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thegreatwicked · 3 months

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Padawan

Padawan

May I proudly present....! My first reader insert, I wrote this for all you lovelies who follow/like/reblog/comment on my stuff. This is for you! Obi-Wan/You/Reader Insert. Master/Padawan, SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. That is all. Or is it? Should I write more???

Summary: After disappearing from your Master for thirteen years, the Clone Wars has brought you back to the same planet and a brush with death back into each other's lives. But you’re not his Padawan anymore, you’re a knight, right? No, you’ll always be his Padawan, and he, your Master.

~~~

He wasn't a fool; he had sensed your presence the moment you set foot on the planet, like a blinding light or the ring of a bell only he could hear. Of course, he could feel you—how could he not? At least, he could feel you for a while, long enough for him to be certain that he didn’t imagine it in a post-battle haze. You were here.

The first time your force signature vanished, his heart skipped a beat, and a cold rush of panic coursed through his veins and a horrible cold weight settled in his stomach, making him feel like he may be sick. Determined and distracted, he abandoned his conversation in a mad sprint. Searching. He tracked down anyone who had been alongside you on the battlefield, questioning them relentlessly, not caring how he came off as slightly unhinged as opposed to his normal calm and stoic manner, but each inquiry was met with disappointment and vacant glances.

It wasn't until he caught sight of the familiar sight of a blue and white lekku of Ahsoka that a glimmer of hope ignited within him, brighter than any lightsaber. Ahsoka, Anakin’s padawan. She was seemingly unaffected and greeted him with a smile as though she were seeing a dear friend or distant relative, and that in itself was calming. If Ahsoka wasn't distressed, it meant one of two things: either she hadn't heard of your demise, or, more optimistically, you were still alive.

A wave of relief washed over Obi-Wan as Ahsoka confirmed that you were indeed unharmed and engaged in another mission, your paths had briefly crossed long enough for friendly banter involving drinks later. You were not only alive but also hailed as a hero. Your proficiency with the light your orange, lightsaber had garnered admiration, and the news of your success spread across the battlefield.

As he processed this new information, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the questions that haunted him since the day you disappeared, thirteen years ago. What happened? Where had you been? Why had you left without a word?

Had he been too strict, too distant? He paced in his quarters, the weight of uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. Thirteen years of silence, and now he learned you were not only alive but thriving in the chaos of war. Had he been oblivious to your struggles and triumphs as a padawan? Had he overlooked something crucial?

His distress and confusion fueled his determination to find you, to understand the reasons behind your disappearance. The bond between Padawan and Master was meant to endure, but his had been severed without warning or explanation. The quest for answers became a relentless pursuit, driven by a mix of concern, guilt, and an unyielding desire to reconnect with the one he had lost.

Ilum's gift had bestowed upon you a most unique kyber crystal, weaving the essence of the Force into your arsenal—a radiant burnt orange lightsaber. Obi-Wan swelled with pride, recognizing that your exceptional skills not only ensured your safety but also turned the tide amid battle.

Sharing the tale with Ahsoka, Obi-Wan recounted the moments of uncertainty, the fear that gripped him when the disturbance in the Force signaled potential danger. Ahsoka responded with a knowing smile and a playful eye roll, acknowledging your tendency to dive headfirst into peril and emerge victorious as if it was the only possible outcome. Relief washed over Obi-Wan, mirrored by a grateful grin exchanged with Ahsoka, reassured that you navigated the challenges in your own distinctive way.

“She’s gotten quite good at cloaking, hasn’t she?” And with those words, all his nervous energy fell away.

The reality settled, Obi-Wan marveled at the intricacy of your Force signature concealment. Your mastery of the technique was so impeccable that it eluded even his well-honed Jedi senses. In moments of deep meditation, he attempted to reach out, seeking the familiar touch of your intangible presence, only to encounter a mysterious void. Your cloak, flawlessly executed, had transformed you into a Ghost—a moniker that, suddenly, filled him with pride for your evolving abilities.

Days melted into an endless procession of battles, the smoke of war shrouding the fates of those who entered its domain. Unable to locate you through the Force, Obi-Wan sought solace in updates from Ahsoka and the soldiers who served under your command, the Echo Squadron they were called. 'The Ghost,' a symbol of your evasive prowess, deepened his admiration for the padawan who had become an elusive figure amid the chaos of war.

Despite the promising news, Obi-Wan Kenobi's frustration deepened. Thirteen years had passed since he last saw you, his once-promising Padawan and the silence surrounding your disappearance gnawed at him. Pacing his quarters, he questioned the events that had led to this point. You had excelled in your Jedi trials, proving yourself worthy of knighthood, and yet, without a word, you vanished from his life.

The lack of closure weighed heavily on him. Had he failed you as a master? The memories of your training together, the countless missions you undertook side by side, haunted him. Had he missed something? Obi-Wan couldn't fathom why you chose to sever ties so abruptly and so completely. The bond between a Padawan and a master was meant to transcend time and distance even the Force itself.

His mind danced through potential reasons. Perhaps he had been too stern, too demanding, but he couldn't recall any unresolved conflicts or bitter disagreements. It fueled his restless pacing, so much he thought he might wear a hole in the floor. The war had claimed many, and the unpredictability of life in those times made such disappearances common. Yet, the absence of a farewell, a simple goodbye, perplexed him.

Obi-Wan stopped, staring at the transmission device on his desk. He contemplated reaching out through the Force, attempting to sense your presence, but a lingering doubt held him back. If you wished to remain hidden, he knew the Force would not easily reveal your location.

With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that he needed answers. The Jedi Master reluctantly accepted that, without your cooperation, he might never unravel the mystery of your departure. The internal conflict played across his features as he grappled with the uncertainty, the pain of an unanswered question tugging at his Jedi calm. ~~~

Obi-Wan flickered back into his senses, and he’d had enough, your Force signature, elusive and soft, presented a challenge to pinpoint. Yet, now seemed as opportune a moment as any to seek you out. He anticipated that the moment he reached out, you would sense it, and the possibility lingered that you might vanish as swiftly as you'd appeared. Despite the odds, he had to try.

For days, throughout his search, panic clawed at him as your signature exhibited erratic behavior—flickering, softening, going dim and occasionally blazing intensely. Unsettled, he worried about your well-being. Had something happened with your men or yourself? When news of Echo Squadron’s return came across his com, he decided on a more direct approach. The uncertainty fueled his urgency as he raced through the compound's halls, drawing closer to potential answers.

The revelations unfolded when the heavy blast doors swung open, and a chill gripped Obi-Wan's heart revealing a fractured company of clone troopers stumbling in, wearied from the throes of war.

Amidst the chaos, Obi-Wan's voice cut through the clamor, a determined command in battle's aftermath.

"You! Where is your Commander?" he bellowed to the nearest trooper. The man, a walking testament to the horrors he'd witnessed, appeared as if he had traversed through realms of death and fire. His gaze held the weight of someone who had glimpsed into the abyss, far beyond the immediate surroundings.

Obi-Wan called to the trooper, attempting to shake him from his trance, but it was evident that shock had claimed the soldier, rendering him useless for any immediate assistance. A surge of frustration gripped Obi-Wan, that familiar icy sensation taking root within him, he could stand it no more.

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of combat. Heads turned in response, and a battle-worn trooper, fatigue etched on his face, stepped forward.

"General Kenobi," the trooper addressed him with a weary acknowledgment, capturing Obi-Wan's attention. With practiced discipline, the trooper began to relay the grim news that had been haunting his thoughts.

A surprise attack, swift and ruthless, caught the entire company off guard, unleashing chaos and claiming numerous lives. Amidst the chaos, your unwavering courage emerged as the linchpin that prevented even greater losses. The trooper, his voice tinged with awe, spoke your name with a reverence that echoed through the hushed murmurs of your fellow soldiers. Their expressions carried profound respect, acknowledging the pivotal role you played in turning the tide of the ambush.

The trooper went on to reveal a tale of resilience and determination. The men who managed to return from the battleground owed their lives to you. Your strategic prowess, coupled with an indomitable will, had become the catalyst for the survival of those under your command. The atmosphere grew heavy with gratitude and admiration as the trooper unfolded the narrative, and the unspoken bond between soldiers resonated with the unyielding spirit that defined your leadership.

“Injured?” Obi-wan breathed not wanting to believe it, “How badly?”

The trooper wore a solemn look before explaining; three. You had been hit by three blaster bolts and thrown back in an explosion that you had only barely managed to contain with your force shield, Obi-wan felt as though the breath had been punched out of his lungs. Murmurs of agreement sounded with troopers calling you a hero, and they would go into battle with you any day.

The trooper initiated the playback of the security holo, and the room was enveloped in the eerie glow of the holographic display. The flickering images revealed a chaotic battlefield, where your orange lightsaber danced in a brilliant display of skill, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting through the air. The scene, however, took a grim turn as the explosion unfolded.

The trooper's narration painted a vivid picture of your unwavering determination. Your face, illuminated by the glow of the lightsaber, displayed a fierce concentration as you called upon the Force. The protective barrier you conjured was a testament to the immense power you harnessed. Smoke, flames, and debris relentlessly assaulted the shield, crashing against it with an intensity that seemed insurmountable.

As the holographic depiction continued, the strain on your shield became evident. Each impact pushed you back, a slow and relentless retreat under the overwhelming assault. The trooper's commentary reflected the increasing tension in the room, capturing the collective breaths held by those witnessing the event. Finally, with a heart-wrenching collapse, the protective barrier gave way, and your motionless form was violently thrown backward by the force of the explosion, resembling a discarded puppet.

The disturbing imagery etched itself into the minds of those present, leaving a haunting impression of the sacrifice you had made for your comrades. The room fell silent as the holographic display faded, and the gravity of the moment lingered in the air.

“Where is she?” Obi-Wan’s voice a hoarse whisper.

The troopers exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions shifting from a state of surprise to one of guarded curiosity. Why did General Kenobi, the renowned Jedi leader, express such concern about the whereabouts of a single Jedi, especially one who hadn't reported directly to him? The very nature of Jedi loyalty was well-known, but this level of interest seemed unusual, especially considering General Kenobi had never spoken your name and had no prior connection with your company.

In the austere world of warrior monks, emotional attachments were often deemed a distraction, a sentiment echoed by the Jedi Code. The troopers, accustomed to the stoic and disciplined demeanor of their Jedi commanders, found it perplexing that General Kenobi, known for his wisdom and strategic brilliance, was showing a level of personal investment that transcended the typical chain of command.

As the trooper spoke, the realization hit Obi-Wan like a sudden gust of cold wind. The men, once indifferent, now wore expressions of awe and respect. He had been the mentor to their leader, the padawan of the legendary General Kenobi, and none of them had been aware. It was a revelation that changed the dynamics within the group.

“I apologize, General Kenobi, we didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan's confusion deepened. How was it possible that you had never spoken of your training under him? He couldn't fathom why you would erase any mention of your master, especially considering the strong bonds that typically formed between Jedi and their mentors.

“What do you mean? Has she never spoken of it?”

The trooper shook his head solemnly. His name had never left your lips. There was no connection with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and your silence regarding your master left him perplexed and troubled. What had transpired to make you erase the very existence of your training and relationship with him from your history? It was a mystery that left him with an unsettling sense of guilt and regret.

Dread settled over Obi-Wan as the clone recounted the events in the medical wing. The last remnants of the company had made it back, battered and bruised, their fallen comrades in tow. However, you were conspicuously absent, having been transported to the medical wing for intensive care due to the injuries you sustained. Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan set his sights on the medical facilities.

In his urgency to find you, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the bustling corridors, barely sparing a glance for those he unintentionally bumped into. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical machinery. The chaos within the medical wing mirrored the turmoil in Obi-Wan's mind as he scanned the rows of occupied beds and the busy healers tending to the wounded.

He sought your name among the patients but found no trace. Panic tightened its grip on him, as each unoccupied bed intensified his worry. In the organized chaos, Obi-Wan grappled with the fear that he might be too late, that he had lost you in the vast sea of casualties.

"She’s alright. She was moved out of intensive treatment yesterday; she’s recuperating in private quarters on deck five."

Obi-wan's tension eased at Ahsoka's reassurance. The weight that had settled on his shoulders lifted as he absorbed the news. Ahsoka's brief but impactful update became a lifeline, giving him direction in the chaos. Gratitude filled his eyes as he nodded, silently expressing his thanks. The urgency to find you intensified, but now armed with information, he promptly set off towards the turbo-lift, leaving Ahsoka with the unspoken promise that he would find you.

Inside the lift, the monotonous hum did little to alleviate his restlessness, in fact, it made them worse. The usually swift elevators felt unusually slow on this particular day, and he entertained the thought that taking the stairs might have been a faster option. As he impatiently waited unconsciously tapping his boot, the seconds felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened on the desired floor, he bolted out, the urgency in his steps reflecting as he raced down the corridor. This was the most cardio he’d had in days. His eyes darted around erratically, scanning the room names, and he eventually found yours.

Adorned next to the door like a beacon, and with a mix of hope and trepidation, he pressed the call button, but only silence answered back. He pushed it again. Then again. And each time the ominous silence was his only response. Mad with anxiety he pushed to override the security lock, a move usually foreign to his respectful nature.

The door slid open, and his heart stilled, there you were on a sofa bathed in daylight from the small window close to the ceiling. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting; his heart remained uneasy and it would until he saw some indication that you were truly alive. Striding purposefully, he crossed the room, the force signature around you echoing your weakened condition like a medical monitoring device would communicate a pulse or heartbeat.

The aftermath of battle left its gritty mark across your features—bacta patches firmly affixed your shoulder and upper arm worked to make you whole though the tendrils of bruising could be seen around the borders. The marks on your skin were like a gritty painting, telling the vivid story of explosions, blaster fire, and flying debris. Scratches added rough brushstrokes to your face, tracing the chaotic path of the battlefield. Minor burns left fiery imprints on your neck, marking close encounters with searing heat. Bruises, like somber echoes, formed a mosaic on your arms and hands, narrating the intense dance with projectile-like debris.

Despite this, you lay in peaceful repose on your side, facing him, eyes closed in sleep; an elusive serenity amidst the chaos of war. Your head was cradled in your arms, one leg casually folded beneath you while the other stretched out, a blanket loosely entwined around your legs and gathered at your waist. As he crouched down to study you, he sought the familiar essence of the padawan he remembered. The passing of thirteen years had left its mark in the longer strands of hair and the refined, soft features that shaped you into a woman, a stark departure from the Padawan he once guided. No longer bound by the apprentice title, you had evolved into a Jedi Knight—a seasoned warrior.

A close call with death, all for the sake of your men who deeply admired you, almost snuffed out your light. But, your command and growing mastery of the Force made him prouder than ever at that moment.

A subtle shift in your sleep saw a strand of your hair falling gently over your face, just over your nose each little breath lifting it slightly, It brought a smile to his face, and for the first time in days, he felt a sense of tranquility, his pulse calming in the warmth of that precious moment. The chaos of the war outside felt distant within the confines of the cozy room.

Unbeknownst to him, his hand had instinctively reached out, delicately brushing the strand of hair away from your face, inadvertently prompting you to stir in your sleep, accompanied by a soft, sleepy groan.

Wakefulness pulled you from the warm embrace of sleep and instinctively you stretched, a grimace of pain crossed your lips as you moved, prompting you to recoil slightly into a ball once more. Then your eyelashes fluttered open gradually met by crystal blue eyes, quickly filling with a storm of fatigue, confusion, and curiosity.

"Hello, young one," he uttered, his voice a gentle murmur rich with affection, and his smile extended to the corners of his eyes, creating subtle crinkles.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, it's Obi-Wan."

Was this a dream? It didn't feel like one. You scanned the room, casting a questioning glance at your surroundings and the unfolding reality. Your expression wasn't one of pleasure upon seeing him; instead, it bore confusion and distance, as if you were looking at a stranger. He couldn't ignore the palpable sense of disconnect. Hoping for a misunderstanding, that perhaps you had maintained secrecy for a mission, he observed the passing seconds, realizing it wasn't as simple as that.

"What day is it?"

Not the question he had expected, but he was so relieved to hear your voice, that it didn’t matter.

"Primday. You've been in medical for two days, released from the intensive treatment wing just yesterday."

Thirteen years melted away, and those familiar, brilliant blue eyes, so kind and warm. Nostalgia washed over you, and you couldn't deny the yearning for the comforting presence of your former master.

However, as the waves of reminiscence subsided, the reality you'd been avoiding for thirteen years resurfaced. Obi-Wan's knowledge about your condition, coupled with his intense worry, unsettled you, you had to get away from him. Sitting up was a struggle, and as you finally managed to rise, the blanket slipped away, laying bare the toll of battle on your body—a sight that triggered anger, and concern in Obi-Wan's eyes.

A large portion of your left thigh was concealed beneath a sizable bacta patch, and the same superficial injuries that littered the rest of your body continued, it seemed no part of you had been spared, your less-than-optimal state caught him off guard.

“You should be in a bacta tank! They released you like this?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted, the worry etched on his face evident. “Come, I’m taking you back to the medical wing.”

“Absolutely not!” Your bold assertion caught him off guard and he stopped, there had only been a handful of times where you had defied your master. You adjusted your tone to a more calm and measured cadence before adding, “The bacta tanks are at capacity, and there are far more injured than I. –I’m fine. Just scratches.”

He blinked rapidly, his concern escalating. “Scratches? These are NOT scratches.” Oblivious to your state of undress, he gestured to your leg. “You were nearly killed! I saw the holo myself!”

Feeling the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, you searched for any excuse to put more space between you and your master. Ignoring his pleas for you to stay put, you tried to stand again, driven by your stubborn nature. It wasn't until Obi-Wan physically stepped in, restraining you, that you finally came to a stop.

“You can't go back like this,” he insisted, “You're in terrible shape, you need time to recover.”

You made a final attempt to push past him, but Obi-Wan wasn't having it. A firm but considerate hand on your chest gently pushed you back, and a wave of discomfort washed over you as the dull throb of your muscles crying out caught up with your exertions. Glancing to the side table, he spotted a hypo syringe, and without hesitation, he reached for it, eager to bring an end to your pain. However, you extended your hand and vehemently shook your head, intensifying his disbelief as you refused pain medication despite the evident discomfort you were in.

“I don’t need it,” you insisted, defiantly rejecting any relief for your pain. Obi-Wan couldn't fathom your refusal, considering the severity of your injuries.

“You were hit by three blaster bolts and blown up, and you refuse pain medicine?” His voice rose unintentionally, a mix of concern and frustration evident. He shook his head in disbelief, disappointed by your seemingly stubborn choices. He set the syringe down and rose turning away from you, hands on his hips trying to make sense of you but you’d never made it easy on him.

“And you expected to make it down the hall, into the turbo life through the halls, and into the squad bay like this?” He gestured vaguely to you and huffed out a breath The internal conflict of caring for someone who refused care etched across his face and he shut his eyes in exasperation. “What am I to do with you?”

The room settled into a calm stillness, and he could feel the Force flowing gently, like a quiet river moving past him. Eager to offer support, he laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, connecting his own Force presence with yours. A tranquil hush filled the space as you both embraced the ancient practice, seeking solace for the aches and pains that lingered.

The room filled with the soothing hum of the Force, a brief moment of relief washing over you like waves tickling at your toes, easing the discomfort. The pain began to melt away, replaced by a comforting warmth. Yet, as soon as you felt his added touch, your eyes snapped open, and you jerked back abruptly cutting off both the Force connection and the physical contact. It was as if you pulled back as if the sensation burned you. Confusion widened his eyes, hurt creasing his handsome features. He lowered his head into his hands, his voice tinged with a tremor of pain as he grappled with the mystery of your sudden distance and coldness toward him.

"What have I done to you?"

His eyes closed in unbearable agony, and his head bowed forward, hair cascading over his face.

"How have I wronged you? In what way did I hurt you so profoundly that my own padawan refrains from uttering my name to her company, or anyone else? That she remains a secret, that no one knows she was mine?"

His?

An ocean of hurt filled those beautiful blue eyes as he looked up, and for the first time, he saw you gaze back at him and actually see him.

"Nothing, you did nothing. Obi-Wan I–"

Shaking your head, you reached out to him, but this time it was he who recoiled, taking several steps back, attempting to regain control over his faltering composure. Pain welled up within you, the knowledge that you tried to follow what you believed was right, what you were taught was right, and still it had caused harm.

"I must have done something to you for you to treat me this way." His voice carried a hint of indignation now. "Was I too harsh? Unjust? A cruel master? What did I do to make you harbor such hatred towards me?" Hate?

No, no, no. This was all wrong. What had you done?

"I don't hate you," You pleaded, your voice carrying the weight of regret. "I could never hate you, Obi-Wan."

"Oh? What else am I left to believe? One moment I'm watching you being knighted, the youngest of your clan, my heart swelling with pride at knowing the galaxy will never see another Jedi like you. And the next, you're just gone! No goodbye, no farewells, no communications, nothing. As if the years I trained you were of no consequence, as if the bond that follows a Padawan and Master throughout life meant nothing."

Your heart hurt, and you weren't sure which was more painful: the idea that he thought he had wronged you so much that you hated him, or the realization that you had hurt him and continued to do so.

"That's not what it was."

Your voice was meek, and you struggled to explain but it felt useless, the damage had ben done, by your hand. You had hoped to avoid this conversation, knowing there was only one inevitable outcome: the loss of your relationship with your master, forever. Yet fate seemed determined to unfold it now.

“Then what? What, padawan?”

As he closed the distance between you, your internal turmoil heightened. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself, a feeble attempt to shield not just your body but the vulnerability you felt at that moment.

"Please, don't call me that."

You sank into the protection of the blanket, avoiding the term that carried memories of a time when things were simpler, a time you desperately wanted to distance yourself from. The weight of the past lingered in the air, leaving you exposed and uncertain about the path this conversation would take.

He seemed both confused and offended now. How could such an important name hold such bitterness for you?

“Padawan,” You flinched at hearing him speak the word in what felt like spite, each syllable caressed by his thick Coruscatnti accent.

“Look at me, padawan.” His commanding presence made it difficult to resist, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, you just couldn’t. The last threads of resistance faded when he spoke as he had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Master’s command,”

Of course, you would. You always would when he called, as instinctive a reaction to you as breathing. Painfully slowly, you looked up eyes still fighting it the whole time hoping he would understand without any further explanation, but stubbornness and snark was something the Great Negotiator was famed for, and he would not be denied any longer.

As your eyes locked with his, an unexpected vulnerability washed over you, and you felt more naked than you were. It had been more than a decade since you looked into those eyes, yet the magnetic pull was just as potent now as it had been thirteen years ago. You subtly shook your head, silently pleading.

As the seconds passed, realization dawned on him. Your face, colored by shades of shame and embarrassment, betrayed the unspoken truths. The hand reaching up to your temple was the final revelation, leaving you with nothing to do but let him see.

In the jumble of thoughts racing through your interconnected minds, fragments of him surged to the forefront. His deep blue eyes, the warmth of his smile, the soft touch of his hands—all tangled memories, causing a storm within. He saw the moment you grappled with the painful truth: the man you desired could never be truly yours, shackled by the rigid Jedi code and Obi-Wan's unwavering commitment. Faced with this agony, disappearing into the void seemed like the only refuge, a self-imposed exile to shield both of you from inevitable heartache. So, when you had heard Master Yoda speaking of a mission on the other side of the galaxy, you seized the opportunity. Leaving right away? Perfect. Despite hating the choice, it felt like the only way. You’d have done anything to protect him from yourself.

He understood now, that whenever he uttered "Padawan" the word brought you pain because it was as close as you could ever be. The pain reverberated, and he, peering into your thoughts, could sense it all. As he withdrew, his eyes conveyed not disappointment but a poignant sadness, leaving a lingering ache that cut deeper than any vibroblade could.

The emptiness he left in your thoughts was unbearable. Your head sank into your hands as you whispered apologies—apologies for keeping secrets, for causing him pain, for leaving him, for unintentionally making him believe you were angry or had betrayed him with these unspoken thoughts. The weight of it all overwhelmed you, and grief started to take hold.

"You ran away, for my benefit?" the weight of his words hung heavily in the air.

With a single nod, you admitted the harsh truth. And what good did it do? The heartbreak you'd been dodging finally caught up with you, but you’d given it one hell of a run.

You could hear him taking a cautious step back as if you were a dangerous threat to him, but then again, weren’t you? The impending void that would stretch between you two loomed now, and it would stretch for far longer than the span of a few years. This was exactly what you'd hoped to avoid—the door opening, him walking away, and leaving behind an emptiness that nothing could fill.

