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charity-angel · 7 years

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Brothers (4/?)

[Part 1] [Part 3]

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It took Padmé a month to get back to him.

“Master Jedi,” she said. Her words were formal but her tone warm. It was early morning there: her hair was done, but her face was still unmade.

“Your majesty,” Obi-Wan replied, keeping his face straight and his voice even. “How are you?”

“I am well, thank you, and my planet is rebuilding. And you? How are you and your fellow saviours of Naboo?”

He sat heavily in the desk chair, and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Master Qui-Gon is recovering slowly. He’s not on his feet yet, but he can sit up without assistance, and he stays awake for six consecutive hours now. And Anakin… He’s adjusting. He’s catching up, but he’s frustrated. He wants to be like everyone else – to be able to keep up with the initiates and other padawans.”

Padmé clasped her hands and leaned forwards, toward the holo pick-up. “He will catch up, won’t he?”

“Oh yes,” Obi-Wan assured her. “He learns quickly. But it’s not fast enough for his own expectations, and I wonder…”

“What?”

“I wonder if he would be better off with someone else fostering him,” he confessed. “An actual master. I’m…” He tugged on his braid. “I’m still a padawan.”

“That, Master Jedi, is a technicality,” Padmé pointed out. “You and I both know that you are not ‘still’ anything. You’re just a new parent. My mother told horror stories to put my sister and I off having children – we were horrific little shits, and we didn’t have the excuse of Anakin’s start in life. You’ll adapt. It will get easier. And if you Jedi have a manual for raising padawans, it won’t cover everything. It won’t even be close, or so my mother assures me. I’m sure you’re doing just fine.”

He laughed weakly. “Master Qui-Gon said something similar. That he’s pretty sure that any master would find Anakin a challenging padawan because of his background – probably more so, because at least I have Anakin’s trust.”

Padmé smiled beatifically at him. “You see. If he still trusts you after a month, you’re clearly not doing too bad a job. And I have some news that is guaranteed to cheer him up.”

“Really?” Obi-Wan suddenly straightened, which made Padmé laugh at him. “What?”

“His mother arrived here late last night. She is safe and well, if not somewhat baffled by her change in fortune.”

“That is truly excellent news,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ll let Anakin know when he returns from his classes. Would it be possible for me to comm you in…” he glanced at the chrono “… two and a half hours?”

Padmé gave a serene smile. “For this, anything is possible. I suppose, however, it would be too disruptive to pull Anakin out of school for a visit here?”

Obi-Wan pulled a face. “It… That, and I don’t want to leave Qui-Gon. He’s improving, but…”

“It is just as well that I have arranged a state visit to Coruscant for next week then,” she informed him, dropping into those slightly more formal tones that were laced with teasing. “Our new senator is due to take up his post, and it would be prudent for me to visit our new Chancellor too. After all, I have not formally congratulated him on his office, and he is Naboo. It seems impolite for such an oversight to continue further.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, making his face go bland, like Qui-Gon did when he was negotiating. “That would be a dreadful breach of etiquette. Would Miss Skywalker be part of your retinue?”

“If she so wishes,” Padmé said. “I will not force her, although I suspect she will be there with me, one way or another. I do suspect that she will entirely hate being my honoured guest: that would bring far too much attention to her.”

Obi-Wan had never met Shmi Skywalker, but he imagined that Padmé was right – having spent a lifetime in slavery, having to give up food so that her son could eat, suddenly being elevated to the ‘honoured guest’ of the Queen of Naboo would be a bit overwhelming.

“I am certain you will find a way,” he said. “Anakin will be so pleased to see her. He misses her.”

She sighed. “I know how he feels. My position demands a lot of me; I haven’t seen my parents or my sister for months. I talked to them just after the battle, to make sure they were okay, but…”

“I often felt like that when Master Qui-Gon and I were on an extended mission – we would be away from the Temple for months, and I wouldn’t hear from my friends. Even when we got back, there was the possibility that they would be away themselves. I didn’t see Garen for a year when we were seventeen, and we only managed to communicate in the occasional vid message. Master Qui-Gon used to nag at me to hurry up whenever we were rushing out and I needed to leave a message, then he would tell me that he used to do the same when he was a padawan, because friends are worth making time for. I imagine that family are the same.”

Padmé’s expression flickered to something Obi-Wan was familiar with – the confused/horrified/pitying realisation of one outside the Order that Jedi didn’t have families of their own – and then to a soft smile.

“Your wisdom cannot be faulted, Master Jedi,” she told him, the shining of her eyes apparent even in the holo. “I should make time for my family, even if it is just messages. They have always been there for me, and will continue to be once my tenure as queen is over.”

“Indeed, your majesty.”

Padmé laughed and reached forward, her hand making a peculiar flicking motion. Oh! She had tried to nudge his holographic self!

“And you say you’re ‘just a padawan’, oh wise one,” she scolded him, giggling.

Obi-Wan gave in to a chuckle. “And you, your majesty, just tried to nudge a hologram.”

She made a little noise of distress. “I was hoping you hadn’t noticed that.”

“My silence is yours, my friend.”

Padmé straightened her face admirably. “Naboo thanks you for it.”

.oOo.

Anakin, predictably, was extremely excited by the fact that his mother was free, and spent a long time talking to her, telling her how he was spending his time at the Temple, how much he had learned. Obi-Wan slipped out after five minutes to fetch his and Anakin’s lunches, realising that this was going to take some time.

Anakin was still in full flow when he returned.

“…but it’s okay, because Obi-Wan is taking care of me and he’s a totally awesome big brother.”

He stepped back and composed himself. He thought of Anakin as his brother, as much as he understood the concept – as much as any Jedi did – but he didn’t realise that it was reciprocated.

Although the slightly insane edge had been taken off, he was still smiling as he put a sandwich and some milk down in front of Anakin.

“… all kinds of things. I can read Aurebesh loads better, and I can find tons of planets on the galactic map. Thanks, Obi-Wan.” He picked up the sandwich and took a huge bite.

“Oh, Mom, this is Obi-Wan…” he began, before being simultaneously scolded by his mother and Obi-Wan, who then exchanged rueful glances.

Shmi Skywalker was not what he had expected at all: given Qui-Gon’s claims that Anakin was the mythical Chosen One, fathered by the Force alone, he had expected Anakin to essentially be a young (male) clone of his mother, but he was anything but. They must have made an extremely striking pair together.

(Honestly, it lent credence to Obi-Wan’s alternative theory, that Anakin was just freakishly Force sensitive – not only did he and his mother look nothing alike, but no-one had been able to explain how a woman gave birth to a son without a father. A daughter might have been believable, but plucking a Y chromosome out of thin air was pushing incredulity, even for the Force.)

She was giving him an embarrassed, exasperated kind of smile. “I apologise for my son,” she said. “I swear I raised him with better manners than that.”

Obi-Wan inclined his head, stifling a smile. “He had not yet embarrassed you in public, Ms Skywalker.”

Shmi looked startled by something, but covered it swiftly. “I shall thank the Force for small mercies. My name is Shmi, Master Jedi.”

“I am but a padawan learner, Shmi,” Obi-Wan corrected, “the same as your son. My name is Obi-Wan.”

Anakin swallowed swiftly. “You’re only a padawan because you’re refusing to be knighted,” he piped up. “Everyone knows it.”

There was laughter in the background at the Naboo end, and Shmi covered her mouth to hide her smile.

“He’s right,” Padmé’s voice said, from a distance. She was clearly sitting out of range of the pickup for the holocam, but close enough to have heard Anakin’s proclamation. “Obi-Wan is technically a Jedi Knight, if not yet officially.”

Shmi snickered. “I should scold Anakin, but if he is right then… I always taught him to be truthful whenever it was safe.”

Obi-Wan was in too good a mood to let the fact they were ganging up on him rattle him. “My master will knight me when he capable of standing on his own two feet for long enough to complete the ceremony,” he informed them serenely. “Until then, he can revel in the fact that he is rebelling against the Council by having more than one Padawan simultaneously.”

.oOo.

That afternoon’s practice went surprisingly well, all things considered. Obi-Wan had assumed that Anakin would be distracted by thoughts of his mother, but instead he seemed more settled. He was excited about the idea of seeing her, certainly, but there was a kind of quietude that had been lacking. Meditation went like a dream, and their sparring session went so well that Obi-Wan ended up having to throw in some Ataru moves to keep Anakin on his toes. That in itself just made Anakin blink and adapt.

“That was excellent, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said at the end, when he stopped cheating and let Anakin beat him fair and square. “I think tomorrow we should start looking at some other forms.”

“Can we do Ataru, like you and Master Qui-Gon use?” Anakin asked, beaming as he towelled the sweat from his back.

Obi-Wan considered it. “Normally one studies Makashi after mastering Shii-Cho, but I will ask Master Qui-Gon if we can skip it. I honestly doubt it would suit you anyway.”

Anakin was clearly pleased, but he wasn’t smug about his achievements today, nor did he ask about a trip to Ilum, as Obi-Wan had been convinced he would. All in all, he was shockingly relaxed.

“Mom’s safe,” Anakin said, out of the blue as they were preparing to go to evening meal, back in their quarters. His shrewd eyes were studying Obi-Wan carefully – a slightly disconcerting expression on his young brother padawan. “I know she’s with Padmé, not back on Tatooine.”

