#Yoda on the other hand is being suffocated

[padawansuggest]

I need Yoda becoming Obi-Wan’s master because he would do NOTHING to curb that feral wild child, he’d watch Obi-Wan imbed his fangs into another kid and go ‘lol ain’t he cute?? What a baby’ and become obsessed with sending pictures of him to other counselors. Master Windu doesn’t need a thirty second video of Kenobi falling asleep in your humid bog apartment Master it’s giving him baby fever and making him vomit. Yoda will take a video of small teen Obi-Wan laying on him (no Master Yoda isn’t stuck he just can’t move a sleepy Padawan it’s against the rules!) and captioning it ‘big, he is getting, air, I am not getting’ and puts it up on JediBook for everyone to coo over. He would be the pampered darling of the temple instead of the wild feral angry cat he was in canon. In this verse he would have had his hair combed. That’s the only difference. Maybe if he didn’t look like a scraggly cat the temple wouldn’t have criticized him and his master so much. Yoda can groom him into looking like a proper human. Maybe. Sometimes. On Taungsdays.

Dooku is convinced to come home for family dinner and has to sit next to a child eating stew with feral glee under the table while Dooku worries about the sticky child touching him. Ew. Cin Dralig is enchanted and keeps giving him new teas to try. Dooku hates it here.

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 33)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 32

Warnings: grief!! depression!!! tread lightly!! things will get better, our girl will heal, but please engage with this only if you feel good/healthy yourself! also, drama/angst, but that's what you get from me

Summary: Anakin comforts you after the death of your Master; you wrestle with some difficult truths, and agree to train with someone new

Word Count: 2.7k

It was heavy. There was no other way to explain it. Your grief was a heavy pillow, suffocating you as you lay in your bed. You felt like the sheets might swallow whole you under the weight. The feel of Anakin's arms around you faded in the face of the soft, quiet, heavy feeling pressing on you. It was like being underwater. It was like trying to fight wind stronger than a hurricane. It pushed you down, and you felt like you had no strength to fight against it.

You'd awoken after Felucia in the Temple's medical chamber, Anakin at your side. You had no memory of anything that had happened after Yuma had been killed, and you didn't understand why Anakin looked so full of relief, why he had tears in his eyes at the sight of you. Obi-Wan had simply explained that you had lost consciousness, similar to the way you had when encountering Dooku's presence. Something in Anakin's face told you that it wasn't quite that simple.

Still, you couldn't find it in yourself to care, much, about what had happened after your Master had been taken from you. You couldn't find it in yourself to care about anything at all, other than the arms that remained around you, other than having Anakin by your side. You found that there were times when even that desire started to fade; when you felt the heaviness pressing in and lost any feeling at all.

"Y/N," Anakin whispered, shaking your arm a little, reaching over to run his fingers gently through your thick hair, pushing it away from your face. Every so often he would say something like this, something soft and gentle, like he were trying to make sure you could still hear him.

"I'm here," you replied, not looking at him, but reaching out and gripping his sleeve. Anakin brushed away the tears that fell softly and steadily out of your eyes and onto the sheets of the big bed in your Jedi apartment, situated in the Knight's Billet in the Temple. This is where you had remained for days, barely moving, barely sleeping or eating, struggling to fight the weight in order to keep breathing.

After you had left the medical chambers, you had recounted to the Council how Vyra had lured you into that cave, how she had manipulated the severity of the battle on Felucia and used the Sith dwelling to call to you in order to trap you and 'torture' you. You had told them what she had said of her reason for doing so, her grudge that she had held since you had been assigned your mission on Serenno. You had explained what she had recounted about Dooku and his mysterious "Master"; you'd noticed that Yoda and Windu had shared a look at that information. You couldn't bring yourself to care, at the moment, what that meant. You had struggled for breath, standing in the center of that circle of Jedi atop the tall tower, as you had recounted the last moments of Yuma's life: how she had been in the throes of a horrible vision, caused by the poison that made her live through her worst fears. You could barely get the words out when you described Vyra killing your Master, and taking her lightsaber. Obi-Wan had stood up to walk you out, his hand on your back the whole way back to your apartment, his face grim. You hadn't emerged since.

"Y/N," Anakin said again, stroking your face, your arm. "You need to eat something." You shook your head. The thought of moving at all, let alone eating, drinking, sounded too hard. You felt the heaviness pressing in on you.

"I love you," Anakin said again, and the agony in his presence was like a spark, a stabbing pain that brought you out of the heavy feeling, if only for a moment. Your eyes filled, again, with tears.

"I know," you whispered, looking into his eyes.

"I'll be here with you," Anakin said, reaching forward to kiss your eyelids, brushing the tears away with the gentle press of his lips. "I won't let them make me leave."

"You can't stay forever, Ani," you sighed, curling into him, wishing your words weren't true.

"I won't—"

Anakin cut off his words, feeling the same disturbance in the Force that made your senses heighten. Someone was coming.

A soft knock sounded on the door of the apartment. You and Anakin both looked at each other, sensing the presence that stood outside.

"Maybe he'll leave," you breathed into Anakin's ear, not moving. Anakin remained still, listening. You waited, holding your breath.

"Y/N," you heard, Obi-Wan's soft voice calling through the door as he knocked again. If he came into the apartment, it would only take a few steps past the kitchen for him to see through the open bedroom door, where he would find you and Anakin in bed together—

"What do we do?" you whispered, panicked, your eyes widening. Numb with grief you may be; but if you and Anakin were caught, it could risk your position in the Order. Anakin's eyes darted around, and landed on the tiny wardrobe built into the wall. Jedi Knights were granted little storage space, as they were not to keep possessions of their own.

"Anakin, he'll sense you!" you whispered frantically, but Anakin was already up and running in his boxers to the wardrobe. He sucked in his gut and used the force to close the wardrobe's doors as you heard Obi-Wan's voice sound again from outside the door.

"Y/N, I'm coming in," Obi-Wan said, his voice gentle and suppliant. You pulled yourself up in your bed, fighting against the heaviness in your limbs as you used the Force to summon your robe, hastily throwing it on over your nightgown as the door to your apartment opened and Obi-Wan stepped inside.

"I'm sorry to disturb you," Obi-Wan said as he walked forward to stand in the open door of your bedroom. You knew you probably looked like Moraband; you hadn't visited the refresher in days, and your hair was a tangled mess on your head. You felt Obi-Wan's thoughts linger on the dark circles under your eyes.

"That's all right, Master," you replied, your voice hoarse. Obi-Wan walked forward and pulled the chair near the window around so that it was facing you. You gulped as he turned, looking back to you as if to ask, may I ? You nodded, gesturing that he should sit. Obi-Wan had never been inside your apartment before—his presence startled you enough that you felt the heavy numbness backing away from you.

"I came to bring you this," Obi-Wan said, leaning forward in the chair and pulling something from the pocket of his robes. As he reached out to hand it to you, you sighed in amazement.

"How...?" you asked, leaning forward to take your lightsaber from him and gripping it. You felt each familiar divot of the hilt like you had found an old friend lost to time; you felt the ghosts of tears prickle behind your eyes, and you willed them away.

"I recovered it for you, on Felucia," Obi-Wan responded quietly. "When you were found, in that cave." His tone was careful, quiet, and solemn. "I wanted to return it to you before, but...it seemed a difficult enough moment." You thought back to facing the Council, to the whirlwind of emotions you'd faced upon waking up here, in the Temple, without your Master, for the first time in your life.

"Thank you," you managed to get out, looking back up at him and keeping your tears at bay. He simply nodded. You looked around, feeling awkward, working to keep your gaze anywhere but on the wardrobe behind Obi-Wan's back.

"I also..." Obi-Wan started, and you met his gaze, his face lit by the rays of sun streaming in through the partially closed blinds. "I am also here because I wanted to make a proposition to you."

You squinted, gripping your robe around yourself, inclining your head to indicate that he should continue.

"You are, of course, under no obligation to do so..." Obi-Wan started, rubbing his hands over his mustache and through his beard. "But...I know how important it was to Yuma that you work on your ability, to block out the presences of the Sith." At these words, your heart dropped. The weight came back in full force, pushing you down. It was an effort to keep yourself seated, to not lay back into the sheets and give in to the heaviness that pressed into you. You swallowed, nodding. "I would like to continue your training, in that regard," Obi-Wan said, watching you intently, his voice soft. "Not to pick up where Yuma left off, necessarily. But to work to make sure you are fully in control of your abilities...so that, when the time comes that you must protect yourself, you are as prepared as you can be. I would like to do everything in my power to help you."

You struggled to breathe evenly, working the air in and out of your lungs. You knew that Obi-Wan meant well—that he was trying to show care for you, and for Yuma, by offering to help. And you knew you needed the help, knew now that your susceptibility to the dark side of the Force was a liability. So you couldn't help but hear the unspoken truth behind Obi-Wan's words—that it was your fault, what had happened on Felucia. That if you had made more progress in your lessons with Yuma, she would still...

Be here, you finished in your head, your eyes welling up against your will. You didn't need Obi-Wan to tell you. You knew the truth. You knew who was responsible for Yuma's death.

"Y/N," Obi-Wan started, leaning forward like he wanted to do something to comfort you, but you shook your head, letting the tears fall.

"I'll do it," you said, pushing against the heaviness. "I'll train with you." It was all you could manage. Obi-Wan paused, as if debating, then leaned back in his chair, putting his hand down.

"Good," Obi-Wan replied, his voice contemplative. "I'd like to start right away, given that the war has made it so my time at the Temple is limited. Tomorrow?" You nodded, looking away from him, your face flushed at your embarrassment. You'd never cried in front of Obi-Wan, and you didn't like it—you didn't want to feel weak around him, the Jedi who was always so very much in control. Until recently, you'd thought of yourself and Obi-Wan as similar souls, similar warriors who kept their emotions in check. You now realized that you were useless in more ways than one, that people like Obi-Wan would always surpass you. You wanted to go back to sleep.

"The last thing..." Obi-Wan continued, his voice unnervingly gentle. "I wanted to tell you," he said, leaning forward in his chair, waiting until you looked up to meet his gaze, "that you aren't alone. Though I know that no one and nothing could ever replace what Yuma was to you—to all of us—I want you to know that you still have family, here. That you still have a mentor that cares for you deeply." You blinked, the brazen affection in this statement disarming you.

 "And that if you ever need to discuss anything," Obi-Wan continued, "anything, even things that you wouldn't bring to others in the Order, you can come to me. Whenever you need." You could have sworn Obi-Wan glanced infinitesimally toward the wardrobe, but it was so fast, you must have been imagining it.

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," you said, your voice small, your gratitude sincere. You felt so much affection and adoration for the Jedi Master sitting in front of you. You wished only that his faith in you wasn't so displaced. You felt your body shaking, the effort of pushing off the weight beginning to wear on you.

"That's all," Obi-Wan said, smiling at you as he stood, walking toward the door. "I'll expect you in the meditation chambers tomorrow." You nodded, feeling drained. "Don't—don't be unkind to yourself," Obi-Wan added, pausing in the bedroom doorway to turn back to you. "All of this is hard enough as it is." You nodded again, wondering how he could sense what you were thinking so accurately. Obi-Wan turned away, striding for the door to the apartment.

You listened as the front door slid shut, waiting, your heart beating. He didn't return. You sank back into your pillows, pulling the robe around you in a cocoon as you heard the wardrobe door slide open.

Anakin didn't say anything as he lay down next to you, pulling your whole body and cradling it in his arms, burying his face in your hair.

"Training might be a good thing," Anakin whispered, in a tone like he was trying to sound optimistic. You pulled yourself closer to him, your body quivering as if you were cold. You felt the tears at the edge of your eyes again, felt the quivers turn into quiet sobs.

"I'm here," Anakin said, kissing your head and stroking your back. "I'm here." What else could he say? Everything certainly wasn't okay. You tried in vain to calm the sobs, but they continued. Whenever you fought the numbness enough to stave it off, this was what happened. It was, in some ways, worse to feel.

"I should have been there," Anakin said vengefully, his voice shaky, "I shouldn't have left you." You inhaled, quickly, another sob breaking out of you.

"Are you saying—are you saying that you could have prevented it?" You pulled back in Anakin's arms, looking him in the face, your eyes wide. "That it's my fault, that she's...that she's...?" you felt your body continue to shake. Unfamiliar anger pulsed through you, the bitter anger that was only self-directed. You needed somewhere to put it. Nothing made sense, anymore. Your brain turned to fire.

"No, of course—no, Y/N, of course that's not—" Anakin started, alarmed, gripping your arms as you pulled farther away from him.

"You don’t have to say that, because I already know!" you replied, shouting now, as you pulled yourself out of the bed, standing before him. Anakin was on his feet immediately, his arms outstretched for you, but you backed away. "I know what happened is my fault entirely!! If I hadn’t—choked—if I had just listened—"

"Y/N, no, no, that's not it, no, listen to me, that's not..."

"You heard Obi-Wan," you continued, sobbing again. "And you said it yourself. Yuma was right. I was a liability, and because of me, my Master is dead."

"Y/N!" Anakin was shouting now, reaching out for you again, but you pushed him away, backing into the corner of your bedroom and sinking to the floor.

"Just leave," you choked, closing your eyes, feeling the world around you start to sway. "Just go." The world was starting to fade.

"Y/N," Anakin said gently, moving toward you slowly, his arms outstretched like he was approaching a loose rancor. "Y/N, it isn't your fault. None of it was your fault. I didn't think that for one second, and neither does Obi-Wan."

"Just leave," you repeated, softly, your sobs coming freely now. You didn't deserve to be comforted. You wanted to descend into oblivion. You were starting to lose the feeling in your legs, in your arms. You looked around, but saw that your vision was blurring over.

"I can't do that," Anakin murmured softly, and you felt his hands prying at your arms. You hadn't realized you'd been gripping your knees so tightly. You started to breathe quickly. "Look at me, Y/N," Anakin whispered, and you looked around, frantic now, your eyes clouded, unable to see. "Come back to me," Anakin breathed into your ear, and you blinked, his face swimming into view.

"I can't ever leave you," Anakin said, pulling you into his arms right there on the floor. You wanted to reply. You wanted to tell him that you couldn't ever leave him, either. You wanted to promise that the two of you would be together forever. But the world had changed, when Yuma had been taken from you. Or, you had changed. You now knew that everyone, no matter how much you loved them, would someday vanish. You didn't understand it—how one day, someone could be so very real, and the next, they could be gone. And Anakin would vanish, someday, too. You leaned into him, feeling how very real and alive he felt, with his arms around you. You felt the heaviness descend as you wept.

************************************************************************

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW!!!!!

just imagine this Obi-Wan comforting you after reading this angst 😂🤓

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist pt 1: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

[milksnobs]

Sweet Dreams Guaranteed: The Magic of Sleep Sacks for Newborns

Imagine this: you finally get your precious little one to sleep, only to wake up later to find them tangled in a loose blanket. As a new parent, safety and sleep are top priorities, and that's where sleep sacks come in! These aren't just fancy pajamas; they're a game-changer for creating a safe and cozy sleep environment for your baby.

Why Sleep Sacks are a Must-Have for Newborns

Safety First: Loose blankets can be a suffocation hazard for babies. Sleep sacks prevent this by eliminating the risk of blankets covering your baby's face. This is especially important when babies start rolling over.

Snuggle Up and Sleep Tight: Sleep sacks for newborns provide a snug and secure feeling, similar to being swaddled. This can promote deeper and more restful sleep for your baby, which means more sleep for you too!

Temperature Regulation is Key: Little ones struggle to regulate their body temperature. Sleep sacks come in various thicknesses (measured in "togs") to keep your baby comfortable throughout the night, regardless of the room temperature.

Nighttime Changes Made Easy: Forget the struggle of untucking blankets during diaper changes. Sleep sacks feature zippers or snaps for quick and easy access, making those middle-of-the-night diaper changes a breeze.

Choosing the Perfect Sleep Sack

Now that you're convinced of the magic of sleep sacks, here's what to consider when picking one for your little one:

Size Matters: A well-fitting sleep sack is crucial. Choose one that's comfortable without being too tight or too loose. Your baby should be able to move their hips freely.

The Tog Rating: Think of this as the warmth rating. A higher tog is ideal for cooler temperatures, while a lower tog is better for warmer nights.

Material Magic: Opt for soft, breathable fabrics like cotton or bamboo to keep your baby comfortable and prevent overheating.

Fastener Fun: Look for zippers or snaps that are easy to use, even with one hand in the dark!

Beyond Sleep Sacks: Essential Gear for Your Little Star Pilot

While sleep is crucial, there's more to explore! Here are some other must-have baby essentials:

Star Wars Car Seat Covers: Transform your car into a spaceship with these adorable covers featuring iconic characters like Darth Vader and Yoda. Perfect for any little Jedi-in-training!

Multitasking Must-Have: The 5-in-1 Nursing Cover is a superstar. It offers privacy while nursing, doubles as a car seat cover, and can even be used as a stroller cover, burp cloth, or lightweight blanket.

Pajama Power: Cozy and comfortable baby pajamas are essential. From footed pajamas for toddlers to onesies for newborns, there's a style to keep your little one comfy all night long.

Remember, a well-rested baby equals a happy baby (and a slightly less sleep-deprived you!). By creating a safe and comfortable sleep environment with a sleep sack and other essential gear, you can ensure your little one drifts off to dreamland, leaving you free to tackle whatever adventures the day brings.

Do you have any questions about sleep sacks, other baby essentials, or parenting tips in general? We'd be happy to help!

[writerbuddha]

Hey

Your blog is interesting. I do see where you're coming from in regards to Buddhism attachment and the Jedi and stuff. I do agree about them having no choice but to enter the war because of the implications. Although the Clones are legally slaves as they are considered possessions of the State. The Jedi might have respected them and not persoanlly enslaved them, but neither fact changes their status. However, I can see the other side as well. I understand why people have an issue with the whole "attachment" thing and how its applied. I mean the Jedi are in the right for joining the Clone Wars, despite the status of Clones, yet Anakin is bad and wicked and selfish and greedy for wanting to help his enslaved mom. The implication that leaving her to rot in slavery or die alone, scared and in agony at the hands of the Tuskens was the more "moral" or Jedi thing to do is very problematic for a lot of people. Or, the idea that he should have left his 14 year old Padawan to suffocate under rubble because rescuing her means he's "selfish and greedy" is similarly problematic. I think that both run contrary to the ethical code that many of us are raised with. The idea that you should help people, especially children, no matter what and never turn your back on a friend.

Sorry if this is a long ask and I don't mean to offend anyone.

Hey!

You said nothing offensive. I hear you.

That’s run contrary to my ethical code as well.

Anakin wasn’t bad, wicked or selfish or greedy for wanting to help his mom, leaving her in slavery wasn’t a moral or a Jedi thing to do at all. Nor that he should have left Ahsoka to die, wanting to rescue he wasn’t made him selfish. What you described is, at full extent, falls into the category of compassion, non-attached love. And that is genuine love, wanting others to be happy and free from suffering, covering what you described, helping people, especially children, no matter what and never turn your back on a friend.

I firmly believe the “attachment” thing is problematic because the majority of fans are not fully aware of the meaning of the concept. Attachment as George Lucas described it is inability to let go, possession, owning, having, getting, grasping, holding on. This is identical to the Buddhist use of the term. Because reality is temporary, things will come, things will go, everything is temporary. People, beauty, youth, money, everything will slide, at one time, they are in your life, and in the other time they move away from you. While they are in your life, love them. But you can’t attach to them in the other meaning of the word: “fastening” and an “external part attached to perform a particular function.” You must learn to let go, because if you can’t do it, you and your loved one both going to suffer. And the problem with attachment is that it’s always about you, it’s more the love of the self than the love of the beloved. You want to keep people around, because they make you happy. You won’t lose them because then you will suffer from you not having them. And this is why it is selfish and greedy. And because we all want everlasting joy, if you are attached, you will become afraid of losing your attachments, and it will lead you on a very dark path, ending in hate. And you will suffer, because you will spend your life being afraid, being angry, hateful. And that’s what Yoda was talking about, and that’s what they sensed in him about Shmi: “You afraid of losing her.” And that’s what Luminara said to him in that Clone Wars episode: “It’s not that I gave up, Skywalker, but unlike you, when the time comes, I am prepared to let my student go. Can you say the same?”

Listen to how Lars and Anakin say their final goodbye to Shmi: Lars last words to her: “Thank you.” Anakin’s last words to her: “I miss you so much.”

Whereas Shmi had non-attached love: her love for Anakin wasn’t how happy he makes her, but how happy Anakin is. And that’s why she was able to let him go. I’m always saying, Shmi is a “lay Jedi”.

Luminara is “at ease” when Barriss life is in danger, but I think it’s very important to notice that she always saying, she didn’t want Barriss to die, or she doesn’t care or she gave up. That’s why I don’t like Dave Filioni’s take on that episode, but he said it’s his personal reading, so I respect it. But I disagree. The problem is that many of us were almost encouraged to panic or fall to atoms in times like this, and the majority of movies and tv shows are outright glorifying hysteria as a measure of love. Ahsoka and Barriss wasn’t saved because Anakin started to run around in full panic mode, but because Ahsoka was able to come up with a plan. Luminara wasn’t giving up, nor she didn’t care that much about Barriss, but she accepted the fact that they might be too late, so she started to prepare herself for the worst. “If my Padawan has perished, I will mourn her, but I will celebrate her as well through her memory.”