In the aftermath, you'd head back to your company, join your men, skillfully avoid their questions, and bury the sound of his name so deep it might never resurface. No more uttering it, not even in the quiet corners of your mind. The once-warm memories of your kind master guiding you in the Jedi ways would become bittersweet relics, stained by your own choices.

A profound hopelessness settled in as you rested your head against your hands, hair falling like a curtain. You braced for the tears, waiting for the sound of the doors to open and close one final time before you’d let them fall, shutting your eyes tightly to keep them in. Any second now.

However, the doors remained sealed, he was still there. Was he about to scold you? To make you feel more the foolish girl who should have had better control over her stupid emotions? Guess every wound needed a little salt, though, didn’t it? The situation seemed to only get worse and you found yourself wishing that the blast you struggled to hold back might have killed you instead, that you might be spared this pain.

His voice was almost a whisper, prompting you to glance up. "You don’t hate me?"

You shook your head vigorously, "How could I?"

Was there a chance to salvage this? In any way? You struggled to get back on your feet, your movements thwarted by a shooting persistent pain that would sooner see you fail in your attempt to reach him. And stumble you did, barely managing a few steps before you failed, but your master was right there, catching you before you could hit the ground. With his support, you managed to stand, though he still towered over you. His arm wrapped around you, a reassurance that you were safe. This shouldn't be happening, and he should have left, but he stayed. Why? Would this be it? It had to be.

Giving in to a momentary desire, you let yourself enjoy a small gesture—your fingers slipping through the back of his neck, remembering the softness of his hair. It was shorter now, and although it suited him, you couldn't help but miss the longer locks that used to invite such thoughts.

“What am I to do with you, padawan?”

His choice of words sent a shiver down your spine, but not in the way it used to. There was a strange undertone in his voice, something you hadn't heard before. You had no answers to his question, but it seemed like responses didn't much matter to him. Then, out of the blue, he stooped down and picked you up in his arms, something you'd only dared dream about.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking you to bed, where I can take you properly."

You froze. What did he say? Could he really mean what you thought he did? There had to be some misunderstanding. Your love-struck brain must be playing tricks on you. Your master wouldn't actually give in to those desires, right? Your blood raced, your heart thundered and your skin tingled as he effortlessly carried you, making your weight seem inconsequential.

The bed, though not exceptionally soft, transformed into the most comforting spot in the galaxy as he tenderly placed you upon it. Kneeling beside you the mattress dipping to accommodate him as well, he cradled your face in his hands, prompting a shaky "Wha-?" from your trembling voice.

"Stubborn girl," his words hung in the air, accompanied by that unforgettable tone, yes, it was slightly critical but there was something else to it. "You're not leaving this bed until you're fully recovered. Understand, Padawan?" Confusion swirled in your mind at hearing his command, but you managed a small nod. "You will obey your master's commands, won't you?" The authoritative tone was unfamiliar, prompting another slow nod from you. "Say it."

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl," he affirmed, drawing closer, and his lips met yours in an unexpectedly ferocious kiss.

His mouth quickly took control of yours, leaving no room for confusion about what his intentions were when he said ‘take you properly’. It felt like a tempest, threatening to engulf you, carrying you to the darkest depths but after thirteen years of wanting, and needing, the storm could do as it wanted, if he was the storm.

He smelled like blaster fire, adrenaline, smoke, and lightning—the aftermath of the battlefield sticking to him. Mingling with his scent, like the promise of rain, held traces of incense, taking you back to moments meditating in temples and deserts during your years of travel together. It was a smell that whispered safety and felt like home, a unique cologne you'd spend countless credits on. Something you wanted to drown in.

In countless dreams, you'd imagined moments where your master sought you out after hard battles, dangerous missions, or late at night, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. You dreamed of clandestine rendezvous with his hand covering your mouth urging you to be quiet.

Now, it wasn't just a fantasy; it was real. His lips moving against yours, licking at your lips, sucking on the tip of your own tongue, fueled by hunger as intense as that of a starving man, confirmed the reality of the moment.

During your trials, he had worn his beard and mustache, and it had long sparked your carnal curiosity about the sensations they might bring – a persistent tickle or a pleasurable burn? It turned out to be both, exquisitely and painfully so, surpassing the allure of any narcotic. The intensity of his mouth against yours was relentless, lips brushing yours before his tongue entered the equation. It delved into your mouth, leaving your usually sharp mind in a state of struggle, accompanied by shaky moans. Yet, none of it mattered. The moment he pressed himself between your legs, seizing the hem of your shirt, all rational thought vanished. Your hungry mind could only process the overwhelming realization that your master was kissing you, his tongue licking at your mouth, and he was pawing at you, undressing you like your clothes were an unforgivable offense.

His hands, leaving trails of smoldering embers, intensified the moment, but the euphoria came at a cost. When you moved to discard your shirt, a sharp pain shot through your shoulder, stealing a cry from your lips. Clutching your wound, you fought back the urge to cry.

The sudden sound shattered the enchantment, and his eyes snapped open. He pulled away abruptly, looking as if he were shocked to find himself in this situation with you. Clarity returned to his gaze, and a heavy feeling settled in your stomach as he stepped back, his features clouded with alarm, shaking his head.

"No, we can't," he uttered, releasing you abruptly. In an instant, it was over. A desperate breath escaped you as you reached out, but he vanished.

The urge to scream, cry, or tear down the walls clawed at you, but none of it could change what had just happened. Flopping back on the bed, your shoulder met the mattress with a wince. Anger pulsed through your core, fueled by both the recovering blaster wound and the missed opportunity.

He'd kissed you, and touched you, and just when the promise of something more seemed within reach, it slipped away, leaving a bitter taste of disappointment. The thought of his bare skin against yours, a tantalizing dream, now felt elusive. Despair settled in, but the sudden sound of hurried steps shattered the silence—Obi-Wan's unexpected return.

Before you could fully rise, he gently pressed you back down, his body covering you. His lips sought yours again in a softer, slower kiss, dispelling confusion but introducing a new layer of uncertainty.

He hadn’t left. "Master?" You could barely get the word out before his lips crashed into yours again, a hungry, intense kiss that made you forget about everything—the sudden exit, the unexplained return—all vanished in the heat of the moment. A sharp sting in your arm brought you back, and you pulled away with a surprised 'Ow!' Glancing down, you noticed the hypo-syringe in his hand and the red mark on your arm. "Wha-?"

He came back for another kiss, a hungry and urgent embrace that left you breathless. His tongue teased at your lips, an intrusion you found hard to be angry about. During this heated exchange, he murmured, "I'm sorry," between breathless kisses, his hand entangled in your hair, adding an electrifying thrill to the encounter.

His voice, heavy with sincerity and restraint, trailed down your neck as he continued the assault of hungry kisses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” The tingling sensation from the hypo spread through your body, replacing pain with a welcomed numbness. Now his words made sense – he had injected you with an anesthetic, he wasn’t going anywhere.

"But being gentle is not an option right now," he confessed against your skin, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "And I can't wait any longer."

And neither could you.

His presence enveloped you, a promise to soothe the ache that had haunted you. Rational thoughts and hesitations melted in the passionate exchange, leaving behind an urgent desire for his tongue to dance with yours, to savor the taste of you.

The pain became a distant murmur, overshadowed by the seductive cadence of his armor shedding away. The unmistakable sound of metal parts cascading to the floor filled the air, a harmonious unveiling that played like a haunting melody, laced with the promise of imminent closeness. Each metallic clink and rustle, orchestrated with practiced finesse, blended seamlessly with the mounting heat, composing a sensual symphony that underscored the unfolding intimacy.

"Padawan-” He sounded so full of need. “Have you waited this whole time to touch me, only to just lay there?"

No, you hadn't. Your senses snapped back into focus, and the relentless ache demanded action. Rising up with fiery determination, you seized his lip between your teeth, fingers tangled in his tousled locks. Leg wrapped around his waist, you provocatively thrust your hips into his, stirring a primal hunger. A low, appreciative groan escaped him, and the remaining shreds of restraint evaporated in the scorching intensity of the moment.

“Very good, padawan,” he whispered between searing kisses "Now, tell me what you want. Tell me every craving, every ache you've hidden from your master."

The legendary negotiator, renowned for his poise, eloquence, grace, and dignity in the heat of battle or the midst of a debate, was always portrayed as a polished and composed figure. However, the General Kenobi before you was a stark departure from that image—a persona that sensually grazed your neck with his lips, tenderly explored the curves of your breasts with his hands and moved his hips in a rhythm that ignited an intense passion. This wasn't just the great negotiator; it was the manifestation of a double life—a formidable lover hidden beneath the veneer of a respected leader.

His shorter locks proved to be the perfect handhold, their soft strands entwining with your fingers. The subtle roughness of his beard intensified the already electric atmosphere, adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment.

In the fiery dance of passion and longing, he'd always preached the power of actions over words. Guided by that intimate lesson, you eagerly set out to unravel the layers of his robes, with a gentle push, he rose back up to stand while you sat on the bed, your hands moving with a fervor fueled by desire. The belt surrendered first, dropping to the ground with a soft thud, the lightsaber noticeably absent, carefully stowed away. Urgently, the ties of his loose robe followed suit in the passionate race to undress him. The linen shirt glided away from his broad shoulders, gracefully descending to the floor, revealing the lush expanse of his bare chest. With unwavering determination, you committed every inch of your master's body to the canvas of your memory, each touch a sensual exploration of his lean, muscled skin, a sensory feast that ignited the flames of desire.

"This."

Your fingers traced the shape of his already hard length beneath the fabric of his trousers, coaxing a low moan from Obi-Wan against your neck. "Master, I want this." A firm squeeze elicited a shudder, coursing through him as you continued to tease through his clothing. "I want it in my mouth." His breath hitched, and his hips responded eagerly. Slowly untying the laces of his trousers, your hand slipped inside, embracing his him. The guttural groan that escaped him sent warmth rippling through your body. "Between my legs."

Your master's throbbing cock pulsed in your hands, radiating heat against your skin—hard and demanding. Each stroke elicited untamed pleasure, breaking through the disciplined walls the Jedi Order had meticulously built over the decades. The symphony of his responses played out in sensual notes: the quivers across his skin, the ragged gasps, and the vulnerable moans, all orchestrated by your skilled touch. Hypnotized by the power you held over him, you savored every moment, captivated by the way his body reacted to your every movement. How his hips surged forward in a hungry plea as your hand teased and retreated, and then faltered when you squeezed him with deliberate, unhurried strokes. An irresistible urge surged within you, a yearning to fulfill the fantasies that had simmered within your soul for a decade.

“Master, your padawan wants your cock.”

His hips faltered again at the sheer filth that you spoke of, the way your voice caressed such dirty thoughts, he twitched in your hand and you tried not to moan. Like a siren call you began to dip your head forward, desperate to satisfy the curiosity of how he tasted, your goal so close, a breath away from your lips when it was cruelly ripped away from you. His hand wrapped gently but assertively around your throat giving the softest squeeze that prompted you to rub your thighs together to still the full body shudder.

“My padawan will learn patience. I asked you to tell me your thoughts, not to carry them out.”

You wanted to cry, maybe he expected a submissive little padawan.

“Up, further on the bed.”

He let you go, and you followed his command, scooting back towards the middle of the bed. The intensity of his gaze made it challenging not to tremble. The sight of your master, shirtless, messy hair, swollen lips, and trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips, carried the knowledge that his hard arousal had been in your hands. Knowing you had driven him to that point made obeying his commands a fierce internal struggle. The difficulty only intensified as he knelt on the bed, crawling toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. His eyes held an unfamiliar, burning intensity, setting your own desires ablaze. How was it possible for blue eyes to burn?

His voice, low and commanding, demanded you to lie back, leaving no room for protest. The once-lacy barrier of your panties and bra felt like an unnecessary formality as he leaned over, his arms creating a delicious trap against the bed. Escape wasn't even a consideration, not that you wanted it. He peered at your shoulder, voice holding a hint of soft concern as he asked, "Are you in any pain?" With a shake of your head, A wolfish grin played on his handsome face. "Good. Though, you might when I'm done with you." Oh, stars. Denying you a proper kiss, his tongue traced the trail of desire from your lips down your jaw and neck.

“Going to have to punish you a bit for abandoning your master,”

What? He was going to punish you? Your heart threatened to burst as his lips drifted down your chest, lavishing every imperfection marring your skin with a sweep of his tongue and a caress of his hands.

Despite having command of the force all your life, the very notion that it may be used against you, that it could be unseen hands acting on Obi-Wan’s will, tearing the rest of your clothes off thrilled you. But he surprised you, it seemed he was more hands-on, the bra you wore was quickly gone and that hot mouth of his found its way to your nipples delicately teasing. Slow and purposeful swipes of his tongue coupled with the soft seal of his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth made you arch wantonly into his waiting mouth with a whimper.

Was this what he’d meant about punishment?

He quickly answered that for you, the gentle vibrations of his moan passing through your teased nipples as he switched from one to treat the other to equal pleasure.

“Your punishment can wait though,” That eloquently talented tongue of his drew sensual circles that brought a choked sob past your lips. “First, I’m going to take care of my padawan. Make her come for me in all the ways she’s ever dreamed, so she’ll never leave me again,” Your heart skipped a beat, several in fact, “Till her body shakes and she can no longer bear not having my cock in her.”

He finally released your aching nipples moving down the soft flat expanse of your stomach tongue dipping into your navel. “My powerful,” he kissed your hip, “beautiful,” he sucked on the skin as his fingers tucked into your panties “Sensitive,” and pulled them down your legs. “Neglected,” His breath ghosted over your thigh, tossing the garment aside. “Padawan.”

Never again would the word Padawan cause you pain, never again would it represent ache and loss and missed opportunities. Your chest rose in shallow breaths and you were fairly certain you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling before fluttering closed completely, listening to your master's voice, feeling his hot breath on your most delicate body parts. And for a few terrible moments he let you sit there feeling his breath, the occasional brush of his beard on your skin, the anticipation more horrible than a thousand lonely nights with only your fantasies and touch.

“Master.” You wished you hadn’t sounded so pitiful, so needy and pathetic but you were and you couldn’t help it. Naked on a bed with your master’s breath teasing you between your legs, you were ready to beg.

“Padawan,”

The word whispered, barely audible a fraction of eternity passed before you felt the sweetly sinful furnace of his mouth on your lips before his tongue swept past them to taste you. A shrill and sudden intake of breath shattered the stillness of the room, and your hips canted up against his mouth and you cried out in a drawn-out moan. Not in any pain but the desperate tens of thousands of lonely nights where you cried his name in your mind each time you came against your hand.

His strokes were sweet and slow and left no part of you untouched. You’re lungs seized up momentarily and your brain misfired too many impulses, the instinct to jump away upon the startling contact with his mouth warred the desire to watch him, which also struggled against the urge to seize his hair and beg him to take you right then and there.

All impulses crashed into one another with each broad stroke of his tongue against your pussy, you lay back practically panting desperately trying to remember how to breathe properly, but with every flick of his tongue saw to it that you forgot whatever it was you were trying to remember.

Your toes curled slightly in shameless pleasure when you felt his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you with the promise of sublime ecstasy to be had if he would only use his fingers. The very ones calloused from years of wielding a lightsaber now brought blistering pleasure with every touch. The sounds of his breathing intermingled with deep groans as he lapped at you like he was dying of thirst, only adding to the symphony of sex you would play over and over in your head until the end of your days.

As you lay there losing your mind in the velvet embrace of your master’s mouth, Obi-Wan was studying you, learning your pleasure through each taste, stroke, and flick of the tongue. Committing to memory how you reacted when he licked hard or sucked softly the cadence of your breathing and the buck of your hips, what drew sweet whimpers or unabashed moans. He found a rhythm, long, slow broad strokes, that made you gasp each time no matter how often he did it, you could never get used to it. Followed by the quick teasing flutter of his tongue on your clit, fingers sweeping gently along the length of your lips throwing fuel to the fire he that was beginning to rage out of control. The hot lazy hunger of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever felt and it was impossible to keep your eyes open for any length of time, it just felt so good, as if your brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening it would occasionally rapid-fire messages to you as though you were unaware of exactly what was going on.

‘Master’s mouth is between my legs.’

‘Stars! He’s licking me.’

‘He’s going to make me come!’

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the soft sound of a deep and throaty chuckle, the reverberations stole your breath and sidetracked your thoughts.

‘Yes, padawan, you will come for me. Until I grow weary of the noises you make.’

The words played out in your mind as if they came from everywhere echoing off the walls of your thoughts, but when you glanced down, Obi-Wan was focused on you. Not even a teasing expression, his eyes seemed closed in rapture as though he were enjoying an exquisite, delicacy catered to his palette only. And enjoying it thoroughly.

When not dancing teasing touches to your entrance, his hands stroked the inside of your thighs opening your legs further each time, mindful not to agitate your wounds, his touch so delicate that it made your skin tingle with sensitivity.

It was unbelievable how quickly he’d gotten you so close to cumming but then his voice in your head tell you the most wicked thoughts aided in that considerably.

Never before did you ever think such a thing would happen, your master hungrily feasting on your pussy. It had to be a dream, it was too good, any moment when you were nearly ready for the rolling torrent of orgasm to crash upon you, you would wake up and cling to the remnants of this dream while hurriedly bringing yourself to climax while muffling any sounds into your pillow.

“No, my padawan, this is no dream. I’m going to make you come for me now.”

His mouth found your clit again, giving it a series of slow licks and gentle, open-mouthed kisses before spreading your lips open giving you no reprieve from that masterful mouth of his. Then he truly went to work on you, stimulating that little bundle of nerves by flicking the tip of his tongue over and over increasing in speed until you could scarcely breathe and your body was writhing on the bed, the moans tumbling from your mouth. Your wails combined with your desperate pleas carried through the room with lick, swirl, and suckle.

Obi-wan’s voice continued calling to you whispering so many salacious things to you; that he loved how you tasted so sweet to him, “My darling, padawan, your taste is divine, so sweet.”

That your moans were what he would play in his head when he stroked himself if he couldn’t have you, “Yes, sing for me, tell me how good I’m making you feel,”

How he knew you were going to strangle his cock when he finally let you have it, “S’going to feel so good when I bury my cock in you, isn’t it? Going to strangle me, aren’t you?”

How gorgeous you looked like this for him and it was only for him, “So, beautiful all laid out for me, only for me, aren’t you?”

And for each whispered thought in your mind you moaned a ragged “Yes, master! Yes! Yes!”

This was it, he was going to kill you, this was how you would join the living Force, wildly in the throws of orgasm. You couldn’t even manage his name, barely able to utter the first syllable, voice raising in pitch, your body growing rigid as it all culminated towards an exquisite peak. It was the sound of Obi-wan’s half breath, half moan, and the demanding cadence of his order sounding in your mind rising above all other words; the command to come for him, and you did. The thick throaty satisfied moan of a man who wanted to be no other place than between your legs, reverberating through your flesh and raced up your core.

Waves of fire, hotter than any star, more molten than any lightsaber, radiated from your thoroughly stimulated pussy overtaking your body as his mouth worked you over slowly teasing out every ounce of pleasure he could, wringing it from you like water from a rag.

Repeating the word "Master" like a mantra, a symphony of desire and surrender as you writhed against him. No longer in control, you became a willing captive to the relentless pulses dictated by Obi-Wan. The euphoric journey continued an unending cascade of sensations and shared ecstasy. And it didn’t stop, like a fire it grew more and more intense, shocking you, never before had you experienced sensations like what he was giving you. You just kept coming.

Would it ever stop? The overwhelming wave of pleasure seemed boundless. It was intoxicating, almost too much. As the peak of ecstasy subsided, it left behind little electric shocks of overstimulation with each additional stroke of Obi-Wan's tongue, trying to coax out a little more. The intensity lingered, a sensation that bordered on both pleasure and sweet torment.

The sweet agony of pleasure mixed with the sting of overstimulation was a cruelty of human physiology. You wanted more, a hungry desire pushing him to give you everything. But your body rebelled, aching for a momentary escape from the relentless assault. Your hips wriggled and began to buck trying to throw him off in a wordless plea for him to ease the intensity. Yet, he pressed on, undeterred, as you grappled with the conflicting sensations, lost in the dizzying dance of pleasure and pain.

“Master! Please! No more– I-I can’t!” The way your words sounded so weak and your voice nearly broken seemed to finally reach him and he slowed to a stop, depositing one final deep kiss and drawing an unadulterated moan from you before he finally released your overworked, quivering flesh.

Your body shivered as he moved up the bed to kiss your lips. The lingering scent and taste of your orgasm clung to his mouth—a mix of sweat and satisfaction, intensified by the unique aroma coming from him. It was potent enough to make you teeter on the brink of another climax, a fortunate secret he remained unaware of.

For some reason you felt like you needed to thank him, which was ridiculous, thank him for what? For giving you the most amazing orgasm you’d ever had? It seemed a bit awkward and out of place but somehow given this new dominant side of your master, he might enjoy that.

He breathed in deeply as if savoring the aftermath of a fulfilling workout. But the look on his face spoke of more than just exertion; it was a blend of delight and contentment.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like you'd had one too many drinks. The air seemed to swirl around you, and his disheveled hair falling over his face only added to the effect. His smile was downright criminal, it seemed almost unnatural for a man to look so good wearing nothing but a smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled, the word sounding feeble even to your own ears, but Obi-Wan's pleased expression suggested he appreciated the sentiment.

“Did you enjoy that, my little padawan?” The endearment sent a shiver down your spine, and all you could manage was a nod. As his lips met yours once more, a wave of euphoria washed over you. Soft, powerful, firm—his kisses were everything you'd hoped for, stirring desire in every part of your being, and the knowledge that he’s just used that mouth on you made your heart race and your cunt ache.

“Tell me, before I take you, how many?” The question hung between you, a mix of desire and curiosity in Obi-Wan's voice. You were a bit baffled, trying to figure out the context of his question. Orgasms? It wasn’t something you kept tabs on. Sensing your confusion, he clarified, “Men. Lovers. How many?”

An awkward lump formed in your throat as you replied, “None.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. There was a momentary flicker in his expression that could almost be mistaken for anger, but his subsequent fervent return to kissing dispelled that notion. “None? How is that possible? That I am the first to ever touch you like this?”

“The first man.” He froze, his expression shifting to shock at your admission. The truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to be with a man when the one you desired was out of reach. Women, however...

“I’ve had lovers, just not any men; I didn’t want them.”

“You’ve taken female lovers?” he asked. You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t disapprove. His grin returned, now carrying a wolfish quality, and his mouth found its way back to your breast. His kiss turned fierce, hungry—a prelude to the kind of passion that precedes throwing someone onto a bed and ravishing them. “Naughty thing,” he murmured. Relief flooded through you, quickly followed by euphoria. “Did you enjoy that? Letting other women touch you?”

"Sometimes." He appeared puzzled, and you nonchalantly shrugged, steering clear of his penetrating gaze. The notion of accepting disappointment felt like a subtle form of judgment.

"Women can be selfish lovers too." The idea of your satisfaction not being guaranteed seemed to trouble him. He shook his head slowly, 'tsking' you, as though imparting guidance on what was and wasn't acceptable.

"That won't do at all," he declared, lowering his lips to yours in a kiss that sent electric shivers down your spine. "I’m going to erase every memory of anyone who’s ever touched you." His tongue danced over your nipple again, barely tasting it and he stopped to savor your little breath. “Going to fuck you until you cry out my name, going to make sure you’re never left wanting again.” With a flick of his tongue, his hand started massaging your other breast, “Would you like that, padawan, for your master to make you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, Master! Please!”

“So respectful when you’ve had your cunt devoured, aren't you?”

Those words, oh, they hit you in all the right places. You never thought he had it in him—the raw, unfiltered sexuality. Suddenly, you weren't just yearning for his touch; you wanted to be the one to make him quiver and groan, to do to him, what he did to you. To see how your words and caresses could unravel the composed Jedi Master. It wasn't just about fulfilling your own cravings; it was about sharing a dance of passion and exploring uncharted realms of desire together.

Strength surged within you, not the physical kind, but a potent force you had at your command. Calling upon the Force was as natural as breathing, and with a graceful wave of your hand, Obi-Wan found himself unceremoniously tossed onto his back, a look of astonishment etched across his features as if captivated by an unexpected dance. Yes, you had just harnessed the Force against your master.

The sight of your master supine, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, hair tousled in disarray, trousers precariously low on his hips, and all because you had put him there. His eyes held a mesmerizing blend of surprise and desire, mirroring the emotions flickering within yourself. Seizing the moment before he could recover, you took a daring leap and went in to lay siege.

Obi-Wan, caught off guard by your bold moves, sank into the softness of the bed. Your fingers danced through his hair and beard, jerking his head back to expose his neck, ensuring he wouldn't forget this moment. A low, appreciative purr escaped his chest, silently praising your audacity. With each kiss and playful nip, he seemed to yield to your lead, responding with soft sounds of approval.