He left it at that, leaving Obi-Wan confused and pondering over it. He resolved to speak to Qui-Gon about it once Ani was asleep.

Unfortunately, because he excited himself all over again telling Qui-Gon about the good news, it took a long time for Anakin to settle, and Qui-Gon had dozed off by the time Obi-Wan was able to return to the Halls. He roused before Obi-Wan could tiptoe away.

“Get your rest, Master,” he said softly from the doorway as Qui-Gon blinked sleepily at the bright light in his room.

Qui-Gon gave him a rueful look. “It looks like I probably should while I have the chance.”

Obi-Wan crossed the small room and slumped into the seat with a loud sigh.

“He had been somewhat excitable this afternoon,” he admitted. “Although he was much more calm earlier, while we were training. It’s almost like he stopped trying to spar, and just listened to the Force.”

Qui-Gon’s moustache twitched; a sure-fire sign that he was trying not to laugh. Obi-Wan wished he had the energy left to appreciate the joke.

“Oh, I know: ‘Do or do not’. I’ve never seen such a stark example of it.

“He suggested that it’s to do with his mother,” he added, deciding that he was going to bother his master with this after all. “Because he knows she’s free. Do you think that perhaps he was pushing himself so hard so that he would be able to return to Tatooine? To rescue his mother?”

Qui-Gon gave him a calculating look.

“Wouldn’t you?” he asked after a short pause. “If I were stuck there, trapped?”

“I…” Obi-Wan stopped and considered it carefully, rather than giving the dutiful response about obeying the rule of the Council. Then something occurred to him; a nudge from the depths of his memory.

“I did exactly that, eleven years ago.”

“You did indeed. And I am still extremely grateful.”

Obi-Wan nodded, feeling more at ease now with the situation. “Yes, I understand. I felt much better once you were home safely.”

“Anakin is just more exuberant in his relief than you are,” Qui-Gon said, smiling outright now.

“Speaking of exuberance,” Obi-Wan said, “do I have your permission to begin training Ani in Ataru? I think he is better suited to it than Makashi.”

Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I can’t see why not. If he has a sufficient grasp of Shii-Cho to defeat you, then he is more than ready to move on. And I agree that he seems ill-suited to a discipline as conservative as Makashi.”

He sighed deeply. “At this rate, I will have little to do by the time I am free of this infernal place.”

Obi-Wan gave him a stern look. “You could have seen a mind healer about your experiences on Simpla-12.”

Qui-Gon waved a dismissive hand. “We were always too busy for that.”

“You’re not too busy now,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “How many holodramas can you watch without seriously endangering your mental health?”

Qui-Gon’s expression tightened, almost slightly fearful. “I made a mistake and watched a couple of those serials that the broadcast networks show during the day.”

“Oh dear.”

“I have read instead,” Qui-Gon said. “Did you know that there have been novels published about the Jedi Order? They’re wildly inaccurate and all the more entertaining for it.”

Obi-Wan smothered a grin. “I think I know the ones you mean. Garen likes to read the most ridiculous sections aloud. The tragic thing is that he has read every single novel from start to finish: apparently the stories themselves are entertaining.”

“They’re reasonable,” Qui-Gon allowed. “I think some of our mission reports would be more compelling through.”

Now there was an amusing idea. “Perhaps you should write some of the less politically sensitive ones into a format that would appeal to the masses? That would certainly occupy your time.”

Qui-Gon swatted at him, laughing.

“While I do get a certain amount of pleasure from irritating the Council, I have no desire to incite them to actually throw me out of the Order.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “Also, you’re an appalling writer,” he pointed out. “You gave me the job of writing the reports eleven years ago.”

“Oh, that’s because your reports make the Council twitch. Occasionally I feel sorry for whoever has to read them.”

Obi-Wan knew this. He was well aware that the Council, while initially glad that Qui-Gon had ceded that particular responsibility to his padawan, it was a short-lived feeling. Obi-Wan gained a certain perverse pleasure in writing incredibly verbose, in-depth reports in the full knowledge that someone on the Council had to read the whole thing.

“Mandalore was a fun one to submit.” Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon’s eyes, and they both sniggered at the memory of Obi-Wan dropping a thick, filthy book of actual paper leaves into Master Windu’s unsuspecting hands, and Master Yoda’s cackled reassurance that they would not be asked to submit a formal digital report considering how long they had been gone for, and the lengths that Obi-Wan had clearly gone to in order to provide them with any documentation of their year-long absence from the Temple.

It wasn’t the first report that Obi-Wan had submitted with certain, potentially salient pieces of information missing, but it was the one and only time he had done to protect himself. It wasn’t just himself, though: Satine would have been mightily unimpressed had he included absolutely everything that had happened. And, had that information gotten out, it would significantly hamper her efforts to bring peace to her world.

New Apsolon had been the first. Obi-Wan had realised that perhaps it wasn’t in Qui-Gon’s best interests for Obi-Wan to disclose exactly what he suspected. Master Windu knew that there were things missing or glossed over (having been there himself for the latter half of the mission), but he never questioned it. Perhaps he too had decided that there was little point dredging up things like that when one half of the potential couple had perished.

“I read that one,” Qui-Gon admitted, bringing Obi-Wan back to the present. “It got scanned into the archives. It was certainly a different style to your usual.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “It had to be. But just think, once you’re back in the field, you’ll have to write all your own reports again.”

Qui-Gon grinned. “Maybe I’ll get you to train Anakin to do it.”

Obi-Wan wagged a finger at him, but it was somewhat lacking in energy. “He’s got other things to be learning right now. Written methods of torturing the Council can wait. Especially since we really need to keep them on side right now about him.”

“Good point,” Qui-Gon conceded. “Maybe I’ll just have to go back to having everyone sigh at mine instead.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan said, summoning the energy to rise from the seat. Keeping up with Anakin was catching up with him, and he felt almost as tired as Qui-Gon looked. “I’ll see you in the morning. Behave yourself.”

[Part 5]

#star wars #brothers #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #padmé amidala #shmi skywalker #qui-gon jinn #qui-gon lives au #obi-wan enjoys torturing the council as much as his master #he's just sneakier about it

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phoeebsbuffay · 2 years

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Imagine you watch Anakin defeat Sidious, however, he becomes Vader in the process. What will be of you, then?

Warnings: it’s loosely based on “Defying Gravity”.

Warnings 2: soft smut, drama, angst and action. No minors.

Recommendations: besides the main song that inspired this fic, “My Immortal” and “Anywhere” by Evanescence aided to the most dramatic fic I’ve written so far. Lol. I blame my moon in ♏️.

***

Intro

Darth Sidious smirks as he overpowers you moments after resisting his attacks.

“It is useless to defeat me, my dear. As admirable as your attempts had been in fighting me, there is no point in trying further.” His smirk is wiped out of his face when angst comes. “Surrender now and I’ll spare your life. You will be a great addition to the dark side!”

“Never!” You yell at him.

It’s when he lifts your body as if you are this little useless thing. The air in your lungs starts to dissipate. You look for Anakin, where is he? Nonetheless, you still offer a great deal of resistance to the enemy of your Order, much to the former chancellor’s dismay.

However, you now begin to suffocate. Despair runs from your head to toes. The sense of powerlessness is overwhealming. There are tears going up to your eyes as you struggle for your life. It’s when you realize that the best you can do is accept your destination. You loose the grip of your saber and it drops on the floor; your conscience begins to drift and you are suddenly so tired that you don’t see Anakin’s angst.

That he sees you sent to sacrifice as if you are a lamb gives light to the Chancellor’s betrayal. It’s not enough that he fought his own Master, no. He is about to lose you too.

And he realizes he’s been a puppet all along.

This ends tonight.

Anakin takes his saber and his next move is not predicted by Palpatine who enjoys torturing you. Because he’s occupied in seeing life leaving your body, the former Chancellor and now self proclaimed Emperor takes a second or two before Anakin’s saber finally puts an end to his life.

Anakin curses the man before running to your side.

“You’re not going to die, Y/N! I’m not letting you to die!” He yells at you. Tears begin to form a puddle in his now yellow eyes.

Anakin then takes your unconscious body to his ship. You are staying with him, whether you like it or not. Whether you are alive…or not.

***

Ten years earlier.

You have recently celebrated the fifteenth year of your life with the only family you had: Master Y/C. He was like a father to you, he had rescued you from serving Jabbah as a young girl. You’ve paid him not only with gratitude but an admirable loyalty.

Master Windu was worried for you because this only showed how easily you formed attachments, but Master Y/C dismissed his concerns. He was only a paternal figure to you and there was nothing wrong with that. It was, in fact, the disposition of a good heart. And to many ways he acquiesced to this role, since the masters were the closest thing to a father for many younglings. He even gave you a birthday party!

Your memories as a Padawan were filled with cheerfulness and fondness because of him. Until the day Master Y/C was killed in battle. You were utterly devastated. Though you showed an incredible display of strength of character by masking your sentiments to those in Council, earning thus their trust, you were heartbroken.

However, you were not aware that this Padawan who was pretty much the same age as you sensed something was wrong with you. He thus followed you, worried. Even he knew about your close ties with the aforementioned Master. How could you be indifferent to his death? If it was Obi-Wan who had been killed in his place, he would not show the same control of his sentiments like you did.

