 5 times Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin's relationship was misinterpreted by other people and the 1 time it was just them 🥰
"Family" Outing
The three of them don’t go out to eat very often because Qui-Gon is rather particular about his organics these days and much prefers the taste of his home cooking. But Anakin has been dropping hints left and right that he’s craving the pancakes with the special sauce from that spot in the city, so Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan decide to surprise him by making a trip out of it. They’ll brunch at the restaurant, visit the space museum after, spend some time walking along the waterfront, and then come home in time for Qui-Gon to make them all dinner.
“We just love you, darling,” Qui-Gon says while they’re in the car.
“We shouldn’t need a reason to want to treat you to nice things,” Obi-Wan adds with an indulgent smile.
Anakin is buzzing with excitement by the time they get seated at their booth, almost giddy with anticipation. These pancakes are the BEST! He sits on his own side because Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon like to share food sometimes, and okay, maybe he’s also a semi messy eater and neither of the other two want to knock elbows with him. REGARDLESS, Anakin occupies himself playing footsie with his lovers under the table.
A matronly waitress walks up to their booth and greets them enthusiastically, “Good mornin’, gents! Have you had enough time with the menu? What can I get for you all today?”
Qui-Gon orders for all of them to speed up the process, knowing exactly what the other two want. A bowl of oatmeal for him with some blueberries, a vegetarian egg scramble with rye toast and fruit on the side for Obi-Wan, and the signature pancakes with extra sauce and hashbrowns for Anakin.
The waitress nods as she jots down her notes before looking up to ask innocently, “Any coffee or tea for you, sirs? OJ for your son?”
Qui-Gon pauses when she gets to the end of the sentence, and Obi-Wan can’t hold in his chuckle (even if he’s also been lumped into the category of “old”).
Anakin’s eyes gleam with amusement as he jumps on the opportunity. “Sure, OJ sounds good to me. Obi-Wan will have an English tea and…daddy will just take some plain hot water. No lemon. His stomach can’t handle the acidity this early anymore. Thanks!”
The waitress looks to Qui-Gon for confirmation.
“Yes, that’ll be all,” the older man says with a long-suffering sigh.
When the waitress walks away, Anakin lets his laughter bubble up, but he reaches across the table to cradle Qui-Gon’s hand in both of his own to make up for it. Obi-Wan leans into Qui-Gon’s side and kisses the older man sweetly on the cheek.
“I guess I look that old now,” Qui-Gon laments.
“Nonsense, you look very handsome, dear,” Obi-Wan comforts, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair back behind Qui-Gon’s ear.
Anakin rubs his ankle subtly against Qui-Gon’s. “We like you that way, daddy,”
“Oh, for Force’s sake,” Qui-Gon admonishes in good humor, but he squeezes Anakin’s hand anyways.
---
Part 2
These are just meant to be light-hearted and funny! Hope you enjoyed 💖
Question though, is it QuiObiAni in your head? or QuiObikin????
#mischievouschan4 writes#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#qui gon jinn#quiobiani#quiobikin#wip wednesday#5+1#drabbles#misunderstandings#fluff#sw fanfiction#is she cute or is she silly#i can't tell
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Kinktober Day One// Qui Gon Jinn X Reader
Day one prompt: 69 // Dirty Talk Qui gon Jinn X Reader
Warnings: AFAB Reader (no pronouns used), P in V sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos), creampie,Teasing, Dirty talk (obviously), Bad Grammar, Bad writing
Word Count: 750
DID YOU MISS ME BITCHES?! We are back and doing kinktober for the first time! I am sorry for being so inactive, but I finally have my life together enough to write again (seriously I just had like the biggest mental block ANYWAYS) I’m following the prompt list from @the-purity-pen and will be doing my best to post daily but no promises! Thank you for your patience and support while I got my groove back I love you all!
His breath fans hot against your neck, his sweat-slicked skin pressed against your back and the weight of his hard and heavy cock trapped between your bodies makes your head go dizzy with need. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in it’s wake and you can’t help but close your eyes, at peace in his arms.
“Now, Now my sweet one, you can’t be done yet?” He coos in that low rumbling voice of his. His words oh so mocking but his voice ever so sweet. Through the lusty fog of your mind you feel yourself lazily shake your head, letting your neck loll back onto Qui Gon’s shoulder. You fell the vibrations of his chuckle against your back and he presses a kiss to the crook of your exposed neck. “Good. I hate to think I’ve worn you out already?”
You wanted to make some kind of sarcastic quip, to tease about how of course your not tired after the two previous orgasms Qui Gon had rung from your body, but it seems all the snark has left you, replaced with overwhelming desire for him. For now, you just take Qui gon’s large, calloused hands in yours and drag them up your body, over your thighs, across your stomach, and up to squeeze your breasts. You let out a soft whimper as his thumbs graze your nipples, letting your own hands fall back down now that he’s got the message.
“It’s all right my little Star, I’ll give you what you need.” One hand leaves your chest to settle on your hip, gently nudging you lay on your back. Qui Gon slots himself between your spread thighs, his arms cadging around your head and his long hair falling like a curtain around you, shutting out the outside world and all of her problems.
“You always look so gorgeous like this,” He whispers, his fingers trailing down your cheek ever so softly, and your eyes flutter shut under his intense stare. “Legs spread for me, dripping onto the sheets and barely able to string together a sentence.” you feel your face heat even more at his dirty words.
“Qui Gon,” You whine, snaking a hand down between your bodies to grasp his thick, aching cock. “Please.” You load the word with all the longing and passion you have inside of you, hoping that by some fancy Jedi miracle he could sense it and give into your need.
“Alright.” He sighs, tilting your chin up to him and pressing the upmost softest kiss to your lips as he helps you guide his cock into your aching heat. “Oh Maker,” he sighs against your lips. “You feel exquisite.”
His hand travels down across your body, fingertips tracing over every inch of you before coming to rest on your hip. His strong grasp helps you set a rhythm, pulling your hips against his. “That's it, just like that.” It’s remarkable how all it takes are his words, the cadence of his voice and suddenly you’re putty in his hands, nothing inside you but that slowly building fire of pleasure in your gut that Qui Gon strokes with every stroke of his cock.
“More,” You beg, clawing his back, pulling him closer as he slowly grinds into you.
“More? My, where have your manners gone?”
“Please!” You practically cry. With a satisfied smile, Qui Gon’s thrusts speed up, his rough, calloused fingers coming down to rub gentle circles in your clit. That fire of pleasure burns within you, building up and up until you feel like it will consume you.
“What’s wrong my little star, are you getting close?” You nod frantically and his ministrations on your clit speed up. He leans closer to whisper right in your ear, his smooth easy voice like a drug. “Then be good and come for me.”
All it takes is his words and suddenly white-hot pleasure engulfs you, your body clenches around him, arching up into him and you cry out in ecstasy. “That's it,” He says again, working you through your orgasm until you push his hand off of your clit.
“Where do you want me, darling?” He asks, breathless, a flush creeping up his face and neck.
“Inside!” You beg, holding him tighter. With a few rough thrusts and a final sigh, Qui Gon fills you up with his seed.
You place a peck on his freckled shoulder as you both catch your breathes. “Thank you, Qui Gon.” You say with a sleepy satisfied smile.
“Anything for you, my little star.” He says before giving you another loving kiss.
Tag list (Note: I am using my regular taglist as of right now, if you dont want to be tagged let me know I may make a separate kinktober tag list!) @rentskenobi @mysteryofkokoro @highpriestessrebek @sarapixieelliott08 @princessxkenobi @dexthtoyounglings @book-hoardingdragon @cosmic-rich @laserbrains @hugmekenobi @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @obiknights
#kinktober#star wars#starwars#qui gon#qui gon jinn#qui gon x reader#qui gon fan fic#fan fic#star wars fan fic#qui gon smut#qui gon jinn smut#qui gon jinn x reader#fluff#smut#x reader#star wars x reader
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Some more Big bro Quin vibes.