You savored the blissful aftermath of victory, those suspended seconds lingering in the air. In that fleeting time, your senses buzzed with playful thoughts, tempting fantasies, and desires long confined. He might have allowed the moment to stretch a bit more, but then came your teasing nips, tracing the spots that made him flinch with delightful sensitivity.

“Want to taste you,” You muttered, fairly certain you hadn’t imagined that little ‘oh.’

"Padawan..." His voice, a touch hoarse, accompanied the journey of your fingers down his ribs and along his toned stomach. Moving closer to the tantalizing waistband of his trousers where your prize awaited you, the desire to feel him in your hand became almost unbearable. Yet, you found justification for a bit more teasing. Fingers dipped just inside the band of his trousers, close enough to feel him twitch and buck at your almost-touches, it was too delicious to only do once.

Perhaps you shouldn't have pushed your luck.

Because, like the fabric of Jedi robes, his patience wore thin. It was then that your Master's restraint snapped, like a stretched cord finally giving way.

In an instant, he grabbed your waist, executing a swift and aggressive flip that left him looming above you, pinning you down on the bed. His body pressed into yours, and a sly grin hinted that the game was about to get a lot more daring. The air hummed with anticipation as he shook his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss that left you breathless.

"What were you thinking, Padawan?" His voice, low and husky, carried a thick layer of desire, each word steeped in need. His intense gaze locked onto yours, silently questioning.

"Touching your master without permission?"

Stunned. You struggled to form a response, your lips moved, and no words broke free. Was he serious? After the intoxicating dance of his mouth had just brought you to an unparalleled climax, he expected you to ask permission to touch him? It felt absurd.

Questions raced through your mind. Was this some kind of test? A dominance play? Your stomach dropped. Maybe this was the punishment he’d spoken of, an exercise in humility? Searching his cerulean eyes for a hint of jest, the intense atmosphere from before remained, now layered with a different kind of tension. He simply shook his head slightly. The weight of his expectation hung in the room, leaving you torn between the impulse to surrender and the desire to meet his challenge with your own fiery response.

"Yes, I do. I expect my padawan to remain obedient and respectful, no matter how she hungers."

His fingers lingered just above your cheek, a subtle reminder of his ability to pluck your thoughts effortlessly, like plucking a flower from the grass. However, you had long since outgrown the status of a padawan, having ascended to the rank of Jedi Knight. If he expected pleading or begging, he was in for disappointment. A steely determination cast a shadow across your features. With narrowed eyes, you threw down a challenge. If he sought access to your mind, you were prepared to offer more than he had bargained for.

A coy smile danced on your lips, causing his own smile to falter ever so slightly. That mischievous glint in your eyes was a familiar precursor to something daring, and you had no intention of disappointing your master in this unexplored realm. Shutting your eyes, you tilted your head, letting his fingers brush against your face, shifting the battleground from the physical to the unseen.

Instead of engaging him through physical means, you chose to confront him on the mental plane, projecting your thoughts with an intensity that demanded attention. He took a sharp breath, caught off guard by the rush of images, thoughts, and sounds hitting him like a brisk breeze. The unexpected depth of your mental communication briefly disrupted the seamless flow of the physical connection.

This wasn't just a subtle act of rebellion; it was a declaration that you were no longer the Padawan he once trained. As a Jedi Knight, you wielded more than just a lightsaber—you possessed a will of your own, armed with a bag of tricks beyond anyone's expectations.

Though he could still address you as Padawan to elicit a reaction, you were so much more. Long-concealed thoughts, years hidden in secrecy, surged forth, intertwining with stolen glances and intimate moments—all now laid bare before Obi-Wan.

A mosaic of self-indulgent pleasures unfolded—whispered calls of his name amid moments of personal bliss. Stolen encounters, and lingering desires, all painted a picture of your yearning. The once-private fantasies, meant for the sanctuary of your thoughts, now exposed—a checklist of desires you had secretly harbored for him.

Breathless, he found himself caught in the private corners of your mind, imagined scenes unfolded, that saw you in a passionate dance, bodies entwined, covered in sweat, exploring countless positions. An insatiable hunger for him, even if he lay prone and exhausted, pleading with him for more.

The many ways you wanted to touch him, to pleasure him, and hear him echo your name as you had cried his— to render him powerless and explore his body until he succumbed to climax after climax and could give no more.

He shivered with excitement, lost in the fantasy of the intense bliss you painted in his mind. Those throaty moans of pleasure felt so real, almost like he could taste them. Surprised by the raw intensity of your craving to taste him and drink him, he moaned your name in the tangled passion, every drop of his essence landing on your eager tongue as he lay back lost of the haze of sex and stimulation.

It wasn't merely about satisfying him; your desire surpassed that. There was an unquenchable hunger for him to seize control, to witness him unrestrained and consumed by passion and dominance. Whether he threw you onto the bed or pressed you against the wall, positions that brought a delightful twinge of discomfort on your end, all aimed at bringing him ecstasy, standing unassisted became an impossible task. The profound intensity of your yearning unfurled like a revelation, taking him by surprise.

The cat was out of the bag; the secret lay bare. Now, with an untamed glint in his eyes, it seemed you might have ventured into territory beyond your expectations.

"Padawan, my sweet, sinful, Padawan," His lips dipped to your ear, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I should enlighten you with some of MY thoughts."

Composure became a fleeting notion as he placed his hand firmly on your temple and a rush of sensations overwhelmed you, powerful enough that the right touch might send you into another blinding climax, akin to a torrent of whitewater tossing a stick of dry driftwood.

His unfiltered thoughts surged into your mind, a river of forbidden fantasies and suppressed desires. In the shared space of his consciousness, visions unfurled like an intimate tapestry—a clandestine gallery of how he yearned for you, each scene a seductive exploration of passion.

In one vivid fantasy more powerful than your own, you found yourself pressed against the cold metal of a ship's wall, arms held captive overhead by an unseen force naked while he still wore his full robes. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he knelt before you, entirely at the mercy of his desires, and he had none. He skillfully coaxed orgasm after orgasm from your quivering form, every touch and caress hearing you cry out and wail his name until you were hoarse. Overwhelmed by the sensations, until you were rendered speechless, too weak to utter the word "Master" as pleasure consumed your senses.

Then the landscape shifted with your master now behind you, his hands exploring your body with practiced skill. Fingers danced between your legs, teasing your aching clit, perfectly synchronized with the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips. In the shared intimacy, he praised you, “Such a good girl” and admiring your patience in holding back on coming until he granted permission. His voice, a velvety whisper, encouraged you to hang on, promising to reward your patience but only after he had cum inside you, again.

“You think your desires are greater and darker than my own? So innocent of you…”

His words hit you like a revelation, unraveling a new side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that forever changed the way you saw him.

Another shift of vision saw you in the High Council Chamber, he sat naked in his seat, his strong thighs spread wide, and there you knelt before him. His hand gripped your hair, guiding his cock down your throat, and you obediently swallowed it all. With a gritty grunt, he demanded you not waste a drop, telling you to swallow all of it, praising your beauty as you served your master on your knees.

Your body pulsed and throbbed with each vision he gave you until the sights, sounds, and sensations grew so powerful all it took was the gentle stroke of his fingers between your legs to set you off. You threw your head back into the bed and moaned as the strength of your orgasm was amplified by your connection to your master as his most private thoughts continued playing in your head.

As he let you go, the fantasies slowly faded, and you found yourself returning to the tangible present. It was like your vision was coming back to focus, bit by bit, from the edges to the center. The room's immediate surroundings started to replace the lingering echoes of those intense daydreams.

In that moment, it was clear—he had won. The sly grin on his face revealed a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. It was the look of someone who had conquered and was eagerly anticipating claiming their prize.

“Tell me, Padawan, are you ready to ask your master if you can touch him?”

But there you were, a flicker of fight still dancing in your eyes. Trying to push against him to sit up, that burning desire to kiss him ignited, fueled by a longing to make him yearn for you. You wanted to kindle the flames of passion until he begged for your touch. Yet, your Master had other plans. Suddenly your body refused to cooperate, stubbornly resisting your every attempt. Even the simplest tasks, like wiggling your toes, proved to be impossible.

As your efforts were thwarted, Obi-Wan's grin grew, taking on a dark intensity. His stormy eyes promised something profound, something that transcended the physical. His gaze seemed to revel in the power he held over your immobilized form, piercing through the struggle within.

“Use the Force on your master to tease him, will you? Let us see how you like it?” His lips ghosted over your breast, barely warming your nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “You will ask permission, Padawan. I can wait.” His mouth enclosed over the hard bud lazily stroking, teeth occasionally grazing as your pathetic little whimpers danced in the air.

He seemed perfectly content in his torturous teasing, but he had to be aching himself. Had to want to fuck you as badly as you wanted him to fuck you. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!

"Life is never fair, padawan," he murmured, as if reading the turmoil in your mind. "I had a very different plan for you until you chose to utilize the Force on your master. Now, you'll beg for the privilege to touch me."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and as he continued his fervent exploration, his hands tracing paths on your body that bordered on pain due to the lingering sensitivity from previous climaxes, you couldn't fathom how he remained so composed. The dichotomy of your desperation and his controlled demeanor only added to the maddening allure of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I want to sink my cock into this tight, perfect cunt,” His fingers grazed your lips and you were powerless to stop him, you could barely tremble at his touch. “How badly I want to feel you squeeze my cock, but I’ve not achieved the rank of master without considerable discipline.”

He returned to your breast sucking harder, as his fingers employed a more delicate touch between your legs, which you were powerless to close, soft, sweet strokes on your thighs, and your lips but cruelly or mercifully avoiding your clit. Your lips trembled at the delicate touch, and in that moment, the unfairness of it all struck you like a tidal wave.

For years, he had been your mentor, teaching you the art of patience and urging you to play the long game. "Be patient," he would say, "gauge your opponent."

But in the whirlwind of your desires, the very lessons he drilled into you seemed to crumble. Impatience surged, a desperate yearning for instant gratification that clashed with the wise teachings of your master. He offered to fulfill your every desire, promising pleasures beyond imagination. Yet, in your haste to assert newfound power, eager to prove you were more than just his padawan, you discovered there were still lessons for him to teach, more wisdom to share.

Your urgency led to a clash of power dynamics, revealing your master still held the upper hand. A soft sob of frustration escaped, breaking his focused demeanor. His once passionate cerulean eyes now held a glimmer of concern and curiosity as he paused.

"Say the words, padawan," His voice entreated gently, a soft call laced with a plea that tugged at the strings of your stubborn pride. You might have resisted longer if not for the unsaid words that reverberated in the echoes of your mind. "Padawan, please!"

Your eyes shot open, scanning the room for any hint that the desperation in Obi-Wan Kenobi's gaze was just a figment of your imagination. Yet, there it was—a pleading look that intertwined compassion and desire in a delicate dance across his face.

At that moment, it dawned on you: you had won. The silent struggle between you and your former master, the unspoken battle of wills, had reached its conclusion. The walls you'd built around your emotions had crumbled in the face of that unspoken plea. It wasn't about conquest; it was a surrender, and the victory was yours.

You might be the first to say the words but he was the first to beg.

"Please, Master," Your voice, a sweet melody of desire, reached into the core of his being. His gaze narrowed, and he froze, the invisible bonds around you weakening, his resistance giving way. "Let me touch you, Master," You pleaded sweetly, your words dripping with need. "I want you," You added, turning up the heat until the bonds snapped completely. “Let me taste you, let me have you.”

With their release, he was on your lips again, kissing you with a desperate hunger, untamed and wild. Yet, despite your newfound freedom, you lay still beneath him, a silent presence he couldn't resist.

"Padawan! Are you going to touch me or not?"

His outrage was amusing. A playful grin toyed with the corners of your lips, hinting at your delight.

Feigning innocence, you shot back, "You haven’t given me permission to touch you."

His eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of anticipation coursing through him as a deep, appreciative groan escaped him, acknowledging your skillful play as his Padawan.

"Darling, please, touch your master,"

With a surge of passion, you seized the moment, fingers seizing his hair with purpose, jerking hard enough that he cried out, a pull that danced on the edge of sweet pain.

Defying the limits of control, you launched a fervent attack on his lips, reclaiming the kiss with an intensity that screamed desire. Your tongue demanded entry, a forceful and unapologetic dive into the depths of his mouth. A low grunt slipped from him, a mix of surprise and a hint of surrender, adding fuel to the blaze sparking between you. The dance of your intertwined tongues became a symphony of passion, a primal declaration signaling the end of any lingering boundaries.

Your hips rolled into a painfully hard erection, and any trace of Obi-Wan's usual witty banter vanished into the charged air. The playful banter was replaced by a more primal language.

Pushing him onto his back was effortless now; he offered no resistance. Finally. The tension that had once held him captive had melted away into bliss. His half-lidded eyes, lost in a dreamy state, promised memories that would keep you warm for days to come.

With deliberate intent, you explored every inch of his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. His deep breathing echoed in the room, accompanied by the subtle sounds of contentment that escaped his lips. As your journey continued downward, tracing the path of pleasure, you encountered the nearly pained expression that adorned his face. His chest heaved with anticipation as you approached his trousers, the memory of how close you had been to having him earlier playing in your mind. A grin danced on your lips, fueled by the sharp gasps escaping him, as you mouthed his cock through the fabric.

You couldn't wait to have him, the urgency taking over. The waistband tugged down in a hurry, your mouth watering in anticipation. Your hand wrapped around him, and he stuttered at the touch. His cock, just as perfect as you'd imagined—long, thick, and undeniably eager to be touched—and positively leaking. It felt like the room might collapse when your tongue licked at the pearlescent precum gathering from his weeping cock, you swept around his swollen head, savoring every delicious drop. His hands shook, gripping the bed in an immediate white-knuckled hold. As you kissed it and slowly swallowed the crown of his cock, he howled in ecstasy. The salty taste of him filled your mouth and he wept at the exquisite, wet heat. Jolting with every swirl of your tongue, each lick, and suckle, the delightful vibrations echoing from the back of your throat to his cock.

“Yes!”

His body arched, his signature flickering wildly, and then you truly went to work on him. Wanting to show him exactly how much you had thought of this moment. With each eager motion, you took more of him, brushing off the impending jaw ache. Your master was sprawled on your bed, fervently chanting your name, but coherent words were out of reach. He tasted just perfect, filling your mouth just right. You traced the veins on his cock like an old familiar map, committing every detail to memory. As you slid over his head sucking gently like one would enjoy a sweet treat, his hips surged, and he let out another wild moan of pleasure.

“Padawan! Padwan! Padawan!”

But you had more, oh so much more to give him, but you wouldn’t tease him as he had you, you gripped firmly what you couldn’t swallow, and aided by the slickness of your own saliva you stroked and twisted his length in your hand. And your other hand? It didn’t sit idle, no, it reached into his trousers to offer gentle almost tickling caresses to his neglected balls. Lesireuly massaging and softly squeezing. Surely, someone must have heard the moan that tore from his chest, it was primal and almost powerful enough to make you come again.

The flood of sensations overwhelmed him, a storm of desire and vulnerability that left him at a loss for words. Normally eloquent, his tongue now stumbled in this unfamiliar territory. His disciplined mind, usually a stronghold of wisdom, faltered under the onslaught of passion. Every muscle rebelled against his rational commands, caught in a moment of indecision the muscles of his stomach flexed and contracted wildly. The composed master was briefly overshadowed by raw, primal forces, his tense muscles reflecting the battle of a man surrendering control to overwhelming desire. He became a disheveled mess, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and then tightly shut, breath hitching in short, irregular gasps as if he kept forgetting how to breathe smoothly. His lips clumsily grazed the edge of words, catching and then losing them amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

“Oh! Maker!”

Oh, another word? Impressive. His disciplined nature must be paying off. Using the last bit of strength he had, he propped himself up on his elbows, determined not to miss the spectacle. There you were, between his legs, your lips wrapped around his cock, all slick with your saliva, disappearing into your mouth. It hit the back of your throat in a way that made him shudder from head to toe. He could watch you do that for as long as the stars lit up the sky. It was something else—beautiful, the way you handled his cock like his pleasure belonged to you.

You were determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from him, poised to take him to the brink, so close to tasting him completely, but your mission hit a pause when his hand gently grasped your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze. His needy “Please,” didn’t go unnoticed either. A slender strand of saliva linked your lips to his throbbing length, and the disbelief in his eyes was palpable. It was as if he couldn't fathom witnessing what lay before him. A ragged breath escaped him, followed by a hard swallow. Redirecting your attention from his pulsating, slick arousal, he steered you into a deep, passionate kiss, one you didn't resist.

“Darling, enough foreplay. I need to feel you on my cock. Tell me that’s what you want.”

His eyes sparkled when you whispered, "I want it, Master," with desire glowing in your own. It made you wonder if anyone had ever been so upfront with him, if anyone had looked into those captivating eyes and just said, "I want you." Had he ever known how it felt to be so openly desired before?

"Good girl, now, up you get."

He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, surprising you even more because he didn't employ the Force; it was the strength of his own muscles at play. Observing them flex and shift beneath his skin was nearly as gratifying as witnessing him in the throes of pleasure. He held you over his lap for a moment, lips tangling with yours, muttering against them.

“Look at me, want to see you properly.”

How could you ignore a request like that? Oh, no, you couldn’t. And with a nod from you, he began to release you.

Never had anything felt as exquisite as the moment his cock slid effortlessly into your pussy. The sensation of that satisfying first stretch surpassed any pleasure you had ever known—far superior to the touch of your own fingers, toys, or any previous lover. As gravity took its course, guiding you down onto him, there was nothing left to say or do. Your head rolled back and you moaned his name. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, every ounce of strength dedicated to maintaining control. Surprisingly, his energy remained entirely serene.

The experience was a symphony of wetness, heat, tightness, and perfect slickness. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close, mirroring the way you squeezed his cock. It was perfect. You would ache for this later, he was right, you’d be sore to the touch everywhere he’d touched you but it would be worth it for the exquisite ecstasy you felt right now.

Damn the code, to hell with forbidden attachments; the High Council could go up in flames for all you cared. In this moment, he belonged to you—every inch of him. His response to your body defied description. He was unequivocally yours.

He uttered your name, his mouth tracing up your neck in search of your lips. "Darling, kiss me."

Not padawan, not master. He called you by your name.

Your lips met his, as he’d asked, sweetly, gently as lovers did. The high of shoving your tongue into hi mouth was wonderful but not so wonderful as this simple brushing of lips the added heat and girth of his cock buried in you, there were no more barriers. You kissed him like that for a few minutes until your cunt throbbed demanding more, then you shifted, rising up savoring the way his lips parted in shock before sliding back down slow enough you could see his eyelashes flutter. “Again,” His voice was so full of need and heat, how could you deny him? The warmth of his breath against your skin was like a balm, soothing every ache, alleviating every burden, and imparting tranquility to long-standing wounds.

As his arms encircled your legs, lifting you up to help you along, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. The dichotomy of wanting to sing or cry left you unable to suppress the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His name escaped your lips again.

His arms held you securely, and he buried his face in your neck, releasing a deeply contented breath. With deliberate slowness, he began to thrust upward. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him up for another smoldering kiss, swallowing his moan.

Passion surged like wildfire between you and the man you had yearned for over the years. The connection between your bodies was intense, each thrust an urgent proclamation of desire. The air was thick with the mingling of hot breaths, punctuated by the sound of lewdly slapping skin and fervent kisses exchanged in the throes of lust.

His movements were powerful and rhythmic, and left you gasping for more, all you could do was hang on. With every thrust, he hit that perfect angle that sent shivers through your entire body. The sensation was electric, a tantalizing dance on the precipice of pleasure.

As your breaths intertwined, the shared rhythm hinted at the imminent climax, drawing you both closer to the edge.

In the throes of passion, your murmurs of his name reverberated against his lips as he quickened the pace, both of you on the precipice of an imminent release. The urgency in your voice only fueled his desire, and he nodded in approval as you moaned:

"Obi-Wan…"

Encouraged by your compliance, he implored you for more, his hunger evident. "Again, darling, say it again!"

In a cascade of breathless utterances, you willingly complied, chanting his name with increasing fervor.

"Obi-wan! Obi-wan! Obi-wan!"

With a fluid blend of strength, grace, and skill, he effortlessly tipped you onto your back. The swift change momentarily took you by surprise, but before the disorientation settled, he surged back into you with newfound intensity. Each movement reached deeper, and he committed his entire weight to each forceful thrust, immersing both of you in a realm of heightened pleasure.

His frame shook with each thrust, and with every motion, he felt a piece of himself slipping away, lost in the fervor of the moment. Desperation marked his every move as he teetered on the precipice of oblivion, but determined to hold off just a little longer. The urgency in his actions spoke of a desire to witness you unraveling in the throes of pleasure, to experience the cascade of ecstasy like a tidal wave crashing over him.

His fingers laced with yours, holding a connection that transcended the physical, while his kisses conveyed a hunger that mirrored the intensity of the act. Amid groans and the forceful snap of his hips, he dropped his lips to your ear, breathing hot against your skin.

"Come, darling, come for me!" He moved with an increasingly wild and intense rhythm, his passion reaching new heights. The affectionate term "Padawan" slipped from his lips like a whispered plea, an irresistible command, urging you to surrender to the pleasure he was offering, to climax for your master.

And you did, your body arching in response to the unrelenting intensity, hips bucking wildly against his, meeting his every thrust. Lips locked with his, you welcomed the furious pace he set each time he bottomed out, your bodies entwined in a dance without inhibitions. He threw his weight behind every motion, determined to make you feel every bit of him, to give you everything he had.

His desperate cries of "Padawan!" grew louder in the heated air, a mantra underscoring the intimacy of the moment. The repetition of the endearing term only served to heighten the exquisite pleasure, acknowledging a connection that surpassed the physical act. As he reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, a shudder ran through his entire body, and a helplessly primal howl escaped his lips. The heat of his seed spilling deep within you was the final catalyst, triggering a powerful climax of your own that rocked your entire body.

The Obi-Wan Kenobi you knew, with all his composure and eloquence, had vanished into thin air. In his place was a man, wild and satisfied, fucking you senseless, thrusting his erupting cock hurriedly back into your cunt as though he might die if he stopped. It just kept coming, he thrust harder with each rope you pulled from him until his body had nothing left to give and he began to still after one final hard thrust.

His breaths slowed, and he fought to stay upright. The only thing keeping him from melting into the mattress and pulling you into him entirely was the awareness of your injuries. Thankfully, the pain that had plagued you earlier had quieted down during your passionate love-making, granting a brief moment of relief. His cerulean eyes shifted from the storm of passion to their usual cool and compassionate state. The aftermath unfolded a scene of vulnerability—echoes of shared passion and lingering concerns for your well-being.

He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close, and skillfully rolled both of you onto your sides. With his arm firmly around your waist, he stayed seated, still in your warmth, unwilling to leave it just yet.

In the ensuing silence, the room was filled only with the sounds of your shared and labored breathing.

"Are you alright?" His voice returned to its soft and warm timbre, the familiar hum that felt like a safe, warm home. When you remained silent, he shifted slightly, concern lacing his words, "Darling, is your leg in any pain?" Despite his own exhaustion, his concern for your well-being was touching. The way he called you darling further added to your sated state, and it made you smile.

"What leg?"

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, a comforting warmth you hadn't felt in ages. Shifting to a more serious tone, he inquired again about your injuries, but the light-hearted demeanor lingered.

"I don’t care. Ask me in the morning," You replied unbothered, arms wrapping around his neck. Nestling into the comforting warmth of his chest, you threw a leg around his hips, pulling him closer. His gasp of pleasure, maybe mixed with a hint of overstimulation, brought a satisfied smile to your face, ignoring the subtle throb echoing through your body. It was worth it—the pains, the frustrations—just to lie in your master's arms, his cock still buried in you basking in warmth, safety, and a newfound satisfaction.

"Mmm, Master?" You murmured, your voice laced with the weight of drowsiness.

He chuckled bashfully, "Darling, you don't have to call me Master, anymore."

"Just trying to be an obedient padawan," you teased, planting a kiss on the sensitive spot on his neck, earning a delightful twitch from his cock.

"Careful, darling. I still owe you a punishment for abandoning me," He playfully reminded, his words hanging in the air. "What was your question?"

"If I abandon you again, and you happened to find me. Would you follow through with your 'punishment' against the wall on a ship?"

The recollection of that fantasy, coupled with the echo of his playful threat, coaxed a deep groan from him, as both of you relived those shared fantasies. "Please, Master?" You breathed against his neck, your request underscored by a subtle roll of your hips.

His arm wrapped possessively around you, the warmth of his breath tingling against your ear. A soft growl slipped past his lips, melding with the restrained rhythm of his hips, you could feel him driving into you once more wringing out a moan from your lips. His voice, tinged with both amusement and authority, whispered,

"It seems my Padawan still needs a bit of instruction."

Why, yes, there's more...