To his relief, you proved to be a human being. You bursted into tears and the boy sensed anger in you. He waited until you stopped shaking to take a seat by your side.

“Hey.”

You were startled at first. Where did he come from? Did he see you crying? You were about to panic when he took your hand in his—a genuine, spontaneous gesture of caring and concerns

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. I’m not going to tell the Council about how human you are.” His sarcastic remark made you smile a little. “Honestly, I don’t know what’s wrong with these people. Grief is expected in these kind of situations. We are not heartless beings. If it was with me, I’d be mad.”

He was surprised when you said:

“But I am mad. I am so angry. I hate Dooku.” You sobbed out. “He’s so cruel. How could he do this? How?”

“I don’t blame you for feeling the way you do. Like I said, had anyone killed my Master, I’d be feeling the same way.” He hesitantly placed a hand over your back and rubbed it. “I’m sorry for your loss, Padawan Y/N.”

You remembered looking at that boy with blue eyes. It was the first thing you’ve noticed, such deep blue eyes that held the same feelings that you were feeling. A prelude of a storm? A question for which you did not care to search for the answer. Not at the time anyway.

“How do you know my name?”

“I’ve paid attention to Master Yoda.” His answer brought you a chuckle, which pleased the boy. “I am…”

“Anakin Skywalker.” You did not cease to surprise him. He took a like of you.

“How do you know my name?” The same question you asked, he posed it.

“I pay attention that is all.” You made him chuckle too. “Who is your Master?”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi. You know… I think he could train you too.” Anakin suspected this was too early to suggest, but the idea of you desolated was an image that would stuck in his mind even years later.

“I don’t know.” You sighed.

Sadness returned again as you rested your chin over your hands. You’ve never contemplated a life without your master. He made the trainings interesting, the teachings far from boring, and you were getting prepared for your first mission.

However, Anakin would not give you up easily. As he looked at your long hair, tied in a braid, and noticed your delicate features, something within seemed to rise. Perhaps motivated by this unnamed sentiment, he insisted.

“Come on. You can’t give up like that. That was not what your master would have wanted. I promise you, it will be fun.”

“But I don’t think a Master can train two Padawans at the same time.” You reminded him.

But Anakin was overconfident with his idea to let your perspective bash him. One exchange of glances and, voilà, the two of you started out as friends.

***

Current days.

You open your eyes and see you are breathing via some machine. It takes some time to realize you are in a different scenario. Your head seems to weight on your shoulders, you are dizzy.

You unconsciously lift your hand to massage your neck. For Maker’s sake. You grumble before you stand. The room where you are is dark and cold. A shiver runs over your body.

Where am I?

You struggle to leave this litter, but once you do, you hear an almost mechanical breathing. It startles you.

“Who’s there?”

Your voice betrays the horror that has taken grip of your heart. You remember you were about to die in Palpatine’s hands. The very remembrance of how powerless you were brings you close to a panic attack had Anakin not showed up.

Or the person under the dark cape who you presume to be him. He rushes to your side.

“My love, my love.” You don’t see him, he’s behind you, but his familiar touch… it makes you shiver. “Are you well? You are safe, I promise you.”

“Anakin…” You swallow hard before turning at him. You don’t need to see him to hug him tight. “Am I alive?”

“Yes, my dear Y/N. You are. I would never allow you to slip through my fingertips like that.” You sense his metallic hand play with your hair, now loose at your back. “I’d cross a thousand paths to keep you alive. I’d do anything to keep your heart beating.”

You know he means it, every word. It’s what consoles you, what gives you tranquility. However, you are pulled away from his embrace. It’s when you realize there’s something going on.

“Anakin? Why are you pushing me away?” Your voice sounds more tearful than you’d care to admit. “Look at me. What happened? Where’s Palpatine?”

You step forward but he steps backwards. He refuses to let you see him, much to your consternation.

“Palpatine’s dead.” He makes a pause. His breath is mechanical again. “Stay where you are, Y/N. I don’t want you see me.”

“What? Ani…”

“That’s not my name anymore!”

You sense the anger in his voice. You don’t need to overthink it to realize what has led him to where he is now. All that darkness… You feel it flowing. Nonetheless, you step in his direction. He is not moving when you push his hood carefully.

Anakin holds your wrist. His grip is tight, moved by angst, but also frustration and hurt. When looking at you, you see scars in his cheek and the color of his eyes have changed.

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“Something has changed in you.” You say, forgetting how to breathe.

“I’m through with playing their game. Palpatine may have been gone but I am not here to be anyone else’s puppet.” He let’s go of your wrist and turns his back against you.

“Ani…”

“I said that’s not my name anymore!” He screams at you. But you are not frightened by it, though your eyes are blurry by tears. “I’m Vader.”

“You can still be the Jedi you want to be.”

He senses your conflicted sentiments. He turns at you, he too ambiguously angry.

“You cannot pull me down. I’m through accepting limits because someone said so. Too long I’ve been chained by others.” It’s when he softens. “Y/N. Come with me. Together we will be unlimited, we will be finally free to be whomever we want to be. There’s no fight we cannot win.”

He gently lifts his hand to caress your cheek, you incline yourself into his touch. You do the same to him, neither seeking to escape the bond so strong one feels for the other.

“Everyone deserves a chance to fly. I’m flying free. You, above all others, know that I have nothing to be fixed.”

A sob comes out. He is tempted to embrace you, to console you. Vader lifts your chin, trying to read what is in your heart.

“So what is going to be your answer, Y/N?”

***

Five years ago.

You were there when he told you about Padmé Amidala. It shouldn’t disturb you this much. That day he confided you he kissed her, you found out the news were far from pleasant to you.

You were aware of his sentiments for her, of course. As your friendship grew throughout the years and you’ve become an apprentice to Obi-Wan Kenobi—-(it was comical how he received Anakin’s importunating’s request: “What? You spoke to the council before me?! Anakin, for the Maker’s sake, this was out of your league and you were not allowed to…” and then, “Oh, they actually allowed it?! Fine, then. Bring the girl to me.”)—-you easily formed an attachment to Anakin. You didn’t become aware of this until then.

You lied down in your bed, upset about Anakin being smitten with Senator Amidala. Your heart never ached like this before, but you would deal with your disappointment alone. That was the best manner to face it.

You stared up the ceiling, trying to find a way to mend your disappointment. You didn’t consider weeping, but tears came uninvited. They somehow soothed this unwanted discovery. You embraced your pillow and there you stayed. You were about to fall asleep when you heard a knock on the door.

Who that might be?

You rubbed your eyes and cleaned your face with the sheets before throwing a robe as you moved to open the door. To your surprise, Anakin was standing right before you.

“Ani! Why are you up so late and and why did you come to me?”

He looked somehow heartbroken. You welcomed him inside, unable to refuse him any help at all, specially when he appeared so troubled. That day you noticed his insecurities, but underneath them the first signs of his unresolved angry issues.

“Padmé and I had…uh…our first misunderstanding.” He then started telling about his jealousies concerning Clovis and how she was close to kiss him—or so he thought. Admittedly, he’d been wrong to judge so: his perceptions were clouded by his sense of possessiveness towards her. Where’d that come from? He was unable to stop hitting the man. “Something snapped inside of me, Y/N. I don’t know what that was.”

It was not until you came to hold him close that he noticed you had been unwell.

“Hey. Hold on a minute.” He paused and made sure you looked at him. “I’ve been talking about myself, but you… Have you been crying?”

“No.” You lied without second thoughts. “Come Ani…”

He held your wrists and forced you to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, studying your emotions.

“You are lying.” Anakin accused you. “By the Maker, I’ve been selfish by talking about me. I should have asked about you, I should… Fuck. What kind of friend am I?”

“Shush.” You managed to release your wrists and embraced him. “Can we not talk about it? You are not a bad friend. You are not a bad person, Anakin. Neither a bad boyfriend. You just need…to trust in Padmé more. You should talk to her tomorrow.”

You couldn’t even believe in yourself. Sending him away to the woman he loved. You could hear that small part of you, poisoning your good intentions with disdain and self despise.

Anakin reluctantly parted from the embrace to look at you.

“Do you think so? Do you think she’d forgive me?”

You smiled at him.

“I do. Everything always gets right in the end.”

But Anakin sensed something was wrong with you. He could not, however, find the guts to approach you about the matter specially because you shielded your mind and you successfully distracted him by giving great relationship advises.

You soothed his distress, but it was not until he led you believe he went to his quarters, disguising his signature after the door was closed and you said goodbye to each other, that he heard you cry.

It was heartbreaking for him to hear you sob, specially because Anakin couldn’t open the door and surprise you on the act so he would console you. He felt powerless before you. Somehow, he thought he was connected to the reason why you were crying yourself to sleep.

It shouldn’t be this way. Why, Maker, am I sensing I am the reason why she’s hurting? It’s not what I want. To be her disappointment, to be the reason why she’s broken inside.

Anakin ran his hands over his hair, going back to his quarters as disturbed as when he came looking for you.

The next day he hoped to approach you, so he’d talk about what happened without raising any kind of suspicious that he knew you cried yourself to sleep. His eyes followed your moves carefully, hoping to capture any chance you’d be showing some sign of hurt that would allow him to intrude.

Turned out that he began noticing your long braid, the white cropped that had one long sleeve and another very short, showing your belly. Anakin didn’t like how some of the troopers seemed to notice your curves, looking at your hips as you came to meet Obi-Wan.