The Jedi are trained to love people, but not to get attached to them, which is non-attachment – compassion. When you are compassionate, your love for your loved one, their happiness, their freedom from suffering gives you the feeling of being complete, gives you joy. And this is everlasting, because death can interrupt having, but not love. So it’s saying, I love you, so I want you to be free from suffering and I want you to be happy.” It’s genuine concern for others, manifesting itself in active engagement. But there is no fear of you losing, because you don’t have. When you love people, you won’t be afraid. You will be concerned for them, but that’s entirely focused on them, not on yourself. You can’t fear of the pain you will experience when you losing them. That’s a selfish desire for you keeping things and people who bring you joy. Attachment will make you afraid, what will make you hate and suffer.

And this kind of love can extend to all beings, even to their enemies. "don't lose a thousand lives just to save one" however, doesn't mean you must sacrifice your loved ones for the sake of others. The key is always that you should act out of compassion. Not out of fear of losing, the fear of not having.

Why the Jedi didn’t go to Tatooine to liberate slaves, that’s another question, but not because Anakin wasn’t allowed to care about his mother. A Jedi is a negotiator, ambassador, who is not going to war. They were not going to war until Attack of the Clones, as Lucas said, because they are not aggressive force. I always saw that their logic is that If they would go to Tatooine and liberate all slaves, they would have to fight a war against Jabba, pirates, the hutts, the crime empires etc. That’s not what they do. They did it once with Zygerria, but back then they weren’t alone, the Republic actually wanted to uphold its values, they made Zygerria to comply. But with the Republic corrupted, the Jedi wasn’t enough at all to uphold peace and justice. If the Republic would have function properly, they would enforce their laws on Tatooine, but the Republic didn’t care about them, so they didn’t have the support to function, too. They were overwhelmed, and they are not super people. Without the Republic, they go to Tatooine, defeat Jabba, then leave to help others. When they come back, there is a new Jabba, because free people on Tatooine didn’t really care and the Republic didn’t really care. All what happens is that they lose lives. But with the Clone Wars, all the galaxy caught fire, so they had to go to war anyway.

I am more than willing to accept that the Jedi wasn’t perfect, and I have to admit, I am glad to see that when people believe they advocated abandoning friends or family, they reject them so fiercely. But I can't help but think, their morals, choices and situations are often misunderstood. For example, I can't find any good reason why the Jedi wouldn't want to pursue the Senate to give the clones citizenship when the war was over. On the contrary. Their portrayal requires them to do so. Like Lucas said, they had good intentions, and they are going to war to save as many as they can. In the Clone Wars, you can see they care about clones as much as they care for non-clones.

Sorry for the even longer reply! XD I hope it's useful.

[writing-is-thorapy]

Deadcember Day 5: Five Stages of Grief

This one is dedicated to my amazing friend and Girlboss Supreme, @stolen-pen-name23! Her writing is wonderful and her characterization of our favorite Disaster Trio is always on point, so please go check out her work!!! I know I'm cutting it close, but happy birthday, Katie, and I hope you enjoy!! ❤️

Denial

Ahsoka and Rex have been traveling together for about 3 months, never staying in one place for too long, taking odd jobs to support themselves, and avoiding the Empire at all costs.

They never talk about what they left behind.

They’re huddled around a campfire. Sometimes it feels like they’re back in the Cl—back Before, back when everything was normal, or as normal as one could get during a galactic civil war. Other times, the deaths hang heavily between them, stealing the words from their mouths.

Today is a heavy day.

Ahsoka stares into the fire while Rex examines his helmet by the flickering light, his eyes haunted. The wind blows through the trees, howling in despair.

She feels more restless than ever, as if she’s about to burst. In such cases, she would usually meditate, but… she hasn’t done so ever since Order 66, too afraid of what she might find—or not find.

But a small voice insider her needs to know, needs to see for herself.

So Ahsoka closes her eyes, breathes deep, and leaps, falling, falling, falling…

There’s nothing.

It’s just… black.

She searches desperately for a sign, a small twinkle or spark.

She’s alone.

The abyss presses down, closing in on all sides, and she reaches for Anakin and Obi-Wan and Master Plo and Master Yoda and Master Secura but none of them answer, none of them take her outstretched hand. Her pleas remain unanswered as the dark continues to spread snd grabs her, stealing her breath and her light and dragging her down and down and down and—

“—soka!”

Ahsoka gasps, frantically looking around.

The fire is out. Rex has his hands on her shoulders, and she can just make out the worried look on his face.

The suffocating dark is gone.

It’s just her. Just her and Rex.

She looks at Rex.

“They’re all gone,” she chokes out as her eyes burn. “They’re all gone, Rex.”

She collapses into him and he holds her close.

Just her and Rex, alone in the dark.

Anger

Darth Vader is angry—well, angrier than usual.

The Rebels were being difficult, and far more elusive than usual. And what’s more, they had Jedi on their side, Jedi that escaped his grasp for far too long.

What’s more, his Anakin Skywalker’s Padawan is alive.

He thought her dead after their bond snapped, had thought her to be an unfortunate victim of Order 66. After discovering her lightsaber buried in the ice and snow, surrounded by helmets bearing her mark and the remains of a Venator, he was sure of it.

But then he had sensed her during the space battle, had brushed her familiar presence.

Ahsoka, like everyone else, betrayed him. She left him, just like Obi-Wan and Padmé and the rest of the Jedi.

She will not leave him again, Vader decides. She will not have the chance.

Bargaining

The last time she saw Anakin—Darth Vader, now, her brain reminds her—she had been rushing off to Mandalore he was going to Coruscant. His hair had been longer and he looked stressed and tired but he had been happy. The war had been coming to a close, and they would’ve been together again.

And then everything fell apart.

Ahsoka would do anything to go back, to make him promise her to stay, to hug him and tell him she loved him.

There are many things she would redo, given the chance. But such matters are far beyond her control.

Vader speaks, his voice harsh, deep, and resonant.

“We need not be adversaries,” he declares. “The Emperor will show you mercy, if you tell me where the remaining Jedi can be found.”

This can’t be Anakin, Ahsoka decides. Anakin would know she would never give up so easily. Anakin would never commit such heinous crimes.

But then she’s standing across from him—his familiar scar more evident than ever against his unfamiliar ashen complexion, his familiar eyes glowing an unfamiliar yellow—and can’t deny it any longer.

Anakin Skywalker is Darth Vader.

How could a man so full of love become so hateful, so cruel? But she knows the answer to that, she recognizes. She’s seen the extremes he will go to protect those that he loves, remembers the warnings from Mortis.

She remains, even as the temple walls begin to close, even as Ezra shouts for her—Ahsoka is nothing if not a product of her Master’s teachings, attachments and all.

The last time she left him, something went terribly wrong, something that led to the creation of the—the monster that stands before her.

“I won’t leave you,” she insists. “Not this time.”

Anakin Vader stares, the sound of his respirator filling the space between them.

His eye narrows. “Then you will die,” he declares, the condemnation punctuated by the sound of his lightsaber, which paints his face like blood.

The temple wall shuts with resounding finality, blocking out Ezra’s cries.

He bears down on her with his lightsaber, strike after strike of brute strength and skill, his relentless single-mindedness unrecognizable.

He really is trying to kill her, Ahsoka realizes with an unwelcome spike of fear.

He slashes at her, scoring a shallow cut on her left arm. She bites back a groan as the pain brings her to her knees.

“Remember when you promised that you would never let anyone hurt me? Remember, Anakin?”

He stops. His lightsaber lowers, just a bit.

There’s silence.

“Anakin Skywalker died long ago.” He snarls, bringing his weapon up once more.

Darth Vader strikes without hesitation.

Depression

Sometimes, Darth Vader wishes he could cry, wishes he could scream his pain and fury for the entire galaxy to hear, wishes he could bring the Emperor to his knees.

But he knows his place, knows his title as Second-in-Command is nothing more than a thinly-veiled farce, knows he is little more than a dog on a leash that pretends he is in control.

His hands are drenched with blood, forever marred and stained, his crimes unforgivable.

All of his friends, his family—his mother, Padmé, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, Rex, the Jedi, his troops—they all left him, nearly all of them dead because of him.

He yearns for a family, a home—both things he knows he doesn’t deserve. Families are for men, not monsters. He cannot wallow, cannot be weak. His anger fuels him, fuels his power and resolve. He focuses on that.

Darth Vader does not have regrets—but Anakin Skywalker has plenty.

Acceptance

The war is over.

Well, mostly over. There’s still a lot of clean-up to do, and they still need to establish a new government and rid the galaxy of any remaining imperials and—

Ahsoka stops. Takes a deep breath. Enjoys the new sense of serenity within the Force, the sense of Balance.

All around her, rebels and ewoks alike celebrate the Emperor’s defeat, the destruction of the second Death Star, and…

And the death of Darth Vader.

A small part of her is relieved, sure, but for the most part…

She removes herself from her tumultuous emotions, setting them aside to be dealt with later.

As she strides through the celebrations, searching for Rex, she notices a pillar of smoke deeper within the forest, far removed from the festivities. The Force nudges her towards it, and she obeys.

It does not take long for Ahsoka to reach her destination. As she steps closer to the small clearing, her Force signature heavily shielded and steps light, she notices a short, blond human dressed in black stands before… what looks to be a pyre. He is young, but strong with the Force.

“What are you doing out here?” She asks, stepping out into the open behind him. The individuals jolts, whipping around to face her, a hand on the lightsaber that is clipped to his belt. She holds up her arms, showing that she means no harm.

The man sighs, his hand falling away from his belt.

“Sorry, you scared me,” he says bashfully. He tilts his head, considering. “I could ask the same of you.”

“I saw the smoke and came to investigate.”

“Why? No one else has, even though I’m sure others have seen it.”

Ahsoka hesitates, unwilling to readily reveal her Force sensitivity to a stranger. “Let’s just call it… intuition.”

“Are you… a Jedi?”

“What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know. A feeling, I guess, In the Force.”

“I… used to be.” He must sense her pure intentions, for he accepts her answer with a nod.

“Well, you can join me, if you want.”

She nods, stepping forward and standing next to him. In the flickering light, she thinks he almost looks like—

No. It’s simply because he’s on her mind.

She rips herself away from the memories and focuses instead on the boy beside her. He shines brightly in the Force, almost as bright as—

Stop.

She forces herself to talk, to take her mind off of… him.

“I’m Ahsoka, by the way. Ahsoka Tano.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Ahsoka. I’m Luke Skywalker.”

…Well, she muses, I guess my mind wasn’t playing tricks on me.

She shakes herself out of her shock.

“Was… do you know Anakin Skywalker?”

Luke smiles sadly. “He was my father. Did… did you know him?”

She stares at the flames as they flicker and dance. “A long time ago, yes.”

“Do you know what happened to him?”

She looks at him, alarmed. His expression is not curious; it is sad, resigned.

“Yes.”

“That’s him,” Luke gestures to the pyre. “He… he saved me. When the Emperor was… about to kill me, it was Anakin Skywalker that saved my life, not Darth Vader. He came back, in the end.”

Force, Anakin. She smiles, shaking her head. “I was always told that once you succumbed to the Dark Side, it’s impossible to come back. But if anyone could do the impossible, it’s him.” Her eyes burn.

“Thank you, Luke. For telling me.”

He inclines his head. “Of course. It seems like he meant a lot to you. I can… give you a minute. I should probably find Han and Leia, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Luke takes one last, lingering look at the pyre and begins to walk away.

“Oh, Ahsoka!” He calls. She turns towards him. “Could you maybe tell me about him? Later?”

She stares at him, at this boy who shines like the sun, who looks so much like Anakin and yet is the embodiment of the Light, of good.

“I would be honored.”

Luke smiles brightly and disappears into the forest.

Ahsoka turns back towards the pyre and exhales, her grief spiraling into the air, mingling with the smoke and the flames and dissipating into the starry sky above.

[junova]

never been in love — single dad!steve (headcannon)

pairing: single dad!steve x teacher!reader

abstract: the one where steve likes you a lot and his daughter does too. 

warnings: it gets a lil smutty towards the end (18+) not really tho, this is so much longer than i intended jfc, bucky being kind of a dick, hint of daddy kink, cheating? 

[a/n]: this was totally inspired by @marvelouspeterparker​ post. i read it and it pulled me out of my writers block so thank u ! also this is so unnecessarily long but i have no excuse other than im a hoe for steve rogers?? 

*** gif isnt mine — i forgot creds srry :/

                             -ˋ�� ༻✿༺ ��ˊ-  

oh god this one is going to hUrt me

but can you just imagine when steve really gets to see you, not just in passing as he picks up his daughter

he nearly shits himself because how in the hell had he not noticed you before?

one any given day, he’s right on time to pick up shai

he’s always punctual

— until today

not only was he late, but he was an hour late and in his mess of mind he was fully convinced they’d never let him bring her to the school again

to make matters even worse his phone had died and his cable was nowhere to be found in his dying, old pick up truck

not to mention his sweet little angel, more than likely frightened out of her mind

— but he was so wrong

practically in a full sprint, he quickly made his way to shai’s classroom when he found her perfectly peaceful while she talked with her teacher

even though, she was facing him and could see him she paid him no mind. it didn’t faze her that her father was so late because you had stayed to keep her company

“well, it looks like he finally decided to show up.” shai spoke to you, loud enough so her father in the doorway could her. the edge in her tone pushing sassy all the way through

of course as soon as shai found her way in steve’s arms he profusely apologized and graciously thanked you for staying with her saying he would repay you for it

— and it definitely had nothing to do with how attracted steve was to you. nope. not at all

you dismissed his gesture, it was a delight to be with shai and you told him such but you had a feeling he wouldn’t let it go

— and he didn’t

the very next day, when he dropped shai off and handed you a dozen pastries he had made fresh this morning

the way you gushed over it, cheekbones high and happy over his kindness made steve’s heart swell

they were still warm and you just couldn’t believe he made these with his bare hands

it was easily the kindest gift anyone ever gave you and you told him that too before you could stop yourself

then he just started bringing you a pastry or two every other day, even if you’d refused them the next day he would bring double the amount he brought the day before

you stopped refusing him bc you already felt guilt since he wouldn’t let you pay for a single one

after two weeks, steve asked you out. you weren’t shocked he had, he had been buttering you up but no matter how charming you thought he was you couldn’t.

he was a parent of one of your students and you just couldn’t allow yourself to go there

it wasn’t necessarily against the rules, but it was frowned upon

accepting your rejection with grace and humility he grabbed shai before bidding you goodbye that day

you thought that was the end of it, until you saw him the following friday night at the bar you frequented at

— alone

you wanted to talk to him, the tequila in your system giving you an irresistible urge to but you were on a date with on of your friends’ coworkers

james buchanan barnes

he definitely was a smooth taker, those dazzling blue eyes sparkling like they knew something you didn’t

you really wanted to be interested, he was a loose shape of a man you’d dream about. maybe you could even pretend he was the one you really wanted

not when steve was sitting at the bar, alone.

but you left that thought behind and you convinced yourself you really were smitten with bucky

two weeks later, bucky and you had been on a few dates and he seemed to like you but you knew you had to end things.

whatever little fling you had going on

your heart got more of kick when steve used to bring you pastries in the morning before class than when bucky kissed you after your first date.

then he asked if you would come to his house, he was having a small get together and would love if you’d be there

— reluctantly, you went

bucky’s friends were nice, each one of them making you feel welcomed into their tight circle.

it turned into a better night than you thought and bucky seemed to be super touchy, guiding you onto his lap as you sat around the fire in his patio

natasha, bucky’s long friend since high school, had you all in fits on the stories from the past

everyone was too busy reeling to recognize his presence but you had the to be blind not to

there steve stood gaping at you’d like you were a ghost, certainly surprised to see you perched on bucky’s lap

yep you wanted to just crawl under a whole a stay there forever

“Glad to see you showed up, punk.” Bucky gesturing for him to make his way over to you, even when you pulled at the sleeve of his henley to stop him.

— of course your efforts to tame bucky in did nothing

he grabbed a cold one before making his way to the two of you

and dear god was it as awkward as ever

“Honey, this is my best friend, Steve.” Honey? He had never called you anything besides your name. By the way he pulled you even closer to him made you think there was something else entirely going on.

you certainly didn’t miss the way steve’s jaw clenched or as he held his right hand picking at the piece of bark rather aggressively

“Um, we actually know each other. Shai is in my class, actually.” Feeling rather suffocated by the weight of Bucky’s arms now that the man you felt too much for was here. “Really? I had no idea.”

steve’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head, infuriated. it wasn’t just that bucky knew you were shai’s teacher but he knew just how much steve liked you.

he didn’t shut up about you since he you with his daughter — something inside him changing in an instance

it wasn’t just that he thought you were the most wonderful woman he’d me — shai also raved over you

shai’s mother leaving a gaping whole in her heart she didn’t quite understand at the age of five was filled by you

you were kind to her, your patience never wearing thin as you gave her the attention she deserved

it may be your job but you enjoyed every moment with her and steve noticed

“Oh? She’s the one you would wake up an hour early for to make the pastries?” Bucky blurted out.

he woke up an early just to make those for you?

the way steve looked at the ground, grinding his fingertip against the label of his beer made you want to cry. his neck flaring pink at the embarrassment only made you wish you were in his arm instead

— even more than you already did

“You really should have seen the smile on his face when he came back from the school gushing over how much you liked what he had made.”

Bucky tightened his arm around your waist before saying. “Or when you reject him, I still can’t decide which is better.”

“That’s enough, James.” You tone harsh, before you ripped yourself away.

you couldn’t even look at steve, you don’t think your heart could handle it so you practically sprinted to your car

you needed to get the fuck out of here

until you reached for you keys, but they weren’t in your pocket

“Looking for these?” His hands looping through your keys giving it a twirl. “Star Wars fan?” Steve gesturing to you baby yoda key chain. “Maybe just a tad.”

“Thank you, Steve.” He tried to ignore the jump you ignited in his heart whenever you said his name.

handing your keys, he turned away from you, heading back into the house until you yanked him forward

the force so strong he though he was going to body slam into you before he pushing his weight against the car.....and you

“I’m sorry about, Bucky. I never would have gone out with him if I knew you two were friends.” You admitted while Steve just stood there looking embarrassed.

god did you always have to ruin everything

“I-I just, um, have these feelings for you. These very complicated feelings that make me want to throw every morally sound thought I have to the wind.”

“Which thought did you want to get rid of right now?” Stepping outside of his comfort zone, Steve grabbed your hands and just on instinct alone you cradled his face like it was the most natural act in the world. Like you had done it a thousand times.

“I mean, for one I’m telling myself I shouldn’t be this close to you.” Steve taking you by surprise as he tilted his head to the side, kissing the palm of your hand.

did he really just-

“What else, sweet girl?”

oh, you really were a goner

“I don’t know.” You spoke softly. Admitting to not only him but yourself — you couldn’t think when he was this close to you.

“Oh, but I think you do.” Steve diving right in as he latched his plump lips to your neck. Making whispers of his name drip off your tongue.

before you register what was happening steve had you pressed up against the car, rough hands gripping your thighs as your legs clinged to his slim waist

not to mention the ratio from his broad shoulders to his hips had your pussy drowning more

making you forget why you’d ever rejected him in the first place and he had hardly even touched you yet

then his lips met yours and you knew he had ruined you for anyone else. no one would ever compare to him and not anyone from your past did.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, completely in awe of what Steve was capable of doing to you in a matter of seconds. The proud smirk he wore in great contrast to what he felt back by the fire when he saw your body entangled with Bucky.

“If I ever see you sitting on my best friend’s lap again, I will go fucking crazy. Do you understand?” Steve eyes burning with envy.

“Yes, Daddy.”

brb gonna cry that i don’t have my very own steve rogers rip 

                            -ˋˏ ༻✿༺ ˎˊ-

 tags: @tonystankschild​ @parkastoria​ @kayteewritessteve​ 

[crispyjenkins]

dream clouds, ghost ground (real friends, dead hometown)

an accidental jangobi au 

that is now specially for @mandalorianbrainweasel | @ironhoshi | @obikakenobi | @mageofcole | @quitebizarre | @bureau-pinery | @atelier-dayz |  @legendaryjarcollection | @pretzel-log1c | @adiduck | @koyacyi-vode | @satan-incarnate-666 | @theclonewarsbrokeme | because i’ve genuinely loved and revelled in our conversations this past year, and am pretty sure(??) you all ship jangobi

( and also @batsutousai and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover but it won’t let me tag you :(

i uhhhhhh plotted this from my prompt roster without rereading the actual ask, so this is completely out of timeline for the anon’s prompt? and i didn’t realise until i was halfway through?? so here’s this??? i already have ideas for a sequel???? (and it’s 3157 words gl)

some context: there’s no age-out, but obi-wan is still sent to the agricorp and stays there. yarael poof inspects the facility 7 years later, and obi has visions of korda 6/galidraan and finagles themself onto the rescue mission of the true mandalorians. cue chaotic, still-has-the-impulsivity-that-got-them-kicked-out obi-wan. who is also nb just for funsies.

title from start//end by eden

  Obi-Wan Kenobi is not as Yarael had expected, but then, he had never met them while they lived in the Temple.

  The young Jedi breaks away from their group of friends on the other side of Bandomeer’s main greenhouse as soon as they catch sight of Yarael, the other novitiates trying and failing to hold Obi-Wan back from running through the dark green garden beds right up to him. They don’t seem to care that they’ve interrupted Master Fodvam’s tour of the facility, and ignores her to glare at Yarael with a fire in their eyes that he vaguely remembers as being the cause for their failing the initiate program. Stocky and toned with dark freckles on every bit of exposed skin from working the desert Enrichment Zones, Obi-Wan glares up at Yarael with a set to their lips so very like Master Yoda (and Qui-Gon Jinn, for that matter) that Yarael raises a placating hand to the Kubaz master at his side and smiles back down at Obi-Wan. 