~~~

If you would like to see more stuff like this (reader inserts) let me know and let me know if you'd like to join the tag list! For my faithful Obi-Wan content readers! @split-spectrum (you helped inspire this!), @heyhawtdawgs. @pickleprickle

Alright! I need a cigarette!

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #star wars #obiwan kenobi smut #general kenobi #obiwan x reader #obi wan x reader #reader insert #x reader #obi-wan x you #sweet smut #master x padawan #master kink #Dom obi-wan #master kenobi #clone wars #needy obi-wan #wounded reader #all the smut

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curlygirlybitchachos · 1 year

Text

Padawan Reader

(Christmas special)

*Obi-wan drinking his morning tea peacefully*

*Y/n appearing from their room with a present*

Y/n: Happy Christmas.

Obi-wan: oh dear you don't have to.. . Oh! What a lovely mug! But why it says "Second best Dad"?

Y/n: you tried.

* Cody watching them with his "Best Dad" mug, drinking caff*

+Bonus

Anakin with an "Okayest brother figure" shirt in his hands: PADME! THEY DID IT AGAIN?!

(Take this little thing as my Christmas present. Happy Christmas to you guys!)

#star wars #clone wars #star wars incorrect quotes #clone wars incorrect quotes #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padawan reader #commander cody #codywan #padme amidala #anidala #anakin x padme #christmas #y/n is a little bitch

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im-a-wonderling · 8 months

Text

Rescue Me, Part 1 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi

I started writing this in August of 2022. Four rewrites later, I’m posting it now in August of 2023. Shoutout to @writing-on-the-wahl for inspiring me and helping me smooth this over as well as to my brother for supplying all the military/niche Star Wars knowledge I needed.

Summary: A simple mission takes a turn, and suddenly Y/N has to work carefully with Master Kenobi to ensure they both survive.

Warnings: Satine doesn’t exist, mentions of mistreatment, mentions of Pong Krell (yes, this is a warning, Clone Wars fans get it. If you haven’t watched Clone Wars, you should still be able to understand this fic)

Word count: 7.5k

Rescue Me masterlist

Never in my entire life had I been so cold.

The cold sucked all the Force-given agility from my limbs, numbness spreading from my toes to my knees. I could feel the hairs inside my nostrils freezing, and every gasp of air burned its way down my throat and into my lungs. My nose felt moments away from falling off my face altogether.

There was no blushing horizon, no boulders or trees visible, no dynamic landscape whatsoever. There wasn’t even a way to discern where the sky ended and the land began.

It was just white.

The pelting snow obstructed everything from view, keeping me unaware of anything unless it was two feet from my face. For all I knew, we could’ve been walking in circles.

The very idea set my teeth on edge, and I quickly attempted some deep breaths to calm myself down. I kept pushing forward, practically dragging Master Kenobi along through the snow that had reached my knees.

It was because of this blasted snow that he hadn’t seen the D’oemir bear trap until its metal jaws closed around his foot. I’d been busy studying the defenses of the Separatist base when a shout of pain came from behind me, alerting the Separatists of our presence and our location.

What had started as a simple scouting mission was now a fight for survival.

I took more deep breaths, trying to lean on the Force for peace, just as I’d always been taught. And yet, like every other time I tried, the mystical energy seemed muted, like it’d been covered in a blanket to hide it from view. For all intents and purposes, Master Kenobi and I were alone.

As if the planet somehow eavesdropped on my thoughts, the wind picked up, sending an extra bite of pain through my exposed cheeks. “How much farther to the ship?!” I yelled in an endeavor to be heard, holding tighter to the arm slung around my neck.

Master Kenobi didn’t answer, and my heart sank. We weren’t even close then.

A particularly brutal gust of wind buffeted past us, nearly pushing us backwards.

"We can't go on much further!" I shouted. "Master, I don't think we're going to make it!"

Master Kenobi held up his free hand, holding it up to block the gale from his face. His lips moved, but the sound coming from them was lost.

"What did you say?!"

He leaned in, positioning his lips right beside my ear. "You need to get yourself to the ship!"

A blast of anger imploded in my insides, momentarily warming me up. "I'm not leaving you!" Another squall of wind nearly sent us toppling over.

"There's no point in both of us being stuck out here when you can save yourself!" Master Kenobi pulled his arm, unwinding it from its position around my neck.

I fixed him with a glare and gripped his arm tighter. "I'm not deserting you!" I didn’t know what exactly the council would do if I showed up on Coruscant without Master Kenobi, but I knew the judgment would be swift and severe.

Master Kenobi's exasperation grew as well. "I'm your master, you need to do as I say!"

Yet another gust of wind barreled past us, breaking the conversation and forcing us to brace ourselves.

"The only other shelter for miles is the base, and we can't go back there!" I said, once the wind returned to its previous howling intensity. “So we have to find some other means of staying warm!”

Master Kenobi straightened, studying our surroundings. I tried not to roll my eyes. There was nothing to see except wind, snow, and desperation, yet he surveyed it all with great care. Even a gaze as hypercritical as Master Kenobi’s wouldn’t be able to conjure something from nothing.

Suddenly, Master Kenobi twisted around, looking behind us. A strange light jumped forth in his eyes. He mumbled something, but the wind blew it away.

"What?!"

"That way!" he shouted, pointing off to the side.

"What about that way?!"

Master Kenobi still didn't answer. He took a step in the indicated direction and would've fallen, had I not shifted to take the weight.

I glanced down at his injury. The sight of the dried blood that long since had soaked through his boot sent my stomach flipping. Ironically, the only thing keeping him from bleeding out was the same infernal cold that would kill us if we were exposed much longer.

We didn’t have much time.

"C'mon!" he yelled, bringing me out of my thoughts with an impatient look thrown at me.

"Where are we going?!"

"There's a bunker this way, I've been in it before!"

I stared at him warily. "How do you know where it is?! I can’t see a thing!"

"I just know!”

He just knows, I thought sourly. The almighty Jedi master in his boundless knowledge just knew everything about everything.

An irritated grunt left my lips. Thankfully, the wind covered up my defiance, and my mental shields kept any doubt from spilling over. Well, I guess it doesn’t matter where we freeze, I thought to myself grimly before obeying Master Kenobi.

“Just keep heading towards the mountain!”

Mountain?

I glanced around, checking to see if a mountain had somehow snuck past me since the first time I’d looked around. But no, the terrain was the same.

“What mountain?” I shouted back.

Master Kenobi shut his eyes for a moment, and I couldn’t tell if it was due to exasperation or pain. “Reach out with the Force, and you can feel it!”

The Force? As some sort of land radar?

I wanted to scoff, to argue with him. But while giving into my doubts seemed appealing, I knew Master Kenobi would still be assessing every move I made. So I pushed on, fighting the snow and the wind for every step of distance covered. What felt like an eternity later, Master Kenobi reached out his free hand to point ahead of us. “Look, there it is!”

I peered around us, feeling the snowflakes stuck in my lashes. “I don’t–”

“Just keep going!” Master Kenobi urged.

I’m never leaving Coruscant again, I promised myself with every step. The numerous threats and corrupt politicians would be manageable, especially because death would likely come in a swifter and more exciting package. Like poison. Or a dramatic duel to the death. Not something as rudimentary as snow.

To my utter surprise, I felt the ground underneath us start to slope upwards. Could I really be at the foot of a mountain and not see it? I squinted in the direction of the slope and caught sight of hits of gray mixed in with the white.

Son of a mudscuffer, there really was a mountain.

Master Kenobi brought the hand that wasn’t around my neck to his mouth, tearing his glove off with his teeth. Fingers free, he pressed his hand to the snowy rock.

“Welcome, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” an automatic voice said. The wall of rock slid to the side, revealing a door that opened.

A sudden burst of heat came from the doorway, and I nearly lost my grasp on Master Kenobi as I stumbled through the doorway, leaning against the wall immediately inside. Clearly aware of my exhaustion, Master Kenobi leaned his weight away from me and up against the wall as the door closed behind us.

The roaring of the wind dulled, making me feel as if someone had stuffed earplugs into my ears. But I couldn’t make myself care about that.

The delicious warmth caressed my face, like flickering flames running their soft, welcoming hands up and down my skin. I started to regain feeling in the tips of my ears and my nose.

Then the burning started.

The flames grew hotter, setting my skin on fire. It itched. I could feel my joints getting stiffer and stiffer as parts of my body started to swell. The heat that I’d so desperately craved a few moments ago was proving to be just as dangerous as the chill.

“What the–” Master Kenobi said, raising his rapidly puffing fingers.

“We’re warming up too fast,” I gasped, picturing a description from a med book I’d read once, accompanied with gruesome pictures I didn’t want to recreate. “We have to slow down the temperature change. Is there a refresher in this place?”

Master Kenobi stepped forward to show me the way, and he immediately pitched forward, losing his balance.

My arms shot out, grabbing him before he could fully fall to the floor. “Silly old man,” I said through gritted teeth as I began to drag him once more.

“I’m not that much older than you,” Master Kenobi bit back before pointing down the hallway with his free hand. Wordlessly, I followed his direction. Scorching pain started where his arm met the skin of my neck, but I only held him tighter as I focused on getting us to the refresher. Master Kenobi tried to help, leaning some of his weight against the wall as we passed, but it didn’t make much of a difference. “Last door on the left,” he panted.

I slammed my hand against the pad, and the door slid open.

The revealed quarters could barely be called a refresher. It wasn’t even big enough for a Wookie to hide in. Would Master Kenobi and I even fit?

Only one way to find out.

I lowered him to the floor and quickly turned the water on. “We have to get in.” I jerked my hat off, shrugging out of my coat. “If we take too long, our hearts are going to fail.” I pulled off my overtunic, cursing the number of layers I had on. After getting the undertunic off as well, the exposed skin of my arms and stomach started to prickle painfully. It grew even worse when my pants came off, leaving nothing to protect my skin from the heat except a pair of tight undershorts and the fabric binding my chest. All I wanted to do was get under the stream of water for some relief.

I stepped towards the refresher, my foot touching the water as I glanced over at the master.

Master Kenobi’s shoes lay discarded as his fingers fumbled with the fastenings of his coat. He saw me watching him. “Get under the water!”

I didn’t hesitate, crouching in front of him, clumsily pulling at the fastenings of his coat. By some miracle, they opened, and I tugged the coat off.

“Get under the water!” Master Kenobi ordered, but I ignored him, fisting his overtunic in my stiff hands. “Leave me!”

I met his eyes, ignoring the fire ants crawling all over my skin. “Arms up.”

“Y/N-”

“The more difficult you make this, the longer it will take for me to get in the refresher,” I barked. “Arms up.”

Looking extremely vexed, Master Kenobi finally sat forward, lifting his arms to allow the overtunic to be tugged over his head. I tossed it to the side, getting to work unwrapping his undertunic. He shifted his weight, hooking his thumbs into his pants and pulling them down his legs. I pulled them off, discarding them as well.

Then I stared down at his body, a new conundrum taunting me.

Master Kenobi’s frame far exceeded mine in size, and it was riddled with heavy muscle. The refresher was barely big enough for us to stand in it together, so he couldn’t crawl in and sit on the floor. But how was I supposed to get him into a standing position and into the refresher?

“Go.” Master Kenobi’s shove was far from gentle. “Get in.”

I grit my teeth. “I told you,” I learned forward, hooking my arms under his armpits, “I’m not leaving you.”

“You are my padawan, and you will listen to–”

I hoisted, trying to pull Master Kenobi up. He barely budged.

“–me because I am your–”

I tried again and failed again.

“–master–”

I screwed up my face, shutting my eyes and summoning every last bit of strength I had.

Master Kenobi’s body lifted, his arms wrapping around me as he let out an alarmed yelp.

For a moment, satisfaction wracked through my core…but I’d underestimated how much momentum we’d generated.

I stumbled backwards, my arms wrapped around a toned torso and heavy arms wrapped around my shoulder. The stream of water hit my back, it’s chill making me gasp. Then my back collided with the wall, just before a body slammed against mine, knocking all the air from my lungs.

My eyes flew open, and all I could see was Master Kenobi.

His usually voluminous hair stuck to his head as water ran down in torrents. His lips, surrounded by his overgrown beard, were parted, and his chilly blue eyes were wide.

I shoved him away, forcing him to catch his balance by bracing himself on the wall opposite the refresher head. Unfortunately, the refresher was so small, if I wanted to, I’d still be able to place my palm on his chest without even straightening my arm. The tempo of my heart hastened, the little pitter-patter sounding akin to quickening footsteps. What my heart barreled towards, I didn’t know, but my body seemed to.

A shiver ran up my spine, causing me to tremble.

“Are you alright?”

“S’cold,” I said shortly.

“I believe that’s the point,” Master Kenobi shot back. Despite the humor in his comment, I couldn’t find any in his expression, not even so much as an upturn of his mouth. His face was a hard slab of stony displeasure.

Standing here in a refresher with Master Obi-wan Kenobi in nothing but my undergarments was not my idea of a good time either, but it was better than freezing to death.

“Next time,” he grunted, “you’d better get in the refresher first.”

Nevermind.

Master Kenobi pursed his lips, still looking upset. “I’m not solely charged with teaching you–.”

“I get it.” The impertinent words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

Master Kenobi’s face spoke of vexation, like it always did when he was interrupted. “You are not just my student, you are my ward. I am responsible for you, so when I tell you to save yourself, you are to listen, do you understand?”

I hated that he was talking to me like I was a child. I may not have been his padawan for longer than a week, but I wasn’t a youngling.

“It is not a hard concept to grasp.” His tone danced between stern and impatient.

I remained silent, twisting the refresher dial to make the water slightly warmer and keeping my face impassive as I’d always been told. But his words only fed the fiery furnace roaring inside me.

The crease between Master Kenobi’s eyebrows flattened. “You’re angry.”

My cheeks heated up. I quickly shoved the rage down, frustrated that it had momentarily broken through my mental shields and bled through my Force signature. My previous master had been able to harness the Force to hide his emotions as easily as breathing. I tried to do the same, but the Force rarely allied itself with me.

“I understand,” I said as evenly as possible, keeping my eyes averted and my temper in strong hand. “I'm just a padawan. You're the master.”

“There is no ‘just a padawan’,” Master Kenobi interupted. “Being a padawan is just as crucial a part of the Jedi cycle as being a master.”

I barely withheld my huff as I turned the water slightly warmer again. I didn’t need any Jedi propaganda about the value of life and each stage of it.

“You’re angrier.”

I quickly raised my mental shields again, cursing them for continually breaking down.

“Tell me why you’re angry.”

I eyed Master Kenobi warily. To discuss this with him was wrong, but to disobey a direct order from my master was even worse.

“Y/N-” he began, and I snapped.

“Do you think I’m stupid?” I barked. “That I don’t know this mission is a test? If I show up on Coruscant without you, the council will assume I’ve followed in Master Krell’s footsteps and execute me.”

“Why would you be executed?”

“Master Krell was,” I said with gritted teeth. “A padawan stands in their master’s shadow, don’t they?”

His mouth turned down in a deep frown. “You haven't gone over to the dark side and killed scores of clones.”

“And yet if the council trusted me, we wouldn't be here on a so-called surveillance mission!” Master Kenobi didn’t immediately reply, watching me, waiting for more answers. I lifted my hands to pull the pins out of my bun, letting my hair fall. My outrage cooled slightly. “Look,” I set the pins off to the side, “saving myself doesn’t do me any good here. Can we leave it at that?”

Master Kenobi didn’t seem to catch the hint. “No.”

I lifted my eyes to the ceiling. The more my irritation grew, the more he questioned me, making my irritation rise even further. It was an endless cycle.

“You're frustrated.”

I slammed my mental shields back into place.

Master Kenobi tilted his head. “Why do you try to hide your emotions from me?

Distantly, I knew the more anger I showed, the more likely I was going to get into trouble, but when there’s enough heat to make the pot of boiling water froth and overflow, slamming the lid down only worked for so long. “If you want to quiz me on the Jedi Code, can it wait until we’re back on Coruscant?”

“No, it can’t.”

I wanted to scream.

“You’re getting angrier.”

Gripping the reins of my temper, I yanked them back so hard, my body hit the wall of the refresher. “Why do you care?” I bit back.

“Because only a Sith tries to hide their true feelings.” He looked me directly in the eyes. “Are you a Sith?”

It was a natural thing to ask, yet the question still felt like a hammer between the eyes.

No! I wanted to scream. Of course not! How could you think such a thing?!

But as I looked into Master Kenobi’s grave expression, a small trickle of doubt started.

Master Kenobi wouldn’t lie. It was against his character and offered him no advantage here. If hiding emotions was a component of the Code of the Sith instead of the Jedi Code…

Pong Krell was my master. As his padawan, I was expected to follow his lead and take his teachings to heart. To be a padawan was to be molded. Master Krell abandoned the Jedi Code, lost his respect for life, regardless of whose it was, and started ending lives instead of saving them. How long ago had he chosen the dark side? And how long had he been molding me the wrong way?

Maybe…maybe I didn’t know how to be a Jedi at all.

Thoughts started swirling in my brain, picking up speed until they were so fast, I couldn’t catch hold of them.

“You don’t want to be one,” Master Kenobi said softly, more to himself than to me. “And you’re worried you are.”

I almost went to reinforce my mental shields, but if that was truly the method of a Sith…perhaps my own impulses were untrustworthy. “I’m so confused,” I managed to say.

“Why are you trying to hide?” Master Kenobi asked, slowly and clearly. I considered him, no longer with skepticism or a wild need to prove myself, but to see him as he was.

Tall. Pale. Strong-browed. Sturdy-shouldered. Piercingly blue-eyed. Hair charmingly tousled. Mouth sternly set.

All of it whispered of forbearance.

I felt it then, deep within myself. A push to speak.

“Because Master Krell told me to,” I mumbled. “He…he said my thoughts were too loud, so…he taught me to conceal them.”

Master Kenobi’s mouth opened and closed, producing no sound as he stared at me. Finally, he closed his eyes, looking pained. “I didn’t realize that his teachings were so corrupt.”

I blinked at him. “What?”

Blue eyes rested on my face, striking me with soft wisdom. “I am sorry. Krell’s failings should’ve been spotted long before they were.”

I nearly gaped at him, discomfort coursing through me as my skin started prickling again. A master, apologizing to a padawan? It wasn’t seemly.

“His failings?” I repeated.

Master Kenobi squared his shoulders. “To be a master is to be your padawan’s strength so you can aid them in their weakness. To protect them, to respect them, to build their confidence.” Master Kenobi’s eyes turned sad. “Did Krell do that for you?”

I thought I felt bare already, but Master Kenobi’s question stripped me completely. To ask for my opinion…it felt wrong. So wrong, that I couldn’t even fathom giving it. I crossed my arms, bowing my head to let my hair fall forward like a curtain. I stared at the drain at our feet, wishing I could melt and slide away with the water.

A hand rested on my shoulder, calluses gently scraping against my skin.

I started to lean away from it, but I froze when I looked up, coming face-to-face with the fiery resolution in Master Kenobi’s face. “Now that you are with me, things will be different.” Master Kenobi’s hand squeezed my shoulder.

A simple gesture. A kind one.

Different, Master Kenobi said, did I dare to hope it could even be better?

I immediately buried the hope in an avalanche of doubt. My display of emotion and insubordination surely warranted chastising at some point, as neither of them were signs of a competent Jedi. He was waiting. He would scold me for my actions at a later date, surely.

Yet no trace of Master Kenobi’s displeasure remained in his face. The moments that passed were only filled with the sounds of water hitting the refresher floor.

My body still felt too big for my skin, like my skin was straining to stay together, but my skin no longer burned. I reached over, turning the dial farther, and the water could finally be called warm.

A small sigh sounded, and Master Kenobi leaned his head against the refresher wall, his eyes closed. Even with his slumped posture, the ends of his hair brushed his shoulders. With the rapid succession of our last few missions, neither one of us had much time for personal grooming, even by Jedi standards. Judging by the way he’d been absentmindedly brushing his hair out of his face these past few days, it was far past the length that he liked it to be. It’d fallen into his face now, collecting in a tangled clump on his forehead.

As I watched and without opening his eyes, Master Kenobi lifted a hand, pushing the hair back. As my eyes remained on the locks, a bizarre fluttering started in my stomach.

The sensation started out subtle, but the longer I looked, the more it grew.

Was I getting sick?

Had our traipse through the snow caused some further harm than just the discomfort I was now experiencing?

His eyes fluttered open without warning, meeting mine. I read the question there, clear as day. Had he picked up on my feelings? “Your hair,” I replied, hoping the Force hadn’t given him the exact subject of my musings. “It’s long.”

He self-consciously ran his fingers through it. “I know, I know. It’s high time for a haircut.”

“I could cut it for you.”

Suspicion bloomed on his face. “Have you ever cut hair before?”

I gestured to my own hair. My work was a bit choppy, but I wore my hair up most of the time anyway.

“Yeah, you’re not touching my hair,” he said, running his hand protectively over his locks. “I’d probably end up having to shave it all off.” He shuddered, and I nearly snorted, reaching over to turn the water off.

“Are there towels in this place?”

“Here, I’ll-” Master Kenobi stepped forward and immediately crumpled.

I sprang forward, but my strength was only enough to slow his descent to the floor.

I’d forgotten about his wound. I kneeled beside him, reaching for his bare leg, but he quickly shifted out of my reach. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

“Taking a look at your injury, old man,” I said matter-of-factly, trying not to show how worried I was.

“I assure you, I’m fine–”

Before he could finish his protests, I grabbed the leg, pulling it towards me. I knew as soon as I laid eyes on it that it was bad.

The punctures oozing blood were not the worst of our worries, nor was the swelling and bruising already making their way up and down the appendage. It was the odd angle of the foot.

I looked up at him. “I think it’s broken.”

A ripple ran up his jaw as he grit his teeth. “Can you set it?” he asked.

“You didn’t even want me to cut your hair!”

“Can you set it?” he repeated.

“I-I know the theories of how, but you should really have a med droid do it.”

“I don’t have a med droid.” Master Kenobi paused, his expression softening before he said: “I have you.”

“I could hurt you.”

He glanced at the wound. “I think we’re beyond that now.”

“I could make it worse.”

“You won’t.”

He was…trusting me…to help him.

I shook my head slightly. I was the best chance he had. There was a difference.

I studied Master Kenobi’s foot. If I did something wrong, would there be lasting complications? What if I did something that delayed his healing? Or worse, what if I made a catastrophic mistake that led to him losing his foot altogether?

I didn’t want to do this now.

But if we waited, the untreated break would surely take ages to heal.

“I’ll do my best.”

He nodded, looking determined, and his resolve lent me strength. As gingerly as I could, I prodded the skin.

Master Kenobi’s whole body tensed. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for the exact point of the break. It doesn’t seem as though the bone has pierced the skin, but it’s displaced.” I finally located what I was looking for and got my hands in the right position. Then I stopped. If Master Kenobi tensed up, it’d make it harder to shift the bone. I could put him through all the pain of trying to set it, only to not get the bone back to where it needed to be.

I needed him to loosen up, something I hadn’t seen the Jedi Master do in all the time I’d known him.

“How do you know all this?” Master Kenobi asked. “About the rewarming and the bone setting?”

“Before I was chosen as a padawan, I was studying to be a healer,” I answered distractedly, still trying to figure out how to get him to relax. Perhaps he was ticklish?

Master Kenobi cocked his head. “You didn’t continue that study after you were chosen?”

I shook my head.

“Why not? The Jedi Order always needs healers.”

I glanced up at him, slightly irritated that he’d chosen this moment in time to ask questions. “Um…I tried to help heal a Clone once.” Maybe laughter would help him relax. What were the odds of me telling a joke that would make him laugh?

Master Kenobi raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“When Master Krell found out, he hit me.” So distracted by my task, the words left my mouth before I could even think about them.

Master Kenobi’s eyes grew wide as his limbs went completely slack. “He-”

I seized the moment, wrenching the bone back into its proper place.

To his credit, my master only let out a strangled groan. After a moment passed, he shifted. “Y/N–”

“It’s a good thing you’re not a Vodran,” I said, trying to change the subject. “Their bones are considerably harder to set because their skin is so tough.” Sitting down, I pulled his foot into my lap, grabbing my overtunic. The fabric was thicker than the fabric of my undertunic, meaning it would behave more like bandages.

“What are you–” Master Kenobi started to say.

“I have to bind your foot so that we didn’t just set the bone for nothing.”

“But that’s your tunic!”

I shot him a confused look. “It’s just fabric.”

He went quiet, but judging by the ferocity with which he started chewing on his lower lip, he was still anxious. Why was Master Kenobi, the most practical creature I’d ever met, worried about a tunic?

Maybe he was experiencing the same weird feelings I felt earlier, where pain and low temperatures met to form a delirium.