“Is there something distracting you, General Skywalker?” Rex said when noticing his stare at you.

“Uh?” Anakin turned at his friend and smirked. “Maker, no. I was lost in my contemplations, that is all.”

“Of course, if that is what you say to your conscience.” He teased the Jedi. “I thought you were seeing Senator Amidala. What happened?”

Anakin had the decency to blush.

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Rex. Come, we have some mission to discuss.”

However, when his eyes sought for you, Anakin came to realize he had a choice to make in the end, didn’t he? It was either you or Padmé. He sighed.

“You are going to Naboo”, you were telling Anakin. “I convinced Obi-Wan that you have matters to discuss with Senator Amidala so you can resolve whatever pendencies you have with her.”

Anakin stared at you, shocked.

“You would do this for me?”

When you smiled at him—a smile that, however, did not rise to your eyes like in the past, or in whatever occasions he was with you—, Anakin finally comprehended what was the reason of your weeping. Fuck, I don’t deserve you, Y/N. You are too good for this world.

“Of course. What are friends for, eh?” You assured him. It only confused him more.

As he watched you engage in conversations with the troops, perhaps flirting with one or other—why would you smile at Fives for Maker’s sake?—Anakin came to realize how selfish he was for unwillingly share you with anyone else at all; and how possessive he found out he could be when it came to you.

No. This is just something temporary, it is the darkness tempting me. I must resist.

Unaware of his thoughts, you sought to distract yourself from him. It was when you were summoned by Obi-Wan. You were told about the mission you were assigned to Mustafar. Curiously, Anakin decided to meddle.

“Master, with all due respect, but you cannot send her there. It’s dangerous.”

“Hello there. I’m here!” You protested.

Anakin shoot you a glare.

“Not now, Y/N.”

Obi-Wan folded his arms and stared at his first Padawan, glancing at him with a mix of amusement and annoyance.

“You underestimate Y/N’s abilities. If the reason why you are saying so is your concern, believe me, Y/N has every capacity for this. Besides, let us not forget she is just as Knight as you are.” He referenced the recent trials you and Anakin went through and were knighted as Jedis at long last.

“I am going, Anakin”, you told him, surprised for his overprotective sense towards you. “You need to accept that. Besides, I thought you had a mission in Naboo?”

He glared at you. Anakin refused to speak to you. But this would not last too long. He’d been plagued with nightmares about you in Mustafar. You’d been dragged there by General Grievous. After defeating him, you were found fighting Count Dooku. Yet, he overpowered you. Every night he barely slept well. Every night the possibility of losing you posed as a real threat.

Where are you, Y/N? Come back to me. Come back safely.

When looking at a sleeping Padmé, Anakin was forced to acknowledge a very difficult truth. Maybe she was never the one to reside in his heart.

Two years ago.

“Look at the stars, Y/N.” Anakin brought you to the roof of the temple. A secretive place that used to be his and his alone—no one ever dreamed about the existence of a place where it was possible to see the universe as it was. He took you there to help sooth you after you returned from your mission.

You had regressed physically hurt and psychologically damaged, a fragile thing that broke your pride. To prevent you shield yourself, Anakin brought you there. And here you were.

“They are beautiful. Intense and free. Wild even”, you contemplated, your head lying in his shoulder. “What are your thoughts about it?”

You made the mistake to look up at him. You were aware that Anakin and Padmé were no more, but hopelessness still resided in your heart. Yet, you forgot about the struggles you’ve been through when his blue eyes were so inviting, so tender, so… intense. All at the same time.

“It gives me peace and inspiration to pursuit the liberty of myself. It makes me wonder whether I’m capable of defying the gravity.”

You giggled.

“A dreamer and a fighter. You never cease to amaze me, Anakin Skywalker.”

His heart skipped a beat. There was much to be said, but after all he went through with Padmé, he was still reluctant to make the first move. When searching for your feelings, Anakin knew nothing had changed.

“What took you so long to notice me the way I am?” He responded sarcastically, smirking when you giggled.

“I’ve always seen you as who you truly are.” It was the truth, you never missed the small details of his personality—even the unspoken dark side you’ve began to sense to grow. “To me, you can’t fool.”

Anakin laughed. He sought after your fingers and locked with his. You remembered the feeling: his callous hand against your soft one giving you a warm feeling. It brought you the silliest of the smiles, so meaningful—yet you were afraid to dive in. You were still traumatized—facing Grievous left you profound scars.

And Anakin was aware that. He had no rush, though. He’d take his time. And you were thankful for that.

“The funny thing about the space is that we know little about it”, you said. “You have to promise me that one day we will explore it.”

He laughed heartily. The mere sound of it seemed to wipe away your fears and restaure your internal balance again.

“Indeed I will. I swear to you…” He paused so you looked up at him. Your eyes were locked. “….I’ll take you anywhere you want to go.”

“I appreciate it, Ani. More than anything in the world.”

The two of you exchanged smiles. It was all that mattered back then.

***

A year before the rise of the Empire.

You were dreaming about a strange place. You were in Mustafar again. As you landed in this volcano place, you saw Obi-Wan and Anakin fighting each other.

“Don’t!” Wasn’t it how Grievous predicted it was going to be? Didn’t he warn you? Nonetheless you tried to stop the fight. “Please don’t! This is not how it should be! Please!”

No one seemed to hear you. Except one single person. You turned and you weren’t surprise to see Dooku there. There was a huge fight, but you ended up defeated. Burning in the lava, left barely alive.

You woke up, your face bathed in tears. You were plagued by this anxiety, this torment so full of energy. Your hair was falling loose over your shoulders as you stood and went to dress your Jedi’s clothes. It was raining outside and still dark when you grabbed your saber.

You had to deal with whatever that was weighing on your chest. The next thing you knew, you were outdoors. Under a heavy rain. Practicing with your blue lightsaber. And you wept because you knew this dream was going to happen. And you hated it because you were weak to prevent it.

Anakin had been awakened by the disturbance he felt in you. He had such a strong bond with you that he sensed your suffering. Your pain. Your angst. He pulled his clothes and went after you.

Anakin was perplexed to find your quarters empty: where the hell did you go? His guts then led him outdoors. And there you were. In open field training harshly with your saber.

Maker, what happened? Why were you on the rain?!

He rushed over you.

“Y/N! Y/N! What the fuck are you doing on the rain?” Despite your resistance, Anakin managed to take you away from the heavy rain and cold wind. He led you instead to his quarters where he placed a towel around your shoulders and ensured the ambient to be warm for you.

“My love”, he said in such a way that warmed your heart. You looked at him fondly. “What’s the matter? Talk to me.”

“I was so angry.” You sobbed. “I had a terrible dream, Anakin. The worst was to know, to feel it will happen and I will not be strong enough to prevent it. The pain is just too real. I cannot… I cannot battle alone, I cannot heal!”

You put your hands to hide your face and cried. Anakin’s heart broke when seeing you like this specially because the anger that plagued your heart has been plaguing his for some time now. He was not a stranger to these sentiments—specially concerning the nightmares. He hugged you against him.

“That’s not true.” Anakin rocked you against his arms and you’ve leant into him. “I’ll be there for you, remember? The same way you’ve been there for me. You still have all of me. This pain will ease with time, I promise.”

Anakin lifted your chin and he gently wiped away your tears. You loved him so much that it became so clear the attachment in your eyes. He felt it too. He leant his forehead against yours.

“You know I’ll never leave you, Y/N. You are everything to me. You have always been. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You smiled. A light amidst the darkness came within you. He took your pain away. “I love you more than anything I hold dear. I love you with every inch of my soul. I have always loved you, Anakin Skywalker, and I always will.”

Anakin’s eyes went teary in turn because of how you opened up yourself to him; because your words could have easily been spoken by him. It didn’t surprise neither of you that after the cold, there came the fire.

His lips sought for yours. You left the towel drop your shoulders as you were quick to respond his kiss. His hands held your waist and the next thing you knew was that you sat on his lap. The kiss was urgent, captivating, dominating.

His hands ran up and down your back, removing your Jedi robes. You did the same thing to him, never daring to part the kiss. You were finally subdued by every passion that ran upon your nerve, boiling your blood as he pulled your hair. You wanted more, both of you did.

As the kiss broke so you could catch your breath, you’ve realized you two were without your clothes. You stared into each other’s eyes, slowing down the passion that seemed to burst. But there was neither regret nor shame in both parts.

“Y/N…” Anakin said at long last, eyeing you with desire and want; but also love. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

You responded him with a passionate kiss. Anakin sighed heavily when you did. He took you to his bed, taking a good care of you as he moved his body over you, tangling yours with his.

“I need you, Ani.” You mumbled, enjoying the kisses on your neck, how his hands moved from your back to your chest, caressing your breasts and moving down to the between your legs. “Oh.”

Anakin smirked, aware he’d made you forget all of the distress, all darkness. However, something snapped inside of him.

“Look at me.” He commanded you, gently but firmly all the same. “Look at me, angel.”

“Yes, my love.” You did so obediently, breathlessly.

“You are mine.” He didn’t ask. But in his eyes, you saw a shadow of doubt.

You smiled at him. He warmed you not physically but in so many other ways. You cupped his cheeks with your hands, bringing his head to you.

“Always. Always yours to command.” You vowed, beaming at him.