  At first flush, he might have thought Obi-Wan approached him to beg to be allowed to return to the Temple and become a knight —it would not be the first time an old initiate had done so, though they usually attempted such an action much sooner after their reassignment— but instead, Obi-Wan wastes no time in demanding, “You have to go Korda 6, the lives of thousands depend on it.”

  “And why is that, young one?” Yarael returns calmly, though Obi-Wan must be pushing seventeen standard; everyone is young to him these days.

  Master Fodvam sighs, reaching out to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm, but they shake her off. “Obi-Wan,” she admonishes softly, for all the good that does.

  “There’s going to be a genocide,” Obi-Wan insists over the sound of their friends trying to call them back across the greenhouse, “Death Watch is going to kill the Mand’alor and slaughter the True Mandalorians, and no one here will listen to me.”

  Curious about their absolute certainty, Yarael gently pushes against their mind, but has to jerk away when the Jedi shoves him right back out, Yarael’s second brain fizzling like it had been shocked by a bad power coupling. Perhaps Master Yoda had been too hasty in handing this one over to the Council of Reassignment, when even though Yarael can sense their fear and hurt, their lingering doubt in the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan has not a single crack in their shields. Not a single doubt in themselves.

  Master Fodvam shakes her head, but it appears more out of a helplessness than disappointment. “Master Poof,” she says, “Novitiate Kenobi has spoken of this premonition for the last standard tenday, and I’m afraid none of the masters here are versed in the Unifying Force.”

  “At all,” they stress.

  Interesting indeed, that Master Yoda would nominate Obi-Wan for the Agricorp over the other branches, then, for surely they would have shown precognition as a crècheling. “Novitiate Kenobi, you clearly have complete faith in such a vision.” Yarael doesn’t try to enter their mind again, but does open his senses between them, benignly inviting Obi-Wan into his own instead. “Show me.”

  Obi-Wan is bewildered for all of a moment, eyebrows pinched, but then they blink in understanding and snap their eyes closed. A flurry of images is all but shoved into Yarael’s lower brain, a confusing mash of forests and armor and blasterfire, but, yes, there is Vizsla, and there is Mereel, and there is a Mandalorian in blue armor leaving Mereel to die on the battlefield.

  “How are you sure this is Korda 6?” Yarael asks, opening his eyes to Obi-Wan’s mentally-drained expression, tanned skin sallow under the freckles.

  “I’ve heard some of the mission report,” they say, and let Master Fodvam gently support them where they had pushed her away before; Yarael will certainly have to teach Obi-Wan to strengthen their mental stamina. “Every night for the last tenday I’ve seen this battle, I’ve seen ten different ways it could go, and all of them end with the True Mandalorians’ slaughter, unless we do something.”

  The Quermian looks Obi-Wan up and down once more, reaching as far into the Force as he can manage, and he doesn’t have a lifetime seat on the High Council for nothing.

  “Then we’ve not a moment to lose, do we?”

-

  If Obi-Wan is surprised Yarael insists on taking them to his ship to join him for his update to the Council, they don’t show it, and don’t appear nervous at all as the holocall connects. In fact, they stand off to the side with their arms behind their back and a serene expression on their face, right until Master Rancisis admits a contingent of Jedi had just left to help a planet deal with a violent insurgence of Mandalorian commandos, led by Jango Fett.

  And then Obi-Wan only blinks before turning his gaze up to Yarael. “Then we are too late for Korda 6. We must make for Galidraan.”

  The holo of Master Rancisis flickers as he winds and unwinds his appendages until he finally says, “We did not tell you the planet’s name.”

  On Rancisis’ left, Master Yoda taps his cane against the floor. “Clear it is, that truth in Novitiate Kenobi’s visions there is. To what extent, we do not know, but great pain I sense if act quickly we do not.”

  After meeting each of the other coucilmember’s eyes, Master Rancisis leans forward in his seat and points one undulating finger at Obi-Wan. ”You will go with Master Poof to Galidraan, Novitiate Kenobi; if you leave now, you may make it in time to prevent the Jedi from having a hand in this massacre.”

  Obi-Wan checks with Yarael first, their deference almost endearing as they look up at him for confirmation; Yarael cannot help a small smile, and if the Council has not guessed his intentions by now, then they are as blind as a naked womp-rat.  “Well, Novitiate Kenobi?” he prompts, “Are you prepared to see this through properly?”

  Obi-Wan drops their shoulders to raise their chin instead. “To be truthful, Master Poof, I would have been disappointed to be left behind.”

~

  Obi-Wan is already at the hatch of Master Poof’s cruiser when they finally land as close to the coordinates the Council had given them as they dare, and Obi-Wan sorely wishes they had asked Master Fodvam for a blaster before leaving Bandomeer. Nothing can be done for that now, and there is the more pressing matter that Master Poof had been unable to contact the Jedi already planetside, but perhaps they shouldn’t have expected the Force to make it easy on them.

  As soon as the cruiser is settled, Obi-Wan elbows the control panel for the landing hatch and drops right down into the snow; they’re not quite dressed for this weather, not coming straight from the desert Enrichment Zone, but they can hardly feel the cold over the cloying, suffocating fear that saturates the air until even the trees tremble with it. And they might be stronger in the Unifying Force than anyone else in the Agricorp, but Obi-Wan hasn’t been wrist-deep in soil for seven years to come out of it without feeling the Living Force just as strongly.

  Run, the trees tell them, and they do, pushing themself up onto more compact snow and taking off for the True Mandalorian camp. Master Poof calls after them, but they don’t slow until they reach the top of the nearest ridge, a sheer drop on the other side right into the camp, and Obi-Wan is forced to look out over their worst vision come to life.

    The Mandalorians stand as one facing the opening to the ravine on Obi-Wan’s right, where the Jedi spread out among the tents as Master Dooku reads them a list of false wrongs, and Obi-Wan knows the Mandalorians will not surrender. Mand’alor Mereel’s son stands before Dooku in newly-painted blue and red armor, raising his blaster as Dooku ignites his ’saber, and Master Poof halts abruptly at Obi-Wan’s side and lifts a four-fingered hand, but he won’t be able to Force-suggest anyone in beskar, and—

  And he has a lightsaber hanging from his belt.

  Obi-Wan had not failed their Jedi training, they were bright and talented and wanted absolutely nothing more than to become a Jedi Knight, but their temper had seen Bruck to the Halls of Healing, and their impulsivity had seen them to the Agricorp despite the potential they had shown in their seven years in the crèche.

  Their temper, they have control over that now, Obi-Wan is rarely even angry these days, but their impulsivity has been the, ah... cause for many of the Bandomeer masters’ grey hairs, so to speak.

  So Obi-Wan does not think before grabbing Master Poof’s ’saber, barely able to even lift the hilt almost as long as their arm, and leaps from the crumbling snowbank with as much Force behind their feet as they can muster. Sound snaps to silence in their ears, vision narrowing on the scant yard between Jango Fett and his death, as Obi-Wan yanks the Living Force around themself and hauls it up right from the ground, grabs it by the roots of the nearest tree until it sings.

  By a miracle of the Force, Obi-Wan lands perfectly between the new Mand’alor and the Jedi, igniting Master Poof’s unusually-yellow lightsaber just in time to deflect Jango’s first blaster bolt right into the ground — the ground that shakes and splits, exploding snow into the air to make way for the evergreen roots that surge through the cracks and grab Dooku’s entire arm, sending his ’saber flying. 

  Obi-Wan inhales once, twice, before allowing their other senses to flood back to them, and the Force sees fit to immediately make them aware of Master Poof stumbling down the bank after them with his upper hands raised in surrender. 

  “Peace, Jedi!” he shouts, successfully pulling the gaze of everyone in the ravine away from Dooku’s limb held aloft by mud-slick roots and to himself instead. “We have been misled,” he presses on, almost seeming to glide over the packed snow to stand at Obi-Wan’s back and place a palm between their shoulders, “These Mandalorians know nothing of what you speak, Master Dooku, we are both being played by the Governor of Galidraan.”

  Jango Fett growls over his external comms, close enough to make Obi-Wan shiver. “What the kriffing fuck is going on?” he snaps, not bothering to drop his blaster as Obi-Wan glances at him and can just see the shadow of his eyes behind his visor.

  “Death Watch had the governor call the Jedi here under false pretences, your grace,” Obi-Wan says, and doesn’t know what to make of the way the Mand’alor twitches at their voice. They can feel their shoulder weakening from hefting such a massive hilt, unwieldy even gripped at the balance point, but Obi-Wan refuses to let their arm shake, not with both sides holding them under such scrutiny; Maker, maybe they should have changed into Jedi robes instead of their dark tunics and kama? It gives them a silhouette neither wholly Mandalorian nor wholly Jedi, and certainly only adds to the confusion.

  Nothing to be done about it now.

  “The governor lied to the Mandalorians about their targets, to perfectly set them up for a Jedi arbitration,” Master Poof explains. “And of course knew that the Mandalorians would never surrender to the Jedi.” He looks slowly around at both parties, letting his words sink in until the Jedi are shutting their lightsabers off in disgust.

  The Mandalorians don’t put away their blasters, obviously, but they do lower them enough to be an act of good faith; only when Jango lowers his own does Obi-Wan power down Master Poof’s ’saber, and is all too happy to hand the weighty thing back to him with a shallow bow.

  Master Poof smiles in amusement, clipping the hilt back in its rightful place on his belt, before calmly nodding to Dooku. “Novitiate, you may release Master Dooku now.”

  Startled, Obi-Wan immediately calls on the Living Force to pull the roots away from the man and coax them back into the ground, hoping they hadn’t damaged anything enough for the evergreen just up the ridge to suffer. 

  Dooku massages his red wrist and eyes Obi-Wan carefully, the clouds of breath before his lips casting strange shadows over his face in the dying sunlight. “I was not aware the Agricorp was still teaching Consitor Sato to its novitiates. Nor so... successfully.”

  “... Master Fodvam would appreciate it if you didn’t mention that to the High Council.”

  “I am on the Council, Novitiate Kenobi,” Master Poof chortles, but turns back to the Mandalorians still effusing bewilderment before the new Mand’alor can decide they really are all better off dead. “Mand’alor Fett, I presume?”

  Jango shifts subtly, still close enough for Obi-Wan to watch his eyes dart to the Quermian. “For all of a week, jetii; how you are aware of this already does nothing to convince me to trust you. Any of you.”

  Master Poof just smiles serenely. “There is little one cannot gather from the Force upon first meeting, your grace. However, you are correct, and I would not be aware of Jaster Mereel's death if my companion had not told me of it.”

  Jango doesn't get the chance to ask him to clarify just what that means, the girl padawan at Dooku's side cutting in rudely, 

  “And Master Poof, just who is your companion?” as if she can’t tell from Obi-Wan’s attire that they were a Jedi Knight washout. 

  So maybe Obi-Wan doesn’t have complete mastery of their temper just yet, but they don’t get to snarl back before Master Poof answers cheerfully, "They are my new apprentice!"

  Oh. 

  “Master Poof...?”

  “I cannot very well leave a novitiate so strong in the Unifying Force untrained, can I?” Master Poof shakes his head. "As the matter stands, our duty to Galidraan is not yet complete: the governor has pulled both the Jedi and the Senate into his personal affairs, and has allied with a known terrorist group. Master Dooku, might I suggest we make to arrest the actual perpetrator of these crimes?”

  “Vizsla will be there,” Jango interrupts. “And he must know his plan has failed by now, you'll be walking right into a trap.”

  Obi-Wan raises a brow. “A trap meant for you, your grace. When we engage Governor Martinet, it would be unwise for the True Mandalorians to still be on planet.”

  “Why do you keep calling us that?" he snaps, the blue-armoured Mandalorian at his side grabbing his shoulder to hold him back from... striking Obi-Wan? From removing his helmet? Obi-Wan isn't sure. 

  They are sure that, if the Jedi succeed in apprehending Vizsla, the New Mandalorians will make themselves known much earlier. “One day, soon, you will need to make the distinction between yourselves, and those that will use ‘Mandalorian’ as a ploy for cultural reform, as claim to an identity that is not theirs,” Obi-Wan says, finding Jango’s eyes behind his visor once more. “The Children of the Watch will choose ‘True’ as that distinction of your people in retrospect, some fifty years from now.”

  The Mandalorian holding Jango’s shoulder tenses. “Are you some sort of prophet, kih’jetii?”

  “Hardly,” they smile, because the Force promises to back off a little after this mess is all said and done, whenever that may be. “But the Force decided I was the most likely candidate to make it here in time to stop a genocide, though I’m not sure if it knew how much information I actually needed. Irregardless, everything from today is now changed from any visions I had seen of it, I’m no more a prophet than you are.”

  Jango twitches again strangely, and his companion tightens their grip on their blaster. 

  “Novitiate Kenobi is right,” Poof interjects gently. “You should take your people to regroup and recover, your grace, you will be of no use to the galaxy dead.”

  “Wait,” Jango grits through clenched teeth. “It would... be unfair for us not to aid you in this, not when this was our disaster, too.”

  “There is no need for that,” Dooku says regally, Force-calling his ’saber back to his hand. “This has become a Senate matter, and to involve yourselves further would be an unnecessary risk.”

  “So you... want us to just leave?”

  Dooku raises a single eyebrow, expression blank otherwise, but Obi-Wan still shudders at the dark anger in the man, the rage that had hit its boiling point upon first meeting Jango and believing he had slaughtered almost two hundred innocent activists. The Force warns Obi-Wan about that darkness, the way Dooku has not yet released it; it also gives them hope, though, that the master can be pulled back into the light, with a little persuasion and lots of tea. 

  The conversation has moved on without them when Obi-Wan tries to focus back on the crisis at hand, Jango’s commandos already starting to pack up the camp while Dooku and Master Poof quietly discuss the Jedi’s next moves. Neither seem to have realised Obi-Wan hadn’t been paying attention, which is just fine by them: Master Fodvam is already at wit’s end trying to keep them focused on anything but plants, somedays. 

  A heavy gaze pulls their own to look up, across the camp to where Jango oversees his people’s retreat, but Obi-Wan knows the Mand’alor’s attention is on them alone. Obi-Wan gazes right back, refusing to the first to look away, and is somehow thrilled rather than disappointed when Jango does just that. 

  He does not say goodbye, but that’s alright, Obi-Wan knows they’ll be meeting again soon. 

~

  Following a stomping Jango up into Jaster’s old ship, Myles won’t stop laughing at him.

  “‘The one who will speak of the truth,’” he quotes gleefully, just as jovial in his punching of Jango’s sides as he attempts to unbuckle his helmet, and he doesn’t back down even when his Mand’alor growls at him. “Kriff, who knew that witch would end up being so literal?”

  “I told you I don’t believe in that osik,” Jango snaps, trying to shove his best friend off of him. “I don't believe in that old hag's ‘prophecy’ any more than I believe in Jedi competence.”

  “Ah ah, Jang’alor, you shouldn’t speak of your ba’buir like that, what would Jaster say?”

  Jango finally gets his helmet off and yanks his hood down so he can get right in Myles’ face to snarl, “That adiik is not the future of Mandalore, kriff whatever the fuck Jaster’s buir says! One dream and one crazy old enby witch spouting oracle nonsense does not make Obi-Wan Kenobi my destiny.”

  Jango doesn’t need to see Myles’ face to know it lights up in victory. “Nobody said their full name, Jang’alor.”

  “Finish that thought and I’ll throw you out the airlock.”

-

Mando’a:

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore.

jetii — “Jedi” sing, pl. jetiise

kih'jetii — “Little Jedi”, highly offensive

osik — impolite form of “dung”, shit

ba'buir/e —  “grandparent/s”, gender neutral

adiik — a child aged from 3 to 13, used here as an insult

Cansitor Sato — Traditional High Galactic for “Plant Surge”, a Living Force-related technique of controlling plants (usually vines) to ensnare or slow an enemy; in legends, this was taught to Agricorp members as well, headcanoned here to be usually only taught to master/older members. 

Novitiate — personal headcanon for the form of address for non-master members of the Jedi Corps.

[psalmsofpsychosis]

So.

Before i get into it, i'd like to clarify that any and all points of view expressed here are strictly my own and i in no way am speaking for anyone else's perceptions of star wars characters, nor do i intend to render other people's interpretations as wrong or somehow less valid.

With that said, here is the way i see it: Luke Skywalker in tbobf episode 6 is extremely out of character and inauthentic to the portrayal of his narrative in the original trilogy.

Over the years the creators of Star Wars have had a persisting obsession with making Luke Skywalker in the image of Yoda as a misguided attempt to honor the "Humble Student Grows To Become As Good As His Master" archetype. This is the reason Luke's character in the sequel trilogy grew to become despicable: he's a flat mirror of Yoda as a teacher.  Episode 6 Luke Skywalker almost repeats Yoda's teachings word by word, his entire mannerism is based on Yoda and his supposed wisdom.

The point that these creators consistently miss is, the focal narrative core in the original trilogy revolves around Luke triumphing against evil and hatred and ending the cycle of violence because he is not Yoda and does not do as Yoda would. In fact, he's almost the exact opposite point of Yoda in mentality. Where Yoda was foresight and intellectuality, Luke Skywalker is action and practicality. Where Yoda was the image of calm, levelheadedness and impersonal judgement, Luke Skywalker is hot-tempered, passionate and in favor of subjective, self-driven decisions. He literally saved his father because he said yes when everyone else said no and he said kindness when everyone else said a hand for a hand.

Luke Skywalker comes like his father before him; he's inherently sentimental and idealistic and compassionate and driven by the righteousness of his own whims, and he's by design a stark contrast to the Jedi doctrine like his father was. He is unruly and thickheaded like Anakin Skywalker was and the only thing that sets Luke apart from Anakin is the fact that he used his gift of internal self-inspired guidance to be good, while Anakin was completely handicapped and suffocated by the fear and trauma that haunted his thoughts.

You literally cannot throw a piece of "you're so much like your father" dialogue at me when i look at episode 6 Luke and all i see is a tempered, detached, controlled and theorically methodical jedi. There's nothing of Anakin Skywalker's brand of fiery rebelion in this cardboard man, i simply cannot believe that the character standing here leading by the rules he literally broke in the mandalorian season 2 finale is Luke Skywalker.

Because Luke Skywalker would not make Grogu choose between being a jedi or being loved by a parent. He would not build an unbreakable wall between love and power where you get one and lose the other. Luke Skywalker, the man who didn't choose between the love of his sister and the teachings of his saber, the man who kept both the love of his father and the power of the force, would not think for a second to make grogu pick one over the other.

And he certainly would not mop around and ask for a third opinion on it. He didn't ask for a third person's opinion when he declared he's going to save vader, and he's not going to start now.

[labyrinthof-fan-fiction]

Matters of Importance Part 5: The Halls of Healing

Series Masterlist

A/N: Updates take so long because it takes me forever to phrase statements for Yoda. I started watching Clone Wars and got a serious amount of inspiration and I’m going to run with it. Last part got a lot of attention, if you want to be added to a taglist for this one just send me an ask!

Warnings: I went dark with this. PTSD, Night Terrors, Mentions of Torture, Panic Attack

Summary: After Oosalon, you return to the Jedi Temple to heal. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon return, Obi-Wan at your side as you heal. Qui-Gon contemplates just what the connection between you and his apprentice entails, with Master Windu and Yoda.

Rating: M

Word Count: 3,312

You woke up in the Halls of Healing, a medical droid hovered over you. You squinted at the white light that illuminated the room. A thin sheet covered your body, you winced at your torso, the Bacta had healed the wounds, but you could see the scars that remained. Bacta could erase them forever, but the Order left scars behind, as a reminder.

“You are awake, that is good.” A voice stated at your side, you glanced over to see Master Yoda floating in his pod at your bedside.

“Master…” You started, but flinched when you tried to sit up.

“No need, for that. Heal, you must.” Yoda stated, tutting when you tried to push yourself up again. You sighed and laid back down. “Alert the others, I will.” Yoda murmured, floating to the door. He paused for a moment. “Send in, Kenobi, I will.”

The door slid open and your eyes met Obi-Wan’s as he bowed to the Jedi Master before closing the distance between you in a few strides. It had been a while since you last saw him, years of missions had kept you from seeing each other. He was taller and broader in his shoulders. His hair still short, his Padawan braid over his shoulder. He smiled in greeting, his blue eyes meeting yours.

He scanned the length of your body, you knew he had seen everything that had happened, but the heat still rose in your cheeks. His eyes returned to yours, “You’ve looked better.” He joked as he sat in the chair next to your bed.

“The same could be said for you.” You retorted with a smile on your face.

He reached out to you with the Force, I was worried. He murmured in your mind. “Master Yoda refused to let anyone but himself be with you.”

You hummed in response, while unconscious you had sensed the Master. His presence could not go unnoticed once he tethered himself to your mind. You had felt the darkness creeping through the cracks that had resulted from Guattako’s treatment. You had hidden inside your mind, making yourself as small as possible, but Master Yoda had reached you. Come back, you must. Finished, you are not. His voice had echoed, bringing you back from the area you had shrouded yourself. Shadows still lingered, but they were not suffocating the light inside. A small part of you worried about the Master wandering through your mind, what had he seen?

“I’m glad you’re safe.” Obi stated, drawing you from your thoughts.

You smiled at him. “It’s been a while since I saw you, almost forgot what you looked like.”