#disaster liniage#padawan brothers#padawan kenobi#padawan quinlan vos#Quinlan Vos#Qui Gon Jinn#tholme#Shadow Liniage#Fluff#star wars#baby jedi#obi wan kenobi#baby Jedi besti
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Ahsoka has known the Force to be a little too involved in her personal life;
She didn't think it would go so far as to give her a second chance.
(AKA, through something she likes to assume is the Force's meddling hand, thirty three year old Ahsoka meets nine year old Anakin. Their story hasn't ended, in fact, it's barely begun.)
look!! ab still remembers how to write star wars fic!!
#star wars#clone wars#prequel trilogy#ahsoka tano#anakin skywalker#obi-wan kenobi#qui-gon jinn#plo koon#ahsoka tano and plo koon#ahsoka tano and anakin skywalker#fluff#angst#ahsoka tano and qui-gon jinn#ahsoka tano and obi-wan kenobi
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I would like to recommend the series Shoulder the Sky by @shootingstarpilot on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/series/2948259.
A beautiful, angst filled, fic featuring Obi-Wan and the 212th. Codywan, definitely a slow-burn. I have laughed, I have cried, I have yelled at my screen in despair, and re-read the whole thing more than once to feel the raw emotions again. Truly a masterpiece!
HOLY HECK IN A HANDBASKET this is a MASSIVE series! We all know I love angst, and a slow burn, and CODYWAN? Like YES let's MAKE ME FEEL MY FEELINGS! Let them look at one another longingly.
Thanks so much for the rec!
Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)
#FANDOM FRIDAY#creator appreciation#fic rec#star wars#the clone wars#tcw#obi-wan kenobi#commander cody#marshal commander cody#qui-gon jinn#mace windu#anakin skywalker#212th attack battalion#commander cody x obi-wan kenobi#codywan#cody x obi-wan kenobi#slow burn#angst#fluff
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Fireworks *part 2* (Master Qui-Gon x KnightReader)
Note: Read Love’s In Our Hearts On Life Day *part 1* first to get an idea of what’s going on.
Summary: After a truly wonderful Life Day, it’s time to celebrate the new year with your recently expanded family. What better of a way to do so then with sipping on some hot cocoa and watching the New Year Fete fireworks all together. Happy New Year!
Warnings: Contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff!
Other Notes: I changed the ages for the boys, Anakin is 9 and Obi is 14.
New Year’s Fete Week is the first five days of the year (according to the Galactic Standard Calendar) and is a five-day festival that celebrates the new year.
New Year’s Day, the first dawn of the year. A time of renewal and fresh starts. The moment when we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new…by celebrating with those we care for the most.
“Dear one, what are you trying to do?” Qui-Gon asked, an amused look on his handsome face as he slowly stirred the simmering pot.
“I’m trying to get the thermos to put our hot chocolate in, but someone not only put it up too high…they also hid my step stool!” You sighed exasperatedly, standing on your tip toes.
Reaching above your head, Qui plucked the aforementioned thermos from the top shelf with ease. “That’s because someone doesn’t want to see the two of you get hurt.”
Taking the bottle from him, you jokingly rolled your eyes. “My, aren’t we the overprotective one.”
Wrapping his arm around your waist, Qui-Gon pulled you in close beside him. “Only when it comes to very precious cargo,” he muttered, rubbing your small bump affectionately.
“Oh, Qui,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the bottom of his jaw. “You know, we still have some time before-”
Your words were abruptly cut short as two overly excited kiddos called out from the next room.
“Mom! Dad! The fireworks are starting soon!” Came Obi-Wan’s crackling voice.
“Yeah! We don’t want to miss a single minute!” Followed by Anakin’s higher pitched one.
You each exchanged a small, knowing smile. Life hadn’t been quite the same since you had adopted Ani, the child “too old to be trained”. It was hectic and a tad overwhelming at times, but Qui and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Because nothing compared to a house filled with so much love and joy.
“Hold that thought,” Qui-Gon said softly, his hand sliding down to your hip and giving it a gentle squeeze…making you giggle.
Turning his head to the side, he shot a simple reply over his shoulder. “We’ll be there in a few moments!”
“Yeah! We’re just finishing up a little surprise for you two!” You added playfully, unscrewing the lid.
The sound of fast approaching footfalls could be heard thundering down the hall.
“Now you’ve done it,” Qui chuckled. Shutting off the burner, he quickly poured the steaming concoction into the bottle and screwed the cap back on. Just in time for the rowdy pair to come stampeding into the tiny kitchen, both bundled up and ready to go.
“Surprise?!” Ani giddily asked.
“I smell chocolate!” Obi enthusiastically exclaimed.
“Hmm, maybe,” you hummed, as you finished filling a container of cookies. “You’ll have to wait and see.”
A joint “aw, man” is what you heard in return.
“Oh, it’s not that bad,” you teased, carefully packing the goodies into your bag. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Your mother is right,” Qui-Gon chimed in, pulling his coat on. “And, with that said, let’s be on our way.”
Ani and Obi each let out a small cheer, before running out the back door and into the freshly, fallen snow.
Draping your shawl over your shoulders, Qui-Gon murmured. “Shall we, darling?”
Placing a loving hand on your stomach, you happily replied. “Yes, let’s go celebrate the new year with all three of our boys.”
#qui gon jinn#qui gon#qui gon jinn x reader#qui gon x reader#star wars qui gon#sw qui gon#qui gon fluff#qui gon jinn fanfiction#qui gon fanfiction#star wars#star wars prequels#star wars fluff#star wars fanfiction#obi wan#obi-wan#anakin#fluff#happy new year#new year#qui-gon jinn#qui-gon#qui-gon jinn x reader#qui-gon x reader
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The Guardian
Chapter 4: Arrival (Part 1)
Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader
Warnings: mention of slavery, mention of character deaths, reference to life-threatening danger, sleep deprivation, sorrow, angst, stern Mace, fluff, banter, some reader/Anakin bonding :) and worried Obi :(
Summary: The days leading up to your arrival have been cumbersome for both you and Anakin— the two of you struggle together with these life-altering changes thrust in front of you by the Galaxy. As the group reaches Coruscant, new revelations are made that further urge Obi-Wan to meet with The Council as soon as possible: to discuss your discovery, and its consequences.
Song Inspo: Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up) — Florence + The Machine
Words: 6.1K
A/n: Ahhhh!! You all are so lovely. Hope you like this chapter. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments (and message if you'd like to be on the taglist!)
Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
Series Masterlist
Hibernation is a covert preparation for a more overt action — Ralph Ellison
“A war…”
Anakin’s hand loosely tilted a throttle lever to the right as the shuttle approached Coruscant only a few thousand kilometers away. Its spherical body crept into the viewport like a loth-cat poised for attack while your voice filled the cabin.
The peaceful lull of space gave the young Jedi a moment to glance back at the conversation taking place. He looked beyond Ahsoka, who was cozied up in the shuttle seat directly behind him, legs thrown over an armrest and a Datapad resting comfortably against her knees. As she typed away, you sat beside her quizzically, eyes fixed in an aimless direction with a cheek resting gently on your fingertips in thought.
You’d inquired twelve hours into the trip about galactic events that occurred during your last ten years of total isolation, and it took the remaining two days for Obi-Wan to provide you with a very abbreviated version. The wise Jedi spent much time on The Order’s growth throughout the years and various blips in the peace, like the Invasion of Naboo. Only in the last few hours did he arrive at the topic of the Separatist war. Your shock at being for so long completely unaware of the galactic battles taking place was palpable.
Anakin delved deeper into his memories of the last few days in this cramped, rickety shuttle as it traversed from the Outer Ring across the galaxy. Specifically, those late nights in which he chose to keep the ship off autopilot and fly it manually, long after Master Kenobi and Ahsoka had fallen asleep in the back.
In the dimmed lighting, his mind still rushed with questions about your discovery. He had anxiety about what your sudden appearance in his life meant, and frustrations from not being informed of your existence. So Anakin decided it would be easier to manipulate the bird’s mechanisms himself. To keep his mind from wandering too far into further misgivings.