Anakin’s smile spread on his lips. You could tell by the Force that this was the reassurance he needed. So he kissed you and you melted against his touch.

***

Current Days.

You turn at Vader at long last. He waits for your answer however impatiently so. You touch his cheek, caressing it softly.

“It took me some time to realize how you’ve longed to be free. How you’ve been chained all your life. I wasn’t the only one to carry traumas, to carry scars.” You step forward, closer to him.

You don’t say much, letting the words slip into his mind, so he savors their meaning. His hands are placed around your waist, pulling you against him. With no hood to hide his features, you see tears rolling from his eyes.

“I wanted to save you. I’d never meant any harm to you.” It is all he can say.

“I am not here to fix you, Anakin. No one is going to hold us down anymore. You are safe now.” You gently wipe away his tears. “I’m here to fight away your fears the same way you did mine. I love you. Whether being Anakin or Vader, I love you.”

The man you love closes his eyes. He won you. His heart seems to be relieved of the long time pain had plagued him. You, however, did manage to heal him. Your goodness balances the darkness in him. Nonetheless, there you are. Just the two of you.

“My wife.” He opens his eyes and uses the word that he knows had always been the reason why you blush, specially after he married you. And he smiles as you do so, after all this time it has the same effect on you. “Together we’ll be invincible.”

“I don’t mind as long as we are together, my husband.” You lean into his embrace, smiling at the word that leaves your tongue.

“I am not letting you go.” So Vader says firmly, possessively and gently.

Darkness has never felt so sweet. And you’ve never been in peace…

***

Epilogue.

Vader is reclining in bed as he watches you dress. He is attentive to how your hair drops in cascade, to your curves, how sensually you always move. However, he also sees how happy you are. When the two of you are alone, he allows himself to be his former self again. The old Anakin you once knew… Did he ever disappear, though?

And here he is again. He leaves his bed and stops right behind you. He enjoys to see the unending effect he has on you: the grip Vader has of your heart, how it races every time he’s nearby, how you swoon whenever he comes at you. But mostly, as it happens now when he snakes his arms behind you, how you get wet when his skin warms yours in a mere single touch.

“My Empress.” He greets you with kisses around your neck, his hands lying around your waist and sneaking right into your belly. He smirks when sensing your reaction. “I didn’t allow you to get dressed.”

You giggle softly, leaning against his chest—you never cease to admire his strength; has he always been this strong?

“We have appointments with…”

You gasp when his metallic hand gets right into your womanhood. Your mind goes instantly blank.

“You were saying?” Vader smirks wide as he removes your gown, eyeing how desire overcomes your body.

“My love…”

You try to resist, but damn it doesn’t he know your soft spots? As he cups your breasts, giving bites around your neck—making sure there are visible bruises, though thankfully there’s makeup to cover them—-so you are remembered—as if you needed a reminder—that you are his.

“Are you mine?” Vader asks you as he teases you endlessly.

“Yes!” You gasp, your moans going louder as you are about to climax. “Yes, I’m yours!”

As you do, you get rid of your gown and lead him right back to bed. He smirks as he watches you bossing him there. He lets you slide into his lap after taking a good care of him, but of course he has to hold control over you even there—as if you don’t enjoy that at all, by all means.

But there’s no time to play as he thrusts into you. What had started as an intense display of passion, it is now a slowly, gently and tender lovemaking.

You are locked in his arms, pleasantly so. You turn at him, now stuck in these yellow eyes that stare into your y/c ones. Vader is amazed by how, even though you joined his side, you remain uncorrupted. After all these years, you may have flirted with dark forces but you are still you.

“My angel.” He nuzzles against your neck before pressing his lips against yours.

“My love.” You beam at him, playing with his curly hair, gently stroking his cheek.

“We should explore the galaxy…” And his old self is here again, much to your delight. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

Your smile spreads easily on your lips. He remembers. You lean your forehead against his.

“I don’t wish to distract you from your duties, though.”

“You are not. You are my duty, Y/N.”

Many would later say that whilst Vader ruled as Emperor throughout galaxy, you ruled him back home. And by extension you may have contributed to his rule not being as ruthless as many of his followers desired to be.

“As you are mine, love of my life.” You hold him against you. “You are my stardust, my dear love, everything I’ve wanted and more. You are the sun of my existence and I shall always gravitate around you, ignited by the love that lives in me and brightens us.”

Vader detests how sentimental he is with you. His eyes begin to blurry upon your words, so sweet, so full of love and devotion. It’s in the same degree of intensity he loves you. You never judged his actions, his heart. You never tried to amend him because, in your eyes, he was not broken. Even after all these years, you take him as he is and you love him fully and intently.

“I love you, my darling.” He whispers, giving in to the goodness there’s still in him.

How could he fight it away when you bring it so naturally? How could he deny that you make him better everyday as a man? All he wants is you. And all you want is him.

You cuddle him, nuzzling against his neck, refusing to let go of him. There is peace in him as there is in you. Duty is not the death of love, doesn’t seem so anymore.

For as you said, he is your duty now.

His hood is eclipsing his features. A long dark cape hides his frame as his yellow eyes stare into the long galaxy. He has little patience with bureaucratic matters, leaving some of these to you.

But where is Y/N? Where is she?

He hates that you take long time to join him. But the scent of roses defeats his impatience. Vader doesn’t have to look away to know you’ve arrived at last.

Dressed in a dark gown with long sleeves and details in red, following the regal style of galactic princesses, you too dress a cape over your royal style as you walk in the throne room.

You smile as you know Vader awaits you. Discreetly, you float towards him. It’s when you take his hand, locking your fingers together.

“You took so long to come.”

“You should have patience, my darling. An empire is not ruled by itself.” You giggle as you lean into his embrace.

Vader smirks at your statement.

“Power suits you well.”

“I wouldn’t say that. I have a responsibility.” You defend yourself, aware how this might sound.

“If that soothes your conscience…” he chuckles. “You cannot pretend you were not born for it, though.”

You roll your eyes. However, if you search in your heart, you’ll see he’s not entirely wrong. You do appreciate conducting political affairs, even though you try doing it moved by a sense of justice. You feel heard and seen. Not… Not just some former slave who the Jedis looked pitifully to.

You blush at your thoughts, though.

“You don’t need to embarrass yourself for thinking so.” Vader says before your silence, reading your thoughts. He makes you look at him. “I’ve been there too. Forget this life now, Y/N. You are safe with me. No one is going to stop us. It does little good to look back.”

“I have no need to look back when I’m with you.” You tell him honestly. “I just…”

You don’t know how to say, but there’s no need to. Vader understands you perfectly. He takes your hand and there presses a kiss. How a simple gesture soothes your fears.

You smile at him.

“Feeling better?” He asks you in a whisper.

“Yes. Thank you, my Emperor.”

Vader smirks at you.

“My Empress.” He brings you even closer if this is possible. “How about exploring the galaxy, eh? I’ve recently learned about a planet that our tentacles hasn’t reached yet.”

You giggle.

“You must promise me the domination will be peaceful though.”

“Have I ever refused you anything, dear love?” Vader looks at you with such affection and tenderness that he smiles when he hears your heart skipping a beat.

“I love you, my sun, universe of my being..” You beam, leaning to kiss his cheek.

When there’s just the two of you, it feels like the old days, where you were just Y/N and he was just Anakin Skywalker.

“I love you, my stardust.”

And there you stay, heading to explore the galaxy as you vowed in your youth.

#Star Wars #star wars imagine #imagine Star Wars #anakin skywalker #Darth Vader #Anakin Skywalker x you #Anakin Skywalker x y/n #Anakin Skywalker x reader #Anakin Skywalker smut #Darth Vader x you #Darth Vader x y/n #Darth Vader x reader #Darth Vader smut #evanescence #anywhere #my immortal #defying gravity

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secretsolarsystem · 2 years

Note

❛ don’t do anything stupid until i get back. ❜

Reminds me of the conversation between bucky and Steve everytime one of them has to leave.

this one was very fun and so very obikin, bestie, thank you so much for sending it in!! I've seen the winter soldier one time so I do have an idea of what you're talking about but it's definitely a different vibe here, LOL

nevertheless, I hope you enjoy this fic feat. ex-Jedi!Obi-Wan, padawan!Anakin, possessive Obi-Wan, underage drunkeness, they SHOULD be enemies I guess but they just like each other sooo much, 1.6k :D

—

The lower levels of Coruscant were something Obi-Wan was quite familiar with. He remembered his padawan days of sneaking out and making his way down here – more often than not accompanied by Quinlan Vos – to experience a few hours of normalcy. On those nights, down here, Obi-Wan wasn’t a Jedi; he was just young, drunk, and horny. He’d be a Jedi (with a headache) the next day, but in those moments, he was just…Obi-Wan. So he understood why Anakin liked to come down here so much. He, too, was just chasing those moments of easy smiles and intoxicated laughs, of his veins beating so harshly he couldn’t even tell if it was from the music or his heart. It couldn’t be helped that someone on the verge of nineteen would sneak out and into these seedy places far too dangerous for one so young and pretty. Obi-Wan couldn’t blame him. He did blame Anakin’s master for letting him sneak out and into seedy places far too dangerous for one so young and pretty as Anakin.