He chuckled, “Take it all in.” He threw his arms out and gave you a wink. He started spinning tales of his missions with Qui-Gon, all but Mandalore. You listened as the light from the windows faded form the sun to the lights of the city. Speeders raced by the windows, carrying their passengers to the latest Coruscant night life. The dull roar of the city calmed you. Your eyes started to feel heavy as Obi-Wan detailed the latest mission, he stopped when a yawn escaped your lips.

“I know, I’ve been sleeping for days, why do I need sleep.” You muttered.

“I wasn’t going to say that.” He retorted, looking slightly offended, before taking in the sight of you on the bed before him. “But I should leave you to sleep. You went through a lot.” Obi pushed himself up from the chair. “Good night.”

Thank you. You sent to him.

He turned back at the door. Anytime.

You closed your eyes when his form disappeared into the dark halls of the Temple. Drifting to sleep was easy, but being fully in your mind, was difficult. For a few hours you were in a dreamless sleep, then the dreams began.

Guattako’s voice entered first. “Saber.” He snarled, and a pale yellow light ignited as it got closer, the blade of your saber glowed red. You tried to retreat from the blade, but it advanced and was thrust into your torso. You felt the burn grow in your center.

A dark chuckle distracted you for a moment, Guattako’s mask floated before you. “Would you die for the Jedi Order?” The disembodied mask chanted.

Obi-Wan awoke to panic tightening his chest. He glanced around his quarters, hand reaching for the saber on his nightstand. Then he realized, the panic was coming from you. He pulled on a pair of pants and started running to the Halls of Healing, his bare footsteps echoing in the empty Temple. You’re safe. He urged through the connection, but he could feel it bounce back to him.

Energy crackled as he walked into the room, you were thrashing in the bed, lightning dancing on your fingertips. A medical droid was attempting to subdue you, but you pushed it across the room into the wall. It whirred as the light faded from its eyes. I’m here, it’s me. He stated tentatively, approaching your bed. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up as he reached your bedside.

I’m here. He stated firmly, reaching out to you in the Force. He felt the panic rolling off you in waves, pushing him away from your mind. He glanced at the lightning that flashed in your hands, he steeled himself and sat on the bed, ignoring the pulsing energy and gripping your hands. He was surprised for a moment as the lightning felt like nothing against his skin. It’s me. He pressed into your mind and images began to flash through the connection. Guattako torturing you, your saber igniting then pressing into your flesh, the warlord’s mask taunting you. You are safe, he can’t hurt you. You’re in the Temple.

Fear still ebbed from you as a whimper fell from your lips. He felt you reach out to him, Obi?

He sighed in relief. I’m here, come back. He glanced down at you and your eyes opened and met his, before tears flooded them. For years, he would be haunted by the pure terror that stared at him that night. He pulled you into his chest as the tears began to flow. “I’ve got you, you’re safe.” He whispered into your hair as sobs echoed in the hall.

His eyes were drawn to the doorway where three forms watched the exchange, he kept his arms wrapped tightly around you and there was no missing the challenge in his eyes as he stared at them. His Master bowed his head in his direction before turning away, Windu and Yoda fell into step with him. The three Masters had locked themselves in conversation upon your awakening. Leaving the two apprentices alone in the Halls of Healing.

“Curious, the connection between the two.” Yoda murmured.

“I wonder if we made a mistake, separating them for training, for missions.” Windu responded, eyes focused on Qui-Gon.

“And what would have happened if we trained them together?” Qui-Gon asked. “What would they become together?”

“Valid, both points.” Yoda stated, glancing between the two Masters before him. He first turned to Qui-Gon. “Delay, your missions, we shall. Train together, they must.”

Windu’s eyes widened slightly. “And if their power is too great?”

Yoda’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “A problem, I think it will not be. Light, I sense in them. Together, the light grows.”

After one more day in the Halls of Healing, the medical droid allowed for your release. Obi-Wan appeared the moment the announcement was made. He walked you to your quarters, you deposited your things and turned to him.

“Thank you, for the company.” You said, a small smile on your face.

He returned the smile. “How about a walk? You’ve been stuck in the Hall of Healing so long, some time out of a room might do you good.”

You nodded silence fell between you as you walked in step with Obi as he lead you through the halls to the Temple Rock Garden.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t hold it back. The pain.” You murmured to Obi as you entered the Garden. Padawans littered the area, lifting rocks as their Masters corrected their form. A small green being held out their hand and floated another stone to a pile that was at least six times their height. You sat at one of the benches before the Reflection Pool, you glanced down at yourself in the smooth water. To most, you looked the same as you always had, but your eyes were weary, tired, and you could see the fear that you tried to bury deep inside yourself mirrored back to you.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He answered as he helped you to sit on one of the benches. “You can’t always control what the connection sends. Or what we might see through it.”

You chuckled, “We are entitled to our secrets though.”

Obi returned the laugh. “I suppose that was just a moment of youthful ignorance.”

“Youthful ignorance, are you now a wise adult at twenty-three?”

He glanced at you for a moment. “I hope, wiser than I was at seventeen.” He stated as a grin spread across his face.

“I think Master Qui-Gon would echo that sentiment.”

Obi pinched the bridge of his nose. “I was a handful. Especially on Mandalore.” He glanced down at his hands and sighed. “I think, with this connection, secrets are dangerous, especially when connected to emotion.” He paused and looked over to you.

You considered his words for a moment, guilt still heavy on your heart. “Emotion does pass through, and pain.”

Obi reached over and took your hand in his. “I do not blame you for what I felt. Had I the power, I would have taken it all from you. I saw what happened, a viewer of both what was happening to you and your thoughts. You don’t need to apologize for that. ”

You squeezed his hand.

He sighed, glancing at your entwined hands. “I want to tell you about what happened on Mandalore.”

Your eyes flicked to his face. “Obi, you don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to tell you.” He replied earnestly, he paused for a moment, to give you a final chance to say something, then he began the story. “We were sent to protect the Duchess, Satine Kryze. Groups had amassed to overthrow her rule, as a pacifist, she threatened the history of the planet. They sent bounty hunters after us and we had to go into hiding. Satine is a strong woman, I think you both would get along.” He smiled. “Probably too well, it would be a danger to my existence if the two of you were in the same sector, let alone planet. The year on the run and getting to know her, I realized that I was glad of the duty to protect her. I would give my life to save her, because I love her.”

His grip on your hand tightened for a moment, his brow was furrowed as he framed his next statements. “We’ve been in the Jedi Order since we were children. I remember the lectures about attachments and how they lead to the dark side. And then you came along, this connection, and we were trained to maintain this connection to each other. This attachment did not lead to the dark side. Then, I met her, and what I feel, felt, for her, I only felt the light side of the Force.” He took a deep breath. “I tried to stifle the connection between us, because I was afraid that if you knew my feelings for her…. I don’t know what I was afraid of. Losing you, losing her, losing my place here. I wasn’t thinking.”

You chewed on your lip. “I wouldn’t have said anything.”

“I know,” He smiled, you could see the sadness in his eyes. “I decided when Satine was returned to the throne, that I would continue on my path to becoming a Jedi. So Master and I left Mandalore.”

You took in the sight of the young man beside you. There was turmoil brewing in the Force as the connection pulled his emotions to the surface between you. You still love her. You observed.

He sighed. I do, I think I always will. He tilted his head back to glance up at the sky.

I wouldn’t have said anything if you had stayed with her. You watched as he returned his gaze to yours, his eyes softened.

Thank you.

You were drawn from your conversation by Master Windu and Qui-Gon approaching you. You both dropped the other’s hand quickly and turned to your Masters. Windu stared at your face for a moment. Qui-Gon glanced between both of you, his eyes squinted.

“Master Yoda believes that it would benefit you to train together for a few months.” Windu stated, breaking the awkward silence that had developed between the four of you.

Your eyes widened. “What about the missions?” You asked, Obi’s eyes were on you.

“Missions can wait a few months.” Qui-Gon stated, eyes fixed on his apprentice. “We start your training tomorrow.” Qui-Gon tilted his head and then turned on his heel. Obi-Wan stood and followed his Master, he glanced back.

See you tomorrow.

Silence hung in the air as your Master sat in Obi’s abandoned space. He stared into the pool. “You don’t have your saber.” He stated simply.

You reached at your hip and realized he was right, you had left it in your quarters. “I forgot.” I mumbled.

Master Windu’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve never forgotten your saber.” He stated simply.

“There’s a first time for everything.” You tried to state nonchalantly.

And that was the first time, but not the last. You had spent a week in the Temple, your saber had remained in your quarters. It wasn’t uncommon for a Jedi to roam the Temple without their saber on their hip, but it was far from the normal practice, particularly for a Palawan who was to prove themselves to the Council. You continued to be drawn back to the Garden, there was peace being surrounded by the small oasis the Jedi had created. The grass a far cry from the rocks of Oosalon. You were still waking to nightmares of Guattako standing over you, sometimes you joined him, others your saber connected with your body, dealing the final blow. Obi-Wan appeared each night when you woke in a cold sweat. After a particularly grueling night of terrors, you wandered into the garden before the sun rose in Coruscant. The lights of the city almost illuminated the planet, but they lacked the comforting warmth of the sun’s rays.

You rubbed your eyes and sat next to the pond, watching the assorted aquatic creatures mill about under the water’s surface. Your mind was momentarily distracted as you wondered at the multitude of species living in harmony. Perhaps a Jedi Mind Trick kept the creatures from killing each other. Perhaps they had become attuned with the Force after living inside the Temple for so long. You were pulled from your musings by the sound of a soft footfall. You glanced up to see Master Windu approaching, there were dark circles under his eyes. You worried you were causing them, while Obi-Wan was always present to pull you from the terrors gripping you in sleep, there was always another form that hovered in your doorway. He approached and sat next to you on the bench.

Master Windu pulled your saber from under his robes. You hesitated when you reached for it. Windu’s gaze softened for a second, “It is not the saber, but the wielder who is to blame for the actions.”

You nodded and slowly took your saber from his hands. You felt a wash of cold spread through you, you shivered and clipped the hilt to your belt.

“Perhaps some time in the Spire would help.” Windu offered, then turned to gaze into the pool.

In that moment you realized the Spire was not a suggestion. You stood and began to walk to the Spire, you rode the lift up, mind wandering to what Obi-Wan had told you. Love was a foreign concept to you, well romantic love. In your trainings you were taught of compassion, a kind of love. As a Jedi, you believed that all life was important and to be respected. A Jedi was to care for every being in the galaxy, and dedicate themselves to helping to create a better life for all. Romantic love, that was forbidden, it lead to feelings of possession. When love was mingled with possession, it took away free will. But what you had sensed from Obi did not feel like the Masters had described. Obi had radiated love for the Duchess, love that yes, he would have laid down his life for, but also a love that he left, because that was what was best for more. A greater good.

You were alone in one of the many meditation chambers of the Tranquility Spire, your lightsaber at your hip. It had been a comfort, feeling the weight of the weapon, but now you felt unsteady as the hilt bounced with your steps. The weapon that denoted your title of Jedi, a piece of the most honored history, felt like a black mark on your existence.

You sighed and sat on the floor, crossing your legs into a lotus position. You detached the hilt from your belt and set it on the ground in front of you. You closed your eyes and let yourself drift into the Force, you reached your hand out to lock your signature onto your saber. For years, it had responded readily to your needs, but now, it fought against you, reluctant to respond to your will. You grunted in frustration and pushed more of your power toward the weapon, you heard a crack and opened your eyes, your saber floated around you in parts. You eyes were torn away from the mechanical parts to the Kyber crystal, pale yellow light glowing in the center of the room. You pulled it closer and felt a thrumming energy, you reached out and touched the floating crystal.

Do you see it? The clouding? A voice whispered in your mind, you recognized that voice. It was from the cave all those years ago. Do you feel the darkness?

You tentatively reached out to it, feeling the cold you had felt when you were young. Who are you?

A chuckle filled your mind. In due time, you will know who I am.

You growled, taking a closer look at the crystal. It was clouded, like a shadow had emerged from the depths. Kyber crystals were naturally attuned to the light side of the Force. You knew little about how Sith wielded them You pushed into the crystal’s Force, searching for the darkness. You hooked it and began to pull it, you continued pulling at the darkness until a shadow formed next to your crystal, which glowed brighter than before. You encased the shadow in your Force energy and brought it close for inspection. You were curious, had Guattako’s use of your blade tainted the crystal? What had caused the darkness?

You closed the energy around the shadows and they dissipated. Your saber still floated in separate parts, you closed your eyes and began reconstructing your saber. You opened your eyes and the reconstructed hilt floated before you. You reached out and wrapped your hand around it. The voice did not reappear, and your blade thrummed with familiar energy. You pressed down with your thumb and the pale yellow blade ignited. You smiled, feeling the peaceful energy you were used to with your saber.

[obaewankenobis]

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary  :  after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count  :  2.1k

warning(s)  :  character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes   :  roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

       The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

       Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

       “Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

       “Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

       Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

       “Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

       “Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.  

      Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

       Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

     The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

       Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

       No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

       You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

       “Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

       Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

       “But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

       To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

       He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

       And stars, it was suffocating.

       He couldn’t do this.

       “You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

       Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

       “I know.”

       “What?”

       “The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have  — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

       Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

       This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

       “I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

       “I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

       After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

       “I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

[dracowars]

hideaway | anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin x nonjedi!reader

word count: 2,3k

summary: where y/n wants to surprise anakin but is in for a big surprise herself

a/n: anakin owns my whole heart. hope you enjoy it~

warnings: none

universe: star wars

The smell of freshly roasted vegetables and meat fills your nostrils as you turn the stove up a notch, humming to yourself. You are by no means a five star chef, but your cooking skills are still very good. After all, your mother always made sure that you learn from her amazing skills in the kitchen. In the end what matters is how it tastes and until now you have never failed.

You keep checking the time on the clock on the wall, waiting for it to point at a certain time. You can't wait until he finally comes home. You've been counting the days and hours, even minutes until Anakin arrives back from his mission with Obi-Wan on Naboo. Anakin wasn't allowed to tell you anything about the mission of course, so you can only hope that it was a peaceful mission. Not only do you not want him to get injured, but then your planned surprise meal after his return would also be superfluous.

According to your calculation, it should take another half an hour for their spaceship to land on Coruscant, plus the time it takes Anakin to get to his apartment, where you currently are. The mission was scheduled for five days and you spent the entire time in his apartment. He gave you a spare key months ago because he noticed how much you always miss him every time he is not on the planet. In fact, it actually helped. Everything here makes it feel like he is only in the next room and not on a whole different planet and thus makes your fear for him less.

You've thought and talked about moving in together before, but there is one tiny little problem with that: nobody knows about your and Anakin Skywalker's relationship. Since he is a Jedi, a great and powerful one at that, he has to follow the Jedi Code. A Code that governs the behavior of its followers which, in this case, forbids Jedis from forming attachments. While they do not ban romantic feelings in general, Jedi's are not meant to get married or built up a family. Their only task is to bring peace to the galaxy.

And if the Jedi Order finds out about this relationship, it won't end well for neither of you. Until now you've always been able to hide it well, even if there were occasional moments when it almost got blown up. Somehow you always managed to keep it a secret though and you are very happy about that.

You stir the vegetables one more time and then throw yourself onto the large leather couch while you wait. And wait and wait. No matter how long you close your eyes and just breathe in the pleasent smell around you, time still doesn't go by faster.

You just want to hug him again, kiss him again and just be with him. It may have only been five days, but you still feel like you haven't seen him in months when it wasn't even a whole week. You have been a couple for two years now, have known each other for five of them and loved each other for four, and yet you love him like you did on the first day. There is just something special about him that makes your heart flutter every single time.

The way he looks at you, the way his eyes light up when he smiles - god, his whole apperance in general - you can't help but fall in love with him all over again. Anakin Skywalker is the love of your life and you can't imagine him to not be part of your life anymore.

While being indulged in your thoughts you don't even hear the steps approaching the front door at first and the electronic door opening a few seconds later. You jump up from the sofa immediately and are just about to go in the hallway leading directly to the door full of anticipation when you suddenly hear a different voice than Anakin's, which causes you to stiffly pause in your movement.

"I will send report about our successful mission to the Jedi Council instantly", you hear the male voice say, realizing that it is no other than Obi-Wan. Your eyes widen in shock. If Obi-Wan finds you here, in the middle of Anakin's apartment, it's over.

Looking back and forth, you search for a suitable hiding spot. You notice the cupboard at the end of the entrance area that would provide perfect protection, which you can only get to by walking past the hallway while risking to be seen. Since you can't think of anything better in this hurry, you sneak to the hallway as quietly as possible.

You look around the corner carefully just to see both men, still dressed in their full gear, standing in front of the entrance, Obi-Wan holding a holoprojector in his left hand and seemingly struggling with making it work the way he wants. Your gaze wanders to Anakin, who is standing in front of his master and trys to help him with the device. You can't help but stare at him for a few seconds. He looks breathtaking and you can feel your heart skip a beat.

And suddenly it feels like your heart completely stops at the exact moment where Anakins turns around and directly looks at you. The confusion is clearly written on his beautiful face, - which, to your surprise, doesn't have any bad injuries this time - but if you only knew how much he would love to just run to you and take you his his arms tightly, lifting you off the floor. But since Obi-Wan is still in the room, that turns out to be difficult.

With a slight head movement you indicate to the cupboard, Anakin understanding your intention immediately. Just as Obi-Wan looks up, Anakin steps in his way so that there is no possibility for him to spot you. "Let me see the holoprojector, master", Anakin tells him, reaching out for it, distracting him from what you are doing in the background.

You tiptoe across the hallway and climb into the cupboard without making any sound the very moment Anakin got the projector working. The closet is pretty narrow and you even keep your breathing quiet.

"I think I don't tell you this enough but you actually did very good out there. I'm proud of you, Anakin", Obi-Wan tells his Padawan as they walk past you and internally you feel how happy Anakin is about those words. "But was it really necessary to blow up the escaping droids?", Obi-Wan adds with serious tone but lets out a laugh soon after that.

You take in a deep breath which suddenly makes you realize that there still is something you haven't even thought about before: the food. It's still boiling on the stove, spreading a delicious smell through the rooms. How is Anakin supposed to explain that, when he didn't even know about it himself?

"Anakin. You should have listend to me when you- What is this burnt smell?", Obi-Wan interrupts himself while speaking, smelling the same odour as you did moments before. Seconds later you can hear their steps moving away as they run into the kitchen. "What is happening here?! Why is there food cooking?", Obi-Wan shouts but you can't hear more as the sound of steaming water drowns out their conversation. Anakin must have thrown the pan in the sink or otherwise you can't explain where the noise is supposed to be coming from.

"It was probably the.. the cleaning lady! Yes, the cleaning lady must have forgotten it by mistake", Anakin trys to talk his way out of the situation after the noise has quiet down. "Since when do you have a cleaner?", his master asks suspiciously. "Not very long. Since the last.. month?", Anakin explains - or tries to - not really convincingly.

Silence. There is an unbearable silence before Obi-Wan starts laughing out loud all of a sudden. "You should definetely find another one if she almost burns your appartment down. However, I could use one too..", he advises his Padawan and you can hear him coming back, lowering your breath again instantly.

"I better go now and send off the report to the Council. Master Yoda wanted to talk to me later anyway. You still have a bit of cleaning to do and..", Obi-Wan pauses in the middle of his sentence, making your breath hitch. "You should really get that lady out of your closet before she suffocates."

Your whole body stiffens at his words and the door to your hiding place opens. "Hello there", Obi-Wan looks at you expectantly. "Y/N, isn't it?" You nod carefully and look to the ground in shame after climbing out of the closet.

"It's- It's not what it looks like, master", Anakin stutters out and pulls you behind him, protecting you from whatever is coming towards you next. "Well, what does it look like?", Obi-Wan counters and crosses his arms.

You touch Anakin's arm lightly, searching for support, and look past him to Obi-Wan, who is watching you both closely. "I'm waiting", Obi-Wan sighs and puts his arms on his hips. "I don't have all day, you know."

You take all your courage and take a step forward. "It's my fault. I wanted.. I just wanted to surprise Anakin and welcome him back home", you explain with a low voice, not daring to look at Obi-Wan directly. "That still doesn't explain why you are in his appartment in the first place", he says with raised eyebrows and you look back at Anakin.

Anakin looks like he's contemplating about what to do next and then takes your hand in his as he made his decision, standing next to you now. "Master. I'm in love with Y/N and she loves me. We.. secretly dated and got together. I wanted to tell you. I always wanted to tell you, but there just wasn't the right opportunity and-"

"And you thought it would be better to not tell me about this at all? Ever?", Obi-Wan finishs Anakin's sentence. "Where do you think you are going with this? You know the Jedi Code, Anakin. You broke the rules."

"This stupid code is totally outdated and unnecessary anyway! We never meant to fall in love with each other, sometimes it just happens. We knew the day would come when someone finds out about us. We know that it.. has no future. But you can't just turn off your feelings. It is not possible", you rant and feel Anakin's hold on your hand tighten. "Please don't tell the Jedi Council and please don't throw Anakin out. You can punish me, but not him. He dedicated all his life to the Jedi Code and.. I don't want his life to get destroyed because of me."

You feel yourself get pulled to the side harshly. "What are you even saying, Y/N?! Stop that nonsense!", Anakin whisper-yells at you. "I can't live with the thought that I will destroy your future, Ani. I could never be happy agai-"

"Who said I would tell anyone?", Obi-Wan interrupts you two, making both of you look at him in confusion. "Listen, I don't support Anakin's or your actions but what happend, happend, we can't change that and I'm actually kind of happy that Anakin found someone who stays by his side."