On both such quiet evenings, he recalled your restlessness. You shuffled aimlessly in the rear cabin, from your back to your side, and after a few seconds, to your stomach with a defeated plonk. Eventually, after many noisy readjustments, he’d hear an exasperated sigh before you’d roll over and rise to your feet. He’d sense you quietly sneak up behind the co-pilot’s seat and, each night, you’d unceremoniously plop down beside him, leaning back with arms crossed and staring out the viewport as if it was just the lullaby you’d needed.
He’d peer at you, noticing your subtly sunk in eyes, before once again making the same comment.
“Can’t sleep?”
“Yeah.”
And after a few drawn-out moments filled with only the silent hum of the shuttle’s engines, he’d ask a question. Nothing grandeur or serious. Just anything to lead to a conversation. To pass the time.
“Have you ever thought about where you’d want to visit? After leaving Hoth?” He spoke lowly.
And your head cocked with an imaginative gaze stuck ahead before answering with a small smile.
“I’ve always wanted to play grav-ball, and I’ve heard Nubia has some of the best teams. So probably there.”
Anakin nodded approvingly. “Coruscant has them too.”
And your smile widened as you twisted toward him. “Really?”
Then your interest was piqued. And you’d continue the conversation or make some completely unrelated, lighthearted query. Either way, the two of you would talk for hours during those calm nights in the old, decrepit shuttle.
It was during these late-night talks, that Anakin had the chance to uncover more of who you were. He brushed away at your sentiments, uncovering your interests like hidden gems while simultaneously sharing his own. The both of you seemed to have a great deal in common.
And that helped ease his mind.
Anakin turned back to the controls to prepare the shuttle for approach as it neared the planet’s gravitational pull, shutting off the main ion drives.
“And the Jedi as Generals? Controlling an army of clones?”
He watched as you shook your head and sighed, pressing your lips together as if mourning a memory.
“I always thought The Order was built to preserve peace in the Galaxy. Qui-Gon always made that clear. The Jedi were protectors, not stokers of conflict.”
“The Jedi have always been and will prevail as keepers of the peace.” Obi-Wan clarified.
His stance held firm behind the co-pilots seats, leaning against it with arms crossed as he analyzed your reactions carefully.
“We act in this war to do just that. The cohesiveness and strength of The Republic would be destroyed if The Separatist Alliance remained. You know as well as most from your studies that an existence like The Old Republic would act as an open cut to agents of the Dark Side.”
Anakin noticed as your eyes misted over in a dazed fashion.
“Forces like Maul…” You murmured.
Exhaling soberly, Anakin digested your solemn expression. Watching your mind struggle to process this newfound mountain of information was bringing back his own troubling memories from his youth. He never was the strongest enthusiast for change, and some of the most extreme adjustments he’d made involved similar exposure to newly dire circumstances. Whether that be learning he’d be hungry for another day, or of some plan to sell him off to another slave owner like cheap merchandise.
As a boy, he found himself best distracted from these circumstances by a new tinkering project, or by those rare moments of frivolity in such tumultuous times.
Yet here he was, already focusing his mind on fiddling with the outdated shuttle in front of him as he had done for the past few days. An expression of levity seemed to be the next logical step, he thought.
“Well, remember?” He grinned at you lightheartedly. “You don’t need to worry about him anymore. Master Kenobi put him in his place.”
Anakin observed as the corner of your mouth twitched upwards, stirring his own to take a wider stance. The momentary lift in your spirits was short-lived, although, as your lost eyes lifted from the floor, disoriented by your mind.
“It’s almost poetic.” You mused, a rueful chuckle falling from your lips. “The very beings my Master protected me from destroyed him in the end.”
Anakin glanced at Obi-Wan who stroked his beard inquisitively as he mulled over your words in profound concentration. His narrowed gaze briefly met Anakin’s as if searching his irises for an answer to some distant, dubious puzzle.
The former Padawan raised a brow at his Master’s countenance, silently asking what he did to warrant such an expression. Then, Obi-Wan’s lips abruptly parted in realization as he spun back toward you. Anakin took that as his cue to refocus his energy on the rapidly approaching planet whose gravitational field pulled them forward, marking the bird at only a hundred kilometers away.
“Qui-Gon did protect you…” Obi-Wan suspired earnestly as if hearing his own words for the very first time.
He gesticulated with a hand. “His final moments, his face, is forever etched into my mind.”
Kenobi’s sentence broke off. The pensive Jedi opened and closed his mouth a few times while he formulated his thoughts, as if questioning the significance of each word.
“In the thousands of times I’ve gone over his death, I was always taken by the complete peace, the confidence, with which he entered The Force.”
He paused once more, lips tugged upward and eyes glossed in wonder.
“It was because of you.”
Anakin spun fully around, facing the two of you as Obi-Wan dotted that final claim. He noticed your head shoot up at them from its lulled position.
“What do you mean?” You inquired, your eyes adrift in a sea of perceptible perturbation.
“Yeah, what do you mean?” Anakin piped up bewildered.
He prayed to the Maker that his former Master wasn’t in any way implying that you had anything to do with his Qui-Gon’s death.
Yet Obi-Wan was undeterred by the assortment of sentiments swirling around him.
“When he first discovered that Maul was a Sith.” He began excitedly. “He must have realized the threat to you. Yes, he was protecting you from the Sith for most of your life, but The Order hadn’t encountered them for a thousand years. And yet, he appeared before Qui-Gon on Tatooine, and then…Naboo.”
Obi-Wan exhaled, letting his arms fall to each side as you leaned forward, watching him intently with hands now clasped firmly beneath your jaw.
Anakin could tell that your silver stare intimated even his former Master. He watched as the Master Negotiator not so subtly eyed the hull’s roof to escape your gaze.
“It is possible, that tracking you down was part of Maul’s mission. He may have discovered your connection to Qui-Gon.”
Kenobi sighed, stroking his chin. “Our former Master likely came to the same conclusion.”
Anakin saw as Obi-Wan’s eyes fell to connect intensely with yours, a smile lingered on the bearded Jedi’s features as his eyes creased in tranquility.
“You should find solace in the fact that you made his final moments most comforting. His death ensured that the Sith would never discover your whereabouts. I’m sure that gave him peace.”
For the first time today, Anakin registered a twinkle in your radiantly silver eyes as you silently thanked the older Jedi with a lift in your cheeks, leaning back into your seat comfortably.
The Chosen One glanced between the two of you as the gaze held. He knew Qui-Gon’s death weighed heavily on Kenobi’s soul. It strongly influenced his choices on the battlefield, and stuck to him like Chewstim during meditation sessions. Yet Anakin rarely heard Obi-Wan discuss the experience. Let alone with serenity blooming from his features like a Tarisian rose that had just escaped a long, winter hibernation.
Your mutual connection to Qui-Gon seemed to help heal these old wounds, and Anakin was grateful for that.
“Enough with the sappiness, Master,” Anakin exclaimed with a lively lilt, breaking the tension as he spun back toward the shuttle’s controls.
Obi-Wan shot Anakin an annoyed look. The teasing Jedi pushed a throttle lever down before programming the shuttle for atmospheric reentry on the left control set.
“I think Silvey would much rather take in our arrival.”
Anakin didn’t need to reach into the force to sense your amused brow’s rapid surge upwards. Obi-Wan stepped around the co-pilot’s seat, shaking his head in surrender as he settled into the chair, smoothing out his robe on either side.
“You sure know how to ruin a moment, Sky-Guy.” Ahsoka pipped up.
Her gaze remained fixed on the Datapad. Yet her comment only amplified his mischievousness.
“Silvey?” Anakin heard you question with feigned indignation as he entered the final commands into the shuttle interface, engaging the secondary thrusters.
The spirited Jedi snatched the navigational lever, pushing it down to lead the craft into Coruscant’s exosphere before glancing over his shoulder at your postured displeasure. He smirked as your eyes met, forcing a dampened smile to surface on your own countenance.
“Hey, don’t blame me! I could spot your silver eyes from a million parsecs away. It’s only fitting.” He defended.
Then, a particularly tantalizing observation entered his thoughts.