If Anakin had been Obi-Wan’s padawan, as he was meant to be, he wouldn’t manage to leave Obi-Wan’s sight, ever. Even now, as neither Anakin’s master nor a Jedi at all, Obi-Wan always kept an eye on him.

It still filled him with rage, his not being allowed to train Anakin. It was his own dying master’s last wish: Promise me you will train the boy…He is the Chosen One…He will bring balance…Train him… And Obi-Wan had vowed to do so, but when he returned from Naboo with yellow eyes and a Force signature tainted with Darkness, the Council denied him permission to take on the young boy he and his master picked up from Tatooine. They would’ve said no regardless, considering Anakin’s age, but to know that they said no to Obi-Wan specifically was the nail in the coffin. He hadn’t meant to touch the Dark, but to slain the man that had murdered his master before his very eyes took more than Obi-Wan had had in him. It was obvious the Council understood the loss he’d suffered and the feat it was to kill the first Sith in years, but it was just as obvious how his persistently yellow eyes unnerved them. He had left that night – left the Temple and the Order. The Council had been more than gracious, simply ordering him to regular visits with the mind healers and forbidding him to leave the Temple without the healers’ clearance. But the thought of staying, without his master or his padawan – especially if he had to watch Anakin train under another Jedi – sounded like the cruelest torture they could’ve inflicted on him. So he left. He didn’t Fall and become a Sith, though he could still feel the way the Darkness lingered and how his eyes would shift between blue and yellow. He simply didn’t bother to deny the darkest parts of himself anymore, including the ones that still ached to have Anakin as his own. He lived as inconspicuously as possible, knowing that the Council would never allow a semi-Fallen Force-user to roam about freely. He’d considered moving to a different planet – perhaps Naboo or back to his home planet of Stewjon – but couldn’t bring himself to leave behind Anakin.

Anakin, who was now almost ten years older than when they’d met and managed to maintain his boyish charm even as he began to grow into a handsome young man. Even with the braid marking him as another’s, as someone’s other than Obi-Wan’s, he was the most beautiful thing Obi-Wan had ever seen. His eyes were so blue, his blond hair a perfect contrast to his tan skin, his smile soft and sweet.  

Perhaps, in a way, it was a good thing he wasn’t Obi-Wan’s padawan. Masters aren’t supposed to want their padawans the way Obi-Wan wanted Anakin. Watching him now, obviously drunk as he danced in the crowd of some dingy club, Obi-Wan wanted. He wanted to wrap Anakin in his arms and press their bodies so closely together neither could tell where one ended and the other began. He wanted to get Anakin so riled up the boy would beg Obi-Wan to take him away, away from the club and the Order and Coruscant altogether. Away until it was only the two of them, as it was always meant to be. Mostly, though, Obi-Wan wanted to cut the hands off of the man who dared to grab Anakin’s hips and pull them back until his ass was pressed to their crotch. Even though Anakin smiled shyly and leaned into the touch, Obi-Wan wanted to kill the man for even looking at his Anakin like he wanted to devour him whole. Only Obi-Wan could look at Anakin like that. Stalking forward, Obi-Wan made his way through the crowd, easily shoving aside dancers without so much as looking at them. When he made it to Anakin and his…dance partner, Obi-Wan lifted his hand, immediately taking hold of the man’s attention. “You want to let go of him and wait outside in the alley,” he suggested, voice firm. He didn’t even have to yell over the music; the man’s mind was so weak he was practically inside of it already. “I want to let go of him and wait outside in the alley,” the man repeated in his dazed, monotone voice before finally letting Anakin go and exiting the building. Once he was gone, Obi-Wan turned to look down at Anakin, who was smiling up at him, eyes half-lidded. “Obi-Wan!” he cheered, reaching out to grab hold of the front of Obi-Wan’s robes. “I’m so happy you’re here!” “That’s very sweet of you, dear one,” Obi-Wan smiled, grabbing the edge of his cloak and wrapping his arm around Anakin, covering him as they made their own way out of the club. “I don’t want to leave!” Anakin whined, though he didn’t put up a fight as Obi-Wan walked them forward. “I want to dance! Don’t you want to dance with me? You’re never any fun.” Obi-Wan had done this a few times, stealing Anakin away from his fun. It was just unbearable for him to watch anyone else lay their hands on him, to press their mouth to his skin with anything other than worship and utter devotion and single-minded want. It’s what Anakin deserved, and Obi-Wan would kill anyone who’d try to give it to him, let alone a poor excuse of it. “You’re not supposed to be down here,” Obi-Wan retorted, pushing them through the door. He let Anakin lean against the outside of the building, watched him sigh as the cool night air hit his flushed cheeks. His lips were red and wet, his eyes nearly swallowed by pupil, and Obi-Wan made himself believe it was from alcohol and nothing else. “Did you come alone?” When Anakin nodded his suddenly heavy head, Obi-Wan bit his tongue. Not only had his master let him come down here, but he’d let him come down here alone. “I’m taking you back to the Temple,” Obi-Wan announced, unable to keep his lip from quirking up as Anakin groaned loudly. “Obi-Wan, please don’t take me back…Master Windu will make me meditate all day if I wake him up,” the boy pleaded, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout. Obi-Wan wanted to shove it back into place with his tongue, but he pursed his own lips instead. This conversation had been had before, too – Anakin begging Obi-Wan not to take him back. While this might have seemed like exactly what Obi-Wan wanted to hear, he was hesitant to get ahead of himself. When he typically talked to Anakin, it was just the two of them – seeing as Obi-Wan was in hiding – and it wasn’t rare that Obi-Wan spoke with an intoxicated or injured Anakin in those moments. So while Anakin might not be in the right mindset to understand what he was asking Obi-Wan, a man who wanted nothing more than to steal him away for himself, it was the one thing the sane part of Obi-Wan held onto: this was not Anakin asking to leave, but simply not to go back. Obi-Wan would rather die than misinterpret that, than let his selfishness and possessiveness when it came to Anakin blind him and let him take him away only for the boy to regret it. He’d never survive Anakin regretting him. So, putting a smile on his face, Obi-Wan sighed. “Consider that a kindness. It will probably help with the headache you’ll have in the morning, young one.” Anakin groaned unhappily again, and Obi-Wan shrugged off his cloak with a fond shake of his head. With a gentle hand he coaxed Anakin forward, the boy dropping his head to Obi-Wan’s chest as he let him drape the garment around his shoulders. Easing him back against the wall, Obi-Wan’s heart sang with how much Anakin let him get away with. Yes, he was inebriated, but he could still easily not let Obi-Wan steal him out of a club and wrap him in his clothes. And yet, he did. He always did. “I need to do something before we go. Wait here and don’t do anything stupid until I get back.” Closing his eyes and nodding heavily again, Anakin mumbled, “M’kay, Master.” Choking down the torrent of emotions he felt at hearing Anakin call him that, something he’d never called him before, Obi-Wan grabbed his lightsaber and made his way to the alley where Anakin’s dance partner still waited. He had business to tend to – business he could tend to. One perk, to be sure, of no longer being a Jedi.

from this prompt list

prompted fic collection on ao3

#idk man something about not quite a sith vibes is just...fascinating 2 me #I just hope it's not too ooc..........but also idc it's a silly little au #I rewrote this like 4 times I'm doing my best #obikin #prompt #ask #my writing

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tommysparker · 3 years

Text

Never Forget You [Chapter 1]

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

A/N: here’s the first official chapter! thank you so much for the support this series as already gotten. chapters will be posted every Saturday! enjoy :)

Warnings: angst. fluffy flashbacks. this isn’t even the worst of it mwhaha. paragraphed italics = flashback

[10 YEARS LATER]

The sky was as blue as his eyes. Not as dark and cloudy, but gave the same feeling of hope, peacefulness, and comfort. You could picture them vividly in your mind, even the small crinkle at the edges and the kindness they held, a warmness that matched your current aurora.

The two of you sat in the gardens for what felt like hours, deep in meditation. Your force signatures quickly became entangled with one another, your bond radiating around you, creating almost a shield bubble between the rest of the world and the two who sat inside.

Obi-Wan was the first to open his eyes, having never been one to sit still for long periods of time. He’s improved since he was a youngling, but still had a long way to go.

You, on the other hand, looked completely invested in your meditation. Your face was relaxed, although every now and then your eyebrows would furrow as you tried to maintain concentration. It was hard when a certain other was very distracting, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

“I can feel you staring,” you said, eyes still closed. Obi-Wan was thankful for that fact because it means you wouldn’t see him blush in embarrassment from getting caught.

“I can feel you blushing, too.” This time, you opened your eyes and smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t last long.” Anytime the two of you tried to meditate together, it would always end with Obi-Wan getting bored and asking to duel instead.

He quickly hid his face, pulling the hood of his robe over his head. “I’m not blushing, that’s childish.”

You giggled, leaning forward to lift the front of his hood. “Obi-Wan, you are the most childish person I know.”

The young man was about to protest before you hushed, eyes already closed once more as you returned to your deep state of awareness.

You opened your eyes and sighed, long and deep.

Standing up from the cold floor of your room, you looked out the window and gazed at the cloudy sky of Gyfill. The air felt chilly from the lack of life-forms in the area. After your first week on the planet, you decided it was a safer idea to seek shelter away from town. Considering your mission was to spy on the local Separatist groups, keeping a low profile was essential.