I wrapped his foot up as best as I could, but I had no idea how tight to tie it. I didn’t want to cut off circulation, but the bone needed support. He definitely needed a med droid, and that would require us somehow getting back to our ship. But that wasn’t going to happen until the snow let up, which meant we were stuck here for the foreseeable future. We could only hope that the Separatists didn’t find our ship, and that the ship was still functional when the snowstorm ended.

In the panic of getting his foot set, the water clinging to our skin had evaporated. Grabbing my pants and undertunic, I shrugged them back on, getting to my feet. “I’m going to go see if there’s food.” I nodded towards his foot. “And you should elevate that.”

An exploration of the bunker didn’t reveal much. It was small and almost completely empty, save for two bunks that had been built into the wall, one on top of the other. There were some empty boxes here and there, but there were no provisions to fight against hunger or cold. This bunker functioned as a hiding place and nothing more.

I returned to Master Kenobi to find him not elevating his foot, but instead struggling to put his pants on over his undershorts. I briefly considered helping, but if he wanted help, he would ask for it.

“Did you find anything?”

I shook my head. “Just empty boxes. What is this place anyway?”

Master Kenobi shifted side to side, slowly inching the pants up his legs. “Anakin and I once had to lay low here for a week. It was originally a hideout for some workers from the shadowport on Socorro, but Anakin reprogrammed everything to only respond to us two.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why were the two of you here for a week?”

A mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “We might have had a bounty on our heads.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Anakin made a bet with some mine slavers on Socorro. They lost and had to free fifty slaves.”

A pang shot through me at the casual pride in Master Kenobi’s tone.

Anakin Skywalker.

The chosen one himself.

The relationship between master and padawan was a profound thing. An eagerness to learn and single minded devotion on one side, and knowledge rooted in deep compassion on the other. Given the Jedi stance on attachment, it was the most important relationship a Jedi experienced. Everyone in the Order, padawan, knight, or master, had heard stories of Master Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker. No pair got in more trouble nor accomplished as much as they had. It didn’t matter if Skywalker was no longer a padawan; the admiration and respect they held for each other was unmatched.

I didn’t need to hear it from Master Krell’s lips to know that he never felt that way about me. All I ever received from my old master was guidance, and stern guidance at that.

Suddenly I realized my mental shields were up again. Without meaning to, I was again trying to hide my thoughts and feelings. I frowned. I didn’t want to lower my shields, to expose myself to Master Kenobi, but…if I wanted to be a Jedi, I needed to act like one. Slowly, I let my defenses fall, carefully watching Master Kenobi for a reaction. Master Kenobi’s gaze remained on his foot. Perhaps his pain was blinding him to my feelings.

Master Kenobi put on his undertunic, but he left his overtunic where it was on the floor.

I shook my head, letting the thoughts fall away. “C’mon,” I said lightly, holding my hand out to Master Kenobi. “Let’s get you somewhere more comfortable.”

Lifting his arm to wedge myself into his armpit, I hoisted him to his feet, and together, we shuffled towards the bunks. I helped him sit on the bottom bunk and stepped back, stretching out my neck.

“When you say Krell hit you,” Master Kenobi started, causing me to freeze, “what do you mean by that?” I shifted uncomfortably. “You don’t mean that he physically struck you, right?”

As I hesitated, a wave of discomfort washed over me so suddenly, I nearly staggered back.

It wasn’t my own, I realized, as I looked at Master Kenobi’s face.

As a youngling, I hadn’t heard of any physical punishments being used by the Jedi to discipline their padawans, but it happened often enough with my previous master, that I’d assumed it was common practice. Did Master Kenobi’s reaction mean that it wasn’t?

“I can feel your turmoil,” Master Kenobi murmured. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

He was apologizing again?

“It…” I licked my lips. “It wasn’t that bad.”

Really, it wasn’t.

He raised a hand to me once in a while, but most of his aversion was reserved for the clones. Unlike them, I was never intentionally put in danger for the purpose of furthering strategy. Master Krell treated me more like an ally than them, and that counted for something.

Still, a memory surfaced from a few weeks ago, shortly before Master Krell’s deceit had been uncovered.

Master Krell had caught me dragging the battalion’s captain out of danger during a conflict, but he hadn’t said anything until the battalion had camped for the night.

The deep tenor of his voice and his related stance with all four of his hands clasped behind his back hadn’t matched with the accusation in his words when he’d asked me what I was doing, neglecting my duty in a fight to save a clone.

I didn’t have time to reply before Master Krell took matters into his own hands. A phantom burst of pain across my face, the memory as clear as when it’d happened.

“Caraya's soul,” Master Kenobi said softly, the color draining from his face. “He hurt you.”

Out of habit, I threw my mental shields back into place. “It could’ve been worse.” It could have been so much worse.

Master Kenobi must’ve been in a lot of pain, for his face was screwed up in an unpleasant expression.

“Is your leg alright?” I asked worriedly. Maybe the bandages were too tight, and he was losing blood flow.

“Leg?” he asked slowly. “Oh, my leg…it’s fine.” He seemed almost distracted, as if he’d not only forgotten that his leg was injured but that he even had a leg in the first place. Master Kenobi sat up, leaning closer with such intention, I knew more questions were coming.

“I should go check the status of the storm,” I said, getting up.

“What?”

I grabbed my coat off the floor, pushing my hands through the sleeves. “The snow might have stopped.”

“I’m coming with you.” Master Kenobi sat up in his bunk.

“No!”

Master Kenobi blinked at my outburst. “You’re injured,” I said abruptly. “You shouldn’t be putting any weight on that leg.”

“You can’t go on your own.”

“Why not?” I rubbed nervously at the inside of my wrist. “I can secure a perimeter.”

“You should have someone watching your back.”

“It won’t take long.”

“Wait!” Master Kenobi held up his overtunic. “At least wear this. You can’t go out in the cold with just your undertunic.”

I hesitated.

“Please.”

I gingerly took it, wrapping it around me as carefully as I could before walking to the door.

As I lifted my hand to push the button on the pad, a strange, masculine smell drifted up into my nose.

Master Kenobi’s smell.

It made my head spin a bit, and I quickly hit the button before ducking back into the harsh winds. I couldn’t be angry with the pain flashing through my face, not when the winds seemed to blow away my momentary vertigo.

I glanced around. The snow had stopped, and the planet had lightened, meaning I could decipher where the sky ended and the land began. The wind continued to blow, and that was probably the reason that there was no sign of our footprints.

Now was the time to make a break for the ship.

The biting wind continued to harass us on our trek back to the ship, but being able to see made the journey much quicker. I kept us moving, worried that when we got to the ship, we’d have to commence the warming process again, especially Master Kenobi, since he’d insisted I wore his overtunic.

As we neared the ship, I noted with relief that the astromech droid was still in its droid socket. It beeped and whistled in droidspeak, relaying its concern for our tardiness.

As soon as Master Kenobi was inside, I went straight for the cockpit, turning the ship on while thanking the Republic fleet for allocating us a ship designed to withstand freezing temperatures. The ship turned on with a slight hum. Wasting no time, I maneuvered the ship off the ground and into the air, straight for the atmosphere.

Once we left the planet’s atmosphere, I relinquished the ship to the astromech droid, quickly ducking back into the hold to check on Master Kenobi, who lay on the cot, using the stiff pillow not for his head but to elevate his foot.

“We’re maybe a few hours away from Coruscant.”

Master Kenobi didn’t say anything and didn’t spare a look in my direction. I lingered for a few moments, waiting to see if he would break the silence. If reputation was to be believed, he didn’t stay silent for long, prone to questions, criticism, even wisecracks. Perhaps he would dig more into my past or shed more light on the actual teachings of the Jedi code.

But the silence remained unbroken.

Unsure of myself, I walked into the cockpit, and the door slid shut behind me. The astromech was doing all the work, so there wasn’t much point in sitting here. But to go back in there…for some reason, the idea of it made my stomach twist.

I realized, as I sat in the pilot’s chair, that my mental shields were up again. Frustrated, I lowered them.

And then, what I could only describe as the humming of light came from behind me.

Master Kenobi, I realized. I could feel him. Not his thoughts or his feelings, but his presence. Here, in a separate part of the ship, I felt closer to him than when I’d been standing skin-to-skin with him in the refresher.

“What in the name of Chobb?” I muttered to the stars, who of course, offered no answers.

“Master Kenobi, we are pleased to see you and your padawan returned safe,” said Master Windu, clasping his hands in his signature, thoughtful look. “I will say, your mission took quite a turn.”

“That it did,” Master Kenobi said. “I certainly didn’t expect to nearly lose a limb.”

Chuckles rippled through the councilroom. I nearly rolled my eyes. When we’d landed, I brought Master Kenobi to a healer right away, who declared that Master Kenobi would heal just fine. From my position slightly behind Master Kenobi, I could see that he was still favoring his uninjured side, despite the healing sheath that was currently wrapped around his injury. Even so, the healer had never even mentioned amputation.

“What did you observe of the base before the snowstorm hit?” Master Murag asked.

As Master Kenobi rattled off the information we’d gained, I subtly gauged the expressions of the masters.

Their expressions were pleasant, but revealed nothing. They kept their attention on Master Kenobi, barely sparing a glance in my direction. I couldn’t tell if that was good or bad.

“Well done,” Master Koon said once Master Kenobi had finished. “This information is valuable. We have another mission for you, once you have healed up.”

I bowed, expecting the meeting to be over.

But Master Kenobi didn’t move.

“To say, more have you, Master Kenobi.” Master Yoda said, showing his famed clairvoyance.

“Yes.”

I tried to keep my face impassive while desperately wishing I could see Master Kenobi’s. What was he doing? What more could he have to say about this mission that hadn’t been in his report? I’d been both at the mission and in this room when he gave his report. There was nothing he missed.

Master Kenobi rounded out his shoulders, standing tall.

“Padawan Y/N’s diligently-gained knowledge kept me safe from threats I myself would not have known how to approach.” My breath caught, and I stared at the back of his head, wondering what he was doing. “Without her, I would not have made it back. She was invaluable.”

None of the masters reacted, their faces not showing a single hint of surprise, as if they had no investment in the conversation at all. I, however, felt like I’d swallowed a box of fireworks and been told to stand still.

“Is that so?” asked Master Tiin.

“Indeed. I believe she is well on her way to being a great asset to the Jedi Order.”

Master Windu glanced over at Master Yoda. “Well, thank you for your words. You both are dismissed. We will inform you of your next mission once your injury has fully healed.”

Master Kenobi nodded to his fellow masters and walked out of the councilroom.

I followed him through the door and through the Jedi temple, completely at a loss for words.

“Why did you say all that?” I managed to ask once we’d passed the library.

Master Kenobi didn’t even bother to act confused or clueless. “Because it was the truth. And they need to know the truth.”

“But they weren’t asking about my conduct.”

Master Kenobi stopped walking, looking at me dead in the eyes. “The way Krell treated you was abominable. I suspect I know very little of the true extent of his mistreatment, but had any of us known what I do know, we would’ve put a stop to it immediately. But you spent years under his tutelage, suffering.” He paused, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “It is my responsibility to right his wrongs. That starts with clearing your name.”

“Why?”

“Because I am your Master. It is my job to help you become the best Jedi you can be.”

“But–” I froze, wishing I could recall the interjection. It wasn’t right to question my master like this.

Master Kenobi gave me a meaningful look.

I shifted. “You’re not going to pass me off to someone else?”

Master Kenobi smiled softly, like there was some secret joke between us. “I may not have chosen you traditionally, but I did choose you.”

“Why would you–”

“Because you saved Captain Rex.”

My mind went utterly blank, and it was only by some miracle that my jaw did not drop. Saving a clone—the action Master Krell condemned me for—was what appealed to Master Kenobi?

“Who told you I saved him?”

My only answer was a tiny gleam in Master Kenobi’s eyes. “I believe it is time for you to wash up and get some sleep. In the morning, we will start to fix Master Krell’s teachings.” He turned and started limping down the corridor.

“Master Kenobi?” I called, and he turned to face me. “How...how am I supposed to know which of his teachings were good and which were bad?”

“Simple,” Master Kenobi said. “You ask.” With a nod, he went on his way.

I watched him go.

When I’d been informed after Master Krell’s death that I would now be reassigned to Master Kenobi, I expected a period of adjustment, but I hadn’t known the two masters would be so different.

Master Krell accomplished much in this war, because his single-minded approach meant nothing else mattered besides victory. He was brutal and untrustworthy. Because he’d been my master for so long, I’d nearly forgotten what the Jedi Order valued.

Over the course of this mission, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had proven himself to be the epitome of everything a Jedi should be.

A selfless, powerful warrior equipped with bravery and strong with the Force.

I didn’t…I didn’t have the words to explain it, this feeling rising up in me. The feeling that made me hold my head high. The feeling that challenged some of my long held beliefs. The feeling that perhaps I wasn’t completely alone in this galaxy.

I only knew that whatever it was, it was because of the Jedi Master with hair too long and heart much bigger.

Part 2

Overall tag list:

@thelastpyle @valiantlytransparentwhispers

Rescue Me tag list:

@penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @starlazergazer

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fanfic #obi wan x reader #obi wan x y/n #padawan!reader #star wars #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #pong krell #kenobi #sw #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction

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anakinskywalker97 · 3 months

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What you are capable of

Anakin X Platonic Padawan Reader

Summary: The reader is given a mission from Palpatine to negotiate air space access. It's a big trap to get her killed off to pull Anakin closer to the dark side.

Warnings: non-graphic mentions of rape and assault - not to the reader. Anakin freaking out, murder, happy ending, big dad vibes, hurt comfort

Being Anakin’s Padawan had meant that your Jedi journey had not been the usual sort. When Yoda had summoned you to the chancellor's office you weren't surprised. You got dressed and moved quickly not wanting to keep everyone waiting. What did surprise you was the absence of your master and Obi-Wan. Normally the three of you went everywhere together. You felt it was like being a family, in the darker parts of Anakin's mind you sensed he felt it was a kind of exile or alienation.

You felt uncomfortable being in the presence of so many powerful people without Anakin. Normally he would help you navigate these types of situations. You bowed and waited for them to speak first.

“Ah, lovely to see you dear!” The chancellor looked at you with a big smile on his face. Obi-wan and Anakin trusted him but he always made you feel strange. “We have a special task for you.”

“We need you to negotiate an air space passage with someone in the outer rim,” Windu spoke clearly but you could feel he didn't approve of this plan.

“Oh, I’m sure that won’t be an issue for us.”

“We all feel it would be best to send you in with a team of troopers. He has a bit of a history with Anakin.” You tried hard not to let your emotions bleed through. “Your language skills are a necessity for this mission, really there is no better person to send.”

You thought about it for a moment. Everything inside you was screaming not to do this, especially without Anakin’s approval.

“Help you must,” Yoda said nodding.

“Alright, thank you for the opportunity. I’ll go let Anakin know -”

“I’m afraid there isn't time, I will speak with your master as soon as he returns from his tasks.” Palpatine gave you a reassuring look and a soft smile. You nodded and Windu escorted you to the ship. As far as you knew Anakin was asleep in his quarters, you reached out your mind and tried to wake him up.

______________________________________________________________

Anakin was asleep. A rare occurrence these days. He could feel himself lying in the grass, wildflowers around him. The sun was shining on his face and the air was warm. Qui-gon and Obi-wan were laughing and he was very at peace. Anakin sat up when he felt you pressing into his mind. You were channeling all of your fear to him, pushing into his mind with as much force as you could.

He shot out of bed and tried to reach out to you. He could tell you weren't in your room, but that you had moved a far distance in a short span of time.

You were too far away.

Where the fuck did you go?

He threw his robes on quickly and ran out into the hall, Obi-Wan moved around the corner and greeted him with a concerned face.

“What’s wrong?” He asked grabbing Anakin’s shoulder

“Where the fuck is my Padawan?” He asked angrily.

He and Obi-Wan approached the council. Anakin knew he needed to control himself, but he could tell he was at his breaking point. They had no right to give you orders or send you anywhere without him, or his approval. You were tied to him, every move you made or any move the world made against you was his sole responsibility. Obi-Wan had his usual deep sense of calm surrounding him, Anakin wanted to shout at him for it.

“The chancellor insisted Anakin, you have to understand the importance of this trade route -” One of the Jedi masters tried to explain, but he could sense Windu’s discomfort and focused his attention on him.

“She’s with a whole crew of troopers. The chancellor was very clear he wanted her to be the one who made contact.” Windu finally broke.

“Who is she meeting with?” Obi-Wan asked in a casual voice.

“Orar Baize,” Windu answered and Obi-Wan clamped his hand on Anakin’s shoulder tightly. Anakin was tempted to hit him but felt slightly subdued by his master's energy. Making a scene here only meant it would be harder to go after you.

“When is she to return,” Obi-Wan asked seemingly unbothered by this information.

“If everything goes to plan, three days.” Windu said firmly.

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan directed Anakin to the door and they moved down the hallway quickly. Once in the elevator, Anakin was ready to explode.

“Don’t” Anakin pushed his master's hand away as Obi-Wan tried to help him. Rage and betrayal pulsed through him if he started to side with the council Anakin would kill him.

We need to get to a ship. Just keep it together till then.

His master's words felt like a cool cloth being pressed to his forehead. He could feel his walls slip a little and realized he was just as angry as Anakin.

We need to be practical if we are to reach her in time

For once Anakin wasn't annoyed with his master's reminder to be practical. He took a deep breath and felt his emotions focus.

They climbed into a two-seater and managed to slip away without too much attention being drawn to themselves. It wasn’t unusual for Anakin to take a fighter out for a ride.

He got the coordinates locked in and let the ship do its thing.

“We should have dealt with him after what he did to Master Kenau.” Anakin's voice was venomous and he felt Obi-Wan sigh.

“I agree. What he did and his reputation for collecting Jedi is unforgivable.” Obi-Wan nodded. Master Kenau, was badly assaulted years ago, Anakin found out and insisted they press the council to do something about him, but she refused. She wasn’t herself after that and Anakin felt her pain to this day.

“She’s just a kid. They sent a child into the hands of a rapist with a special appetite for Jedi.” Anakin had only reached this level of anger when he had the sand people incident. He tried to remember there was a lesson in all of that, how painful it was to tell Obi-Wan. Thinking of something happening to you erased all feelings of remorse or logic.

“The council has become more and more influenced by the politics of The Republic,” Obi-Wan said taking Anakin off guard. “It is not our place to be involved with these kinds of things.”

“What do we do about it?” Anakin asked genuinely curious about his master's stance.

“I get the feeling it will all fall into place after we get her back.” He said calmly.

“I didn’t think you would help,” Anakin said in a quiet voice, unsure if he wanted to discuss these issues now.

“Please, Anakin. The girl is like a granddaughter to me.” Obi-Wan chided.

That would make me your son, Anakin thought to himself. He held those words with him while they tried to catch up with you.

____________________________

You were starting to realize that this was a trap. Your stomach was right. You should have kicked and screamed and stalled till Anakin or Obi-Wan could get to you.

But here you were, alone. Clones were murdered in the landing bay, and you were in Orar’s office after taking out a bunch of droids. You had never met a species of his kind. He was large with mint green skin.

“What’s your name?” He asked with the smile of a predator. His teeth were long and pointed. You decided not to answer.

“Well, tiny Jedi. The Chancellor has held up his end of the bargain.” His eyes were dark and you stood there with good posture like Anakin had taught you. “Your life was traded for something of little value.” He was trying to get a rise out of you. But that’s what men like that fed on, he wanted you to argue your value. He wanted to watch you dance and react, wanted to feel your youth and belittle you.

“Come on little Jedi, Say something.”

“Something.” You said easily and his jaw clenched.

“Don’t make this difficult, it could be a nice time if you let it be.” You started to feel what he wanted and you fought harder than ever to keep your emotions closed off and contained.

“I think I should be leaving now.” You said diplomatically, you would try to walk out of here the Jedi way first.

“That’s not going to happen.” His body radiated a sick pleasure and you let it feed the anger in your chest the way Anakin showed you too.

__________________________________________

The sound of dueling rang through the landing bay as they moved through the bodies of clones and droids. Anakin moved quicker than he could ever remember moving in his life. They moved onto the top platform and watched you duel with Orar.

Anakin could tell you had been at it for a long while by this point. He watched as you defended yourself. He moved forward and Obi-Wan put a hand on his arm. Anger shot through him.

I had to watch you fight your first battle too

Obi-Wan’s voice ran through his mind, his hand still firm on Anakin's arm. He watched your ruthless form and could see the man faltering. He had taught you every form from the archives he could find. He wanted you to be the best Jedi he wanted you to be able to overcome all evil and triumph.

Did you teach her illegal forms?

Obi-Wan hissed. He watched you execute it perfectly, slicing through the man’s body twice before his body hit the ground. Blood sprayed and he watched you sink to your knees chest heaving.

Anakin rushed up to you picking you up as if his embrace could somehow stop the feelings that would eat into you. Your body shook hard and he took on all of your weight, picking you up properly. The three of you moved in silence back to the landing bay. He found a utility sink and put you down in front of him. He helped keep you up right and he washed your hands. Then he got the blood off your face and neck. Something he wished someone had done for him after the sand-people.

He carried you back towards the ship. Obi-Wan held his arms out towards Anakin, he could feel his master’s reluctance to hold the girl. He only shook his head and got into the passenger side.

He took his robe off and wrapped you in it. Your eyes were still closed tightly as your mind and body fought against each other for control.

______________

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin held you tightly. Your face pressed against his chest and his arms around you. He reflected on all of the times he wanted to hold Anakin just as tightly but didn't. He could feel the struggle inside you to overcome the situation, to make peace with what you had been forced to do. Anakin was angrier than he had ever seen him before, but he also watched his Padawan try to control it more than ever before. Obi-Wan got them locked in on the path home, he put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder, glad that he accepted Obi-Wan’s help.

You need to clear your mind. It will be easier for her to process the feelings with your help.

He could feel Anakin’s usual annoyance at his advice. But then he could feel Anakin center himself and then slowly start to take on your emotions. Eventually, you stopped shaking, he could tell the two of you were talking.

He could also feel the dangerous bonds of attachment weaving around them. Something he realized he could only see because of his own attachment to Anakin.

He sighed. He felt they were so far off the path they should be on.

Tears fell down Anakin's cheeks as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. They had been soldiers in this war for too long.

He knew Anakin wouldn't let this slide. He would be out for blood the second they reached Coruscant. Obi-Wan could hardly blame him, as the overwhelming anger was boiling in his own blood. Sacrificing a 15-year-old to such evils was unforgivable.

__________________

Obi-Wan was with you for most of the day. He spared with you and you wondered if he would talk about the forbidden forms you had used. You wanted to talk to him about it but you were worried he would be angry with Anakin. You hated it when they fought.

You were reluctant to sleep in your own bed. It's not that you regretted your actions you just felt overwhelmed by the feeling of killing someone. You knew the day would find you but the weight was relentless on your mind. You tried to revisit that ride home, sitting in his embrace. His love was an easy feeling to find in the bond between you now. You tried to hold it and breathe deeply when the memories would resurface.

Anakin had told you how to act over the next few days. You could feel his mind keeping tabs on you constantly. He told you to act normal and to tell him when they called upon you. You weren't allowed to leave the temple under any circumstances, keeping to your room and the training room.

“Master Obi-Wan.” You asked turning off your lightsaber, he did the same.

“Yes.” You could tell he knew what you wanted to talk about.

“I wanted to let you know that I tried to leave like a Jedi.” You took a deep breath. “I asked to leave, I tried to fight defensively. He- I -”

“I think you tried to fix the situation, and eventually realized the threat he posed was too large. You knew what he wanted to do to you and others. You did what you had to do. If I didn’t think it was right, I would have stepped in and handled it for you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Anakin and I needed you to see for yourself what you are capable of. I do wish that it could have been in a lesser conflict.” His eyes were empathetic and you wanted to hug him.

“You don’t think it makes me a sith?” You whispered.

“No” He laughed. “I don’t think the Sith could take you, even if they tried their hardest. Your heart is pure, more pure than most.”

“Anakin said that’s why I need to learn everything to be prepared.”

“He feels that you won’t lose yourself or be tempted by the power.” Obi-Wan made a face. “He worries about where the war is headed, above all Anakin wants you to survive.”

You nodded thinking about your master's faith in you.

The call came sooner than you thought. Obi-Wan was in a meeting with Anakin and you were reading in your room.

Master - you reached out

What - Anakin responded right away

The chancellor has summoned me

Don’t leave your room - his voice was grave and you sat on your bed waiting for Anakin.

He was there in moments, just long enough for the anxiety to take hold in your stomach. He told you to walk in there and listen and be polite, panic overtook you when you realized he wouldn't be following you in.

Master - you reached out hesitantly with your mind and your fingers curled into the arm of his robe.

Just relay what he says to me

You nodded and walked out of the elevator and down the long hall to his office.