“Would you prefer Shorty?”
You chucked darkly, squinting at The Chosen One with a challenging glare as he brought the shuttle’s nose into a deeper dive.
Your lips pursed upwards. “If looks could kill, Anakin. If looks could kill…”
The pilot beamed at your playful remark. “Well, at least take a break from stabbing me with those freakishly sparkly things.” He quipped, waving you away. “You’re missing the view.”
Out of the corner of his focused stare, Anakin observed your head rise. You were immediately taken by Coruscant’s giant mass, a faded blue and gray planet with billions of lights forming golden circles that were interconnected like a geometric map. Your mouth loosened in astonishment with each glossy orb stuck to the viewport. He noticed you lean forward, as if pulled by some unknown force, resting your elbows on each knee with your chin fitted on clasped hands.
Satiated by your raised spirits, Anakin refocused on the throttle, pushing it down further to bring the shuttle into Coruscant’s baby blue troposphere. The ship began to quiver as the hull took the brunt of the friction.
For a few turbulent seconds, his vision was blocked by the vast array of rounded, white clouds. The cabin’s heat intensified as the edges of the viewport started to burn a fiery red.
But soon, the shuttle broke through the white veil’s final wisps, displaying the towering cityscape, which rolled like jagged hills and consumed the viewport. The sun was beginning its final crawl to dusk, filling the sky with a deep orange fire whose smoke billowed into dark blues and purples. The streams of light illuminated the busy skylanes, resembling the endless march of Endorian ant colonies. They brought life to Coruscant’s still landmarks.
“It’s beautiful.”
Anakin covertly peaked at you, registering the astonishment plastered on your face. He assumed for a being that’s only known endless snow banks and harsh winters all their life, that this experience would be terribly intimidating, terrifying even.
He thought back briefly to ten years prior. When he first came to Coruscant, he was petrified. Scared of this new environment. Of this added drastic change to his life.
But he was mostly afraid for his mother. For her fate back on Tatooine. Under Watto’s thumb, only to be bought by Lars, and then…
It permeated his being. Haunted him for years. Pulled at his heart with the constant mass of a planet, swinging like a pendulum with each reminder, each ache. And, still, he carries it with him today. But now, with a deeper anger. A stronger guilt.
But you seemed to take it all in with grace.
And Anakin admired that.
The Temple swiftly grew into view as the shuttle descended. The heat surrounding the hull began to recede. Anakin rolled the lever, bringing the shuttle in for a curved landing. He aligned the ship with one of the protruding hangars, the whole of which he believed resembled an upside-down lollipop. At least when he was a youngling.
After thumbing a few buttons on the control panel to release the landing gear, Anakin pressed the lever down, encouraging the craft to speed to the circular platform nose first. He turned the throttle once more to the right, slowing the ship by aligning its door with the hangar entrance, allowing for a slow, final descent.
The ship jostled slightly as it met the landing pad, signaling Anakin to begin a systems-wide power down, staring at the main control panel.
Another happy landing.
As he flicked off the last switch to power down the engines, Anakin felt an audible rumble from within, compelling him to focus on the sudden ache in his stomach.
It had been a while since he had a good meal with the back-to-back missions and low stock of ration bars. Not that he ever considered that bantha fodder food.
Usually after a long away mission, he would grab a speeder from The Temple and take a quick trip to the Senate Building. He’d roam the halls nonchalantly, chest puffed to signal an air of importance, like he had a very official reason to be there. Then, he would ‘aimlessly’ stroll to Padmé’s office.
Once he arrived with a covert knock at the door, Padmé would welcome him inside with a warmhearted smile. He would then spend some time resting on one of her guest seats meant for senatorial colleagues, attempting to entertain himself with the mechanisms of his saber’s hilt. But it wasn’t long until he began to distract Padmé from her work, eventually convincing her to call it an early night. The two of them would grab a meal in her spacious Coruscanti apartment that overlooked The Temple from a few miles away. But he was never intrigued by that view. His eyes remained fixed on her.
Yet despite all this daydreaming, Skywalker knew his wife was still on Naboo, managing the consequences of donating a vast array of medical supplies to another planet. Her responsibilities on her home world exponentially swelled in the last few months, so he wasn’t entirely sure when he’d next see her.
No one knew when they’d see each other next during wartime. Or if they would ever meet again.
If these musings indicated anything, it was that Anakin eagerly hoped to spend some downtime with the people he was closest to. No war planning. No cargo transports. No battle charges. Just a nice meal and entertaining conversation. And he knew just who he wanted to spend that time with.
Anakin stood, stretching his arms into a spin just in time to witness the very person he hoped to talk to swing her legs back over the seat they were sprawled out on before jumping up and charging for the door.
“What’s got you in such a rush?” He called after Ahsoka as she jostled the shuttle door open.
The orange light of the setting sun invaded the ship with a jolt, casting large shadows on the scattered groups of hangar workers, the closest of which approached the ship to take it off Anakin’s hands once the final three passengers exited.
She leaped out, landing delicately on the tips of her toes before turning into a backward jog.
“If I don’t finish this physics paper by midnight, Master Plo Koon is gonna kill me!” She yelled, shaking her datapad in the air. “Catch you later!”
Anakin’s gaze followed her sprinting form down the hangar’s walkway until she disappeared into the inner bay behind a small cruiser.
“Ok.” Anakin huffed before facing the two remaining Jedi with a grin. “At least the three of us can grab dinner.”
He rubbed his hands together in anticipation.
“I’m afraid the two of you will have to enjoy without me,” Obi-Wan admitted as he glanced at Anakin. “The Council likely planned an emergency meeting concerning the recall of the Jedi from the front lines. I need to check in immediately.”
Anakin’s smile faltered. He inwardly groaned at Kenobi’s resolute dedication to rules and regulations. He was sure The Council could have waited half an hour, but Anakin knew Obi-Wan’s mind was set.
Obi-Wan twisted on his heels to face you. “I will also inform them about you.”
“Shouldn’t I be there then?” You questioned.
All hope of eating with one of his traveling companions drained from Anakin’s spirit. Maybe he could meet with one of them later instead, he thought. He supposed he could put off food for a bit, perhaps continue on that pilot droid project he hadn’t had a chance to work on for a while. But then he’d probably need to take a quick trip to Level 1782. Last time Anakin checked, he was low on spare parts.
“No,” Obi-Wan claimed.
Skywalker’s ears perked at that.
“That will not be necessary. They will likely need to confer without your presence for now.”
You silently agreed as Anakin internally sighed in relief.
Obi-Wan nodded to the both of you before turning to the hangar walkway, hurriedly traipsing toward his exit.
Anakin took a more leisurely pace in the same direction as you followed behind. An uncomfortable silence took hold as he guided the both of you into the inner hangar. The bustling noise of your surroundings amplified the awkwardness as the two of you closed in on the larger groups of hangar workers, barking out loud commands and using various tools, like sonorously whirring drills, to update or fix the conglomerate of crafts that idly scattered the zone.
Anakin felt his nose begin to tickle, perhaps from distant smoke. But he was too worried that it may prolong the uncomfortably fresh turf between the two of you if he tried to scratch it.
“So…” You spoke somewhat unsure of yourself. “What is there to do that’s fun around here?”
Anakin’s whole body froze, stopping dead in his tracks from eager surprise as if he were caught in a carbon-freezing chamber. He spun toward you, immediately seizing your shoulders with a steady clasp.
“What did you say?” He asked intently, excitement radiating up his spine and diffusing to his fingertips.
He observed your figure stiffen slightly at his agile animation. You raised a questioning brow as you opened your mouth with a hesitant pause, seemingly unsure if you should ask again.
“Do Jedi raised in The Order…not do anything….leisurely?”
The confident Jedi chuckled coolly while throwing an arm around your shoulder as you both exited the hanger into The Temple, pivoting to stroll down the hall opposite from Obi-Wan’s trail.
“I think we are going to get along very well, Silvey.” He hummed self-assuredly.
You rolled your eyes. “Not if you keep calling me that.”