Today was different, however. The same cold and dull atmosphere were present, but the future is what held the divergent. For today, was the day you were finally to return home.

Home. The word itself felt familiar but distant. As a Jedi, you trained to hold little sentimental value. Attachments were forbidden, a path to the dark side. They provoked fear. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering.

Once your bag of belongings was packed, you made your way to the marked location someone from the Jedi council sent earlier that morning. Mentally, you were not prepared to see everyone again. After being isolated for years and having limited contact with any life form outside of business, the many faces from your time at the Temple became slightly blurry. Except for his.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was on his way to the Archives when he bumped into Ahsoka Tano.

“Oh, Master Kenobi! Perfect, I was about to go look for you.”

“Ahsoka,” he smiled. “What can I do for you?”

“Who’s Y/n Y/l/n?”

Obi-Wan froze. The sound of that name echoed in his mind, paired with memories that he had locked away in the back of his mind. “Well...that’s a name I haven’t heard in a long time,” was all he could manage to say, still trying to process all the past recollections that suddenly surfaced.

“So, you know them?”

“Uh, yes I suppose so. We were...close as younglings and trained together as Padawans. They were...the most skilled Jedi I ever had the pleasure of knowing, almost as good as Master Yoda.”

“If they’re so great, how come I never heard of them before?” Ahsoka tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, resting a hand on her hip in classic ‘Ashoka manner’,

“They were sent away on an important mission years ago as far as I know. Er, why do you ask? And how did you come to know of that name?”

“Oh right. Anakin said the Chancellor told him that Master Y/l/n was returning today. He told me to ask you about it.”

Once again, Obi-Wan’s world paused.

He stood across from you, trying to maintain a neutral expression as he watched you load your bags onto the ship. However, you knew him better than that.

You walked up to the young boy and he took in your appearance. Gone was the braid that draped over your shoulder. Gone were the long robes you liked to hide in, in their place was a heavy jacket that looked like it was built to keep out the cold. Perhaps you were going to Hoth?

“Obi, you know I can’t tell you where I’m going. Master Windu was strict about his instructions,” You sighed, sensing your friend trying to deduce as much as he could. Your Master was very clear when he told you how classified the mission was. No one can know, especially Obi-Wan.

“Can you at least say how long you’ll be gone?” He practically begged, wanting something, anything he could get to keep his hope alive. Hope that you'll return soon. Hope that you weren’t truly leaving him.

You looked away, staring at the towers and passing hover-vehicles that littered the planet you’ve grown up on. “I don’t know.”

Everything had happened so suddenly. You were called into the council room that day to hear the news every Padawan dreams of. When Master Windu said you were ready for the trials, the first thing you went to do was tell Obi-Wan. The two of you celebrated that night in the gardens, a moment you would treasure for the rest of your life. Soon after you gained the title of Jedi Knight, you were once again called into the Jedi Council room to be debriefed on your first mission as a proper Jedi. You didn’t want to mess this up. You couldn’t.

Obi-Wan resists the urge to pull you into a hug and never let you go, instead opting to hold your shoulders and give you his signature charming smile. “Be safe, darling.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. You held his wrist, bringing his knuckles to your lips and pressed a hesitant kiss to them before pushing them to his side. “May the force be with you.”

There was no pet name at the end, no ‘my friend’ or even his own name. It was a sentence that was meant to bring comfort, but the way you phrased it, the edge in your voice, made Obi-Wan feel everything but comforted.

He didn’t get the luxury of responding, for all he did was blink and suddenly you were on the ship, taking off into the clear blue sky.

You gazed at the clouds passing by as the ship flew into Coruscant’s atmosphere. The bright light and sunny day was a harsh change from the grey sky that fell over Gyfill. The energy emitting off of all the life-forms gave you a headache. You felt the Force all around you, swirling in the air and penetrating your soul. It was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for over a decade.

You flinched at the light as the door opened, suddenly feeling like a hermit crawling out of its shell. Slowly walking out of the ship, you pulled the cloak hood over your head, inhaling the strange but familiar scent of the Jedi Temple. You were still wearing your Gyfill civilian attire, the wool fabric made the Coruscant heat much more intense causing a few beads of sweat to form on your forehead. Or was it just the nerves of seeing all the people you left behind?

Master Windu stood at the end of the drop door, a smile on his face at the sight of his former Padawan. It was an occasion that called for a little joy, a moment to celebrate outside the war that raged through the galaxy.

You descended down the ramp, taking in a sharp breath at the feeling of another force sensitive. “Master Windu”. You bowed your head and he did the same to you.

“Master Y/l/n, it’s great to see you in person rather than as a hologram.”

You both chuckled lightly. “The feeling is mutual, Master. It’s...it’s good to be back.” Your eyes wandered over the people that roamed about. Jedi Masters walked with their Padawans at their side. Distant memories resonated within you. Some time ago that was once you and your Master, the man who stands before you know who has grown significantly older. Then again, so have I, you thought to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, you weren’t the only one registering your growth. Obi-Wan stood behind a pillar, glancing over the hanger in search of a familiar face. He was aware it would not be the same face he knew as a young boy, but he certainly was not prepared for what he saw.

You look older, which was the obvious and expected observation. He noted how you wrapped yourself in your cloak, similar to how you would in your youth. You stood tall in front of Master Windu, another trait you had kept since your days as a Padawan. He remembered how you would always act mature in the presence of Masters, something he never really understood until becoming a Jedi Knight. The need for approval by the superiors was a constant.

It wasn’t just your appearance that had changed either. He could feel it in the Force. There was a shift in it when you had landed that made an excited yet nervous chill run down his spine. You were stronger and held more control in your signature.

Before, he remembers being able to feel it from across the Temple. Now, it was barely there. He remembers feeling your bond drift farther as he watched you leave, and how it had dimmed over the years you were gone. He remembers the pain that tortured him every night as he laid awake in bed, trying to reach out across the stars but only being met with the vast emptiness of space. There was something in him that broke the first time he slept without having a tendril of your force signature connected with his. He felt cold, resorting to sleeping in his Master’s quarters in an attempt to ease the loneliness.

Overall, it would appear that nothing about you had changed, and yet it seemed everything was different. Almost everything.

His eyes were just as blue as the last time you saw them. They looked tired, haunted by the ongoing war but still filled with determination. Classic Obi-Wan.

You quickly broke eye contact the moment it was made, but that one second was more than enough for Obi-Wan to get lost in the familiar colour. His favourite colour in fact, not that he would ever admit you had any part in the decision.

“Master Obi-Wan?”

He jumped at the sound of a voice and suddenly became aware of the presence right next to him, that presence belonging to none other than Master Yoda.

“Master Yoda! I er I was just...uh...looking...for Anakin! Yes, uh have you seen him around by any chance?” Obi-Wan quickly tried to cover his stutter, feeling embarrassed about getting caught gazing from afar. Not that Master Yoda would know he was looking at you...right?

“I see,” the little green creature smirked in amusement. “Whatever it is, wait it can. Council meeting about to begin there is.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his eyes. Typically he was able to keep a good track of the meetings, but this was news to him. “What’s it about?”

“Master Y/l/n.”

“Hmm?” You hummed absentmindedly.

“Are you listening?” Master Windu raised an eyebrow.

“Oh uh, my apologies Master. I’m just...readjusting.” You tried to focus your attention on what Master Windu was saying, but the recognition of his presence made it difficult. For years, you tried to forget about him. You ignored the empty feeling in your stomach at night, the thoughts and memories that plagued your dreams. After some time, they eventually began to fade but never forgotten. It was for the best.

Master Windu crossed his arms. “There will be plenty of time for that after your debrief of the mission. Master Yoda and the rest of the council await.”

Oh, Force, not the council.

You would never dare to admit or even show it, but the council and being in the council room had always intimidated you. How could it not? You had to stand in the center of all the best Jedi of that era while they stare at you, judging you, sitting high and mighty in those stupid chairs.

“This way, my old Padawan.”

You followed Master Windu through the large halls of the Jedi Temple. You masked the nervousness that was no doubt radiating from your force signature. A multitude of thoughts ran through your mind, good and bad. Worst case scenario, you had done something so wrong that you were about to be kicked out of the Jedi Order. Nothing came to mind when you tried to think of any offence you had committed in the recent weeks since you earned the title of Jedi Knight.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by the sound of the large council room doors opening, the creaking of the hinges made you cringe slightly.

The room was ominously lit, the only light source being the setting sun shining through the glass windowed walls. Master Yoda sat in his seat. All the other chairs were empty.

Master Windu took his seat as you stood before the two of them. He could see the questions rise from your confused facial expression. “Everything we discuss in this room stays between us, young Jedi.”

You nodded, inhaling and exhaling slowly in an attempt to calm yourself. “Master Windu, Master Yoda. What is this about? Have I done something wrong?”

The two men looked at each other and shared an unreadable expression before turning back to you. Master Yoda was the first to speak. “Sending you on a mission we are. To Gyfill you will go.”

Whatever anxieties that you held before were washed away with this information. You contain your excitement, but the sudden mood shift was still noticeable. “Who am I going with? When do we leave? What’s the mission for?” It was rare that a Jedi would be sent on a mission alone, typically you were partnered up for safety measures. Obi-Wan’s face flashed in your mind, and although it was unlikely, a small part of you hoped he would be going with you.