“Ah!’ Palpatine's eyes looked you over. “Thank you for coming to meet with me on such short notice!” His smile was wide and you wanted to hit him.

“I understand that there was a complication with the mission, I just wanted to see how you were feeling about everything.” he tried to look understanding and you wondered what Obi-Wan had told the council.

“Fine.” You gave a little shrug.

“I understand that our contact had attacked you. I just wanted to apologize for what happened dear.” You watched him closely but didn't accept his apology wanting him to continue. “I did hear that your exceptional skills with a lightsaber saved you. I had no idea you were so gifted with all the forms.”

“It’s complicated. But I’d rather be prepared for what's out there.”

“Exactly! My thoughts exactly.” He looked so happy. “There is so much untapped power out there. Something I think you can feel quite well.” He looked at you expectantly. As if he was waiting for you to get the secret meaning of his words.

“You and Anakin are both so special. I think that the three of us should work closer together in the future.” He nodded. Suddenly you caught on to what he was saying.

“Sir, not to overstep -”

“Please, child. We are friends.” He smiled again, his eyes hungry.

“Well, there is a lot of power, I feel angry that The Order keeps it from me. There is a war out there and we need more than -” You waved your hands around. “This. Something stronger.”

He looked positively deranged with joy.

“I know the ways beyond the order, I could teach you and your master.”

“What would you teach us?” You asked innocently.

“The true power of the force.”

“Like the dark side?” You tried to sound even more curious.

“Perhaps.” He nodded, but you could see in his eyes what he was. His eyes had changed with his excitement. Of course, he was at the center of everything.

Master, Palpatine is the sith

It only took a moment for Anakin to knock on the door. He opened it and smiled at Palpatine, and you felt his force presence push you down onto the red carpet. You let it push you down and hold you there. in a flash of a second everything had changed.

Before Palpatine could react you felt the Jedi storm the room. Anakin killed Palpatine and a strange feeling washed over the room. You reached for Obi-Wan and he let you hold on to his side, placing an arm around your shoulders.

“He was a mother-fucking sith.” Windu groaned. Yoda put his hands over this face. Anakin looked triumphant and gave you a big smile.

Fulfilled my prophecy. Now let's get out of here.

___________

Qui-Gon's force ghost finds Obi-Wan and puts them on the right path.

The Order being stupid and Obi-Wan finally siding with Anakin. them going into exile to learn from Qui-Gon and train you. Family vibes.

Anakin being more and more like your father. His love for you always being open and accessible as you navigate your own journey. Even when you are fighting you can reach out and feel it. When you get older and follow your calling into conflicts you can reach out and feel no matter how far away you are.

Just anything other than what happened in cannon.

Him finally falling for Padme and being anxious about your response to her. Them having the twins and him always refering to you as his eldest daughter.

Obi-Wan spoiling all three of the kids and always giving you advice when you didn't want to go to Anakin.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker imagine #padawan reader #anakin skywalker x reader #obi wan #obi wan kenobi

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panic-in-the-multiverse · 1 year

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Being Ahsoka Tano’s best friend would include

Pairings: Ahsoka Tano x reader

Imagine: being Obi-Wan’s padawan and Ahsoka’s best friend

Warnings: idk, Ahsoka leaving the order (I swear I can’t watch those episodes bc I cry every damn time, not because she’s leaving the order but bc she leaves people who care for her)

A/N I love Ahsoka and it’s a wonder I haven’t written anything for her before, but here I am writing for my fav girl so I hope someone out there will enjoy this <3

Becoming friends as soon as you both met, which was when you were still in training to become a padawan, which means you grew up with each other

You’d study with eachother

Hype eachother up if one of you is feeling sad or stressed, literally just helping eachother with emotions and anything in general

Ahsoka running to you filled with excitement to tell you she’s becoming a padawan and her master will be the one and only Anakin Skywalker

You doing the same to Ahsoka when you found out your master will be the one and only Obi-Wan Kenobi

Gossiping with each other

Getting in trouble together

Pranking people together with Fives, Waxer, Boil and a few others, you tried once to prank Cody, lesson learned you will never prank Cody again, he wasn’t to happy to have his helmet filled with blue and orange glitter (he still can find glitter to this day)

Obi-Wan now has to deal with three children (you, Anakin and Ahsoka) while Cody has to deal with more than five children (You, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Waxer, Boil…)

Did I mention getting in trouble together

Being another headache for the Jedi council and those who tries to protect you both and those trying to keep you out of trouble

Training your lightsaber skills with each other, being an excellent match because you always end up even because by know you know every move the other will make

Calling each other names that you hate just for the fun of it

If anyone else were to call either you or Ahsoka those names you would both go into protective mood, no one gets to call you two that but you two

Always defending and protecting each other, if it is when you get in trouble with the council or when you fight for example General Grievous doesn’t matter

I hate to write it down but sadly I think I need too after all it is a big part of Ahsoka’s life. When Ahsoka gets accused of the bombing I believe you would 100% side with her, you’re best fiends siblings after all and you always have each others backs. You try to help her prove her innocence but it didn’t go exactly as planned. We all know what happens and so when she decided to leave you were heartbroken, you couldn’t care less about the order you only cared about Ahsoka. You knew it was what she wanted so you let her go but you were still sad over it, and selfishly tried to convince her to stay because you didn’t want to be without her, after all you were practically siblings and grew up with each other. In the end she told you it was for the best and that she didn’t trust the order anymore, she’d always trust you and she did try to keep in contact with you but it was hard with the ongoing war

Then comes the times in the order without Ahsoka, and if I’m being honest I think you would kinda mope around when you thought no one was looking becasue you missed your best friend so much, your bad days become even worse because you didn’t have Ahsoka to cheer you up, but you managed as did Ahsoka who missed you as much as you missed her

I believe Obi-Wan would do his best to comfort you even though he knew as well as you that it would never be the same as Ahsoka comforting you and cheering you up, but he did his best, and that’s all you could of asked for

Anakin and you probably talked about Ahsoka a lot with eachother or avoided the topic all together

However Plo Koon talked to you about Ahsoka all the time

Skip to Ahsoka coming back with Bo-Katan to save Mandalore from Maul (why does autocorrect keep wanting to change his name to Mail), you convinced your master to let you come with Ahsoka, and so a new adventure started for the two of you

Then there’s order 66 and you, Ahsoka and Rex barely escaped

You and Ahsoka stuck together after that never leaving each other sides scared you would lose eachother again let’s not forget you got frequent calls from Rex and Obi-Wan talked to you sometimes through the force (but not much he was in hiding after all and so were you)

#x reader #x teen #x teen!reader #x you #star wars #Ahsoka Tano x reader #ahsoka tano x fem!reader #Ahsoka Tano x male!reader #Ahsoka Tano x gn!reader #Star Wars x reader #star wars the clone wars #Ahsoka Tano #Ahsoka Tano headcanon #headcanon #star wars headcanon #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader

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meshlasolus · 7 months

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Come What May

Episode 4/?

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader (little one)

Warnings: slight angst, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, allusions to smut but no actual smut. canon typical violence, robbery?? idek y'all

A/n: I can't believe I edited this in one sitting but here u go now be fed and I'll probably post another one in two months lol

NINE YEARS LATER…

The sand was relentless, as it always was. Such was the life on Tatooine.

The days, though boring and long, brought a sense of peace and security to you. It was comfortable, and you didn’t have to worry about being chased.

Life with Obi was still blissful, though he’d become a different sort of person than he used to be. He was still yours, and one thing that would never change in his life was his unending love and devotion to you. Over all the bad things, you were still there, and if that was so, his life could never be all bad.

He became grumpy easily, but you often teased him, joking about how old he was truly getting. He’d hate when you pointed it out, because he already felt so much older than he had when the war was going on. Many would argue that it aged him, but truth be told, he was perhaps living the youngest days of his life back then.

You, of course, had continued to mature into the beautiful woman he’d always seen before. You looked different, sure… but all the ways you’d changed, he would think were for the better. He loved how normal you seemed. It was always so much more peaceful, living here. It was mundane and often quiet, but it was peaceful, and far less demanding of your former lifestyle. He had always hoped you could live a simple and sweet life, maybe not on this maker-forsaken planet, but having days that were just the same.

The daily routine was easy, and by now implanted in both of your minds. It was second nature, and hard to mess up even if you tried. The mornings were always slow, as the work hours were different from what you’d once known. After dragging each other from the warm confines of bed, there was a shared silence that would fall over you both as you continued to ready yourselves for each job you had. You had the fat end of the stick, getting to work in the city. You were legally dead across the galaxy, and the empire had no warrant for you in any scanner known to the systems. Especially not in the outer rim.

Obi-Wan had taken up the name Ben, the name he remembers from childhood. He doesn’t know if it was his original name, or if it was the name of his father, but it belonged to him somehow, and he felt it was easy to go by.

An hour was spent riding to anchor-head everyday, in order to clock in for your shift, and for him to catch a speeder to whatever work station they needed him at for the day. Lately he’d been harvesting flying Tibidon sand whales for their meat. He never failed to bring back a sliver of what he cut for your Eopie. It was something he did out of habit by now, but it somehow reminded you of a small thing he used to do for you many years ago.

Back in the age of the Jedi, before the clone wars ever began, Obi-Wan Kenobi had two padawans. One was the chosen one, and though he was often found to be a trouble maker, he was still the favorite among the two. The other was a small girl, not yet grown to her full capabilities. She always had a strong appetite, though, and the meals given to her were never enough to satisfy her growing form. Obi-Wan was quick to notice little things like this, and always saved his portion of Ksharra bread for her to eat after everyone was finished. The smile it brought to her was not soon forgotten…

What a sweet memory, and you almost always thought about it when you were watching him interact with the Eopie. He was gentle to all creatures, even after he became a bit hardened and settled into his new role of life.

After the ride home, there were meals that were shared in a comfortable quiet, and then a discussion of the day. It was definitely a more quaint way to live, but you preferred it to the horrid idea of running for years on end. You always told him how thankful you were to be with him, to have him amidst everything. It was he who you remembered the earliest in your life, being there for you, watching out for everything you faced, and helping you through it. He was still doing that, in a way. Though it were not by the force, he gave advice of work topics, different moody customers that would come in during the day, and even just ideas to help the work day seem faster.

It was only after he left for bed, with you watching the stars rise, that you were able to meditate. To revel in the force and to trust in its ways without anyone stopping you. Not to say that Obi-Wan would stop you, but he perhaps would try and convince you it still was not safe. It was you, however, that kept up your daily strength by meditation, and use of the force without his knowledge.

Though he would never know, your strong uses of the force were the thing that helped him sleep through the night, as he often woke up with nightmares, stirring your slumber as well and making you alert to the bad things his mind conjured. It was mostly Anakin, because how could it not be? He was his Master and his best friend, a true brother and ally. He had to have felt some sort of responsibility for what happened to him, all leading up to his death.

You too felt semblances of guilt, but you dealt with it in other ways. For him, these nightmares were often occurrences, and it was due to you that he got any sleep at all.

He would sometimes sit straight up at a moment’s notice, scaring you awake and realizing what had happened. He would breath fast and loud and not be able to slow it down, not even when you wrapped your arms around him from behind, whispering soothing words like he once did for you in your time of nightly terrors. At first, he was lucky to get back to sleep at all… but the more it happened, he found you being near him helped to calm him back to sleep. He’d cut himself off from the force, he had no use of it anymore. He didn’t know it was because of your old developed ability to take away the bad dreams. You always slept soundly beside him, even before you were together. Whenever he was laid next to you, there was not a dream that could plague your mind for the worse.

There was one night when he woke up, calling his old Master’s name. He sometimes dreamt of the way he died. He felt as though it was also his fault, that he could have prevented the Sith Lord Maul from destroying his only father figure.

It was all you could do, to sit with him, and try and calm his mind… but that night was harder. He had begun counting his failures as if they were stars, making them the only thing in the forefront of his mind, and rejecting anything that wasn’t his detrimental thoughts.

You sat with him until sunrise that day, but once the twin suns were over the dunes of everlasting sand, the day went on as normal. The small moments of grief and self loathing were forgotten.

It happened this way, only sometimes.

Something that brought you both peace on the bad days was going out to the hills and crests outside of the moisture farms specifically that being owned by Owen and Beru Lars. It would never be uttered aloud, for these thoughts brought on more episodes of sadness, but watching a small boy grow up in the sandy plains was always bittersweet. Though Luke wasn't a starpilot, or a jedi knight, or a cunning strategist... he reminded you so much of Anakin. You knew Anakin at this age, and all the years after. Even little gestures Luke sometimes made to his aunt and uncle, would send a pang of guilt through your chest. Anakin should be the one watching his son grow up. You all should be retired somewhere nice, like Naboo, with Padme watching over the twins as Anakin and Obi-Wan once again conversed like the brothers they used to be. Bittersweet, watching Luke learn to tend the farm like his uncle, instead of watching him play with his sister whom he knows nothing about.

Obi-Wan would never admit it either, but it was both healing and detrimental to observe Luke from a distance. He was closer to the boy's father than Owen ever was, and much more deserved the title of uncle... but it was not to be. Obi-Wan was a hunted man, and allowing Luke to be close to him could be dangerous.

Obi-Wan would bow his head sometimes after watching the boy, trying to make sense of how everything in his life could have lead to to this, and what could have possibly gone wrong that the galaxy was this bad. He could not even have a relationship with the son of his dearest friend.

Recently, he had delved into something of an addiction for him, something that was a grounding tool to help him realize he wasn’t going insane in these days of mundane work and internal chaos on this maker-forsaken planet. Others might see it as normal, but he had never been so insatiable before now. He craved one thing, constantly… you.

Whether it be through physical intimacy, or even small touches of your skin, he couldn’t get enough, and it was causing him to form strong habits that would not soon falter. You were of course all too happy to indulge him, as for a long time after you first came to these mountains, there was a block between you. The emotional force bond being broken disrupted many things, and that was one of them. You hoped sincerely that this was not just a rut he found himself in, and that it would only last so long. You’d missed the late nights, shared kisses and times of devotion to one another. He was such a gentle and skilled lover, anyone would have killed to know this side of him, but it was you he chose, again and again.

Though one half of the dyad was not felt in the force, he was still the love of your life, and you’d come to know him in a different way these past years. He was not necessarily a new person, but knowing him without the force, and without your constant ability of silent communication, he did become unfamiliar at times.

Still, he was Obi.

Always, he was Obi… even when everyone else used the name Ben, you would never give up the way you’d called upon him since you were but three years old. In public, he was just Ben Kenobi, who worked out in the dunes of Tatooine for a days wage… but in your eyes he was still the great protector of the republic, the General of the 212th legion, and a Master of the Jedi council. Obi-Wan Kenobi.

You were late again.

Not to work.

You didn’t tell Obi of your suspicions, feeling as though there could be a mixed reaction from whatever came of your condition, if you were indeed under the diagnosis you felt you were.

It had been ten years, and you were sure you’d retained internal damage that might prevent this outcome, but of course, the galaxy has seen far more impossible things come to fruition. Anakin’s mother conceived him without a man at all, so with the rate that your husband and yourself were going, it was almost bound to happen.

You left work earlier than usual, and gave an easy excuse to your employer as to why, and he of course was more than happy to oblige. You were a loyal and decent worker, so he never had any reason not to. There was a small clinic in Anchorhead, not as far advanced or technical as the one you were able to go to in Mos Eisley, but good enough that you would find out what you need to know, or what you were certain you already knew.

Being still deeply connected with the force, you were able to tell something was there, just like the first time, although now there was a slight difference that made you question it at first. Obi still had no idea, and how could he? You hadn’t let on to it at all and there wasn’t an ounce of strangeness to your behavior. Throw in the fact that he can no longer sense those kind of things, and you have a completely oblivious husband.

The medical droid who tended to you was outdated, but even with old mechanisms and past due needed upgrades, it deducted your symptoms to a diagnosis rather quickly.

You were eleven weeks pregnant, no doubt about it after some quick testing.

Though you were nervous of what this could mean for you, it was far more of a joy. You never thought this would be possible again, given the circumstances of the last time leaving you with injuries that should have made you completely unable to reproduce.

You were so excited as you went back into work, reeling from the information, and trying to think of ways to tell the father of this child that he was in-fact getting another chance at his dream. It wasn’t how you both had planned. You’d wanted to settle down amongst your friends, on a beautiful planet like Naboo. You had hoped for the freedom of the galaxy to give you the opportunities of a peaceful existence. Instead, you were stuck here, on Tatooine. The ugliest planet in the outer rim and much worse than you remember it from your first visit all those years ago. It was all for a reason, of course. Obi-Wan was a wanted man, in nearly every system there was a bounty on his head, with more than enough hunters out searching for him to bring his body dead or alive to the empire. You, of course, being legally dead and all, could go anywhere you wanted… but without him you saw little point in traveling away.

This child would mend the broken dreams you both had for the future, you were sure of it.

You went back about your work with a gleeful smile adorning your face, being extra friendly to patrons and even giving them a little extra for their buck. You couldn’t help the joy, it was too strong to keep bottled up for later. You were sure, though, it would still remain long into the day, and all the others after.

You’d been cleaning out a glass behind the counter when it happened. A group of robbers from out in Mos Eisley came rushing in, holding everyone at blaster point and shouting for them to get down. You grabbed a knife from the nearby drawer, trying to strategize through the force how to deescalate the situation without hurting anyone. Your skills were just the slightest bit rusty, even though you practiced whenever you got the chance. A knife wasn’t exactly your weapon of choice.

The leader of the group stepped forward to the owner of the bar, and told him to empty the credit holds into his sack, but the owner hesitated, turning your way as if asking what he should do. You started taking quick steps towards him, pushing him out of the line of the blaster before it could go off. You waited for them to start shooting, but instead heard the ignition of a lightsaber. Or at least, it sounded a hell of a lot like one.

You jumped to your feet, watching over the counter as the scene played out. There was a man, around your age, wielding a lightsaber to defeat the robbers. They all went down pretty quickly, except one whom the man didn’t see behind him. You called for him to watch out, but he didn’t have enough time to react, so you raised your hand, focusing all your force energy on throwing the last enemy to the wall before he hit the ground.

He turned to you, eyes wide and saber still ignited.

“Did you just-?” He narrowed his eyes in your direction, and something seemed to click in his head.

Nobody else had seen you do that, but him seeing it was enough.

The bar rang with cheers and clapping in applause for the Jedi, who had saved the people in the establishment from being harmed by the robbery. They all commended him, and you had half a mind to forget it ever happened, just go back to work, but the man was keen on speaking with you. Even after the owner, and your boss, had spent a rather long time thanking him and offering him solace in the place, he wouldn’t be done until he’d had a word.

You were mixing up celebratory drinks for a few patrons when he finally was able to corner you, standing over the bar and keeping his voice down.

“I know who you are,” he said softly, as if trying not to spook you away. Most Jedi were like rare animals nowadays. Almost extinct, and completely vulnerable to sudden attack.

You set the glasses onto a tray and made eye contact with him for a single second, sending a glare his way before you went out to the tables and served the drinks around. He stayed and waited at the bar, and when you came back he sighed out.

“I know this must be hard, but I haven’t seen another Jedi in so long,” he rambled, all under the guise of a whisper, of course. You wouldn’t lie, as much as you feared the empire for everything it has taken from you, it was almost a breath of fresh air to see there were others, who hadn’t been stomped out by their evil yet.

“I was never a Jedi,” you said, but ultimately, you knew, no matter what you said, he knew who you were. As strange as it sounds, being the padawan of a famous Jedi came with some sort of notoriety. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“I know that it’s you, because you’re supposed to be dead,” he had seen your name on the list of the deceased Jedi, along with his own name on the list of hunted ones.

“I am dead.”

He isn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, maybe that you’d been like him, hiding for the last ten years and hoping that there would come a time when Jedi could arise again. But that wasn’t realistic. As long as the empire held rule over the galaxy, there could never be peace and freedom. Not for your kind, anyway.

“And I’m not coming back,” you added ominously, cleaning out the glasses that had just been set on the counter for you to deal with.

He stayed silent a few moments, but didn’t leave. Even if you didn’t speak to him, you understood why he lingered. The only Jedi you have in your life anymore is Obi-Wan, but he’s cut himself off from the force. There is no familiarity of what was. This man is probably on his own, and has been all this time. He craves the sense of normalcy your presence is probably bringing right now. Perhaps you crave it too, and maybe it’s the reason you don’t shoo him away.

“He’s here too, isn’t he?” He asked after a while.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” you weren’t doing yourself any favors in gaslighting this poor man, but you’d built yourself a wall of protection, and it wasn’t going to come down so easily.

“You were inseparable,” he recalls, and he knows you understand him, and that you’re just being standoff-ish. “I always wished to have that relationship with my Master.”

“Believe me, the relationship was far different from what everyone assumed it to be,” You let out sarcastically, finally being able to let your guard down a bit, but only enough that you could interact with him in a way that wasn’t stingy. You’d keep all current details hidden. He wanted to rehash the past? Fine, you could give him that.

“What it ended up as isn’t any of my business, but from what I could tell, the laws of attachment didn’t exactly apply.”

You huffed out a breath, followed by a drawn out ‘Nope.’

You thoughts shifted a bit, to just how poorly you followed the rules. You’re carrying the man’s child for force’s sake. You were never much one for the laws of attachment.

The man before you had a dumbfounded face on, and you mentally slapped yourself. You hadn’t been guarding your thoughts. You haven’t had to in so long and before you realized you needed you, it all just slipped into the open air.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, bowing his head as if he’d been the one to provoke you. In actuality, you’d pretty much offered it all up freely for him to take, and you didn’t even know what to do about it.

“Don’t be, it’s my fault… it’s just-“

“Been a long time?” He guessed, and you nodded in agreement. “I understand.”

And now a complete stranger knew some very personal things. Perhaps he wasn’t stranger, though. He knew you, and Obi-Wan, and remembered the order from its glory days. You both had a sense of shared trauma that somehow bonded you without ever speaking a word to each other before.

“How did you recognize me?” You asked him after another bout of silence. You were drying off the dishes, and figured that as long as he was here, you would make the most of it. This clearly wasn’t an everyday occurrence. “I’m almost certain I’ve never met you up close before.”

He smiled, nodding to your hair, swept back into a style you’d become fond of lately. “Never met you, but I’d seen you around. You were rather well known among the order.”

“Guess those are the perks of being his padawan, huh?” You’d echoed your thoughts from earlier, and he chuckled.

“He was the person that everyone wanted to be. Not just a great Jedi, but a good man.”

Of course. You knew that better than anyone. He cared so deeply about everything he set his hand to. He was kind and gentle, though sometimes sarcastic and witty, but that too made him more likable in your eyes.

“He’s not changed in that aspect,” you let him know, and he took it as motive to tease you.

“I knew he’d be here,” he returned, and you looked up and laughed a bit. He’d caught you there. “He’d never left your side.”

You didn’t respond, just let that statement sink in. You guessed that many more Jedi in the order had perceived your relationship for what it really was, but never said anything. Maybe they were rooting for you, or maybe you gave them hope. It was all up for interpretation, but the one thing you could never deny was the realness in it. He’s never left your side, and he never will. Of that, you can be absolutely sure and certain.

When it was time to close up the bar that night, you’d left before the owner, making sure he was alright after the fiasco of the day. You passed your new and unlikely friend the Jedi on the way out as well, giving a simple nod that spoke more than just words. You knew he needed to talk with you, and as much as you will neglect to admit it, you needed to talk to him, too.

You found yourself at the stables before sundown, meeting with Obi by your shared Eopie, ready to go home.

You figured that the bundle of joy news could wait until things were a bit more settled. You didn’t know how the scene of today would go in the long run, or if imperials had been alerted, but you wanted to know about all of that before trying to make future plans for the child you were carrying.

He saw you enter the sectional, and smiled to you with that adoring look in his eye, the one that never faded.

“You won’t believe what happened today.”

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#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan and anakin #obi wan kenobi x pregnant reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi smut #HoM #obi wan kenobi x little one

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moonlit-imagines · 3 months

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warnings:

a/n:

not requested

“Well, Cody, Master Yoda has finally assigned me a new padawan. I almost thought he’d forgotten.” Obi-Wan joked as you stood beside him with a kind smile. “And he did not disappoint.”

“Sure didn’t, General.” Cody replied, removing his helmet. “I’m Commander Cody, good meeting you.”

“Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I look forward to working with you.”

“You gonna have my back out there, kid?” Cody tilted his head up slightly and smirked.

“You know it.” You looked up at him and smiled, noticing his fist reaching out. You put your own out and bumped over and under, then looked over to your new master.

“I think you’ll be a great addition to our battalion. That is—if you can follow orders. My last padawan was not much of a listener.” Obi-Wan told the two of you, who both laughed.

“So I’ve heard.”