“I promise you, you’re not gonna mind that nickname after I show you one of the most leisurely activities on all of Coruscant.” He assured.
You glanced at Anakin with lifted features. “But I thought you were hungry.” You teased
Anakin scoffed. “Food can wait. Now, tell me, Silvey.” Anakin dreamed as he patted your shoulder. “Did Qui-Gonn ever tell you about the Wicko District?”
—
General Kenobi maintained his nimble gait down the primary walkway to the High Council Chamber. His robes billowed as he passed an abundance of lounging Jedi, some conversing to the sides or keeping a moderate pace as they made their way to an unknown destination on either side of him.
Soon into his journey, Obi-Wan crossed paths with his old mentor Master Cin Drallig, followed by a group of twelve rowdy younglings whose voices bounced off the temple walls. Maybe they were asking questions, or telling a story, but the bearded Jedi couldn’t tell. Each utterance overlapped like a cacophony of crashing speeders.
Yet almost immediately, they noticed his presence, twirling away from each other to respectfully greet one of their long-held role models.
“Hello, Master!”
“Hello, younglings.” General Kenobi smiled.
He looked back to Master Dralli, catching his tired, yet fulfilled stare. They each exchanged a dutiful, yet brisk nod before continuing on their respective paths.
Obi-Wan always felt dwarfed by the massive olive-gray pillars that buttressed The Temple’s lofty ceilings. As a youngling, the golden archways seemed to stretch out endlessly in each direction, giving the effect of an infinite mirror when he passed under them. When he aged, however, Obi-Wan learned to better understand the structure’s finite nature, yet he was still taken by its capacious essence. Each hall resembled a palace built thousands of years ago by Mandallian Giants, specifically constructed for their wide gates and broad shoulders. And it would coax his imagination into its unyielding grasp.
He remembers spending too much time simply sitting crossed in these halls during his youth. The youngling would rest his eyelids to visualize the giants’ roaring tramps shake the coral- and lilac-marble floors in succeeding thundering booms.
As Obi-Wan turned a corner, tread crossing onto the ocean blue carpet of the inner Temple, he reminisced about the time Qui-Gon caught him red-handed in the middle of one of these fantasies. It was many years before the late Jedi took him on as a Padawan.
Qui-Gon would always engage with the younglings when possible. He had a habit of outwardly encouraging all initiates in their studies, especially those who struggled with their training and emotional discipline. But he would also silently approve those rare moments in which a young Jedi took a moment to themselves. Whether that be exploring the Coruscanti entertainment district, playing Sabacc, or Obi-Wan’s respite of choice, daydreaming.
With eyes shrouded in darkness, he could almost smell the sweaty towering creature. Its footsteps sounded like cracks of lighting, and he could feel the room’s imperceptible rise in temperature from the creature’s sudden presence. If he really focused, its colossal, green-muscled foot would nearly breach the void in his sight, creeping from the corner of his left eyelid. The hair on his arms prickled at the beast’s sudden proximity.
“Meditating are you?”
The young Kenobi’s eyes sprung open, cheeks reddening as his eyes locked with the wise Jedi before him.
“Uhh, yes…Master.”
And Qui-Gon simply smiled.
Obi-Wan’s worries momentarily lifted at the memory, delight gracing his features. But that instant disappeared from his mind as quickly as it arrived. The Jedi refocused on the task ahead, passing one of the large Sage Master statues that shined like freshly polished copper to his right as The Council meeting room entered his vision.
Just outside the Chamber door stood Master Windu, leaning with his arm against the wall beside him as he continued his deep discussion with Master Yoda, who rested in his flying chair. The two of them spoke softly, and from Windu’s creased brows, General Kenobi could tell that it was serious. A few groups of Jedi Masters similarly congregated around the door, talking lowly. Kenobi could sense heightened anxiety trailing the air.
As he approached, Obi-Wan caught the corner of Mace’s eye. He turned to General Kenobi, offering a curt nod at his arrival as Yoda reoriented his seat toward the newly arrived.
“Late you are, Master Kenobi.”
“I apologize for the delay.” Obi-Wan relayed sincerely. “Our shuttle experienced some unexpected complications.”
Yoda hummed deeply at Obi-Wan’s words, indicating his acceptance of this explanation to Mace before taking his chair on a measured stroll down the walkway, back in the direction from whence Obi-Wan came. Windu and Kenobi shortly followed in step.
“The Council has already met to discuss the issue of recalling the Jedi.” Master Windu began as the trio ambled down the hallway. “We have suffered a communications incursion by the Separatists.”
Obi-Wan was astounded, brows furrowing in confusion as he absentmindedly rubbed his jaw.
“A breach in our secure transmissions…How is that possible?” He exclaimed.
“Unsure, we are,” Yoda answered. “Investigate, our specialists will.”
Mace addressed the troubled Jedi. “A number of troops stationed in obscure outer regions of multi-planetary battle sites were ambushed in the last few weeks. The only way they could have been discovered would be if their COMMs were tapped into. It is possible that the Separatists have somehow obtained some of our transmitter codes or found some other flaw in the communications system. Because we cannot use our wrist comms or holopads to send sensitive information to communicate this development, we’ve recalled the Jedi.”
“Continue the battles, the clones will. Send out Jedi temporarily with verbal directions for troops, we must.
“Until communications are secured.” Windu clarified. “The 212th and 501st have already received new instructions for a less critical mission on Aleen.”
Obi-Wan hummed in contemplation. “And how long do you believe this situation will last?”
Mace exhaled. “We won’t know until technicians look further into the issue. But it may be weeks, months.”
Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he ruminated about this concerning development. He trusted Commander Cody with his life, but still knew it would be difficult for the 212th to address more delicate missions in the near future without timely information from The Temple or even inter-troop comms.
“Concerned, we all are,” Yoda reassured, likely sensing General Kenobi’s unease.
“The Council will be informing all active Jedi in the Great Hall tomorrow morning. Make sure Anakin and his Padawan are present. And here.”
Windu reached into the right pocket of his robe, pulling out what Obi-Wan thought was a wrist comm, yet it seemed bulkier. An extra layer of wiring was hidden in an additional panel stuck underneath the control layer. Most notable was the thin, silver line of steel that encircled the device, something the General hadn’t seen on a comm before. He took it, feeling the mass in his palm. It felt cold, heavy, with a rusted button and weak indicator light.
He thought it ancient.
“It’s a comm from the old Temple emergency system. It’s completely separate from our current communications system so messages from these devices to regular comms will be secure. There are only enough for one per council member.”
Obi-Wan thanked the Master as he switched his current wrist link with the replacement, placing the former in his robe’s pocket.
“Still careful, we must be.”
Mace added. “Only use it to ask for meetings, not to share sensitive data.”
Obi-Wan nodded. “On the topic of sensitivity, I must inform you of a development.”
He breathed deeply, exhaling in a short burst as he gathered his complicated memories about you to present to The Council leaders.
“In our delay, Anakin, his Padawan, and I were on Hoth for a short time, where we met a being living alone on the planet’s surface.”
The two Jedi Masters listened intently as he continued.
“I discovered them to be a Gray Jedi, trained by Master Qui-Gonn himself. They claim to be The Guardian, a figure that is a part of The Chosen One prophecy, but was expected to be trained outside The Order. They are tasked with Anakin’s protection and guidance so that he may achieve his destiny. Their journey begins when dark forces threaten this fate.”
Mace’s eyes narrowed. “This is a bold claim, Master Kenobi. If anything, it sounds like a Separatist trick.”
Then, as soft as their nimble footfalls, Yoda uttered your name under his breath.
Obi-Wan’s head swiveled toward the Grand Master. “You know them?”
The shorter Jedi sighed, leaning back in his chair as his eyes glazed over in deep reflection.
“Gone, I thought they were, a long time ago.”
Mace’s brows raised as he turned to Yoda. “You know of this individual, Master?”
He nodded gravely, a light grunt resonated from his esophagus.
“Discovered them as an infant twenty-five years ago, I did. Kept a close eye on them, I had.” He sighed. “Killed by a dark power a year later, their parents were. Believed they died as well, I did.”