Your mouth opens wide in shock and you look at him with pure disbelieve. "You.. what?", Anakin bursts out, seeming equally shocked and confused. "Why shouldn't I be happy for my Padawan, who is like a brother to me, when he finds the right woman, maybe his soulmate?", Obi-Wan tells you and the corners of his mouth rise. "I won't tell anyone about it, but you have to be really careful. If Master Windu oder Master Yoda find out about your relationship, I won't be able to help you. It will be over. You can be glad that it's just me who found out."

Without thinking twice, you happily hug Obi-Wan and Anakin does the same. "Thank you, Obi-Wan", Anakin smiles and lays an arm around your waist as soon as you move away from Obi-Wan. "I'll correct what I said earlier: You both still have a lot to clean up. Enjoy yourselves", Obi-Wan giggles and turns around to go back to the elevator.

Before he leaves though, he turns around one last time. "And for your information: I already felt that she is in here before we even got into the apartment. Good evening", Obi-Wan bows down slightly and leaves.

Silence spreads again, but this time a pleasant one. "What did just happen?", Anakin asks and shakes his head to get a clear thought, brushing through his hair with his mechanical hand. "I have no idea but I think we got away with it", you answer and turn to look at him, both of his hands now on each side of your waist.

"I missed you so much, Anakin", you smile and take in every feature of his beautiful structured face. Your hand comes up to his cheek and you softly stroke over his skin with your thumb. "I missed you more", he whispers and turns his face to lightly kiss the inside of your hand, which makes you giggle. He slowly leans in and finally connects your lips again. His scent flows around you and your hand clings to his brown locks.

When he breaks the sensual kiss, he leans his forehead against yours and smiles at you gently. You can feel his hands sneak around your hip as he suddenly lifts you off the floor and spins you around a few times, making you both laugh. After he puts you onto the ground again, he pecks your lips one more time before retreating completely, only keeping your hands connected.

"So, you wanted to surprise me with food?", he teases with that stupid smile on his face that you love so much. Feeling offended, you hit his arm playfully. In response, he chuckles and just pulls you behind him into the kitchen, where you clean up the mess you made before settling yourself up on the couch, cuddling for the rest of the day.

[starculler]

Whumptober 2021: Day 6

Word Count: 2271 || Read on AO3

Tags/Warnings: Star Wars, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker, Emotional Hurt

No violence. Only ✨emotions✨

Obi-Wan woke in a room not his own with the smell of blaster-fire and charred flesh in his nose, tasting it on his tongue so clearly that it nearly made him sick. He exhaled one long, slow breath that did nothing to purge the lingering traces of his nightmares, and opened his eyes to thick, black darkness. His brows furrowed, frowning as he struggled to clear the sleep-haze from his mind, a task that had grown considerably harder over the years. He spared a brief, token effort on remembering what he might have done, or where he’d gone, the day before to find himself in a stranger’s home, but only shrugged it off when nothing came to mind.

Perhaps, he mused with only a touch of sardonic humor, the suns’ heat had finally gotten to him and he’d broken into some poor farmer’s home. Whose, he hadn’t the faintest idea considering he only really visited one and this was, most certainly, not the Lars’ farmstead. He would know, he’d been inside once after all — a week spent in a guest room as he’d delivered little Luke to his aunt and uncle. Any subsequent visits had been … difficult.

Luke looked so much like his father sometimes.

He sighed, shoving the thought forcefully away, and focused once more on the room, straining see a little better. The walls, he noticed first, were bare except for a few occupied shelves whose contents he couldn’t even begin to guess at. A single window peered out into the world, tinted black by a light-blocking feature he remembered using … Before. The floor was much the same: spartan, with only a low table in one corner with a cushion to sit on and the bland bed roll he’d woken on. A bitter tang of nostalgia crawled up his throat, lodging there like a bottle’s stopper, and he struggled to swallow around it.

Shoving that away too, he clambered inelegantly to his feet — noticed he still wore the rattier robe and tunics he hadn’t been able to bring himself to eschew along with everything else — and made his way to the room’s singular exit. The door opened with barely a brush of his palm over the panel next to it. He made to move out into the home proper with a steadying hand laid on the frame’s cool metal. And froze.

“Anakin?”

His voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, almost too soft to carry across the larger living space to the spitting image of the little boy he’d raised, failed, and left behind, burning on a bank of churning magma on Mustafar. He couldn’t breathe, lungs seizing and stuttering as they refused to work. He gripped the door’s frame harder, knuckles white and fingers little more than pricks of insignificant pain where they dug into the sharper edges. Anakin’s screaming roared in his ears, violent hatred and pain alike with faint echoes of the single plea he’d let slip from his lips somewhere in between before Obi-Wan had turned his back and waled away.

Anakin — oh Force it was Anakin — twisted around on his cushion, one hand braced on the long, low table in front oh him while the other lay flat on the floor, when he heard his name called. Obi-Wan’s gaze caught on his Padawan-braid, so short still that it barely brushed the boy’s — a boy. He was just a boy now, younger than twelve and a picture-perfect replica of the child who lived only in Obi-Wan’s memories and Luke’s shadow — shoulder.

“Master!” Anakin flashed him a bright grin, his blue eyes practically glittering with the strength of his joy. “You’re awake! Finally,” he said, excitement turning to a familiar teasing tone that tore Obi-Wan’s heart to shreds. “I almost thought you’d sleep for forever, and then who’d help with my lessons?”

The boy’s nose scrunched, his distaste for his lessons made clear in the way the word dropped from his mouth like a particularly foul piece of rotted food. Obi-Wan swayed where he stood, mouth suddenly drier than Tatooine’s desert as he stared. Then, faintly and feeling all too much like the very words he spoke had stolen free from him without permission, he said:

“Master Windu would, he’s told me so many times himself. He does so enjoy your company.”

It was a joke, one of several he’d indulged in often after having noticed Anakin’s distrust of the Council. A reassurance as much as something to make the boy laugh. Mace Windu had never told him he’d help with any of Anakin’s lessons, but Obi-Wan had never once seen the Master turn a youngling down when they asked him for help. Oh, he thought with a painful pang in his chest, Mace had loved the younglings, from the tiniest initiates in the Crèches all the way to the padawans, no matter what his severe countenance might have portrayed. He’d tried so hard to show that to Anakin, to teach him that Jedi — even and especially the Council — were, at their core, kind and compassionate. Had his Padawan ever truly known that, or was it another failure to be laid at Obi-Wan’s feet?

Anakin scoffed and rolled his eyes, still grinning. “Yeah, and I’m a heard of Bantha,” he said with a snicker. Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched despite how he wanted to be sick.

“You certainly smell like one,” Obi-Wan replied by rote, more of a murmur than the steady sarcasm he’d once thrown at his Padawan. Anakin squawked regardless, all faux-offense as he puffed himself up for a comeback, but deflated suddenly to squint at him instead.

“Are you feeling alright? You look…” Anakin floudered for a moment and settled on a bland, hesitant, “not good.”

“I,” Obi-Wan started. Stopped. Swallowed. “No,” He admitted, slow. Reluctant. “No, Padawan, I don’t think I am.”

The trembling in his hands hadn’t stopped and his chest still hurt and his stomach had managed to twist itself into nauseating knots as he stood there, still in the open doorway to the room, he realized, that had once been his at the Temple. Anakin’s eyes widened and he shot to his feet, anxiety flowing off him in sharp, erratic waves that only further soured the bitter, ashen taste in Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Do you need a healer? Are you hurt? Kriff, uh, should I— I mean— I’ll go grab someone, Master, I’ll be right back, okay? Real quick, I—”

“No!” Obi-Wan winced. He hadn’t meant to shout. Hadn’t meant to put that hurt, wide-eyed look on his Padawan’s face. He’d just —

Obi-Wan watched Anakin’s familiar, blue lightsaber cut through another Jedi, horror curdling in his stomach. It was all he could do not to be sick, but he forced himself to continue looking at the security feed Master Yoda had found. He couldn’t look away. Couldn’t be blind to this any more than he could turn back time and undo it. So he watched, ill, as his former Padawan, his friend, his brother, cut down Jedi after Padawan after Initiate until none at all remained in the place they had both called home.

“No,” he croaked, softer, blinking back the stinging heat in his eyes. He lifted the hand not helping keep him upright, clammy and shaking much more obviously than before, and made as if to reach out but stopped short. “No,” he said again, so low he barely heard himself, pulling his hand back to clutch at the fabric over his chest and wondered if he’d suffocate on his feet.

“Master?”

Anakin sounded so scared even as he took a tentative step forward, his hands fisted into the hem of his tunic. Obi-Wan wanted to rush to his side, to comfort him as he’d once done so many years ago. He wanted to run, to flee from the face of this apparition — the ghost of a boy who’d chosen to become a monster because he’d failed as a Master. He wanted to fall to his knees and weep: for this boy, for himself, for the scores of Jedi massacred to mark the end of an unjust war. For the galaxy being crushed under a Sith’s oppressive thumb. For the children of his former student, who would be called upon one day. Who would lose friends and family alike as they worked to dismantle the bloody legacy left to them.

He almost didn’t notice when his legs gave out, choking on his own ragged, wet breaths as Anakin cried out, alarmed, and ran to his side. Obi-Wan flinched away from those small, calloused hands when they reached for him, curling into himself as he struggled to breathe, but his Padawan was nothing if not determined.

He gasped when Anakin’s fingers brushed his arm, searing his skin through three layers of worn fabric. Whined when they traveled up to his shoulder, and hissed, a pained and wounded sound torn from him when Anakin pressed the palm of his hand to the nape of Obi-Wan’s neck. Slowly, with a care he’d rarely seen in his Padawan, Anakin maneuvered himself in front of him, hunched and twisting as the hand on Obi-Wan’s neck pulled until he’d knocked their foreheads together.

How long had it been since he’d sat so near another sentient being he trusted? Since he’d been touched so familiarly? Kindly? Luke, perhaps. Little more than a toddler, freely affectionate with the man who’d carried him across the stars and sands to the home he’d remain in.

Obi-Wan didn’t settle. Didn’t calm. His breathing hitched and every inch of him shook so hard he thought his bones might rattle right out of his skin. The stinging bite of fresh tears lingered in his eyes and every limb was weighed down with the same deep exhaustion that had dogged him since he’d left Luke with the Lars’ and lost the only source of immediate responsibility he might have distracted himself with. He did, however, reach forward. Brushed his fingers over the front of Anakin’s tunic and felt the rough material, caustic and abrasive against the suddenly sensitive digits.

“Are you—” Obi-Wan swallowed painfully, his own saliva turning to grains of coarse sand. “Is this real?” he asked, whisper soft and broken. “Are you real, Anakin?” His padawan pressed harder against him in response, puffing out an incredulous breath.

Obi-Wan wondered if he’d melt from the heat of his brother-friend-Padawan’s touch, as skin-crawling as it was a burning, aching comfort for all it seemed to set him further on edge.

“I’m real,” Anakin said, voice strangled. Obi-Wan could taste his fear. Felt it soak into his skin and curl around his heart. “I’m real, Master, I promise. I’m here. I’m real.”

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice cracked on the name as a sudden desperation washed over him, urging him to reach out further. To pull and clutch and hold his Padawan as close as he could, breathing raggedly against his short, brown hair as Anakin hid his own face against his neck, letting a few tears soak into the collar of Obi-Wan’s tunic. He rocked them both, letting Anakin hold on to him as to him as fiercely as he did his Padawan.

An eternity might have passed there between them as Anakin cried and Obi-Wan babbled — apologies and reassurance and a half dozen other words he’d meant to tell his Padawan over the years tumbling clumsily from his tongue — until the intensity eased, leaving them tired and tangled up together against the room’s cool wall. Obi-Wan let his eyes slip closed, just for a moment. Let himself soak in his brother’s presence, young and bright and much too old to be held like this, half asleep and slumped over him. But he didn’t let go.

He brushed his fingers over Anakin’s hair, short and bristly except for the bundle tied back into a short nerftail, and breathed in the citrus scent of the hair products his Padawan had favored those first few years in the Temple. Leaning his head back against the wall, he let himself drift into his thoughts. Into the Force. Out past the confines of the room, through the halls, and across the Temple, jaw clenching as he felt the bright, living presence of hundreds of Jedi. Thousands. So many his head spun.

His breathing hitched, and he wrapped his arms a fraction tighter around his Padawan. Strained to squeeze his eyes closed harder until he saw blurry, red shapes dance across the darkness behind his lids.

It felt so real.

This. His Padawan. The sights, smells, sounds, even the taste of the Temple’s chill air. Anakin had said he was real. Obi-Wan had squeezed him, had him currently in his arms safe and close and whole. He shuddered, exhaling a wavering, wet breath.

Perhaps, he let himself hope as he drew back to himself, it had been a vision. A warning from the Force — a life lived in the span of a few hours’ sleep. He let the thought comfort him, burying his nose in his Padawan’s hair as sleep slowly claimed him.

Obi-Wan woke in a room he recognized, the sweet, tangy scent of citrus thick in his nose, so vivid he could practically taste it. He exhaled one long, slow breath, letting himself savor it for a moment longer, and opened his eyes to bright light, sandy-colored walls, and the sweltering, suffocating heat of Tatooine’s long, dry days. His fingers curled into the rough, thin, ragged bedroll he’d all but tossed himself into the night before. Alone. Utterly and completely alone.

For the first time since his family were slaughtered at the hands of his student,

Obi-Wan wept.

[fanficsforheartandsoul]

Anxiety | [Fem!Reader x Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Inspired by a post by @bluegalaxygirl​

Notes: This is brought to you by my social anxiety and my thirst for Obi-Wan Kenobi, yaaayy. Also, I have literally no clue how to write feelings.

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: Angst, Anxiety, Self-Doubt, Self-Conciousness, slight OOC, Fluff

Summary: Y/N has only recently become Obi-Wan’s padawan and she is struggling with her social anxiety and her relationship with her master, so she has a panic attack. Luckily, Obi-Wan himself comes for the rescue.

Word Count: 3868

© Fanficsforheartandsoul

________

She knew that her master would most likely disown her if he found out what she was doing right now. Obviously. Because emotions were prohibited. But she couldn’t control it. Not at all.

Y/N had always been alone. She didn’t join the order when she was an infant. She had lived for 13 years on her own on a small planet in the outer rim. She didn’t even know the name of the ice planet. The life in the tundras had been lonely but she felt comfortable. With the help of the force, she was able to survive just fine. Then the Jedi came.

Master Yoda brought her to Coruscant, introduced her to the council and decided that she should start to learn with the other younglings. 

The first mistake he made.

Y/N had never met any children, nor any group that consisted of more than 6 people. Having companions was new territory and being exposed to a huge amount of people for the first had caused her to lash out with the force. By accident, she not only hurt some younglings but also herself. The scars on her arms and left cheek would always remind her of that moment.

That’s when the wise Jedi grandmaster decided to teach her the basics himself. Alone. To help ease her agitation. It was a good idea. Y/N did approve after all. She studied the Jedi, learned the lightsaber forms, meditated. She was a good student, and Master Yoda was proud of her. But then the Clone Wars started and he had no time for teaching her anymore.

So he made his second mistake. 

He decided that it was time for her to become someone’s padawan. “Why can’t you be my master?”, she had asked him, her voice void of any emotion but not because she learned to properly follow the code. She had just learned how to hide them. His answer left her intestines churning and she was ready to shut herself in her room. But the Jedi obviously didn’t let her.

“Your new master, this is.”

And that’s how she got introduced to Obi-Wan Kenobi. A formidable Jedi with great patience and a humorous character. A kind soul.

From whom she was hiding right now.

Y/N had been his padawan for two months but she didn’t progress far. Her training went well, that was not the problem. Since they were alone when they meditated or trained. No, the problem was her social anxiety.

Meeting the clone troopers for the first time caused the panic attack she was having right now. They were supposed to have a meeting for an upcoming mission but Y/N ditched them. Not intentionally she’d like to say but that would be a lie.

She had already stood in front of the meeting room’s door but she couldn’t enter. Her legs felt like jelly. The padawan tried to calm herself but it was no use.

Her heart was pounding loudly in her ears and she had trouble breathing. Her hands were clammy and she felt uncomfortable because she had broken out in a cold sweat. Footsteps were coming closer and she heard the voice of her Master from inside the room. A shaky breath escaped her lips and she whispered “I’m sorry” before she bolted.

She hid in her room. Not the best place of course, since he would probably search for her here, but there was no other place that calmed her down. Asides from Master Yoda’s side. But the council member was gone on a mission and he would probably also be disappointed if he found out about her panic attack.

Currently, she was leaning against her bathroom door and tried to meditate. But she couldn’t concentrate on her breathing because it felt like she was suffocating. “Don’t worry, Master Obi-Wan will understand”, she would tell herself but that only frightened her more. Because no way in hell would he understand! She had been living in the temple for 2 years but hadn’t met more than 8 people at the same time, not since the accident.

Every time Master Yoda tried to take her to one of the lessons with the younglings, her scars began to hurt. It wasn’t painful since she got used to it but it broke her concentration and seemingly also her spirit. Y/N couldn’t focus with the tingle that went up her arms and the force around her became unstable.

The same was happening now. She could feel it. The air around her felt heavy and made it hard for her to breathe.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

She choked the words and tried to hold back a sob from her throat. She wouldn’t cry, because she couldn’t. It wasn’t allowed. And the code was the only thing that stopped her from falling into misery. So she clenched her teeth and tried to stop whimpering.

But thoughts of her master finding her invaded her head and tears threatened to spill.

He would be disappointed. Y/N didn’t worry about him hating her, no. She wouldn’t mind that. But disappointing him was far worse.

She knew that Master Kenobi disliked the idea of having to train a new padawan shortly after Anakin Skywalker, especially during the times of a War. He never showed it of course. But somehow she could feel it. Maybe it was because she had always lived alone, only with the company of animals, who could show their emotions with the force. But she was able to feel to a greater extent than others apparently.

That’s how she knew. That he would most likely spare her a glance and then abandon her. It made sense. She was not fit for a Jedi after all. They were supposed to be the stars of the republic, the peacekeepers who helped every civilian. But this meant that they would be in the light. But her life wasn’t made for that.

She was always meant to stay in the shadows. Where the darkness was calming, reassuring.

Maybe she should just give up and leave. Going home, to her real home, on the unknown ice planet, seemed like a good idea. It was a welcome one.

Y/N didn’t realize how she spiraled deeper down in self-doubt and self-consciousness. But surprisingly she calmed down a little. The thought of returning to her house, that was actually an old transport ship, relaxed her muscles and she could breathe better again.

But then it hit her. She had no money. And in fact, she didn’t even know the exact location of her home planet. Master Yoda never told her. Maybe be knew that she would waver!

Dread fell over her and she let her head hang low. Maybe he never trusted her at all. And when he had enough he cast her aside and let another person take over the dead weight. How Obi-Wan Kenobi must suffer with her as a padawan.

Shame made her cheeks burn and the tears welled up again. But this time they spilled over. Y/N clenched and unclenched her fights slowly. Her fingernails dug into her palm and the pain distracted her from the salty tears that rushed down her cheeks. The scars on her left one throbbed.

Maybe, just maybe, if she curled up and stayed in that position, she would just fade into the darkness and everyone would forget her.

-

“Have you seen my padawan?”

Obi-Wan was currently walking back and forth in the meeting room, his hand thoughtlessly on his lightsaber while he worried about Y/N. He knew he didn’t give her enough attention and the guilt ate him alive but like Anakin assured him, he was busy with the war and her shyness wasn’t helping with that.

“Your padawan? You know we’ve never seen her face before”, teased Anakin and Ahsoka gave her master an annoyed look.

*No, but… A girl was standing before the meeting room when I arrived half an hour ago”, she replied and Obi-Wan immediately stood a little straighter.

“Did she have h/c hair? And a scarred left cheek?”

Ahsoka tilted her head and tried to remember. “I didn’t see her face but she had h/c hair, yes. But she walked off in a hurry so maybe it wasn’t her.”

Obi-Wan remembered how the young girl always stormed off after their lessons as if she was running from something. He was sure, the person Ahsoka saw, was his padawan.

Why did she walk away? He knew he told her that the meeting started at 1100. Did she forget something? That didn’t seem likely.

“I know your padawan isn’t here, General Kenobi, but we should start anyway. We cannot leave the senator waiting”, said Captain Rex and he nodded in defeat.

The meeting began and they discussed their strategy but Obi-Wan couldn’t quite focus. He remembered the first time he met Y/N. How her young eyes were strangely dull.

The girl was a little shy according to Yoda but he learned fast, that this comment had been an understatement. When they walked to their first training lesson she said nothing. No word left her lips and the Jedi had wondered if she disliked him.

But when they fought he realized that she was nervous. Her attacks were timid and had almost no force and he began to wonder if it was the right decision to say yes. After all, it was only an offer, Yoda didn’t order him to take Y/N as his padawan. He had to admit that he even doubted the grandmaster’s judgment a little. But the girl proved to him that she was a good student. Technically.

Her skills were sharp when she fought against a training droid, she used form four like Master Yoda which surprised him since it was an offensive style. But he never saw her do it when they fought against each other. He wanted to tell her that she could use Ataru but her apprehension also made him hesitate and he felt like he couldn’t talk freely to her. If he needed to be honest, it was a little uncomfortable.

It was strange that he had problems adapting to her but to be fair, Anakin had been completely different when he was her age. It wasn’t just because she started her training a few years later than him, it was also her character.