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#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #commander cody #commander cody imagine #padawan!reader

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taska-rokanh · 11 months

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Good Night (Platonic Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader)

As Obi-wan Kenobi's padawan, your life was never short on adventure. Unfortunately, that meant you were always short on sleep. You were pretty sure the bearded man could see that when he asked you to stay on the ship while he, Anakin, and Ahsoka went ahead on the recon mission.

You tried to stay awake, knowing that despite the low impact of the task, it was all too important when someone or something actually did try to take or destroy the ship.

You only closed your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them again, you were against Anakin's chest, being carried to the quarters that, for the time being, you were sharing with your fellow Padawan.

You mumbled something that was probably supposed to come out as, "Master?" It sounded more formless than that, you were sure.

"Shh," he said quietly. "Ahsoka's already asleep. I was trying not to wake you."

"Thanks," you whispered once he set you down, feeling the tension in your neck from falling asleep in your chair release.

"No problem, kid. Sweet dreams."

It was only a few minutes before you heard Obi-wan's light footsteps announce his presence.

He walked over to Ahsoka's bunk first, seeming to check her for injuries once again. The mission must've been more dangerous than they'd been expecting.

"Oh, Padawan," he gave a quiet sigh as he settled down by your bedside. "You know, sometimes I wonder if I go... too easy on you."

He thought you were already asleep.

"But, as much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad you weren't with us this time," Obi-wan whispered. "It was nothing serious, nothing to worry about now, but there was one moment, where Ahsoka--oh, my heart nearly stopped. I can't imagine what it would be like if I had both of you to be worrying about.

"And I know you'll have to be in danger plenty before this war is over... ha, Qui-gon would not have had a problem with this," he shook his head, laughing faintly at himself. "For Forcesake, I didn't even have this problem with Anakin. I wasn't raising him in the middle of a war."

He sighed again. "Anyway, it doesn't matter. This is something I have to figure out on my own," he rubbed a hand across his beard before leaning over and pressing a light kiss to your cheek. "Sleep well, my dear. See you in the morning."

#star wars fanfiction #star wars #reader insert #reader included #gender neutral fanfic #gn y/n #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi wan star wars #padawan #jedi #platonic love #platonic obi wan #platonic oneshot #oneshot #star wars oneshot #short ficlet #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you

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floffytofu · 7 months

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Obi-wan : We call that a traumatic experience.

Obi-wan, turning to Anakin : Not a "bruh moment".

Obi-wan, turning to Ahsoka : Not "artistic inspiration".

Obi-wan, turning to Reader : And DEFINITELY not an "oof LMAO".

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #clone wars #padawan reader #child reader #platonic #star wars incorrect quotes #obi wan x padawan reader platonic #anakin skywalker #ahsoka #anakin skywalker x reader platonic #ahsoka x reader platonic

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split-spectrum · 6 months

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 10

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, mild violence, character death

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Several years ago, in the gardens of the Jedi temple on Coruscant...

"Please, Master. Be honest."

His eyes seem to snap back into focus when the tone of your voice goes up at the end of the question. He'd been looking at you, you realize, and you don't know for how long. The way he reset his posture before answering, he'd almost seemed... uncomfortable? On edge? You can't quite place it. Perhaps, you think, he senses your uncertainty. Your weakness.

With each second that passes before he responds, your anxiety increases. He shifts on the bench, sliding his gaze to the foliage in front of him, a whisper of a smile on his face.

"Often I am told," he says softly, "that these final days before one's padawan completes the trials are celebratory. Peaceful and reflective..."

You widen your eyes a bit and tilt your head, expectant - knowing he's feeling the tension of you staring at him without needing to look in your direction. But he does, eventually, turn to face you, dropping the act of the put-upon master.

"The council believes you are ready. They would not have asked you otherwise."

"That's not what I asked."

He holds your gaze. "I know you will pass. I have every confidence in your abilities."

You break eye contact. "Thank you. But that's not exactly what I asked, either."

He gives you a wry look. "Then perhaps you could clarify precisely what question I'm answering?"

You're tugging a loose thread at the end of your sleeve, hands in your lap. "Do you truly believe I'm ready?"

Your fingers still, stopping their fidgeting when you force yourself to look at him again. "Is it not normally the master who approaches the council when a padawan is ready for the trials? Isn't it unusual for the council to make a request like this?"

His brows raise in acknowledgement, and he nods slightly. "It is indeed unusual. But these are unusual times. And you possess a unique gift. The council does not make these decisions lightly."

"You still haven't answered my question."

The corners of his bearded mouth tip up into a melancholy smile. "Whether I believe you will pass or that you are ready may be two different questions, but my answer changes nothing. As Jedi, we have a responsibility to protect life and serve the Republic. You have been called upon, and if you are capable, you must answer." His expression becomes more sincere. "And you are capable."

You try to mirror his smile, but your stomach is upside down. "I understand."

You watch another pair of Jedi as they stroll through the greenery in the distance, seeming to take much more pleasure in their surroundings than you presently are.

Silence hangs between the two of you, and it's a kind of silence that's never been there before. You're on the precipice of something, and it's not just the trials. Something about him in this moment is different. It's in the way he's looking at you; the way he hesitates before answering. He's not just thoughtful, or pensive. It's something else.

But then, something has changed in you, too - ever since the council shared those fated words.

You venture another question, your voice even quieter this time.

"Once I'm... no longer your padawan," you begin haltingly, "is it still permitted for me to seek your guidance, if I need it?"

As you tense your shoulders in anticipation of his answer, he just offers another smile. "You have my guidance whenever you are in need of it."

His words might have brought you comfort, if he'd left it at that. But he goes on.

"Even if I were to fall in battle tomorrow, the lessons I have passed on will always remain, as a part of you." He places a hand very gently at the side of your shoulder. "The teachings of generations of Jedi are within you. You need only ask for guidance, and you shall always have it."

He's rarely this affectionate, and it forces the rest of your words to stay wrapped up tightly inside you. It seems ungrateful, now, to ask whether you can still bother him for tea and meditation.

You bite back the question you'd really wanted to ask - the one that had been on your mind ever since your first discussion of the trials: Even when things were different, would you still be a team?

You pull your mouth into a tight smile that lacks the proper strength. All you can do now is nod.

Then, you do as he's always instructed - as you always have - and reach out into the force, releasing your feelings.

"Thank you, Master. You're right. I am ready."

Several years later, approaching the Separatist outpost on Asar-2...

"Are you alright?" Obi Wan asks after your second sigh permeates the silence in the cockpit.

The closer you get, the more reality is setting in, and you're struggling to hide it. Your initial thought is to lie, but it occurs to you that you're both in too far at this point to turn back. You tell the truth.

"I'm nervous."

A beat passes. He flips a couple of switches and you can't be sure whether he's silent in response to your answer, or just because he's concentrating on flying the ship. You squirm, just slightly, but enough for Obi Wan's muscles to stiffen. Yet again you have to remind yourself to stay still, and more words tumble out of you.

"The time pressure, and what's at stake... If we don't..."

"Commander," he interrupts you softly. "You have made your decision. Now you must be at peace with it."

This silences you. He's correct, as he usually is. And after this morning's heated discussion regarding your part in the mission, you can't have expected him to comfort you.

But he does anyway.

"There is no emotion; there is peace," he reminds you, his voice decidedly calm and even.

All at once, everything - the noise in your head, your buzzing nerves, the tense air that surrounds you - all of it begins to fade. The familiar mantra leaves your lips in answer to him. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge..."

You finish the lines, and he helps you, murmuring the words just behind yours, as he moves a gloved hand here and there to keep the ship on course.

"There is no death," you complete the last line slowly. "Only the force."

There is no death...

"We'll be landing in a moment. Remember, we approach from the West. That means landing South and walking over that ridge, there." He gestures through the windshield and your eyes follow. "You'll need to deactivate the lateral thrusters for me. I can't reach them with you sitting like this."

He points again, to a switch just above your knee. You lean forward. "Alright. Just tell me when."

His breath is shortened, his voice strained when he answers. "Thirty more seconds."

You shift between his legs, only now feeling how the curve of your ass is pressing up against him. You move again, trying to sit forward and away, but it's impossible in the small space. You only manage to grind up and down, over the fabric covering his lap.

You keep your head tilted down, blinking rapidly in embarrassment and trying to keep your focus on the switch, listening for his instruction.

"Almost," he says tightly.

You nod in response, reaching out to rest a finger on the switch, and the slight movement of your back makes his legs tense.

"Now."

You reach all the way forward, flipping the switch. The combination of your movement along with the ship's rapid loss of speed presses you hard into his lap, your left hand involuntarily gripping his knee.

You arch your back, trying to get away from him, cheeks flushed with heat, and you can feel him suck in a sudden breath.

"Stars," he whispers, so softly, so seriously.

But you must have misheard.

Because if he had said that, in that voice, against your neck, you wouldn't be able to hold it together. And you desperately need to hold it together right now.

So you definitely misheard him.

The ship sets down without another word passing between you, and you quickly exit, nearly bursting out of the cockpit when the latches release. You hop to the ground, feet skidding across the metal fuselage and dropping into powdery grey dirt. With your back turned to Obi Wan, you let out a long-held breath and center yourself for the challenges that await.

When you turn around, straightening the creases of your uniform, you watch him switch on the R4 unit, instructing it to stay onboard the ship and pilot back to base if discovered. He'd had it powered off for the inbound flight, presumably to limit the number of detectable electronic devices on approach. You could swear the beeps in response to his instruction are a bit haughty - the little droid almost seems indignant at being left out of action and expected to catch up quickly. It brings a smile to your face. Droids take after their masters, they say.

Turning back to you, Obi Wan brushes his palms briskly down his stomach and tugs at the sides of his uniform. Then he raises his wrist. "Captain Shrike, we've landed. Heading to the entry point now. Status?"

"No changes, sir," comes the modulated reply. "No sign they're aware of a communication interruption with the remote base."

"Very good," Obi Wan replies, turning to follow you as you begin to make your way up the ridge, but your feet slow when he calls after you, "Just a moment."

He catches up, reaching a hand to the back of your collar.

"There," he says, untucking the curled fabric. You try not to think about your jacket collar crumpling under his chin when he'd pressed it against you, or his beard scratching across the nape of your neck. You also try not to notice that your clothes smell like him, now.

You do notice the way his eyes don't match the tenderness of his touch. His gaze is hardened and distant at the same time. You squint, trying to read his expression, and tilt your head just slightly when you can't.

"What is it?"

He blinks. He seems just on the edge of saying something, and you can almost see it disappear from behind his lips when he decides against speaking. He glances in the direction of the listening post. "Nothing. Let's get going."

He doesn't give you the chance to ask again, restarting the hike over the ridge. You walk a few paces, and as the sight of the Separatist station comes into full view, your moment of doubt is swiftly put behind you. Years of training surface all at once, and the instant you set foot into enemy territory, your body no longer holds any space for uncertainty. You won't lose your focus, because you can't. It's as simple as that.

As you walk, you consider the clone captain's update. There wasn't any indication they knew of Storne's infiltration. Additionally, there was no indication he was successful in disabling the extra security measures. But no one, including you, cares to acknowledge that part.

If he's disabled backup communications to the base in orbit, the only danger lies in what's in front of you. If not, the moment something is reported out of place, it could trigger an alarm that would bring down ray shields faster than you could hope to jump out the nearest window. You may be marching into a death trap, and you won't find out until it's too late. All you can hope is that the plan is working as intended as you approach the main security checkpoint.

The imposing metal walls of the outpost reach high above your heads, jutting up dramatically from the bleak, rocky surface of the moon. There are no guards posted at the front, not even droids, which is to be expected. It's not as if you're on an inhabited world. Still, it gives you an eerie sense of apprehension to walk up to a blank wall without a hint of what's on the other side.

You find yourself falling naturally into a more military gait as you get close, Obi Wan in nearly perfect lock-step with your stride. When you reach the main entrance, a set of heavily armed blast doors, you pull out a key card from the interior pocket of your uniform. Obi Wan tugs at the front of his cap, straightening it as he watches you. If you didn't know better, you would read his expression as uncertain; almost nervous.

You let out one last breath before the plunge. "Ready, Commander?"

He turns to face the door, smoothing his expression as you swipe the card. "Let's not keep them waiting, Lieutenant."

The scanner emits a low beep, and the blast doors open. You step inside to a secondary checkpoint, this time meeting with a human guard. Your shoulders stiffen as you present yourself for check in.

"Code cylinders, please."

You get the impression from the woman's delivery that the 'please' wouldn't be there if you weren't a higher rank than her. You reach again into the interior pocket of your uniform, fingers brushing the lightsaber tucked there, and produce your code cylinder, handing it over. Obi Wan retrieves his from the blaster holster hanging from his side.

The security guard glances up as she slides the first cylinder into the computer's interface socket. "Are we under inspection, sir?"

Obi Wan wraps his hands behind his back, waiting patiently, almost looking a bit bored with the process. "Not formally, no. There are some upcoming personnel transfers in this sector. We're here to review the last six months of transmissions and determine the necessity of this outpost's crew numbers."

She finishes the first upload, removing the cylinder and handing it back to him, then loads the second one. "We just had a transmission review nine rotations ago. You're inspecting them again?"

He raises an eyebrow, just barely. "Yes - I recall. There were some details that weren't included in our last inspection."

She looks up from the data screen. "You did the last inspection? I don't see your code in our records."

Your jaw tightens. Obi Wan has been an unquestioned Jedi war hero for too long, it appears. He's forgotten what it's like on the lower levels of military rank, still subject to so much scrutiny.

"We were provided the records after the inspection," you interject. "But the commander found the data... lacking."

Her mouth quirks to the side. "I can assure you, any reports from this post include all requested records. I can provide you any copies you may need."

You'd hoped to avoid conspicuous use of the force this early in the mission, but you can see it's becoming unavoidable. Perhaps, though, you can use the situation to your advantage.

"I'm curious," you begin, making a show of flicking your eyes down to her badge number. "Are all of your personnel so insubordinate?"

Her eyes widen. "Insub-" she trails off in shock, darting a half-frantic, half-insulted look over to Obi Wan. "Sir, please inform your lieutenant that I was only-"

He raises a hand. "You will address the officer speaking to you."

You give a reserved smile, just bordering unprofessional. Glancing behind her, you can see a few heads turning in your direction at the raised voices. Good.

"Ma'am, I only meant that-"

You stop her short again. "As the commander has already said, the data was lacking. Now, tell me, are you calling him a liar, or just illiterate?"

From the corner of your eye, you catch a tooth escaping Obi Wan's lips in the beginnings of a smirk, before he drops his jaw back into place, rigidly fixing the security guard back under his stare. Not for the first time, you're reminded that while he has many strengths, controlling his expressions isn't one of them.

"I beg your pardon?"

The guard's voice has reached a new level of volume and looking around, you can see you've achieved your goal of drawing enough attention. Time to put an end to this.

You lean in, lowering your voice. "That's enough. Calm down."

Her face twists into a combination of confusion and indignance. But she does as you instruct, and stays quiet. You reach down in front of her and remove your code cylinder from its socket. Then you let the force flow through you as you say your next words.

"This is an unlisted inspection - well above your pay grade. You’ve done your duty, and I commend you on your adherence to procedure. I assure you, your diligence will be rewarded once we've completed our reports."

Your eyes stay trained on hers as you impart your thoughts into her mind.

I do my tasks as instructed. I will be rewarded with a well-deserved promotion.

Often rather than changing someone's mind, you can redirect them toward another strong emotion with more success. This time proves to be just as successful as the rest.

Her gaze becomes a little duller as she slowly looks from her data screen back up to your hand, which is tucking your code cylinder back into your pocket.

"Your cooperation will be noted," you tell her, not giving her time to respond as you stride through the narrow doorway that leads into a wider control room, filled with monitoring stations, droids, and soldiers. Obi Wan gives the guard a curt nod and follows you into the bustling room.

There's no time to pause in the doorway to catch your breath. You immediately step to the side, letting Obi Wan, your commanding officer in both fiction and reality, take the lead again. As you make your way across the main floor to the turbolift at the back, you cast your eyes and your mind around the two of you, glad to find that your gambit was well-played. The rest of the soldiers in the immediate vicinity seem to be making a point of minding their business.

It's a trick you've used often - getting confronted and being let on your way by one individual is much better than convincing a large group. Most people have very little interest in doing their jobs. They simply need to appear as if they are. And once you're confronted in public and cleared, no one else has a reason to concern themselves with you. Now, all you have to do is maintain that disinterest.

I'm not concerned with what anyone else is doing.

You radiate this thought as you walk behind Obi Wan to the turbolift, avoiding eye contact with the pair of security guards talking amongst themselves as they patrol.

You give yourself a moment to catch your breath once you've stepped on board the turbolift and the doors have closed. Glancing over to Obi Wan, you briefly lock eyes before you turn to stand beside him in silence. His chin is jutted upward, shoulders back and down, looking every bit the Separatist, even when out of direct sight. You mirror him, knowing the turbolift - and probably every square centimeter of this outpost - is likely under surveillance.

When the doors open again, your breath catches. You knew the base had a significant number of human crew, but you hadn't expected quite this many. There must be a full platoon on this floor alone, in different modes of work behind desks and stations. Several dozen pairs of eyes glance in your direction, and you instantly lock into your role as Obi Wan leads the way forward.

I'm busy. I have a lot of work to do. I'm not interested in what others are doing.

It's becoming strenuous, pulling the weight of so many thoughts and emotions at once, but it's nothing you haven't dealt with before. You keep your focus and allow the force to lend you its strength. Before you realize it, you've reached the door to the comms center, having been following Obi Wan in a nearly trance-like state. He takes out his key card and you plead to the force that it works. Your intel sources were good enough to get you into the base. Hopefully they won't fail you at this critical point.

To your immense relief, the keypad beeps and flashes green. The door slides open, and just as you're about to enter, a voice calls out from a few feet away.

"Sir? Excuse me?"

You tense, frustrated with yourself for your momentary distraction. You'd let your concentration drop just for an instant when watching the keycard swipe.

Obi Wan turns around to face him. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, sir - that area is restricted to level six officers only."

Obi Wan's face remains neutral. "That's quite alright. I am a level six officer."

While still maintaining your connection with the rest of the nearby personnel, keeping them disinterested, you turn your direct attention to the mind of the officer in front of you.

He is a level six officer.

The young man's eyes drop to the insignia plaque on Obi Wan's chest. He answers slowly, as if having trouble putting his thoughts together. "I, er, thought..."

Your mind is torn, keeping the dozens of soldiers behind him complacent while also trying to send a very specific thought into an unwilling mind. Either task on its own is manageable, but holding both at once is almost physically breaking you down. Your breathing is labored, a thin line of sweat beginning to dampen your hairline.

The young man stares at you. He's left you some room to work. He's still uncertain. You repeat the thought over and over in your head, envisioning it radiating directly outward.

His glazed eyes squint, still looking at your uniforms. "...thought only generals and above were... level six."

He is a level six officer.

Obi Wan regards him with something akin to annoyance, possibly disdain. It's a look you've seen on the face of many a superior officer in Separatist command. "Your thoughts are of little interest to me."

He turns back to enter the comms room again, and the young officer reaches for him, not actually touching him, but blocking his path with an arm.

"Sir, I think you should come with-"

You let go of the thoughts of the surrounding officers and direct all your efforts onto this one.

I have no authority here. I'm uncertain and afraid. I need to let them go.

His face drops, and you catch Obi Wan glancing up to the rest of the room. A couple of pairs of eyes are starting to pull in your direction. He seems to realize what's happening and raises a hand in concentration.

"You will let us on our way."

You feel Obi Wan's presence in the force radiating a little brighter. The uncertainty on the young man's face evaporates and he turns and begins walking in the opposite direction, leaving you behind.

You slip out of the young officer's consciousness and turn your mind back to the rest of the room, redirecting their attention to their tasks as you step into the comms center and close the door.

As the door slides shut, Obi Wan immediately begins searching through stacks of data tapes, and you take a moment to extricate yourself from the half-meditative state you're in, taking in a shaky breath. You want to thank him for stepping in, but it was risky enough for him to blatantly use the force, saying his command out loud. You don't know how many droid systems are monitoring your every word.

You try to quiet your panting breath as you look around the room. Folding your arms behind your back, you try to play your part as a Separatist lieutenant for any cameras currently watching.

The minutes pass in tense silence as he inserts and removes data tapes from the computer terminal, listening to each one with a headset held to one ear. He pages through screen after screen of information and suddenly, more quickly than you'd expected, he jerks up from the station, dropping the headset. He brings his wrist to his mouth, speaking in a low voice.

"Captain Shrike, do you copy?"

"Yes, General, go ahead."

Obi Wan's eyes meet yours as he speaks, and your heart is in your throat.

"The transmission was intercepted, but they were unable to decode it. Report back to the main fleet: The attack will go on as planned."

For a brief moment, you feel the immense weight of the mission leap from your shoulders, held aloft by the turn of events. It feels like it's been ages since anyone's had any good news in this war, and you hadn't realized until now how desperate you were to finally hear some.

"Roger that, sir. Sending the transmission now."

You can't help your smile as you turn to follow Obi Wan back to the door. You quickly activate your own commlink, raising it up. "Captain, has Storne made it back out yet?"

"No, Commander. He's on the fourth level."

Your brows furrow, and you look up at Obi Wan. He gives you a blank look in return, as if to say he doesn't know about the change of plans, either.

"Do you know why?"

"No, sir," he responds to you. "He's been going up level by level. I thought-" His voice is replaced with the crunch of static, and you catch the end of his statement. "...ut it wasn't."

You bring your commlink closer by reflex, knowing it won't make a bit of difference in the signal. "You're cutting out. Say again?"

"...can't... el... either..." More static.

"Captain Shrike, do you copy?"

There's a long pause before he comes through again.

"... packing up base." His words are mostly garbled, and then one phrase gets through clearly. " ...I've got a visual on the ship."

Obi Wan's head snaps to the side, his gaze suddenly tense. "What did he say?"

"What ship?" you press.

"Can't hear... -th. ...try to- "

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of an explosion bursts through the speaker. An ear-splitting electronic squeal pierces the air and you jerk the commlink away from your face. You're reaching to turn it off when the screeching ends. You lift it back up.

"Captain?"

Silence.

"Captain, do you copy?"

You send a wide-eyed glance over to Obi Wan, your voice tightening. "Shrike?"

Nothing.

Obi Wan's mouth opens for a moment before he speaks, as if he's finding the right words. "There could be interference."

You blink. You lower your arm. "Right."

You turn to the door, knowing that commlinks don't just stop working - interference or not. Your signal was scrambled intentionally. And that sound...

"We should get moving. The longer we're without communication the more dangerous this becomes."

"Right," you repeat, voice hollow.

The door clicks open again and Obi Wan steps through it without hesitation, slipping seamlessly back into character. You follow suit, blanketing your consciousness over every solider in your immediate vicinity. You make your way back to the turbolift, thankfully seeing fewer officers in the area this time.

In fact, the room seems almost empty compared to the bustling activity you'd seen earlier. You cast your consciousness out a little further, trying to feel for the missing soldiers, and you find them - guarded, seeking, hostile.

You open your mouth to speak as Obi Wan pushes a button to activate the lift, pulling back his fingers just in time for a spray of sparks to erupt from the control panel, blaster fire searing across the surface.

You both whip around, then immediately duck as more blaster fire fills the air, pouring relentlessly out of two hovering security droids, which are closing in fast.

"Intruders located, level fifty-two."

Obi Wan pulls his own blaster, firing back as you punch at the buttons on the lift, quickly realizing the panel won't respond. You duck and dodge, turning down the nearby corridor to find another way out. The droids pursue, one sent spinning off to the side when Obi Wan's blaster bolt pierces its metal.

You're fighting the urge to reach for your lightsaber. Right now you're just a couple of Republic spies, which is why he's chosen to use the blaster. You've agreed not to reveal yourselves to be Jedi unless absolutely necessary. But you certainly wish that Lieutenants were allowed to carry blasters outside of combat zones.

As you turn the corner, a sickeningly familiar sound approaches - the rolling bodies of droidekas. Peeling into view, they raise their twin blasters and light up the hallway with lasers concentrated on your annihilation.

Absolute necessity arriving much more quickly than expected, your hand grips your lightsaber, ripping it out of your clothing and blocking several shots all in one fluid motion.

"Well, I'd say that's our cover sufficiently blown," Obi Wan remarks, casually illuminating his own lightsaber and dual-wielding it between returning blaster shots.

"Did you have another option I don't know about?" you grit, slicing through the air to bat a laser away from your face.

He spins ferociously and sends a double volley of blaster fire straight back at the remaining security droid, dropping it to the floor. "No, Commander, but perhaps next time you'll consult me before altering the plans. Again."

You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his tone, but unable to respond before human voices start to echo down the hallway, and your retreat turns into an all-out run. You take turns covering the firestorm behind you as you barrel down the hall, turning whichever way looks most like an exit. Obi Wan veers off into what looks to be a maintenance hangar, and you follow closely.