The Grand Master eyed General Kenobi carefully, as if the bearded Jedi made a mistake in his recollection.
“Interested to learn they are alive, I am.”
“A dark power…” Obi-Wan mused. “Master, do you believe a Sith may have been responsible? I have been theorizing that Maul’s presence on Tatooine could have had more than one motive.”
“Discovered their presence, you believe he did?”
“Yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “And their connection to Qui-Gon.”
He paused, counting the years in his head.
“But Maul would have been too young when their parents passed.”
“The rule of two…” Mace hummed.
“A Master, then.” Yoda declared.
“Then The Guardian’s presence suggests that Maul may not be the last Sith,” Windu revealed. “If it’s true that their appearance suggests a new threat from the Dark Side.”
“During the Battle of Geonosis, discovered that Dooku may be a Sith, I did.” Yoga established. “Great darkness, I sensed in him.”
“Then he is the Sith Lord?” Mace speculated.
Obi-Wan agreed. “He would have been quite capable of taking their parents’ lives over two decades ago.”
“It would also explain The Guardian’s survival, if Dooku’s late Padawan discovered his plans and partially thwarted them before they were carried out,” Mace suggested.
“Informed The Council, Qui-Gon would have, if believed Dooku was a Sith, he had. Much we still do not know, there is.”
Windu exhaled, placing his middle and index finger against his right temple and thinking deeply about his next words.
“I would like to meet this Guardian myself.” He gestured to Kenobi. “Tomorrow in the Sparring Arena after the Great Hall announcement. It is important for The Council to determine whether they have the necessary physical and mental abilities, and the appropriate connection to the Force, to be a Jedi Knight. To join The Order. Otherwise, leaving them outside the purview of The Order could have dire consequences. That is if they are even prepared to fulfill such a destiny after nearly a decade of isolation.”
“Of course, Master.” Obi-Wan acknowledged. “But from what little I’ve seen, they seem quite capable of holding their own.”
Windu’s stare held firm. “Respectfully, Master Kenobi, I will be the one to determine that.”
Obi-Wan’s gaze fell. “Understood.”
He didn’t take the Master’s tone personally. Windu’s conformist nature and deep dislike for any Jedi activity conducted beyond the domain of The Council likely made his discovery of The Guardian prophecy an unwelcome one. Obi-Wan only hoped that Master Windu would still treat you as any other Jedi when testing your abilities. He remembers the wise Master’s negative reaction to Anakin’s discovery, due to his age at the time Qui-Gon requested that he be trained. You were much older than 10-year-old Ani, so he was convinced that would pose a problem for the talented swordsman.
And this was not the best time for you to be meeting resistance from The Order that you trained your whole life to serve so to continue its millennia-long mission of preserving the peace through light. The Master Negotiator didn’t need to employ his strong conversation skills to discern how the past few days’ overwhelming changes had been affecting you. That, in addition to learning of your Master’s passing, had made you restless on the journey here. It was hard to ignore, even while he settled in repose each night, your twisted form which struggled to sleep.
He empathized with you deeply.
The General was also, in some measure, apprehensive about the inevitable clash of personalities. He found you kind, considerate, but also unafraid to speak your mind, or express your inner sentiments. He admired Master Windu since he was a boy, but his no-nonsense approach? His uncompromising mental discipline and austere lessons? It would surely cause a collision of temperaments.
“A different name, they must go by,” Yoda announced.
Obi-Wan’s gaze rose curiously at this. “Master?”
“Know they are alive, Dooku cannot.”
“Nor any other actor of the Dark Side. Nor the Separatists.” Windu interjected. “Their existence could pose a significant weakness to the Republic’s image of enduring peace and light. If Separatist forces discover The Guardian’s identity and purpose from their birth name, they may believe that the destruction of a specific Jedi could leave us vulnerable.”
He paused, turning to Yoda to verify his conclusions, who languidly blinked in concurrence.
Mace’s peer twisted back toward Kenobi. “If dark forces found them once through their birth name, they can again.”
The Grand Master nodded in agreement. “Destroy The Guardian, they may otherwise try.”
Obi-Wan’s heart dropped at the notion. It was clear that your identity needed to be protected from these powerfully dark forces, lest you meet the same fate as your parents.
If your mission was to guard and guide Anakin, his former Padawan, and dear friend, then the determined Jedi believed it to be his personal assignment to aid you in that destiny. Now he knew that hiding your identity to the best of his ability would be part of that task. The side of the light needed you, and Obi-Wan’s deep connection to it and his cavernous desire to continue Qui-Gon’s decades-long efforts meant only one thing— he needed to protect you too.
“Anakin gave them a nickname.” The General recalled, head tilted and eyes scanning up an idle column as he thought back. “Silvey, if memory serves.”
Windu's brows raised, unsurprised.
“Then Silvey they’ll remain,” he concluded.
Yoda hummed, his disconcertion bubbling to the surface with lips creased in a downward turn. “Their true name, only the three of us, Anakin, and little Ahsoka will know. Kept secret, their identity must be. Inform The Council of the prophecy, we shall, once communications are refortified. But within the council, it must stay.”
Master Windu mumbled in unanimity. “We must not entertain any notion of emerging Sith. Not among the Jedi, nor publicly.”
“I understand the delicacy of the situation and will act accordingly,” Obi-Wan assured.
The bearded Jedi halted, turning to the elders before leaning into a slight obeisance. The other Masters slowed to a halt.
“If you will excuse me, Masters, I hope to find my travel companions before they divulge any information about The Guardian’s identity.”
“May the Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” Windu stated as he bowed adieu, Yoda following suit from his floating chair.
And with that, Obi-Wan turned away to begin his search for you, Anakin, and Ahsoka.
As the General quickened his stride down that long, colossally immortal walkway, he wondered where he might find the three of you. Ahsoka was probably in the Jedi Archives around the corner, assuming she was continuing her work on that paper for Master Plo Koon. So he decided to start there. He assumed you and Anakin were stationed in the refectory closest to the hangar, remembering the previously mentioned dinner plans,
Or maybe it would be better to try the refractory first, Obi-Wan thought. If experience served true, Anakin would not stay silent about your discovery for long. He hastened his pace while mumbling these plans under his breath.
“Yes, the refractory first.”
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#anakin x reader#angst#fluff#obi wan and anakin#obi wan fanfiction#obi wan kenobi#obi wan my beloved#obi wan x oc#obi wan x reader#obi wan x y/n#anakin and ahsoka#ahsoka#star wars ahsoka#the clone wars#star wars the clone wars#mace windu#yoda#qui gon jinn#ahsoka tano#anakin x obi wan#anakin skywalker#obi wan x anakin#anakin and obi wan#star wars anakin#obi wan#prequels#star wars fanfiction#banter#jedi reader#jedi oc
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How would he treat you on your period . . .