From what he had learned in the first month, Y/N liked to stay secluded and isolated herself from others at her age. She got embarrassed easily and he often felt like she was like a scared animal that would run away if he made a wrong move.

And there was something else. Sometimes the force would radiate from her. It was as if a pipe had been opened and all her feelings were flushed out through the force. He couldn’t explain why but he never told the Jedi council about her emotions. Obi-Wan told himself that they weren’t concerning but when he stood there in this meeting room with a bad feeling in his chest, he changed his mind.

“…ood, then let’s conclude this meeti-”

“Thank you, Anakin, I’ll see you later. Goodbye”

With these words, he walked out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind him, he picked up the pace and decided to look for Y/N in her room. It was the only place that seemed to make sense for him. Hopefully, she would be there because if she wasn’t he wouldn’t know where else to look. This realization just showed how much he neglected her and shame and guilt made his heart heavy.

He decided that they needed to talk. It would be hypocritical to spill their emotions when they were supposed to not let themselves be swayed by them but this was about their relationship as student and teacher. He wanted to apologize from deep within his heart. Obi-Wan realized that he had been a bad master for her and he knew that it needed to change.

So he hurried to the south wing, where Y/N’s room was located. He walked up the stairs and as soon as his foot stepped on her floor, he paused.

The force felt weird on this level of the temple. Unease filled his chest and his hand found his lightsaber, since touching it always calmed him down.

His intuition told him the dread that filled the air had something to do with his padawan. He walked down the hallway and stopped before her door. The nameplate next to it was dark, which meant there were no lights on in the room. But he didn’t turn away. He could feel her presence through the force. She was here. And she was hurting.

Worry coursed through his veins and he knocked on the door.

“Y/N? Can we talk?”

He waited a few seconds but there was no response. He knocked again. This time louder.

“Y/N, please. I-”

Obi-Wan stopped and waited, hoping she would answer but the silence remained.

“I’m coming in, okay?”

He didn’t expect a response, so he wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get any. With the help of the force, he opened her door and stepped inside the room. Like the nameplate indicated, the lamps were off, but the big window let enough light inside for him to immediately see that she wasn’t here. She wasn’t laying in her bed, or sitting at the table studying, how he often found her when he was coming to pick her up for training. But the shift in the force was stronger than ever, so he knew she was here. The only place that was left, was the bathroom.

And not much to his surprise, its door was closed. He crossed the room and stopped before it. Now that he was standing so close, he was able to hear sniffles. The sound crushed his heart and he regretted listening to his former padawan so much.

Deep down he had known that what he was doing was badly hurting the young girl but he told himself it would be fine. He forgot how fragile and sensitive people were. Maybe the war had made him heartless. The anxiety he could feel through the force shook him to the core. He tried to steel his nerves but the emotions flowed through him and left his body numb.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his voice was soft.

He heard a breath hitch and the sniffles died down. She noticed him, now all she needed to do was talk to him.

-

Y/N almost died then and there.

He found her. Obviously. But she had hoped with the naive belief that he wouldn’t. She tried to suppress the sobs and quiet down but it felt impossible and honestly, she didn’t want to. There was a brief thought that she should just let it all out and show him how miserable he made her feel.

But the idea vanished as soon as it appeared. It wasn’t his fault. She was the one who was scared of other people, of interacting. It wasn’t normal, she wasn’t. He was just unfortunate enough to get paired with her.

“Leave me alone.”

Y/N only whispered it and it was almost inaudible but she was sure that he had heard her. He would definitely leave now. Leave her behind like her parents did, how master Yoda did, like everyone d-

“Let me in, Y/N. Please.”

Her heart missed a beat. Master Kenobi’s voice was soft and had a pleading undertone. She could sense genuine worry radiating from him through the force. Worry, guilt and also regret.

When she felt all these emotions, she couldn’t stop the sobs anymore. She pushed herself up and crawled away from the door. Maybe he sensed how she moved away, maybe he didn’t, but the door opened with the help of the force and she could see the blurry shape of her master standing in the doorway.

The light from the room shined in and outlined his features as if he was one of the republic’s posters coming alive. He looked like a savior. And the thought of him being that for her filled her heart with something she couldn’t describe.

He approached her and knelt in front of her. She could see his worried eyes through her tears and the warmth that radiated from his presence in the force. It felt familiar and surprisingly it made her feel like she was safe. Maybe she was allowed to cry some more. Maybe he allowed it until she calmed down and then he would just bring her to the counci-

“I won’t leave you alone anymore, Y/N. I’m sorry. I neglected my duties as your master and made you suffer.”

He held out his hand but paused as if he wanted her permission first to touch her. The padawan sniffled.

“I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan saw that as a cue and lightly touched her shoulders. The moment when his fingers touched her robes felt like a storm abruptly stopped. She stared at him with wide eyes. He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to apologize but she suddenly threw herself into his arms.

Y/N cried into her master’s beige robes and her hands were shaking while she hugged him but she didn’t care. She sensed it when he touched her. He genuinely wanted to help her, to ease her pain. And for her, who so desperately wanted somebody to understand her and lend her a hand, it meant the world.

The Jedi was stiff at first since it rarely happened that somebody threw themselves into his arms, but when he felt her shaking hands and how wet his robes got from her tears, he raised his hands and returned the hug. His left hand stroked her back while his right pressed her head closer to his chest.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, Y/N.”

The moment was intimate but he didn’t mind. If he could calm her down this way, he would gladly continue until she didn’t need him to do it anymore. Her body slowly stopped trembling and the sobs died down. Her voice was raspy when she said:

“I’m sorry that I didn’t attend the meeting.”

A small laugh escaped Obi-Wan’s mouth. He ruffled her hair and smiled slightly.

“Why would you worry about that? I found you having a breakdown in your bathroom, I believe we have other priorities.”

She nodded and looked up at him. Her eyes were puffy and her cheeks slightly red from embarrassment. He let go of her and Y/N backed away until she sat leaning against the bathtub. He watched how she fiddled with her fingers, unsure of what to say.

Her Master then noticed that the force around them had calmed down. The anxiety was partly still there but it felt like an echo. Y/N then took a deep breath and said:

“I’m scared.”

He looked at her but he didn’t say anything, worried that she would stop before she even has properly begun to explain.

“I- I’m scared of people. I can’t really explain why but meeting a group is really stressful for me. It’s… uh… It’s like I feel like everybody’s looking at me and judging me and I can’t, can’t handle that well”, she started and avoided eye contact with him.

“I’ve always been alone and suddenly that changed and now everybody’s expecting me to hang out with all those people and there are so many clones and their feelings and emotions are all over the place, and I get all sweaty and I can’t prop-properly breath and it’s just… I don’t know… too much. It’s too much for me. I’m not used to be in the spotlight. I know that sounds arrogant because I know that not everyone is looking at me and watching every move I make but I just can’t stop from feeling like they do. And I’m feeling all this fear and anxiety and I can’t handle them knowing that what I’m doing is against the code and I feel like a failure, I am a failure and it’s… Maybe Master Yoda was wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought me here.”

Y/N knew she was rambling and when she finally stopped to take a breather she looked up and watched her Master’s expression and when she saw his confusion, she regretted telling him.

“This… I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything, let’s just forge-”

“Do you feel the same with me?”

Master Kenobi’s question made her pause and when she searched his eyes for any disappointment or disdain she couldn’t find any. His words left her wondering. Was she feeling the same with him?

“No…”, it sounded unsure, but she didn’t add anything because she really wasn’t completely sure.

“Let me try to rephrase what you just said, okay?” She only nodded. “Am I correct when I say that you have anxiety when it comes to social interaction?” Again, he received only a nod.

Obi-Wan touched his beard and pondered over what he had just heard. Many things made sense now. Why Y/N was always studying alone, why she ate in her room instead of the cantina and why seemed like she was dying every time he saw her in a room with more than 3 people. But he still didn’t really understand why she had problems with that.

He searched her eyes and when she returned the eye contact he smiled softly and then said:

“I can’t really understand you, but”, he held up his hand when she tried to interrupt him, “I want to understand. And I want to help. I’m sure that the force will guide us both and I believe that, as master and padawan, together we can face your fear and ease it.”

Y/N leaned back, her shoulders relaxed and she let out a breathy laugh. Sneakily she wiped away a tear that threatened to spill again.

“That would be great… Master Kenobi.”

The Jedi’s smile widened and he put up his finger as if he wanted to warn her.

“I would prefer it if you call me Obi-Wan, at least in private.”

The padawan nodded and together they slowly stood up.

“Let’s try”, she added and her voice was quiet but he could hear the determined undertone.

“There is no try, padawan, only-”

“Do or do not, I know that one.”

He raised an eyebrow and then patted her shoulder smiling. It felt a little awkward but then her master interrupted the timid atmosphere:

“You said ‘their emotions are all over the place’. Does that mean you can sense feelings? To what extent?”

Y/N paused. Him speaking about her ability made her feel shy again.

“Uhm… I can tell what a person is feeling without concentrating too much. As long as I want to know, I can sense it clearly.”

Since the light was still not on in the bathroom and he turned away, she couldn’t see his expression but she felt embarrassment radiating from him. Maybe it was because of the moment they had just shared but she suddenly wanted to tease him.

Yet she didn’t. Not wanting to destroy the thin thread of a bond that they formed today.

[selfships-in-spanish]

Idk random thought but I think it would be cute/hot if canon!verse connor and ona where at home watching a movie and it ended up with them getting handsy with one another. Like, they're snuggled up under blankets and roaming hands lead to some fun times (like some finger fucking/handjob etc.).

Anon I am DEEPLY SORRY for how long it took, but between the creative rut I was in, the months I worked and such... I just had no time and words didn’t want to come to me. 

But I really hope you’re still around and that you enjoy this 6683 word smutty one-shot!

A bazillion thanks to @tinmiss1939 for helping me out with English and ideas when my brain decided to not cooperate <3

Warnings: smut! They get touchy 👀

––––––––––––––––––––

Saturday nights ended up being movie nights with Ona’s cozy blanket that her grandmother knit her as a Christmas present. She didn’t want her favourite grandchild being cold in the States, knowing Ona was used to her precious Mediterranean weather. Connor ended up snogging most of the blanket, even if it was big enough for two adults and had wool to spare. 

Ona made sure Connor was familiarised with the classics, checking out the long list of movies she wanted Connor to see, and Ona would also make popcorn and prepare thririum-sodas for Connor so he could enjoy The Experience. Connor was grateful for her efforts and felt her enthusiasm transmit to him too. He kind of regretted watching Terminator 2 because she kept asking him to repeat some lines, but he secretly looked for leather jackets. T-800 was… cool. 

Ona finished the popcorn, setting the bowl on the table next to their soda glasses. She was currently staring at the screen, quite invested in how Yoda trained Luke Skywalker on Dagobah. Connor ventured a look at her, eyes zeroing on her lips absently wrapping around her popcorn-salty fingers. He wondered how her tongue would feel on his own fingers, the texture, the heat. A notification appeared on his HUD, warning him about a slight rise in his core temperature. Connor ignored it. 

Connor decided a distraction from those thoughts would be good, and he went to reach for his own thirium-soda, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. Ona reached to the paper napkins she put there previously, wiping the remaining of the salt and saliva out of her fingers. Once done, she threw the crumpled paper napkin inside the popcorn bowl and rearranged herself on the sofa to find a comfortable position, which ended being by her leaning slightly into Connor. The poor android suppressed embarrassing noises at the fact that Ona was slightly touching his arm with hers. He couldn’t wait to actually feel her in his arms, some day. 

They kept their positions for a while, Connor not daring to move a single centimetre in case Ona realised her proximity and put some distance between them. But rA9, how he wanted to move to—

Ona leaned her head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly. 

Connor wanted to scream. 

His olfactory sensors could pick up traces from her fruity shampoo and the pressure and heat sensors from his shoulder could feel the warmth from her cheeks and the comfortable weight of her head. Some stray curls tickled his neck. 

Connor wanted to scream. A lot. 

He stayed perfectly still, his breathing program stuttering slightly. Did she know what this meant? To him? Did she know how he longed to feel her against him and to be able to freely touch her? Touch her soft, snow white curls? Connor ignored the movie completely (not that Ona will ever know, he could download it and watch it anytime, as well as film analysis and data in case she wanted to discuss the plot and story points), focusing his attention on this tiny human that managed to make her way into his pump, unknowing of the depth she managed. 

He wanted to lean his head against hers too, he wanted to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her closer to him, he wanted to feel her entire weight on him, he wanted—

Ona nuzzled her head against Connor’s shoulder, shifting to make herself more comfortable. Connor was this close to make shutdown noises. 

Connor tried to analyse this situation: Ona was not uncomfortable with his presence, she was in fact seeking contact, and she was quite prone to seek human touch. She was a hugger, she liked holding his hand whenever she dragged him somewhere or would poke Hank’s chest when she teased him, sometimes even managing to convince Hank into letting her tie his hair in a ponytail. So, it wasn’t new she liked to touch her friends and people she was comfortable with, but the fact that she was touching him… he would never get used to it, or at least anytime soon. 

“Am I too heavy?”

Her voice pulled him out of his thoughts, slightly lifting her head to turn around just enough to face Connor. RA9, she was beautiful. 

“You are not, detective. My pressure plates and carbon fibre chassis can endure heavy weights and— what?” Ona was smiling at him, fondly, and with an amused spark in her eyes. Connor could get lost in her olive-green gaze. 

“You said detective,” Ona began, a teasing edge in her voice. “We are not in the precinct. Do I have to pull a Hank on you?” Hank was very loud about how he didn’t want to be called Lieutenant every single time his friend, because he wasn’t ready for son yet, talked to him. And Ona wasn’t shy to make herself heard either. 

“That will not be necessary, Miss Boix.” Ona raised a brow. “Ona.”

“That’s better. I like the way you say my name.” Ona got on her previous position, leaning her head on his shoulder again. Connor was too stunned to reply, having her words in a loop. What the hell does he reply to that?

Connor kept staring at the screen without really seeing anything. Half of his HUD was occupied with error notifications and temperature increases, as well as his pump regulator accelerating. The other half was occupied with romantic manoeuvres and tips he could execute to take a further step in their relationship. He decided to try one of the most used and well reviewed tactics: the arm stretching behind the couch. 

On the count of three, because he needed a mental kick from himself to move, Connor slowly nudged his shoulder, making Ona hum. She lifted her head, and Connor almost regretted moving because it meant she was no longer touching him, wasn’t letting her soft cheek press against his perfectly ironed shirt and— but it was for a good reason, he told himself. Connor lifted his arm, trying to ignore Ona’s questioning look, and made as if he stretched it as humans do after having a limb locked on a particular position for too long. 

“You should have told me you were uncomfortable, bobo.” Ona mumbled, shifting into a new position. 

“No!” Ona looked back at him, startled at his outburst. Connor mentally kicked himself. “No, uh. I’m okay. I, uh…” Ona frowned, Connor didn’t stutter. The android decided to finish executing his move. Carefully, he let his arm fall and curl on Ona’s shoulder, making her head rest on it. “I thought you would be more comfortable like this.”

He made it. Connor made it. He executed it perfectly, as expected from an android. 

Ona smiled, an “awww” escaping her lips, being touched by Connor’s concern. She snuggled further, pulling the blanket up and making a cocoon with both of them inside. One of her hands rested on his chest. 

Connor was a wreck. 

For Connor, Ona felt as if she fit right there, in his arms, as if he had been perfectly designed to fit her body. It was a silly thought, but it made Connor giddy. Ona was warm, she was a comfortable weight against his own body, and he quite liked the feeling of it. He could get used to it.

Both human and android resumed watching the sci-fi classic, Connor still processing what just happened. Deviancy was new, deviancy was scary, but with Ona, Hank and the Jericho crew next to him, it was a less frightening journey. Deep in his thoughts, Connor didn’t notice a slight tugging at his tie. Looking down, he saw Ona’s hand tugging at it with a displeased frown.

“Aren’t you suffocating with this?” Connor looked at the perfectly made windsor knot, apparently offending Ona’s standards of ‘comfy movie night’.

“I can’t suffocate–”

“Shush, you know what I mean!” Ona teased him, flicking the silky end. “It looks a little bit constricting for a pajama-ish movie night, don’t you think?” Connor considered her reasoning and she surely had more experience in such matters than him, anyways. Maybe he should listen for once. “C’mon, loosen up a bit! You can relax here.” Connor was the opposite of relaxed, having her so close and being so carefree with her touch. But, maybe he should really give it a shot.

“Well, I suppose I could... try.” 

Ona grinned, not caring to hide how pleased she was that Connor both listened to her and tried to loosen up as she suggested. The twinkle in her eyes spurred Connor into action. He sat up, efficiently undoing the knot. The android folded the tie and left it on top of the table, Ona snorting at the mannerisms he couldn’t shake off. Feeling daring, Connor unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He looked back at her in time to see her roll her eyes and slightly shake her head.

“No no no! That’s not loosening up! We are not in the Victorian period and you are not a victorian lady showing an ankle, bobo!” Ona sat up and inched closer to Connor, not giving him time to react when she grabbed his shirt and unbuttoned a few more buttons, pleased at the hint of a collarbone. Connor’s pump rhythm skyrocketed. “There, much better!”

Connor could count every tiny freckle on her skin, being as close as she was, and he could also see the hint of gold in her beautiful olive green eyes. He wanted to say thank you, but got lost in her gaze. 

Ona patted his chest, smiling once more before shifting into her previous position, but this time much closer with her head propped up fully on his shoulder and her hand resting on his clothed chest. Her weight was comfortable, he liked it, and unconsciously he let his arm fall once again and curl around her, pulling her slightly closer. Ona sighed contentedly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.

They settled for a comfortable silence, enjoying the movie. Connor liked when Ona giggled at some parts of it, made tiny commentaries and got excited when her favourite scenes came on. He also liked how her curls tickled his now more exposed skin, whenever she laughed or shifted, and the warm weight of her hand on his chest. Connor had to force his artificial breathing program to not stutter or become erratic; she could not suspect of her effect on him in case she moved away at the knowledge of it. Connor thought it was selfish of him, and felt guilty of it, but he really wanted to be a bit selfish sometimes, as both Ona and Hank suggested more than once.

His pressure sensors detected a soft caress on his clothed chest. Connor ventured a look and found Ona still looking attentively at the screen, as if her thumb wasn’t mindlessly brushing Connor’s chest. Connor concentrated on the feel of it, letting himself bask in the glory of her touch. He knew what this kind of gesture meant, Connor did an extensive research on affectionate touches and their meanings, so he really allowed himself to chase that fleeting thought that maybe, just maybe, Ona wanted more.

Ona shifted again, getting more comfortable on Connor’s shoulder, and her hand didn’t move from its spot or cease its movement. In fact, it slipped slightly forward, inching near the open shirt. Connor was very aware of the spare centimetres between his naked synthskin and Ona’s hand. She kept caressing his chest with her thumb and Connor didn’t dare to move. Until his sensors picked up the movement and slight pressure of her hand moving forward. 

Connor was never prepared for the feel of her fingers on his chest, warm human skin against his synthskin. He wouldn’t know how to describe it, how wonderful and exhilarating it was, how eager it made him for more. Ona kept brushing her fingers against his chest, appearing completely oblivious of it. His hand unconsciously twitched on her shoulder, as if looking for an outlet to release everything he was bottling up in a false sense of calmness. Connor didn’t know how to proceed; all this was new, the whole world was brand new after deviating and Ona made him feel things he didn’t know the name yet.

But he liked those things. 

Ona was a comfortable weight, and he absolutely loved the tingling feeling her fingers left when they lifted off his skin. It sent the android equivalent of “shivers” down his spine, to every connector, every nook of his body. He wanted more.

A snort escaped Ona’s lips. Connor registered that a funny line happened in the movie, but he completely ignored it in favor of saving in a special folder, that he will never say it is labeled as Ona or that he has it, every stroke of her hand, every curl tickling his skin and adding more input to his already overloaded connectors and sensors.

Ona’s hand ventured its way up, leaving tiny sparks of electrical fire on her trail. Her fingers brushed Connor’s collarbone, softly, as if Ona didn’t want to spook Connor with her boldness. Connor had to bite back a noise he didn’t know he was capable of doing, the sensation of her touch melting him right where he was. But it felt good, so good, to be touched like this. Connor unconsciously bit his lip.

Connor didn’t see the glint in Ona’s eyes. In another situation, like catching a perp, Connor would know that glint meant Ona was determined and even dangerous; once she put her attention on something, she would chase it off like a lioness. Right now, Connor was her prey.

Ona shifted once again, her fingers leaving a trail up his neck. Her fingernails lightly scraped Connor’s synthskin, as if on accident, and he couldn’t help the little gasp that escaped his lips. He was too focused on the pleasant feeling of her touch to notice her leaning into him. Connor would never, ever, be ready for the exhilarating feel of her soft lips kissing his neck so tenderly. His hand squeezed Ona’s shoulder, wanting to melt right there as she kept peppering Connor’s synthskin with tiny butterfly kisses. He was so scared to move, to do something wrong and probably tear Ona from this haze. When her lips brushed his jawline Connor let out a breathy pant.

Connor’s HUD was suddenly invaded by warnings and alerts, programs initiating that he was not aware he had them installed. His temperature was rising and pop-ups kept coming. It was more than obvious that Ona had other plans in mind than watch a movie. Is this what humans really meant with the “Netflix and chill” saying, used a long time ago? But more importantly, Ona wanted to do… intimate things, with him? She didn’t mind he was not human? Given the enthusiasm, no, she didn’t mind at all.