"I didn't exactly-"

The air around you suddenly shimmers, engulfing you in a rippling cylinder of light. You both skitter to a stop, hands pulling up to avoid touching it.

Ray shields surround you. It's not unheard of, using them on such a small scale, but it's definitely a surprise to see one set up as a trap. And you now realize the droids were driving you straight into it.

Training a weapon pointlessly on you, a human Separatist officer enters the room flanked by droids on either side.

You keep your lightsaber at the ready, knowing there's nothing you can do to pierce the shields, but hoping against hope that someone will be foolish enough to lower them.

The man sneers at you as he approaches. "Might as well put away your weapons, Jedi. They're of no use to you now."

Neither one of you moves an inch, the low hum of your sabers filling the quiet room.

"Oh, we're quite comfortable, thank you," Obi Wan responds, his voice mild but his eyes deadly. "Though I am curious about your plan. You must realize as soon as the shields are lowered, you'll need to finish the task of disarming us. A task at which, so far, you've been less than successful. "

Grinning, the man leans toward the pulsating shield. "Your concern is appreciated." He meets Obi Wan's gaze steadily. "But not to worry. I'll leave that task to Count Dooku."

You freeze, suppressing the urge to look over at Obi Wan in shock. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand tighten slightly on the hilt of his saber, but he says nothing more. Not missing a step in his pace, the officer circles you as if observing animals in a cage, then makes his way back toward the doorway.

"He'll be here momentarily. Don't go anywhere."

The door slides shut and the room goes dark, save for the dim maintenance lights in the distance, the swirling glimmer of the ray shields, and the lightsaber you're now gripping to the point of pain. You push the pressure sensor, extinguishing your blade, and drop your defensive stance to turn and look at Obi Wan.

"Dooku..." you breathe the name, looking around as if it could summon him.

Obi Wan's lightsaber still glows between the two of you, his stare penetrating the darkness as he looks past you. "Yes, I can feel it. He's here."

You don't know if he's responding to you, or just talking to himself. You calm your racing thoughts and try to focus. And then you sense it. A dark, malicious presence. A clear signature.

"Why would he be here? How could he have known?"

Several beats pass in silence. He drags his eyes from their distant stare to place them directly on yours. Then his blade collapses into the darkness. It's much quieter in the room, now, and he doesn't need to raise his voice above an icy breath to be heard.

"I should think that much would be obvious."

You dip one brow, again confused by his tone. His words hold the same edge as they had earlier, but you can't place where it's coming from.

"Not to me," you invite his explanation.

"We've been betrayed," he says lowly. "He has an informant."

When your expression goes slack in surprise and you're clearly looking at him for more, he answers your unasked question with a carefully controlled mask of calm. "Your friend. Storne."

You pull your head back in disbelief. "What?"

He sets his jaw, slowly and quietly continuing. "This mission was kept secret from everyone but the most necessary operatives. He is the only one that hasn't been completely vetted, and the only member of this mission whose whereabouts have been unknown for extended periods of time leading up to now."

You shake your head, at a complete loss. "It isn't possible. You don't know him."

"Apparently, neither do you," he quips, a little too quickly.

You can see the immediate regret on his face. But the damage is done. He softens his voice, adding, "He's a mercenary."

You step a little closer in the already small space between the ray shields. "I do know him. He's not as much a mercenary as he is a con artist. Who... kills when he has to. He isn't capable of doing something like this."

"Look at this from a logical perspective." He speaks over your last few words, staunchly refusing to let go of eye contact. "On Oba Diah - the bar where he sent us to get information... did we ever get the information? How were we discovered?"

"Any number of Black Sun members could have reported us."

"And on Keoth," he continues. "When he came to our aid - how convenient for him to be tracking our transponder."

You shake your head. "What possible reason could he have for saving our lives and then handing us over to the enemy?"

"An informant would have every reason to keep us doing the Republic's bidding. The more of our activity he could report, the more we would be worth to him."

You drop your gaze, unable to look at him and speak at the same time. "I would have sensed his deception."

"I'm certain he would have kept his motives well hidden."

"Not from me." You snap your head up. "People can't hide their true intentions from me."

You're staring at one another, and you take in a breath, then let it out. "Obi Wan, I know he wouldn't do this. I've worked with him for so many years. I've known him even longer than that. I'm not asking you to trust him. Just to trust me."

His steeled blue eyes are still fixed on you. He looks as if he's fighting not to look away. "I trust that you will do what you believe is right." And then he does look away. "My faith in your judgment is... another matter."

You're speechless for a moment, stomach wrenched. "My judgment?"

Several long seconds pass before he speaks again.

"When we were on the ship, Storne mentioned a specific time when he seemed to know exactly where we would be. It wasn't discussed during his briefing, and yet, he knew." He pauses, watching for your reaction. "How did he know?"

Your chest is pounding. "Because... I told him. Because I sent him the details of the plan while we were enroute."

"So you don't deny it?"

Although you're nearly shaking, you manage to keep your words steady. "I work in secrets. I know the value of classifying information. But I also know the value of a well-informed team. The captain was instructed to keep the plan compartmentalized, but if Storne needed to escape, or to help us escape-"

"Do you realize you could be arrested as a traitor?"

Your face is heating in frustration. It's like your words aren't even reaching him at this point.

"I told you, on my missions, sometimes I need to bend the rules to get things done. You taught me to follow my instincts."

"I did not teach you to disobey direct orders."

"No, but you taught me to use my own strengths and trust my own judgment. The captain is bound by chain of command to protect classified information. I would never get approval to share it." You hesitate before continuing. "Just like I often don't get approval from the council for certain aspects of my missions. If I'm going to be considered a traitor for getting results, they should have arrested me years ago."

"This isn't a joking matter." His voice cuts sharply through the forced lightness in your tone.

"I know. I'm aware of what's at stake," you say, dropping all your false bravado and letting the earnesty come through. "That's exactly why I knew we couldn't afford to leave Storne in the dark."

"And look where it's gotten us," Obi Wan bites out, his calm expression finally breaking. "Where are your senses? Blindly trusting-"

"It isn't blind trust!" You match his growing tone. "It's rational, well-earned knowledge."

"Your judgement is clouded, young one." His voice holds a dangerous edge which he's never directed at you before. "This mission was doomed from the start - a mission you were never meant to be directly involved with. There's every chance we have just sent thousands of soldiers to their deaths."

His words settle in your stomach like lead, poisoning your bloodstream. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain what's left of the slipping grasp you have over your emotions.

"I-" you croak the syllable, interrupted by an opening door.

A heavy, commanding voice puts an abrupt end to your conversation.

"Obi Wan Kenobi."

Your head is still reeling from your argument, but you no longer have time for emotion. As Dooku approaches, the huge maintenance hangar suddenly seems like a much smaller room.

Your lightsaber is lit again, back in your hand, your arm raised before the rest of your mind can catch up to your reflexes. You watch as he paces slowly up to you, and you sink deep into the force to let go of your inner turmoil.

Dooku's chin is held high as he inspects you. "And the young apprentice. How... unexpected."

He turns back to Obi Wan with a glint in his eye. "We can end this swiftly, my friend. For your padawan's sake, I hope you choose the right path."

Obi Wan's eyes are locked on him. "She is no longer my padawan. And you have nothing of value to offer us."

He arches a brow, looking back at you. "Really."

You can feel him sensing you through the force, and while you close yourself off from him, you can't help but feel him dominating the space between you.

Hearing Obi Wan say you're no longer his padawan stings. You aren't sure whether he means to dissolve the history between you, or if he simply means that you are a Jedi knight. Perhaps it's both. Regardless, you try to keep your focus on Dooku's cold, hard stare.

"A pity, what the war has done to the Order."

Neither of you gives him a response, and though his words are insulting at face value, you can't help but wonder if he means them sincerely, sensing that you're out of your depth.

"Come now, Master," Dooku drawls, directing his attention back to Obi Wan and letting his condescension drip through. "We need not fight a battle which is over already. Surrender your weapons and you will be brought before the Separatist council to discuss your release."

The reverberation of Obi Wan's lightsaber coming back to life echoes through the hangar. "The galaxy is filled with the remains of civilizations who chose to believe in your empty promises, Count."

There's a heavy silence, and Dooku nods to a soldier standing in the doorway. "So be it."

The soldier flips a switch and the ray shields dissipate. Everything next seems to happen in the blink of an eye.

Dooku extracts his own saber, and as Obi Wan melts into his familiar Soresu stance, your muscles barely have time to react before Dooku is striking at you, baring down with clear intent to kill.

You manage to dodge one of his blows, and his second connects with your blade, the sheer power of which nearly knocks it out of your hand. Obi Wan attacks him from behind, drawing him back for an instant, before he whirls on you again and uses the force to send you soaring across the room.

All the air leaves your lungs and you slam into the wall, the intensity of his blow leaving you to gather yourself momentarily. You watch as Dooku turns his full attention on your master, the two of them trading devastating strikes as if it's nothing. The air almost seems to be crackling; glowing within the force.

You crawl back up to your knees, then manage to get your legs beneath you once more. You know you have no hope of challenging Dooku, but Obi Wan does, and you need to do everything you can to give him an advantage. Taking a breath and giving yourself over to the force, you leap forward again and swing at Dooku's unguarded back.

Without missing a beat, he parries Obi Wan with a particularly savage blow, then whirls on you with a look of disdain. Slicing elegantly through the air, he meets your blade with such an impact that it rattles through your entire body. Your saber clatters to the ground, and Obi Wan's next strike is the only thing that keeps Dooku from piercing straight through you.

With a curled lip, Dooku turns on him again and drags his saber down the length of Obi Wan's. "I will not ask you again for your surrender."

Obi Wan answers with a polite smile that's betrayed by the ferocity of his blade. "Good. It was getting tiresome."

The two enter a new phase of the fight, their lightsabers clashing so brutally and quickly that you can hardly follow it enough to get a single strike in. Each time you swing, Dooku rebuffs your attacks seemingly without effort. He's pressed Obi Wan into a corner, and you're helpless to stop him when he finally breaks through his defenses to send his saber skittering across the floor.

"No!" the word wrenches out of your mouth involuntarily, and just as he pulls back to deliver the final blow, you swing your blade toward Dooku's neck, forcing him to turn and face you.

He's still holding his saber over Obi Wan, but his scowl deepens as he raises his other hand toward you. Force lighting erupts from his fingers, and you don't even have time to consider blocking it. It saps the strength from every muscle in your body, pain shooting through you in every sense of the word. You can feel your flesh burning, and just as painful are the deep shocks of pure hatred driving through the force.

Your limp body slams against the wall again, and before your head connects with duracrete, the last thing in front of your eyes is the bright red glow of a lightsaber aiming straight for your master's chest.

It's dark, now.

Your lungs ache when you try to draw breath. Everything aches. Even your eyes hurt when you blink, squinting through the darkness and seeing nothing.

Have you been blinded?

You reach for your lightsaber, but it's not there. The hazy memory of it falling from your hand comes into your mind, but fizzles before you can really picture it properly.

There's a sound. There's been a sound, and you're just starting to register it. Someone is calling your name.

"Can you hear me? Please, answer."

Your arm throbs as you bring your commlink to your mouth. "St-Storne?"

"You're alive!" the muffled voice answers. "Yeah, it's me. Listen, there's not much time. I think you're in a holding cell, and I think I can get you out."

You get halfway up from the ground, leaning over your own arm, a thought screaming into your mind when you're reminded of your surroundings. "Obi Wan! Where is he?"

"I... don't know. We lost track of him. But we can get you out, and we'll figure the rest out later."

You swallow, a different kind of pain enveloping you. Exhausted, you can barely gather the strength to look out through the force. You can't sense him. Your heart flutters, slamming inside your ribcage so hard you're afraid it will break you open. You can't sense him.

A few more panicked seconds pass before you remember to speak. You clear your throat, trying to keep your grip on reality. "Who is 'we'?"

"Backup. Captain Pais sent in clone troopers and took out the orbital base. Unjammed the comm signals, too. But we still can't get around the ray shields. Only chance we have is to blow up the entrance on the east side of the outpost where there are no ray shields and hope we take out enough walls to get to you."

Your mind is still spinning, and you're only taking in about half of his words. "What do you need me to do?"

There's blaster fire in the background as he answers. "Get on the west side of the holding cell and stay there."

You look around. "I can't see anything. I don't know which side is which."

He pauses and you can hear rumbling outside of wherever you currently are. "Then just... cover your head. And wait."

You let the words echo inside your pounding head. "Roger that."

"Three minutes. Be ready."

"Wait! Storne. Have you talked to Shrike?"

There's a heavy silence. "Three minutes."

The background noise cuts out, leaving you alone in the dark, fighting to stay conscious when the world is black no matter whether your eyes are open or closed.

Things happen very quickly. You realize when you hear the explosion nearby that you actually have been losing consciousness. Ten seconds seemed to pass, and the promised destruction is already happening. You scramble to the opposite side of your cell, trying to get away from the sound of laserfire.

You open your eyes. It's light now. There are clone troopers pouring into the cell. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air. Powdered duracrete dusts your skin.

You open your eyes. You're being carried on a stretcher to the edge of a cliff, near the water. It's brighter still. You can hear the crashing of the waves. A clone gunship is hovering nearby. There's so much shouting.

You open your eyes. The clone ship is pulling away from the cliff's edge, engines roaring. You sit up. You're still on the stretcher, facing outside. Below you, back on the ground, there's a body being dragged by two clone troopers, legs limp and head hanging. The face is too bloody to make out any features.

Then, you sense it. It's not a body - it's a being. He's alive in the force, and he's looking back at you now, head raising weakly from his shoulders. When he seems to register you, his eyes snap upward and he struggles against the troopers to stand up.

He calls your name.

"Obi Wan!" His name rips out of you raggedly, and you scramble to get off of the gurney.

"Commander, no," the clone medic next to you reaches for your arm. "You can't sit up right now."

Some part of you is aware that you're badly hurt and should listen, but he's alive and nothing else has the space to enter your mind right now.

Suddenly, you hear a high pitched tone and everything goes white. The last thing you feel is Obi Wan reaching out in the force, his mind searching for yours. Disoriented, urgent, pleading...

You awaken, finally and properly, to the living world, back on board the Republic cruiser.

Captain Pais is the first person you see, standing at the side of your bed. You stifle a groan as the full extent of your injuries make themselves known.

"Welcome back, Commander. How are you feeling?"

You roll to the side, sitting up a bit and looking over at the glass of water on a nearby table. He jolts, realizing what you're looking at, and hands it to you. You gulp down a few swallows, then catch your breath.

"Thank you."

He nods, and you pull back your bedding to sit up all the way. "I'm... alright. Where is-" you stop just short of using his name. "Is the general okay?"

"He's fine. Back on duty already, in fact."

You blink, thinking of the battered, bloody wreck you'd seen him in. "How is that possible?"

The captain shrugs and smiles. "You know General Kenobi. He didn't stay in the tank for long. He came to see you, of course, but you were..."

He indicates the stark white medbay bed, and you nod. "Right. What about Captain Shrike? And Storne?"

The captain gives a hard, tight look. "Captain Shrike... managed to alert the main fleet before Dooku destroyed his base on arrival. It's the only reason we were even aware to set up your extraction."

"And he sent R4 to get me, which was a plus in my book, if that counts."

Storne gives you a smile as he enters the room, arm bandaged but otherwise in one piece. Relief floods you at seeing him alive. "Yes, that counts," you tell him.

"He was a good man, and he'll be remembered," Captain Pais finishes solemnly.

You feel a deep pang of guilt at Shrike's loss. If you hadn't taken his place...

"That he will," Storne agrees. "But you'll be glad to know, our efforts weren't for nothing. The blockade is expected to fall soon."

You turn to the captain, his face affirmative. "Indeed. We should reach the people of Aaloth within two standard days."

"So the intel was-"

"Was good, yes. We launched the attack as planned and the Separatists had no forewarning."

Your body sinks back into the bed, immense weight lifting from your mind. "Thank the force."

"Yes, I very much agree," the captain tells you. "We will be on our way to join them shortly; finishing preparations now. I understand it's been recommended that you do not join us in your current state, Commander. I've arranged for your ship to be prepared to leave within the hour."

Back to Ilum. You nod, taking in the new information. You have to go home. What next? What comes after this?

Your pounding head tells you not to think that far ahead. "I see. I'll get ready." You hesitate. "Is, uh, is the general available?"

"He was called to join the attack on the blockade as soon as he was ready. He left a few hours ago."

"Right," you brush it off, keeping your tone as even as possible. "Thank you, Captain. For everything."

"It was a pleasure to serve with you, Commander."

He inclines his head in respect, then turns and leaves, with Storne taking his place at the side of your bed. You scoot to the edge and place your feet on the floor, and he reaches out with his good arm.

"Here, let me help."

Thanking him, you take it, and he helps you get to your robes. They're dirty and torn at the edges, but nothing that can't be repaired when you get home. You pull your hospital clothes over your head.

"Turn around," you tell him, arms waiting halfway up.

"How about I cover my eyes?" he asks playfully, slipping his unbandaged hand over his face and then breaking his fingers apart, looking at you through the gaps.

"How about you leave the room?" you retort, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles and turns around until you're dressed, then helps you down the long hallway to the turbolift. You find your ship prepared just as the captain had said, and Storne opens the hatch for you to board. When you finish the calculations for your flight path home, you turn back to face him.

"I can't thank you enough," you tell him, a mix of emotions in your voice. "I guess I owe you my life twice over, now. You'll have to call me when you want to get even."

He smirks. "I'll call you either way, sweetheart. And you can pay me back by making sure I get triple the normal rate, as your Jedi bretheren promised."

You smile and roll your eyes. "Of course. But you can stop with all the sweetheart stuff - we're alone, now."

He glances around the ship's interior. "Right. Sorry, hard habit to break. Besides, you know you like it."

You give a genuine laugh at that and he returns a genuine smile; the first time you've interacted alone in a long time.

"Anyway, I'll make sure you get your proper pay. And tell Tasana I hope she's well."

Tasana is the wife Storne has hidden from the galaxy since their marriage many years ago. You've known and cherished her as much as him, and you've gladly protected her identity by playing along with the incorrigible flirt Storne has chosen for his fake persona. Even during your "marriage", it was heavily implied that his infidelity had lead to your parting of ways, as he just couldn't keep to one woman.

As his childhood friend, you're privy to a story not many other people know. He prefers to keep it that way, and his secret will always be safe with you.

"She is, and I will," he says, backing toward the closed hatch. "Take care of yourself out there, master Jedi."

"Not a master," you call over your shoulder as you make final adjustments to your flight controls. "Just a Jedi."

He snorts before hopping out of the hatch. "Whatever you're calling yourself these days."

You lift off shortly after he closes the hatch and gets clear of your ship. The stars greet you as you exit the hangar bay of the massive cruiser, and you release a heavy sigh, beginning the long flight home, alone with your thoughts.

Somehow, the darkness of space seems emptier than it ever has before.

It's been two standard days since you arrived back on Ilum, and it's been two standard hours since you received a report of a nasty ice storm approaching your small home on the outskirts of nowhere. After you'd received the latest weather update on your long range holocomm, you certainly hadn't been expecting company anytime soon.

Which is why you nearly leap out of your skin when, over the howling wind outside, you hear a knock at your door.

You set down the drink you'd been holding, rising from your seat to cautiously approach. Looking through the little window at the top of the door frame, you can just make out the fur of an unfamiliar parka through the furiously whirling snow. Beneath it, you catch sight of a brown hood, and beneath that, a pair of eyes that you'd never mistake for anyone else's.

You throw open the door.

"Obi Wan?"

He stands there, squinting through the wind, and yet, still unmoving.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, the words falling out of you in shock. Quickly, your thoughts turn to the worst. "Did something happen on Aaloth?"

He gives a distracted half-shake of his head. The frost is sparkling in his beard and the arches of his brows when he raises them. He looks achingly beautiful with his blue eyes reflecting the cold. "No. No, everything went according to plan. I just... needed to reach you. Needed to speak to you."

"About-" you cut yourself short, realizing he must be freezing while you stare at him stupidly, mind not yet convinced that he's really here. "I'm sorry - please, come inside."

He almost seems relieved at your invitation, as if he hadn't been expecting it. He still stands hesitantly in the doorway once you've gotten the door closed with him on the inside of it. Lowering his hood, he runs a hand down the front of his beard, smoothing it and raking out the snow.

"Thank you."

"Of course," you respond, still too stunned by his presence to really speak. "You came all this way to talk? Why didn't you call?"

He blinks, halting the hand that had been running through his messy hair. "Historically, I've had difficulty reaching you."

The saved messages play over in your mind and you flush a little with embarrassment. "Right. Sorry."

He brings the hand back down, waving it in gentle dismissal of your words. "No, don't apologize. It's quite alright. In fact, I am the one who should begin with an apology."

Now you're truly speechless. An apology? After what you had done?

"I owe you an apology for my outburst during the mission. And I owe you a debt of gratitude for your actions. Had you not involved Storne, we both may have lost our lives."

You swallow, dropping your gaze to the side. "I don't know if anything I did was right or wrong. Things may have turned out differently if I had never come. We don't know for sure."

"You're right," he allows. "We don't. All we can be sure of is that we provided the intel that was needed to save lives, and we escaped with ours. And that is thanks to you, whether you will take the credit or not."

You don't say anything back, still not able to agree, but unwilling to argue.

"But that is not what I came here to say."

He unclasps the front of his parka and removes it, setting it on a bench near your door. You wait patiently for him to continue, watching his chest rise and fall beneath his robes as he passes a long breath. Then he turns back to you slowly, expression withholding; tentative.

"When we fought Dooku, I believed I had prepared myself for any outcome. As in any other battle, the will of the force mattered over all else, and I never considered-"

He stops talking, seeming to gather his words. You let him, having no idea what he's trying to say. "When I saw them drag you from the room... I could no longer feel you in the force. I didn't know you were only unconscious. And I..."

You knit your brows together, hanging on his every breath. His eyelashes are dark; wet from the melting snow, and they cast shadows over his face when he looks down. "I managed to escape from Dooku by using techniques of which I am not proud. I felt things I should not have felt, and I reacted in a way that a Jedi should not."

There's a long, heavy silence. You want to comfort him, but your mind is barely functioning. What he's saying is so impossible that you can't even fathom it.

"I... don't understand," you finally say in response. "You're saying... because you thought I had died, you...?" You trail off, unable to complete the thought.

"I am saying," he pauses. "That... I think it would be best if this was our last mission together."

Your chest feels like he's blown a hole through you. Your throat is burning and you can hardly murmur, "But, why?"

He gives you a pained look, stepping closer, closing the short distance between you.

"Commander-" And then he corrects himself, using your name, and it sounds so soft, so warm in his mouth that your knees go weak. "You must know."

You draw your eyes up to his and he's looking at you so plainly, the emotion written all over his face. He reaches a hand out to you, just barely, and drops it back into his own hand, clasping them as if holding himself away. You feel his presence wrap around you, and for the first time, you feel the longing within him. His voice lowers.

"You must know."

He says it as if it's been clear to you for so long, and yet, you'd never thought- never even dreamed...

You're standing so still, afraid that if you move, you'll fall into a kiss that neither of you wants. Yet, every fiber of you is dying for it. An eternity passes, just like this, and you'd be happy in this perpetual agony if only you didn't know it had to end.

And end, it does.

An emergency alert beeps through your holocomm, breaking the silence and pulling your eyes away, just for an instant.

But it's long enough for Obi Wan to remember himself and step away. He swallows thickly. "I shouldn't stay any longer."

You take a deep breath, willing the force to relieve you of your desperate thoughts. "Right. You should go if you don't want to be caught in the storm."

He pulls his jacket back on, facing away from you, giving you a few seconds to gather yourself. When he turns back, you force a smile, knowing it comes out wrong, but trying anyway.

"At least our last mission together was a success."

The corners of his eyes crinkle, but his smile is as broken as yours. He pulls his hood over his head. "From you, I would expect nothing less."

Your smile fades, and you follow him to the door. There are a million things you want to say to him, but you know saying even one of your thoughts out loud would destroy you. So, you say the only words you have left.

"Goodbye, Obi Wan."

The snow stings your eyes when he steps outside, turning back to you.

"May the force be with you," he says over the sound of the wind. "And may it keep you safe."

You watch him go, ice whipping against your skin, until you're numb. Until there's nothing left on the landscape but white. Your lips break apart as you whisper into the empty air.

"And may it bring us back together someday."

Author's Note: For those of you following the AO3 tags, although Captain Shrike is a major character in my heart (🥲) I don't consider him a major character for tagging purposes.

I apologize for the length of this chapter! Thank you to everyone again for being so patient and kind during the wait between this chapter and the last. Your encouragement was much appreciated!

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch

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