Summary: How different Liam Neeson characters would care for you when you are having your period
Pairings: Qui-Gon Jinn x reader, Daniel (Love Actually) x reader, Bryan Mills (Taken) x reader
Warning: topical mention of periods (nothing graphic), F! reader, fluffy drabble
Qui-Gon Jinn (Star Wars)
Qui-Gon could sense it coming on before you, so he prepares
He makes sure to leave the Jedi temple early to meet you when you arrive home. He cooks you dinner and draws you a bath
He offers you space or cuddles depending on how you feel
To relax he braids your hair, and using your doe eyes on him, he turns his back to you so you can braid his hair
When you go to bed you can see he took the weighted blanket out from the linen closet and has a heating pad and glass of water at your bed side table
Qui-Gon offers you a spare pillow for your neck or back but you say to him, "your chest is the most comfortable spot to lay" and he obliges
He'll glide his hands up and down your arms until you drift off to sleep
Daniel (Love Actually)
Daniel is a bit out of practice with the inner workings of lady parts since his wife's passing and being a man in general (lol)
Before you are set to go over to his place he runs to the drug store to make the effort of welcoming you to the flat, but boy is he lost
He'll go up and down the feminine hygiene aisle with Sam looking like a lost puppy
"Aren't they all the same?" Sam would ask "You'd think, Sam-o, but somehow they are all slightly different," is all Daniel could respond with
After some time, he would just take a guess on a product he thinks he has seen in your purse and hopes for the best
Daniel will also ask Sam to run to the candy aisle and get a bag of what you like and Sam will come to the check out counter with five bags and say, "well she has one every month, and these are on sale"
When you arrive to his flat and see the grocery bags on the counter you tear up a bit and Daniel thinks he royally messed up but you pull him and Sam into a tight, gratitude filled hug
Bryan Mills (Taken)
For a man who is a former CIA agent and a rough exterior, he always has a soft spot for his girl, especially when you are feeling bloated or are hard on yourself
Bryan is not the 'comforting' type, however, he knows just his presence puts you at ease so he won't leave your side
You'll cling to him like a koala bear and all he can do is laugh it off since he secretly enjoys the closeness and not having to have his guard up with you
If you have trouble sleeping and reach for a benadryl tablet he will snag it out of your hands and read the drug facts on the side three times over before giving you the appropriate dosage. He is always cautious - especially when it comes to your well being
He'll offer a you a back or foot massage as you cozy up into bed, trying to be as helpful as he can to relive any tension you have knowing your cramps are out of his control
You opt to sleep in loose fitting shorts and one of his t-shirts and he loves it. There is something primal within him that loves to his girl wearing his clothes, dwarfing her frame
Before he can rest he makes sure nothing will disturb you through the night. Checking the thermostat, your alarm clock, drawing the blinds and cracking the window slightly. He breaths a sigh of relief to see you sound asleep and spoons you until morning
#liam neeson#liam neeson fan fiction#qui gon jinn#liam neeson x reader#liam neeson fan fic#qui gon jinn x reader#qui-gon jinn x reader#star wars#qui gon#love actually#love actually x reader#daniel x reader#taken#taken movie#bryan mills#bryan mills x reader#star wars fluff#neeson
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Insufferable, Love
I'm alive! Isn't it wonderful to be back? I've been here off and on but now I should be more present. Not back to what I used to be, but back nonetheless.
Enjoy this very quickly written fic idea I had like an hour ago and needed because I couldn't find it myself. So, this was born.
Insufferable, Love
A drabble series based before the Phantom Menace, after Qui Gon and Obi-Wan's time on Mandalore. Future Senators are difficult, especially when they're already high on the list of targets for the Separatists, but this one has more bark than bite and Obi-Wan finds himself trapped in her orbit.
1/?
Contains: First meetings, awkwardness, fxm
If you had said gaining a Jedi Master and his Padawan as bodyguards was an honor, you had been wrong.
For all that was good on Hosnium, it was not the overbearing, ridiculously protective Jedi that had been assigned to you. Your handmaids were perfectly capable of keeping you safe away from prying eyes.
Your eyes stare the pristine ship down with a set jaw. Having just landed, the ramp was unextended. It was sleek in design, out of place in the stone courtyard. The docking dome was beginning to extend, casting shadows to swallow your welcoming party.
You stand shoulder to shoulder with your father, King Consort, who has never looked more proud. He stands with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes glancing over his troops like a general looking for a hair out of place. He is no general.
The ramp extends, and you make quick work of sizing the middle-aged human Jedi that appears from the durasteel doors. He carries himself with an air of dignity, kingly. His eyes scan your little welcoming party, a smile gracing his features as he continues down the ramp.
Behind him a boy swaggers, the air of a soul riding a high that’s shattered. He doesn’t bother looking up at the crowd gathered, only keeping his eyes on the feet moving in front of him. So much so that he nearly runs into his master.
“Master Jinn, it’s an honor for you to come here,” Your father brushes past, knocking his shoulder against yours. A silent warning. Be respectful. He raises his head high, eyes tinkling. He stops short, a few feet from the ramp, and bows. You watch as the Jedi bow to him, and the three straighten up.
Your father turns back to the crowd, eyes zeroing in on yours. You stand, tilting your chin up as you gently nudge the two guards in front of you aside, stepping forward. Your cloak trails behind you, hands at your sides and making your skirt swish with every move. Your eyes look them over again, up close.
The boy’s head tugs up, and his mouth parts. If you had hit him, he would have been less surprised. You’re beautiful, even more so than his master had cautioned. You walk with the air of a queen, and yet you’re still so far from that title.
“Jedi Master, Qui Gon Jinn, and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Your father insists, his eyes warning as he looks at you. You come to stand next to him, bowing your head as you curtsied. “My precious daughter.”
“The pleasure is ours, your highness,” Qui Gon bows, body rigid. You have to smile, he knows his formalities. Perhaps this will not be as bad as you had thought.
“The pleasure is mine,” You insist, standing upright. Your eyes, immediately, land on two pools of blue staring at you. Your eyes tear themself away and back to the topic at hand, listening to your father feed Qui Gon the logistics of this, how grateful he is, and how much they will enjoy the planet on their stay.
“Please, come inside, let us show you your rooms-”
“One room, please.” Qui Gon says, and you watch the way the Padawan’s eyes go from round to squinting, as though annoyed at this. You purse your lips, eyes on your father. He opens his mouth, then he graces them with a tight-lipped smile.
“Of course, we should have commed ahead to check in with you,” He nods, ushering you with a hand back to the shelter of the guards, your feet stay rooted, eyes pinned on him. The bite to remind him that you outrank him is strong, to know that it will only be a few years and you’ll have his position.
You click your tongue, giving him a biting smile. His eyes grow with more warning as you turn and begin your march. One foot in front of the other as you stride between the line of soldiers, passing them by and walking into the doors by yourself.
Obi-Wan is young, and quite naive for a Jedi, but he knows one thing is certain. You, all of your royal glory included, are trouble.
#obi wan x reader#obi wan kenobi#obi wan x you#fanfic#drabble#fluff#RoyaltyReader#Qui Gon Jinn#Jedi#Master#Padawan#Hosnian Prime#Hosnian
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Phantoms of Glory - Chapter 5 - Everybody Ready, Raining Down Confetti (TPM) - Wattpad
Phantoms of Glory Chapter 5 - Everybody Ready, (TPM), a star wars fanfic | FanFiction
#star wars#star wars fanfiction#fanfiction#original characters#ahsoka's sister#anakin skywalker#anakin#jar jar binks#jar jar#qui-gon jinn#qui-gon#fluff#adventure#friendship#the phantom menace
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Your last Jinn fic made me think of Qui-Gon appearing regularly to his namesake as a force ghost, partially to keep her company while her father is away and her mom is busy, and partially because they both share a similar eye roll view of Obitine 😂
So if you ever need a prompt 👀👀👀
A/n: definitely skipped ahead of the long line of prompts to answer this one buuuuuut I almost immediately had a story in mind when I saw this. I hope it works for you, I tried to make it as plausible as possible while sticking to the prompt.
- Connections -
Breathe in, breathe out.
If she were being honest, meditation was not something Jinn Kenobi-Kryze found particularly enjoyable. For as long as she could remember her father had done his due diligence in teaching her the importance of doing so. How meditation forged a deeper connection with the force.
She's never had any real inclination to follow the same path of her father. The Jedi Order was something she held deep respect for - she loved many people who were part of it - but she knew it was not the place for her. She was much more suited for politics than combat. The people of Mandalore was where her heart resided.
But despite all of her desires, she was still connected to the force, and thus had a duty to that as well. She could not turn her back on one anymore than she could the other.
There was a spot she preferred over any other for meditation; one her mother would certainly scold her for should she find out. A small alcove located on top of one of the buildings peaks. It gave her a birds eye view of the gardens, which also happened to be her favorite part of Sundari Palace. It was inaccessible unless one was willing to scale the side of the building, an action she had no qualms about doing.
The air is thick with the scent of blooming lilies; a cool breeze brushing over her exposed skin. In the distance the evening sun had started its descent towards the horizon.
Breathe in, breathe out.
The world begins to fade around her; the sounds of Sundari dimming with every passing second. She can feel herself slipping deeper within the force, when suddenly the familiar prickling of a force signature invades her sense.