Ona tugged slightly aside the collar of Connor’s shirt, giving her more room and more of Connor’s synthskin to kiss. She couldn’t resist temptation and lightly nibbled where his neck met his shoulder. 

“Ah!” Connor arched his back, closing his eyes at the onslaught of sensations running through his very wires. Ona unglued herself from his body, making Connor want to whine at the lack of her warmth and weight against his body. 

“Shit, sorry.” Ona’s voice seemed panicked for a moment. “Fuck. Joder. Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” 

Connor opened his eyes and tried to focus on her lovely, very flushed face. Her pupils were blown out, almost eating her beautiful green irises, and her lips were redder than usual, something Connor would never get tired from looking at. 

“I went too far, didn’t I?” Ona covered her face in shame with her hands, groaning. 

He wanted to say so much, but even if he had 300 languages at his disposal, Connor was unable to find the words he needed to express himself with.

“I…” could he convey what he felt through his eyes? Would Ona catch the need in them?

“Do you... do you want to go or...?” Guess not. Ona sat back, twisting one of her curls on her finger, something Connor noticed she did when she was nervous. Connor closed his eyes, frustrated. 

This was the chance he wanted after all this time of pining after the tiny human detective that made his pump skip its perfect rhythm.

It was now or never. Connor turned to face her, nervous. He lifted his hands and felt his fingers twitch, as if they exactly knew the meaning behind his intentions. Connor made Ona turn her head to face him, holding her in place. For once, Connor stopped thinking and decided to let his heart act. 

Connor crashed his lips against hers. 

Ona let out a surprised noise, but was happy she didn’t scare Connor off, and let him do as he wanted. His lips were soft, and somehow Ona expected them to be a bit more stiff and cold, but they felt like they belonged there, with hers, warm and pliant. She let Connor take his time, have his sweet first kiss at his pace and liking, chaste and innocent, but even if she wanted to be there like this for the rest of her life, she needed to breathe. 

Breathing through her nose made Connor remember that humans needed oxygen, and that he was depriving his precious detective of it. Embarrassed, Connor parted from her lips with a million sorry’s ready to spill from his own, chastiting himself for not thinking about it. See? This is what happens when he doesn’t think, and now Ona–

Connor found his thoughts halted once again when Ona kissed him back, crawling on his lap to have a better angle. She let her weight rest on him, liking how well her body fit with his. Connor let his hands rest on her waist, not knowing where to put them exactly. Since his mind was occupied right now, he let them wander as they liked. Ona didn’t mind one bit. 

Wanting more, Ona lightly bit Connor’s bottom lip to make him gasp at the feeling and open his mouth. She took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, letting her tongue touch Connor’s as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him flush with her body. Ona was careful, slow, letting Connor get used to it, verging on sweet. Connor didn’t know if it was in some code ingrained deep in him, or the salty taste of her tongue due to the popcorn she ate before, but it felt divine. 

Thinking about the extensive research Connor did, preparing himself for the day this exact moment happened, he decided to put in motion one of the things he saw and read about. One of his hands went to cup the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her white curls. The other one wrapped itself around her, securing the manoeuvre. He read about the intimacy of kisses, of bodies touching, tongues dancing with each other and the sweet noises that fueled the passion. He also watched videos trying to educate himself on the matter and thinking about him and the detective in such situations, going as far as having reconstructions in his mind that rendered him a blushing mess and his LED a permanent red. He wanted it. He wanted it so much. Nothing he watched compared to the reality of this moment. 

Adding a little bit of pressure, Connor made Ona turn her head more to the side so he could properly deepen the kiss. Ona’s muffled moan made his core temperature rise, and he inhaled fresh air to try to cool his body. His other hand descended from her back, brushing the hem of her sweatpants, and let it rest on her buttock. Connor unconsciously squeezed it, making Ona arch into him and gasp in between sloppy kisses. Ona made a mess of Connor’s neatly styled hair, and honestly he couldn’t give a damn about it. 

Connor felt a change in Ona’s movements, and he frowned, not pleased at having to stop. 

“Wait— Conn— Hmpf!“ Ona abruptly tried to stop the kiss, untangling herself from him and trying to mumble words in between kisses. Connor chased her lips until he felt her fingers stop him. 

Connor felt like ice-cold water fell on him, freezing the poor android on the spot. Did he misread the situation? Did Ona not want this anymore? Did he go too far? Did he—?

“Wait. Connor,” Ona took a deep breath to gather her wits. This had been amazing and she needed more, but she needed to ask him something first. “Wait— no, don’t give me that look, let me explain. I… You did nothing wrong, if that’s what you are asking yourself, quite the contrary. I loved this, I longed for this, but I want to know if you want it too.”

“If I want it too? Kissing you back hasn’t proved it enough to—” Connor didn’t understand. He liked her, he kissed her, maybe he didn’t do it enough to prove his point?

“I don’t want to force anything on you, Connor! I want you to want this as much as I do, but I don’t want to force you or coerce you into wanting this. I don’t want to screw it up. I really, really like you. And I really want to know if you want this—“

Connor reached for her hands, squeezing them in his. 

“You really don’t know how many times I dreamed of this, of you. I always wondered how your lips would feel, or your touch.” Connor felt daring and bold. This was his chance. “I want you, Ona. I want this. And if we don’t go back to this wonderful human thing called kissing, I’ll—“

Ona let out a relieved laugh. Connor tugged her back to him, urged Ona to sit on his lap as she was doing before. Connor held her face in his hands, touching his forehead with hers. 

“This whole... deviant thing is new and scary. Feelings are scary, but… I want to explore them with you. Good and bad.” Connor’s voice was low and soft, as if he didn’t want to break their little bubble.

“Then… let’s take it slow.” 

Ona pressed her lips against Connor’s again, softly, letting the sweetness of the moment dictate the pace they wanted to follow. The movie kept playing in the background, completely forgotten.

Connor let his hands descend Ona’s body, as if he was mapping once again her figure, trying to save it in his memory forever. It always mesmerised Connor how soft and squishy humans could be, and he let himself squeeze his hands against her flesh once again, relishing the thrilling sensation of having his hands so full.

That elicited a low moan from Ona, who in return slowly rocked her hips against Connor’s. The android let out a groan himself, getting a hold of her hips and pushing her down against him again. It felt so good, the pressure sending sparks all over his body, and he couldn't wait to learn more about this wonderful human thing called makeouts. Connor wasn’t stupid, he did his research and he knew humans and sex had a tight relationship, although it wouldn’t be good to generalise since what made humans so unique and beautiful, was the diversity in their race. But still, he wanted to explore it with Ona if she wanted to, and right now he couldn’t be thanking RA9 more than he was right now for letting this happen.

Ona felt like taking things up a notch, and she loved the reaction she got out of Connor the first time –despite her momentum of panic–, so she broke the kiss to brush her lips against his jaw, nuzzling her nose against his neck. Ona felt Connor’s artificial breath stutter in its impeccable rhythm, and was delighted to see how Connor bared his neck to her. Ona wasted no time, peppering the exposed synthskin with slow and wet kisses, while she kept grinding her hips against him. Feeling his excitement only fueled her own more. 

Her hands busied themselves with the remaining buttons of Connor’s shirt, impatient to have his chest and torso fully exposed for her to see and touch. Having the always impeccably dressed android under her, all sense of decorum and propriety gone, gave Ona a rush nothing else could give her. Ona bit her lip once her work was done and could gaze at her prize. He was delightful, beautiful, truly a work of art. Connor’s flushed cheeks and red, shiny lips made her feel herself clench, desperate to have something fill her.

Connor’s irises were engulfed by his pupils, lust coating them, and Ona marveled at how expressive his eyes were. Connor had always been a quick learner, though, and he could see how much Ona needed to be touched right now. His hands reached the hem of her sweatpants again, and this time he didn’t pass the opportunity to get his hands inside them, feeling the soft fabric of her underwear slid under his fingertips. It was Ona’s turn to close her eyes and let out a shaky exhale, eager to see what Connor would do this time. A soft gasp escaped her lips when Connor got his hands inside her underwear too, feeling his fingers on her burning skin. He squeezed the flesh of her buttocks in his hands, feeling the fullness of it. Ona groaned, arching her back to give Connor more leverage. The android sat up while Ona was distracted, pulling her close to his body. Connor decided he wanted to do the same things Ona did to him, to make her feel as good as he did, and now that he had her neck in full display, he was going to take advantage of that.

Kissing her feverish skin was delicious, but Connor knew he was only adding more wood to the fire the moment he bit the juncture of her neck and shoulder, replicating her actions from before. The reaction was instantaneous: Ona’s moan echoed around her living room, her nails digging in Connor’s shoulders as she felt shivers run up and down her body. His tongue soothed the mark he left, kissing it as an apology, although the thought of her having a mark made by him excited Connor more than he expected. And by the looks of it, Ona didn’t mind much. Connor left a trail of kisses up her neck, reaching her jaw, and left another mark right under it.

“Ah!” Connor scored another win for himself, pleased at how the proud and self-assured detective was becoming putty in his hands. “You do not play fair, Connor. You already know one of my weak spots.” Her teasing tone made him smile, hiding it behind a kiss on her shoulder.

“I am the most advanced android detective, after all.” that made Ona laugh, leaning back to see the mirth in Connor’s eyes. His sense of humour improved greatly.

“Aren’t you a cocky android, hm?” Connor winked in response, which made Ona snort. She knew exactly how to wipe off that self-satisfied expression from Connor’s face. 

Connor knew that arched brow and mischievous smile meant trouble, but he was quite eager to find out what Ona was planning to do. She pushed him back on the sofa, his hands sliding out from under her clothes to end up getting a hold of her hips. Connor decided she looked absolutely stunning in her loose maroon t-shirt and slightly pushed down grey sweatpants. Her underwear was peeking out too, and the little visible piece of fabric made him swallow hard.

“Let’s see how cocky are you now, Mr.Detective.”

Ona’s hands descended from Connor’s shoulders to his chest, savoring the feeling of her fingertips grazing the perfectly designed muscles. Ona slowed down when she was close to his belt, teasing the belt loops, tugging them slightly. Connor’s breath hitched when her fingers skimmed over the belt buckle. His eyes were glued to her hands, watching as she undid the buckle and teased the button of his trousers. Connor let out a stuttered breath as Ona’s palm pressed against his zipper, pulled taut by his erection. 

Deciding she wanted to tease him a little bit more, Ona slipped her fingers inside Connor’s trousers, over his underwear, as he did to her before. Connor arched his back off the sofa, groaning at the feeling of Ona’s fingers grasping his clothed cock. Connor’s hands squeezed Ona’s hips, needing something to hold onto as he was blown away by the feeling of her fingers on him.

It felt amazing.

Ona took her hand out much to Connor’s dismay, a soft and breathy “no no no–” escaping his lips, followed by an “–oh” when he saw that Ona was undoing the button of his trousers and pulling the zipper down. 

“Up.” Connor got the message. He lifted his hips so Ona could push down his clothes just enough to free his aching erection from them.

Ona let out a soft moan at the sight of Connor’s cock in full display, rock hard against his belly. She felt herself clench, as if trying not to make more of a mess on her underwear as she was doing now. Ona wanted to do a lot of things right now. She wanted to push her own sweatpants and underwear down and ride him until he burned his vocal module from moaning, she wanted to get on her knees and pleasure him, feel his hands on her head as he guided her to how he liked it best, she wanted to–

They will have time to do all of that. For now, Ona wanted tonight to be for him, to discover what he liked, what it felt like. Ona looked up and was met with hungry and desperate eyes. Connor was on the verge of begging Ona to do anything, because judging by what he felt before, this was going to be even better.

Slowly, Ona trailed her finger from base to tip, pleased at the amount of wetness gathered at the head. Connor stuttered, not tearing his gaze from Ona’s own lustful ones until she did to look down again. He did the same, and the image he found would be forever stored in his memory bank, locked up in a special folder. She was smaller than him, he often marvelled at the difference between them and how her hands were shorter than his, for example, and in this exact moment he couldn’t be more delighted to see how said hand wrapped itself around his cock. He was not ready for when she moved. 

Connor cried out, throwing his head back on the sofa’s headrest. His sensors were going absolutely crazy. He felt as if fire was spreading all over his connections and he wanted more, so much more. Ona’s hand was covered in a sheer blue slick, the fluid helping her motions. The sound of it was downright sinful, and it only turned both human and android more.

Connor’s thirium pump was pounding in his chest, moaning and groaning, his interior fans fighting to keep the body temperature in check. It was getting harder as Ona started squeezing her hand when she reached the head of his cock, way more sensitive than the rest, and Connor’s hips involuntarily thrusted upwards when her other hand renewed her journey on his chest, making sure she traced his collarbone and neck.

One well placed tug made Connor keen, feeling light-headed, and unconsciously pulled Ona to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. Her hand was trapped between them, but she never ceased her movements. Ona’s curls brushed Connor’s cheek, some strands being plastered over her forehead, and Connor could feel her rapid breaths tickling his ear. 

Connor, in a moment of clarity and feeling a tad bold, had an idea. He still doesn’t know how he managed to tear one of his hands apart from Ona’s body, but he had to make Ona feel as good as him. He was no stranger to human anatomy, and even less human genitalia, so he knew what he had to do in Ona’s case. He sneaked a hand inside the front of her sweatpants and underwear, feeling her smooth skin until he found her mound. Connor didn’t stop there, he kept going until his fingers brushed her soaked wet clit. Her hitched breath was music for his audio modules.

“Connor–!” Ona jolted, arching her back and gasping, melting his name into a moan. 

Connor decided, right in that moment, that his name never sounded so divine before. The sensors on his fingers picked up the generous amounts of wetness gathered in them, and Connor had the urge to taste it. But that was something for later, now he had more important matters in his hands. 

Recalling all the information he previously searched, Connor let his fingers be completely soaked in Ona’s juices, knowing it would make the glide smoother. Her folds were soft to his touch, velvety, and Connor loved the feel of it. Her heavy breaths and moans on his ear spurred him to keep going, to trace every inch of her sex, to tease her entrance with his finger pads. Connor’s other hand released his hold on Ona’s hip, moving it up to brush her nape and bury itself on her hair. Ona reacted to his touch, raising her head from Connor’s shoulder to took at him. Her lips were shining bright, reddened from worrying them with her teeth, and Connor felt the urge to kiss them again. 

So he did, swallowing Ona’s moan as Connor got his middle and ring finger inside her, feeling her walls pulse around him, burning. Ona had to stop pumping her hand, needing a moment to gather her wits as Connor moved his fingers in and out of her, his thumb finding Ona’s clit and rubbing it slowly, almost lazily, which drove Ona mad with pleasure. When Ona renewed her movements, gripping Connor’s cock harder, the android groaned and bit Ona’s bottom lip, getting his tongue inside as she did earlier. Connor felt a gush of slick tickle down his hand, and it only excited him more to know it was because of him.

Having his sensors overloaded continuously from the new and pleasurable sensations, Connor had a feeling this would crest soon. He was tempted to cut out the process of it so it would last longer, all night if possible, but he desperately needed to find his release. He felt like a spring fiercely recoiled, ready to snap at any given moment, and Ona’s tiny moans and gasps of his name as she rocked herself on his fingers only catapulted him into it. He had a feeling Ona was close too.

But oh, that felt so good. He doesn’t exactly know what Ona did, but it felt amazing, so Connor let himself be drowned in it, thrusting his hips up at the same time as Ona to pulled down her hand. He was close, so close, so–

“Ona, I’m– I think I’ll– Ah!”

Connor came all over Ona’s hand and his belly with a jerk of his hips, throwing his head back into the sofa as he let the shockwaves consume him whole. In the process, Connor unconsciously pulled on Ona’s hair, needing to grip onto something, and with a brush of his thumb on her clit Ona came right after him, blessing Connor with a mixture of spanish curse words and moans. Connor felt the tight grip on his fingers, her juices coating him even more, and the thought and feel alone made another glob of synthetic cum dribble over her.

Ona let her forehead rest on Connor’s one, panting and trying to regain her breath again. Connor mimicked her, trying to cool his body and helping his frenzied interior fans. When Ona opened her eyes, he found Connor gazing at her with such emotion behind his eyes that made Ona’s heart skip a beat. Connor’s hand was still on Ona’s back of the head, so in a moment where he just let himself follow his heart, Connor pulled Ona in for a sweet, slow kiss. When they parted, it was Ona’s time to gaze at Connor, wondering how beautiful he was right in that instant with his hair disheveled and a blush on his cheeks.

The ending fanfare of the movie credits made her trance break, noticing Connor’s sticky release in her hand beginning to cool. Ona released her hold on Connor’s cock, raising her hand to her face so she could inspect it closer. Connor sheepishly did the same, trying to ignore the squelching sound of his fingers getting out of her and how his own cock twitched in response. Connor knew he could stop the refractory period too, ready to go for another round until he ran out of thirium and had to enter into stasis, but he had a feeling Ona wouldn’t appreciate that. Instead, he inspected Ona’s own cum on his fingers, the fluid sticking to his fingers too. 

Connor swore he didn’t mean to, it was a completely unconscious decision, but he brought his fingers to his mouth, tasting her. A soft giggle made him look up, his cheeks burning out of shame.

“That is so… you.” Ona’s warm smile made Connor know she was not teasing him or angry. It was genuine. She made a conscious effort to inspect her own fingers, coated with the blueish fluid on them. Connor made a move to stop her, feeling suddenly embarrassed of it, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop her. Ona’s tongue peeked from her mouth, licking one finger. She hummed, followed by a snort when Connor’s voice module did an undignified noise at the sight of it. “I thought it would taste… plastic-ish. It’s actually not bad.”

“...Synthetic ejaculate can have different flavours, if desired.” Connor will never know what triggered that piece of information to appear on his HUD, and what made him say it, but Ona’s open-hearted laugh was worth it.

“Put a sweet, chocolate-ish flavour in, and you will have me all day on my knees and you know it.” Ona turned around just enough to grab tissues from the coffee table, wiping her hand clean, as if she had just commented on the weather. 

Connor was suddenly assaulted by reconstructions of what Ona just said, rendering him to a violently spinning red LED and his blush program glitching, making his cheeks reach a bluish glow. Ona hastily threw aside the used tissue, not caring where it went, when he noticed Connor’s state.

“Oh my God! Connor, are you okay?” Ona held Connor’s face in her hands, desperately searching for an answer in his eyes. Connor looked at her, his LED reverting back into yellow.

“There’s vanilla flavour, strawberry flavour, milk chocolate with caramel flavour–” Ona snorted, bumping her forehead with his.

“You oaf, I was worried!” Connor raised his brow as if questioning her. If he was being cocky again it meant he was okay and back to normal. Ona guilty looked to the side.“...milk chocolate with caramel.”

Connor smiled. Ona shook her head, smiling too, as she turned around again to pick up more tissues for Connor.

“Let’s clean you up.” Connor kept smiling, feeling dazed with happiness, as he let Ona do as she pleased. Once clean, Connor pushed and fastened his trousers and belt, as Ona mourningly buttoned his shirt.

Ona stood up once finished, her face twisting into a grimace as she felt the cold and sticky mess in her panties. She looked down, trying not to worsen it by moving too much.

“...And I need new underwear.”

Connor stood up with her, eagerness coating his movements and voice.

“Let me help you with that.”

[jennsmischievousmind]

Fucks not Found

Haunt the Living

Ch1 Ghosts | Ch2 Florence | Ch3 A Matter of Seconds | Ch4 I need a Backdoor | Ch5 Die Hard | Ch6 White Flag | Ch7 Haunt the Living | Ch8 One, but not done [end]

“Time clock, guys let’s go!”

Riding the hors-bord was fun not gonna lie, better than any Disneyland ride.

“Side doors opening. Subs in place," you announced "Four the comms?”

“Comms cut. we’re good.” 

You got on the Kismet, guns at point except for Five. Two and Three joined everyone at the rear of the yacht. Three was in bad shape, limping and making a mess of blood everywhere he’d go. Being his grumpy self, he rejected Five’s help, he was fine.

Responsible of Murat you were always in contact with him, and so hacking the military meeting room to hear his brother’s bullshit.

“Listen closely. The enemy is us. We must target him not where he is strong but where he's weak. Hospitals, to take away his safety. Schools, to take away his future. Youth, to suffocate his hope. Commence gas attack.”

His evil speech made you shiver, this so called human shit head.

“Murat you got to step in, right now!” You heard Rovach’s voice being cut off and Murat taking over. “Join me, brothers. So you don't have to kill your own people again.” You let out the breath you were holding.

“Murat has the high ground” you keep the squad informed, then turned to Three. “Hey G.I J,” you handed him his Kevlar.

“They have some fancy food up there.” you rolled your eyes knowing he was going to ramble.

One mimicked you “Really? Tell me more about that. Don't hold back.”

“This fish soup they call... labu... labuan...” Three was ranting, obviously because he was stressed as fuck.

One had heard enough “I'm fucking kidding. Focus.” But Three wasn’t done yet, they started their usual quarrel. 

“It's so delicious, man. They put this little cheese on it.”

“Does it have to be on the walkie-talkie? And we're all standing right here. Yeah?” 

“Don't you give me attitude, okay?”

“Over and out,” One warned

“I...” Three quivered, holding back his rant, you patted his shoulders holding back a laugh. 

“Okay, Rovach’s in his panic room,”

You ran to the engine room.

“When I pop this, the magnet pulse lasts for 15 seconds.” One pressed the screen. “Welcome to the world's biggest magnet.”

"Four, still on top?" One inquired

"Always" his cheeky voice boomed in the comm

One gagged, he got the wrong idea all alone. We split then, Two and Three went to the second deck. Stepping on the main deck Five followed One, while you followed Seven, the 4 of you hiding behind low walls, ready to activate One’s magnet.

“Fuck!” you cocked your head at One’s voice.

“Ah, fucking American-made! The fucking chip fell out.”

“What?” Five almost yelled.

You sighed “I told you to be gentle with it!“

“The chip fell out!”

“Well, fix it.” Seven argued

“I can't just fix it, all right!” The phone is very fucking complicated.”

“Give it to Eight then!” Five pushed One’s arm, you extended your arm exasperate.

“CONTACT” Seven suddenly yelled. Redirecting your attention to the shore, you saw a bunch of military guys ready to shoot at you. Seven and you immediately covered One and Five, the guards dropping dead in an instant.

“Wow,” you look at the mess on the shore and at your gun.

“Hey,” Seven handed you a mag “it’s us or them.”

The shooting roused the bodyguards on the main deck, they started shooting, great.

“One! put the phone down and use your gun.” 

“I got it, I got it, I got it” he almost laughed, this old man really!

“GRENADE!” Seven yelled pushing you backwards out of harms way.

“ONE!” you screamed

It all went so fast, the grenade left off the floor in a fastens, sticking on a wall far from you, people flew around the boat, smashing into the walls, hung on the metal parts of the yacht.

"Alright Baby Yoda's on board" you muttered to yourself watching the scene unfold before you.

One kept oo-ing at his own device, not expecting a result like this one. 15 seconds out, they all fell down from the walls and began heading for your area. One pressed it. They flew to the other side.

"Holy shit!“ 

The bodyguards had chest armors, made with metal that’s why they were moved around like puppets, One and his giant magnet being the puppeteer.

“Wow I mean, I wasn't "sure" sure it’d work. I had a suspicion, but I, uh” One ranted while you 3 look at him in disbelief, he wasn’t sure? ... "God, this is all so fucking dangerous.” 

“I hate you so much!” you threw him your empty mag.

“Move!” Seven lead the way

“Hey, hey! You like that phone now, motherfucker?” One kept ranting at Seven who didn't even care.

“This thing is amazing.” he was like a teen who'd seen tits for the first time.

Three and Two were covering the stairs, Three was wowed by the magnetic field. 

“Stop fucking around. We gotta find Rovach." One acted like he wasn’t wowed a second ago.

“Yeah well he's ass is still in the panic room.” you show him the CCTV of the room.

“The backdoor is near the kitchen, the deck above.” Two reloaded her gun, and tightenned her ponytail, you look at her, she was damn too gorgeous for a gun fight.

“Four, still with us?” you called in

“You have to move fast," he huffed “This boat is fucking huge, they’re coming from everywhere.” 

You ran up, Seven and One leading while Two was covering behind. You never leaving Five's side. One stood up ready to enter the kitchen when a shot fired from inside. One dropped down, activating the magnet in a flash. The 8 guards came flying into the walls, followed by utensils like sharp knives..

You slide next to One “you good?” 

He seethed “I’ll live,”

“Let’s go” Seven motionned to you for cover. Standing behind him a hand on his shoulder. He shoot at the remaining guards Two hadn’t shot yet. In the corner of your eye you caught One’s juggling with the phone before it hit the ground.

“More guys coming” Three announced

“Flashbang!” you threw it in, before coming in with Three and Seven, getting rid of the incoming guards. The boat started moving.

“Magnet! Where is the magnet?” Three screamed, there were too many guys for you 4 to handle.

“Fix the phone!”

“I'm trying! The screen is cracked!” he yelled back at Seven, next to you.

 “I TOLD you to be EXTRA gentle with it!!”

“Fuck you Eight!”

The look you gave him, if he wasn't your boss you would have shot him! Three and you shot a few guys coming east.

“We get it! One yelled exasperated “They're dead!”

“Stop yelling at us!”

"Shit.” Seven sighed. "They got our position. We need to move."

Two ran to kill the engine.

“We should split up.”

Seven and three took off, you stuck with Five and One.

Five went to talk to a security guy pined to the wall by some rotisserie meat fork “What the fuck?” 

As soon as she approached him another guy sprung out, before you could cover her, she dodged his fist, grabbed a extinguisher ready to smash him, you look at her proudly, but the thing flew from her hands heading to guard’s face. One had activated the magnet again.

“I feel like a Jedi.”

“That's not how the Force works!” you rolled your eyes.

Rovach's head of bodyguards ran into the kitchen, you held up your gun to shoot him but One pushed Five your way, so the guard would follow him not you 2. His sudden concerned for his teammates, had you baffled for a second.

“Five, flush him out.” he groaned ino the comm

‘Go, go’ you guide her to the deck, looking back at One, he kinda had it handle, still fighting with the bodyguard on the ground.

"Find Rovach. I'll distract the guards." Four stated in the comm.

"I’ll cover Five! Five and Eight going for Rovach.” Five held your shoulder glancing back while you lead the way. 

Sudden explosions had you tumble against the railing, Five grabbing a hold of you before you could trip over for a dip.

"Thanks" you look at your watch, it wasn’t supposed to blow now.

"One, bad timing!"  

He only grunt back, nearing Rovach's suite, you were still shielding Five behind you, shooting at anyone coming your way.

“I've got four guys on me. I'm on the upper deck, and I'm screwed.”

“Come on Four,” you muttered to yourself.

“We're in Rovach's stateroom." Five announced as you stealthily entered the panic room.. the asshole coming out of it as soon as you entered without seeing you.

“One, Rovach is leaving with a guard. What do you want us to do?” Five asked while you covered the door.

One ignored her, “Four, where are you at?” he asked over the comm

“One, please help me!” Four’s strained voice echoed in the comm, something was wrong, your heart clenched.

“Four? Give me a hint, buddy.” you could hear One running. 

Waiting for his next order you became agitated hearing Four’s cry of help but you couldn’t let Five on her own. You started breathing in and out loudly to calm yourself, you still had to protect Five and yourself.

“What's your 20?” Seven asked One “Anybody got eyes on the target?”

“Negative," you answered Seven

“I don't know my 20. Stay off the channel. I'm going for Four.” 

You look at Five, One going out of his way was unusual..

“Four, where you at, buddy?”

“You're breaking your own rules.” you could hear Seven’s smirked, your lips twitched.

“We gotta move,” you ran to the safe-boat area, since Rovach couldn’t board a boat anywhere but here.

“Hey” Five squeezed your arm, then look ahead, a hors-bord was getting away, with Rovach in it. 

“One,” you tried to focused back on the mission, “I got a shot, your call. It’s right now!”

“Don’t shoot!”

“But...” you lowered your gun. But you had no time to worry about Rovach when you heard Four cry out as a cracking sound resonated in the comm, a gasp leaving your lips. Before you could yell at One to help him, Five snapped you out of it when she screamed seeing a guy coming. He shoot once, you shoved Five behind you, shooting back he dropped dead. 

“Eight, you...” Five hold your arm

"Y/N..." Four whimpered your name, his voice so low you could barely hear it. Heart clenching, you stumble on the railing.

“It's a big ship. Say something, pal.” One was still looking for him

“He’s going to kill me." 

“Billy stay with me...” Five glanced at you, your eyes became teary, you bite your lips holding a groan.

“Eight” One warned as you used Four’s name.

You tried to regain your composure, ready to shoot, but your hands were shaking. The yacht had become unusually quiet, most of the guards were down. You heard a single gunshot on the upper deck.

“There you are." One's voice sounded relieved. "Cleavers”

A silence then Four's voice cut it “Whut?”

“It’s TV show, come on let’s go, fucking Millennials. Eight focus.”

“I am focus!” sniffing you let out a sigh, you shook your head at Five, but she didn't listen.

“Eight has been hit, we got to go.” you hissed at her.

“Shit, Eight?” Four inquired, worry in his voice.

“I’m fine,” you grabbed the railing holding your side “it grazed me.”

“She’s not! Shut up.” Five put your arm around her neck leading you up the stairs.

“The ship is still sinking guys!” Two interfered

“Murat?’ you called out in the comm. The thump of an helicopter drew nearer.

“Meeting point!” One called out

Five run to the upper deck followed by your limping ass, soon collided with Two and Three.

“Hey lovebirds” Five joked

You look around still alert until One appeared in your peripheral vision, he tapped your shoulder in reassuring gesture, eyeing your side, you nodded.

Four followed, holding his right arm. He held you close until it was your turn to board. Aboard the chopper, you made a sling out of a shemagh for him while Five argued with you to stop moving so she could heal your injury.

“It’s just a bruise” he muttered to you while you tied it around his neck “hey” you finally looked at him, worry still filling your eyes. “Gah” you cried out as Five patched your own injury. Four chuckled at your stubbornness, he kissed your forehead as you leaned on him slightly, seething. No one cared about how close you were with Four, everyone was focused on getting the shithead.

It was one of his choppers, so no doubt he’d get in to save his ass. And he did. Seeing Three was about the choke the Rovach’s guard you scoot closer to Four, but stayed alert just in case.

As the chopper was nearing a refugee camp, the all team had a hard time seeing the desolation in these camp. No human-being should live that way, no child should be out there seeing people die, this isn’t a life, it’s surviving day after day without knowing what’s to come.

Seeing One’s face you understood why he started this strike team, so somewhere someone could do something governments were afraid to do, or were not willing to, to keep their privileges.

This camp was one of many Rovach’s liked to gaz. One opened the chopper’s door, Rovach immediately tried to bargain for his life. The chopper lower down, One did what he had to do, what he might have dreamed to do. He shoved Rovach out the chopper, 3 meters fall with a lovely welcome ceremony from the "rebels" leaving in the camp. Sticks and stones, punches and kicks, revenge.

The team watched as the people get their revenge on Rovach. Everyone sighed, finally, the team’s first mission was done, a success.

Four discreetly intertwined his fingers with yours, you look at him, you’d never imagine finding someone after cutting yourself from the world. Looking around you smile at this new crazy family. One would argued on that obviously.

The chopper did a pit stop near a base in the desert.

“I told you, bruise.” Four removed his arm from the sling to get dressed properly. You punched is arm, he flinched. “What's with you and scaring me!”

“I'm not the one who got shot.” he said lifting an eyebrow, you frowned, he was kinda right, he looked around “Damn I'm sorry alright, and you scared me too luv! ” he took your hand in his swiftly kissing it.

After a few minutes you watched as everyone was looking far in the distance in silence. “Are we posing for Vanity Fair or what? Let’s go home!”

Getting on the jet, you went to talk to One, about what happened on the boat, as he was not there yet, you sat in his seat in the cockpit.

“Y/N huh?” you turned your head to see Seven in the airlock.

“Blaine,” you smiled, now he knew your name.

“Hey by the way, I’m sorry about your brother,”

“We don’t talk about Six,” One’s voice startled you.

“..Why’s that?” Seven asked him as he walk past to his seat.

As he wasn't answering you stood up in the cramp cockpit “Because it makes One cry,” letting One sit you patted his shoulder. “We got to talk, old man.” You left the airlock almost crashing into Three. 

“Bring us back to that fucking California desert papi!” 

Last chapter ; Eighth chapter - One, but not done

A/N: don't forget to double tap if you liked it. 🙏

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: death by any other name [1/6] Summary: While on a mission during his years as a Padawan, Obi-Wan escapes the tight hold of death transformed into something not quite human. In the years following, he isn’t always so lucky. Or: Five Times Obi-Wan Kenobi should have stayed dead and one time Anakin Skywalker nearly did. An: Happy birthday @bigdickobiwan! Here, take a cheesy Vampires but in space AU except I never use the term vampire.

Read on AO3

Obi-Wan’s entire apprenticeship was cursed by troubles and disasters. He stumbled from one war into another, every conflict tearing more at his soul, sending him into the healing halls far more often than his friends. He knew they eyed his situation warily, as did many Masters given his rocky start as Qui-Gon Jinn’s Padawan, but Obi-Wan didn’t feel like they had any right to interfere. They didn’t care enough to look after him when he was thirteen, angry, and hurting with nobody willing to take him on. Nothing had changed since then, except that despite his many failures, he seemed to have become worth something in their eyes. He wasn’t enough, not yet, but apparently he had more potential now that they hadn’t been able to spy before.

It only took a few near-death experiences.

Most Padawans didn’t engage in as many combat missions as Obi-Wan, but their Masters also didn’t have a penchant to favor aggressive negotiations. Or maybe they decided to listen to common sense as well as the Force and not just rely on the latter. Obi-Wan didn’t know, he was merely guessing and now it soon would be too late for him to ever learn.

He had lost too much blood, he could feel it. His life was slowly ebbing away. The pain had already disappeared completely and so had all sense in his fingertips. At least his death would be painless. He wasn’t drowning or suffocating or being tortured to death. His side had merely taken a terrible hit and he was bleeding out faster than his Master could come to save him.

He just hoped he wouldn't be causing Qui-Gon too much grief with his death. The man deserved at least one apprentice who didn’t screw up and he could see to their knighting. Obi-Wan was distinctly aware that he should be afraid of passing away like this, but all he could feel was regret.

All his missed opportunities seemed to play out in front of his inner eye, weeping. There were so many people he had wanted to talk to still, apologize and laugh with them one last time, but it wasn’t the will of the Force.

At least he had managed to get the princess out of the camp she had been held in and found them shelter. Qui-Gon would be able to find them and return her to her family, restoring the peace of the planet. The dark woods of this world weren’t a terrible grave either. Obi-Wan had been supposed to go to the AgriCorps, perhaps it was just right that he fell asleep amongst trees so old, they had seen the rise and fall of the Republic many hundred times.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan,” the princess cried.

“-alright,” Obi-Wan managed to reply, half his sentence swallowed by his breath.

He was so, so tired.

But the princess was going to be fine. Obi-Wan would die with honor, doing his duty as a Jedi. The poor girl would get to go home and hopefully leave all the memories of this kidnapping behind her. She didn’t look to be a day over eight, she might learn to forget this day yet. Her family hadn’t been particularly forthcoming on why she had been kidnapped, had only stated that she possessed a valuable gift and no negotiations would be happening until she was home again.

“I can- I can fix this,” she stuttered and wiped her tears off her cheeks. “I can make this right.”

She didn’t have to do anything. Obi-Wan had accepted his fate and he would become one with the Force and watch as the storms over Mon Calamar, the winds on Cato Neiomoida, and the deserts of Tatooine.

“You didn’t deserve this,” she said. “And they will all just stop fighting if I give it up. Stupid traditions. Just watch, Obi-Wan. I bestow upon you my gift of life.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t make out what she was doing, but next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his neck. It felt as if somebody had jagged two knives into it. The pain didn’t dull, it burned and slowly spread. It felt as if somebody had set him on fire. Then, just when he thought it couldn’t get worse, the princess pushed her hand into his mouth. Out of reflex, Obi-Wan bit down on it. He tasted something sweet that reminded him distinctly of the teas he drunk back in the temple.

For a moment there was silence.

Then he started to scream. The last thing he heard before unconsciousness claimed him was the princess’s unwavering voice. “You’re not dying on me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

The darkness lingered for long. It felt as if centuries passed all while Obi-Wan was just vaguely aware of his surroundings. When he did wake up, he felt even more exhausted than he had before he had passed out. Above him stood Qui-Gon Jinn, looking more torn than Obi-Wan had ever seen him. Obi-Wan tried to reach out to him with his mind, but their bond felt like it had been torn to shreds, was only now starting to connect again.

“Master?” he tried to say, but all that escaped him sounded more like “Mashe’?”

“Rest,” Qui-Gon said and Obi-Wan closed his eyes once more.

It continued like that for a while.

Obi-Wan woke up, feverish, confused or in pain, and his Master was sitting at his bedside, watching over him. When Obi-Wan finally woke up for good, the very same view greeted him once more. Qui-Gon was sitting in a chair, engrossed in a datapad. They were not on their mission anymore, but back in the temple. Obi-Wan could feel it in the Force, he was home, a place he had believed to be lost to him.

And once more he was back in the healing halls, though he didn’t recall them being so bright.

“Master?” Obi-Wan said, squinting through his eyes. “Can you turn off the light?”

Qui-Gon packed away his datapad carefully by throwing it on the table next to him.

“Obi-Wan!” He exclaimed. The worry in his voice honestly took Obi-Wan aback. He hadn’t expected his Master to care so much. “How do you feel?”

“Tired,” Obi-Wan replied honestly. “But if you tell me to go back to sleep one more time-“ Obi-Wan paused, fading memories echoing in his mind, “-or attempt to put me under with a Force-suggestion, I will protest.”

Qui-Gon smiled fondly at Obi-Wan, making him feel much more like a youngling than an adult. Obi-Wan wasn’t old by anyone’s standards except that of the children in the temple – and even that varied. There were many Jedi whose lifespans were much longer than Obi-Wan’s would be.

“I will not try so, Padawan.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “Lights?”

A dark expression flashed over Qui-Gon’s face, the like of which Obi-Wan had never seen before so that he even considered whether it wasn’t just a trick of the light. Qui-Gon stood up and disappeared out of his field of vision, soon after the lights dimmed to a more bearable level.

“What happened?” Obi-Wan asked when Qui-Gon sat down again. “Did we fulfill the mission?”

Qui-Gon hesitated. That was the first sign something was wrong.

He was a Master of the Living Force, always moving like the currents of a river, never still, never hasting beyond the passage of time. His strange behavior was starting to worry Obi-Wan.

“I found you and the princess and brought you back both back. She has been safely returned into the arms of her family and the negotiations picked up again, even if it was all under less favorable circumstances.”

That explained absolutely nothing. Jedi prided themselves on their eloquence, as much as they were allowed to be prideful. While they all jested about Master Yoda’s utter crypticness, they couldn’t deny that saying a lot and not much at all at the same time a necessary skill. Qui-Gon talked in riddles often enough, but never when it came to matters of such importance. Obi-Wan was not a foreign diplomat who needed to be appeased with Jedi wisdom, he was a Padawan who wanted to know whether his charge was alright.

“Was she harmed?”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “No, not as such. But your return did finally enlighten us on her family’s superior standing. The other Ancient Houses have been fighting about her gift and whom it should be used on, which was also the reason she had been kidnapped in the first place. They were displeased she used it on you.”

“I don’t recall,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I was very dazed and so sure I was going to die.”

“You did.”

Qui-Gon’s words weighed heavily in the room, seemingly dragging gravity down on Obi-Wan’s body, pressing the air out of his lungs.

“What?”

Obi-Wan tried to push against the force chaining him to his bed to sit up. He couldn’t hold such a conversation while lying down. Seeing his attempt, Qui-Gon quickly set to support Obi-Wan’s back, helping him up.

“But I’m not dead,” Obi-Wan said. He could feel his heartbeat, his thoughts was whirling and the Force kept humming at the back of his mind, a kind lullaby he didn’t know how to characterize.

“Not anymore, no, but trust me when I say that I felt our bond snap. It was a painful experience, Padawan. Worse than anything words could describe.”

Qui-Gon used the moment to gently tug and Obi-Wan’s messy braid. Nobody seemed to have cared for it while he was unconscious. Obi-Wan had always seen to ensuring that he looked presentable. His displeasure with its state must have shown as Qui-Gon smiled at him in amusement and something deeper Obi-Wan couldn’t decipher. It appeared to him to be relief.

“The princess,” Qui-Gon continued, “has the extraordinary ability to create one person who is like herself and she used it to save you. Her gift has been passed down in the Royal House for generations and they were quite eager to claim you as one of their own in the aftermath, but she stood up to them, saying that she didn’t give you a choice.”

All that was nice and everything, but it didn’t explain anything to Obi-Wan.

“Master, I still don’t understand. What did she do?”

“She gave you life,” Qui-Gon finally answered, the exhaustion of the past days catching up to him as well. “Eternal youth and protection against almost everything. It is not reversible. I’m sorry I could not prevent this fate.”

Eternal youth.

The words rang in Obi-Wan’s mind as if it were from a language he had never heard, couldn’t speak or write.

“But what does it mean?”

Obi-Wan hated being ignorant, being left out. This information was crucial and he just wanted to understand.

“I don’t know yet, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “But we will find out together. The Royal Family hasn’t been too forthcoming with their information before we returned to the temple, but I believe we can figure it out on our own. I already know you’re more sensitive to light.”

“I’m not sensitive,” Obi-Wan muttered. “It’s just bright in here.”

Qui-Gon leveled him with a dry look. “I have turned off the light entirely, Padawan, and you can still see as clear as day.”

Okay, maybe Qui-Gon had been right with his first assumption.

“I’ll have to learn how to adjust to these changes then,” Obi-Wan concluded.

The thought irked him. He had thought that he was finally making enough progress to start becoming more independent. He knew of his friends that their Masters had already begun considering them for Knighthood. Obi-Wan wasn’t jealous of them, he had been the first to tease Quinlan when the Kiffar Padawan had admitted what his Master had confessed, but his doubts had risen once more. He didn’t want to be left behind. Adjusting to whatever gift the princess had bestowed upon him would be another setback.

No, he couldn’t think like that. He had to take it as a challenge. Jedi didn’t focus on what blocked their way, they thought of solutions.

“When can I get out of the healing halls?”

“As soon as we’ve figured out what blood to feed to you.”

Obi-Wan stared at his Master with a deadpan expression, expecting him to be joking, but the man looked serious.

“Blood?”

“Blood?” Qui-Gon repeated. “It’s apparently one of your dietary requirements now.”

The world started to spin again and Obi-Wan dropped back into his bed. Maybe he should sleep some more before getting confronted with facts that made him nauseous.