Jinn opens her eyes and directs her gaze to the ground below, only to find both of her parents - hand in hand - strolling through the gardens.
“Oh kriff.”
There really was no escaping them, was there?
“Cursing is not very becoming of a lady, so I’ve been told.”
Qui-Gon Jinn was a face that she shouldn’t be accustomed too, yet she had been privy to apparitions of him for as long as she could remember.
“It’s not, but I tend to indulge in less than proper language when I am alone.” She pauses, “Or think I’m alone, that is.”
The evening light filtered through his translucent form and she wonders, for a moment, what the former Jedi Master had looked like without the ever present blue tint or ethereal glow.
“You forget, you’re never truly alone. Not when you’re connected to the force.”
“Alone as I can be, then.” She retorts.
“You’ve let yourself become distracted,” He tells her, “There’s a discipline to meditation. Going forth without focus will lead you astray."
Breathe in, breathe out.
“I was doing fine until they appeared,” Jinn says, “I hadn’t even known they were back on Mandalore. Last I heard Mother was on Naboo with Senator Amidala, and father elsewhere.”
“It seems they have both only just arrived.” Qui-Gon informs her.
It crosses her mind - as it always does when he appears - if she should tell her father that she and her namesake have been connected for so long, but decides better of it. This was a secret for her alone.
“They’re insufferable,” She huffs, “Acting so callow when it comes to outward affections."
Qui-Gon laughs and she feels it reverberate in the force around them and a sensation of peace she has yet to find anywhere else accompanies it. Had she been born sooner or he died later she suspects they would bonded just as he did with her father.
“Sometimes the incredulous nature of first love doesn’t fade.”
“Surely they’ve only gotten worse with age,” Jinn prods, “They couldn’t have always been so blasé with their...attachment to one another.”
Her word choice is not an accident. The old code of the Jedi Order was something she learned about quite in depth. She was, after all, a byproduct if its upheaval.
Below them she catches sight of her parents standing in front of a large patch of freshly sprouted Damsel Flowers, foreheads pressed together as if in prayer.
“I don’t particularly know if they recognized their amorousness for one another at the time.” Qui-Gon tells her gently, “They bickered more often than not.”
Jinn snorts, “Some things never change, then.”
Though she was too far away to eavesdrop on her parents conversation she has a feeling she already knows what’s being said. It was often the same each time they reunited. Her father whispering a array of loving words to her mother, who more often than not would respond in kind.
It was a pattern often repeated after their prolonged separations. Her father never failed to remind her mother of his adorations.
He did the same for Jinn, too.
“You have only seen them as they are now,” Qui-Gon tells her, “Both holding a freedom they once thought would never be obtainable.”
Breathe in, breathe out.
Below them, her mother throws her head back in laughter at her fathers words.
“It could have been.” She counters, “Had they made different choices.”
“They made the choices that were best for them.” He tells her, “Just as you will make the choice best for you when the time comes.”
“The force will guide my way.” She finds herself saying, feeling every bit like her father when she does.
“As it did theirs.”
“Why do you visit me, Master Qui-Gon?” She asks, finally looking away from her parents and to the long dead man at her side.
“To guide you.” He answers simply.
Jinn looks back towards her parents, “And him? He needs your guidance more than I.”
Qui-Gon smiles warmly, his long hair swaying in the breeze she knows he cannot feel. There was still much that she - and she suspects her father - does not understand about the force.
“Perhaps, but he is not ready yet to see.” An amused grin creeps across his features, “He’s much too preoccupied with staring at your mother.”
Jinn snorts, “Nauseating, isn’t it?”
He chuckles, “You are strong with the force, Jinn. Stronger than perhaps you know. I watch your father as I do you. You, however, have been always been ready to see me.”
"I think the both of them could use your guidance." Jinn says, "I think they forget sometimes that they don’t have to sneak around like two kids hiding their bond from the world. Things have changed."
Breathe in, breathe out.
"They're both remarkable individuals who bore a remarkable daughter," His tone is abruptly serious, though quickly fades back into something akin to entertained, "But you certainly are in less disarray than either of them were at your age."
Jinn laughs. She knows well enough that at her current age her mother was fleeing Mandalore with Qui-Gon and her father for her protectors. By this time they would have been on the run for almost half a year; long enough to become entangled with one another in every way they shouldn’t have.
Jinn gazes back out to the gardens, just in time to see her father pull her mother into a kiss.
"Reach out through the force," He instructs suddenly, something he often does when he appears, "To them. What do you feel?"
With a huff she allows her eyes to flutter closed, hands resting in the center of her lap.
It takes her a moment to hone in on them, but the presence of her fathers signature begins to form something tangible; bits of familiarity threading themselves within the force that pulsates around her. It guides her to them, a waypoint otherwise unseen.
"Light." Jinn whispers, eyes still closed.
"What else?" His voice sounds father away now, like an echo traveling through time itself.
A warmth envelopes everything around her; something so strong and secure that for a moment she doesn't know what to make of a sensation so potent. But then she remembers that there is only one thing between her parents that could ever exist with such intensity through both the force and the physical world.
"Love." She settles on.
"Perhaps one of the strongest aspects of the force that even the best of the Jedi do not understand." Qui-Gon says, voice closer once again, "There’s a reason you’ve always been so in tune with the connections of others. A rare skill known as force empathy. Uncommon yet strong in those who possess it.”
There's a pang of sadness suddenly between the two of them, so abrupt that she tears away from the pair and back to into herself.
When she opens her eyes she sees that the world below her is burning orange in the glow of the remaining daylight, and for a fleeting moment she feels something tug at her heart when she realizes they are not wandering the gardens as a joyous hello, but for another goodbye.
So she grants them their moment of peace and watches as they disappear under the silver foliage of the Galek Trees, hand in hand, until they’re out of view entirely.
"The time to focus is now, Jinn." He instructs, "Hone in on all that surrounds us. Remember, I am one with the force, the force is one with me."
She closes her eyes and allows the force to flow through both her mind and body. She can feel it everywhere, warm and sturdy an so wholly within her.
When she opens her eyes, Qui-Gon has vanished, and she feels her fathers force signature retreating farther and farther in the distance.
Breathe in, breathe out.
#obitine#obi wan x satine#obitine fanfiction#obitine fanfic#obitine prompt#obitine fluff#jinn!universe#qui gon is hip to the scene#obitine au
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Sahsahlah, or “The Land of Wise Fools”
AN: It’s been a really long time and a lot has happened since I last tried writing, but I figured I might as well give it another try. My goal is to have this finished and posted by the end of the year, but that might shift a little with time! As always, please comment/share if you like my work!!
A Long Time Ago, in A Galaxy Far Far Away…
Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi have killed the Sith Lord Darth Maul, although his master’s whereabouts are still unknown. Defeating Maul ended with Obi-Wan passing the trials and becoming a Jedi Knight. Qui-Gon is currently training Anakin Skywalker. Instead of taking a Padawan, Obi-Wan is a Knight in his own right, opting to go on more diplomatic missions alone, working on his negotiating skills and making connections within the senate. A year after Maul’s death, Obi-Wan is well known throughout the galaxy for his skills at debate, as well as his lightsaber prowess. Obi-Wan, to many younglings and Masters alike, is the perfect Jedi Knight, although he doesn’t feel as though he has earned that title. Obi-Wan has been called back to Coruscant in order to help solve a mystery. The young Representative from Corellia has had multiple death threats regarding her and her father’s work involving the Banking Clan, and the new Chancellor, Palpatine from Naboo, is worried for her safety. As Obi-Wan heads back to the planet he once called home, he senses more is happening than he might be first expecting and is more than a little surprised when he sees a face from the past…
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
#obiwan kenobi#obi wan star wars#obi wan needs a hug#obi wan fluff#obiwan x femaleoc#obi wan and anakin#qui gon jinn#qui gon and obi wan#anakin skywalker#young anakin skywalker#politician!oc#obi wan fic#obi wan fanfiction#obiwan#star wars smut#obi wan smut#obi wan kenobi smut#master kenobi kink
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