“This mission only requires one Jedi. There’s a Separaist organization on the planet and we’re sending you to gain intel and report back to us. No one outside of this room can be aware of this information. You leave within the week. Understood?”

You frowned, “Forgive me Master, but why can’t anyone know?” The idea of having to leave your home seemingly without a trace made you iffy. Obi-Wan once again appeared in your mind.

Master Windu and Yoda exchanged a look before Windu responded almost hesitantly. “We have reason to believe someone in the Order is a traitor, and the number of people who are trustworthy is very limited.”

“You mean someone has betrayed us?” You asked in shock. How could anyone do such a thing? And a Jedi nonetheless.

“Time to answer your questions, there will be, young one. Prepare for your first mission now, you must.” Master Yoda said. “Prepare to say goodbye you should.”

It was as IF he could read your mind, which he probably could. You dreaded the idea of saying goodbye, especially when it was clear that there was no guarantee of your return date. How would you explain to your friends that you won’t be around anymore? What will Obi-Wan think?

“That is another subject that needs to be discussed.”

————————————————————————————

what else needs to be discussed? who’s the traitor? how will obi-wan and y/n get on after all this time? lemme know what you think!!

taglist: @queenariesofnarnia @dwarfplanet69 @katsukink @blondekel77 @generousrunawaydonut @fandomtrashwhore @fortheloveofaqueenfan @mrskenobi19 @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @hotleaf-juice

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tennessoui · 3 years

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FeralObi anon here. How do you come up with these so fast?? Are you an infinite number of ideas and worlds in human-shaped form? I love both of those ideas. The first one kills me tho, Obi gets his first kind touch in years from lil Anakin. Also you can have lil Anakin coming home one day with a skulking, snarling nonverbal murder puppy and saying brightly, "He followed me home, can I keep him?" Schmi thinks this is definitely worse than the time he brought a krayt dragon home.

ah! hello! yes this is the first idea of a feral obi-wan who meets anakin when he's still on tatooine. i will also still do the second idea because like. i liked them equally as much rip me

but i told myself these were going to both be very short snippets and instead this one is uh 2k so i'll post the second one tomorrow instead of tonight!

(ficlet where obi-wan is captured by pirates/unspecified forces at a young age and then tortured for a decade before he escapes to tatooine when anakin is like 6. obi-wan, after a decade of torture is....not alright in this fic though he's only here at the end) (2k)

Shmi had known that when she sent her little Anakin away to follow after the stern-faced, warm-eyed Jedi Master, that this would not be the last time she ever saw her boy. She couldn’t explain how she knew, just as she had not been able to explain how she became pregnant, but she knew beyond a doubt that one day, she would see her little boy back in her arms.

She just hadn’t known it would be so soon.

“He died, Master Jinn died,” Anakin mumbles into the front of her dress, unwilling to move his head far back enough from her hug that he could talk clearly. “On Naboo. And the stupid Jedi council refused to train me even after I was so amazing in the air. Mom, I destroyed a blockade! Entirely! And they wouldn’t--they didn’t--” his little face scrunches up and then he’s bawling into his hands.

A slave, a born slave, knows intrinsically the injustice of the galaxy. It is not often they know hope.

“Oh my boy,” she whispers, smoothing a hand over the top of his head. She has questions. She has so many questions about everything he’s just said and what those strangers have put her son through, but the most important thing is a question she cannot wait until he has cried himself out to ask. “Is your chip gone, Ani? Did they remove your transmitter?”

Because she had sent him away from her so that he could be free. And that had been her own twisted version of hope, that her son could know a life she never would again. If the Jedi masters had proven to be just like every other master in the world, she would find herself sobbing into her own hands.

“Yeah,” Anakin sniffles and wipes at his ruddy cheeks, pulling back a few steps. “They removed it and everything. And--”

He pauses and drops his satchel to the ground in front of her. “They gave me credits. To buy you. For my trouble.”

He spits out the last three words like they’re the most disgusting thing in the entire world. As if Shmi’s freedom isn’t laying at their feet, mere centimeters away.

“Republic credits are no good here,” she hears herself say faintly.

“Padme, the handmaiden you met, she talked to the queen about me I guess,” Anakin mumbles, kicking his feet. “And when the queen learned that the Jedi didn’t want me even after all that, Padme says the queen says I’ll always have a place on Naboo. Me and my family. And then she took the Jedi credits and gave me these instead. It should be enough, Mom.”

Shmi sits down on the floor. With shaking hands, she opens the bag and looks inside. Yes. Yes.

There’s more than enough.

There’s enough to buy her freedom and take her boy away from Mos Espa. There’s enough to take her boy away from Tatooine completely.

“I…” she says. “Ani, I…”

“Padme said she’d send a ship for us,” Ani reports as if their lives are not changing right in front of their eyes. “In two days ‘cause I told her it might take a little bit of time to get Ben to come with us. But we can’t leave without him.”

This is said fiercely and with his arms crossed tightly over his little chest.

Shmi stares at him.

“I’ve already left him once!” Anakin says, stomping his foot. “But that was okay, because I knew you would bring him food and water and stuff. But if we’re both gone, no one’s going to be there for him.”

Shmi bites at her lip. There’s a lot of things happening very quickly right now, and she doesn’t know how to process half of them.

Her son has come back, after only being gone for a week and a half.

He has apparently either endeared himself so much to the queen of Naboo that she was willing to give him the money necessary to buy his mother from slavery and also promise him sanctuary on her planet. He says he’s done this by single-handedly ending a blockade, which is something she just cannot even think about right now.

He has told this queen--queen--that he will gladly live on Naboo with his family. Yes. Alright.

His family seems to include his imaginary friend, Ben.

Anakin has been talking about Ben for years now, ever since he was six and a half years old and sent by Watto to retrieve any scraps he could from what looked to be a crashed pod in the Wastelands. She’d let him ramble on about the ghost of a friend, because she’d known it to be something all children go through and experience. She hadn’t thought Anakin a lonely child, not with the friends he made in Mos Espa, but she’d always known that Anakin had a wandering spirit, ill-suited for Tatooine. If he liked to imagine an older man from a strange world hiding in the caves of the Wastes, then she wasn’t going to say anything.

“You have been leaving him food, haven’t you, Mom?” Anakin asks, almost accusatory. “I told him to expect you and everything.”

No. Shmi has not been traveling to the edge of the Wastelands every day during her precious few hours of free time in order to leave food to be picked apart by womp rats and desert critters and not her boy’s imaginary friend.

“Ani,” she says cautiously, quietly, “we cannot...we won’t be able to bring Ben with us when we go.”

Anakin, predictably, does not react well. “Why not!” he yells, backing away from her even further and looking as if she is the enemy. “Padme’s fine with it!”

“Aren’t you a little old for imaginary friends?” Shmi asks desperately, feeling cold suddenly even though the heat of the mid-morning sun has not abated at all.

If anything, her son looks more offended. “He’s not imaginary! Saying...saying that he’s not coming with us...is...is a bunch of poodoo!”

“Anakin!” Shmi gasps.

“Come on,” her boy says forcefully, grabbing at her hand and tugging her towards the door. She gets on her feet reluctantly and has half a mind to pull back just because he needs to learn that this sort of behavior is not okay, war hero or not. “We’re going to buy you from Watto. And then we’re going to go visit Ben!”

---

Buying her freedom takes less time than Shmi Skywalker ever thought it would. It feels distant as well, as if it’s happening to someone else.

It doesn’t help that her Ani is impatient and surly by turn, spilling the coin out onto Watto’s counter and barely waiting for him to finish counting it before he’s looking at the price of renting a four-person speeder parked outside.

“You won’t survive out there on your own,” Watto sneers, even as he’s passing her the kill-switch of her own slave chip. “Days. It’ll be days until the Hutts find out there’s a newly freed slave with no connections out there in the open. Ripe for the pickin’.”

Watto doesn’t have to tell her any of this. She knows. Gods, does she know.

But Anakin seems so sure about possessing the favor of the Queen of Naboo, or at least her handmaiden, which might be close enough to the same thing. She thanks Watto--she thanks him and then doesn’t even know why--and meets Anakin outside.

He’s bouncing around the speeder, little hands clutching his satchel to his chest. “Good!” he says when he sees her, hopping onto the machine and putting the parcel between his feet. “I got Ben something called a fig on Naboo, but I don’t know how long it’ll take for it to go bad. Apparently they’re sweet.”

Shmi goes along with it. Shmi doesn’t know why she goes along with it, but she does. She can see this is important to her boy, and though she’d rather spend the afternoon and early evening saying goodbye to her friends, she will allow Ani to say goodbye to his imaginary friend. Maybe she’ll even talk to it. “Hi, hello, I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed the imaginary blue milk and delicacies I’ve left out for you this past week and half. Oh no, it was no bother. My son insisted.”

The ride is quick--Anakin has always been a driver to push the limits of any engine he comes across--and before she knows it, he’s dismounting on a piece of desert and rock that look exactly the same as the last four pieces of rocky terrain they’ve past.

“Ben!” Ani calls, satchel clutched firmly in his hands as he makes his way deeper into the crevices of the landscape. “Ben, it’s Ani! I’m really sorry that I left! Ben? Ben! I’m back now! Ani’s back!”

It’s actually...quite pathetic, to watch her boy speak so pleadingly to the cold stone faces of the rocks around them, but if this is what he needs to do to say goodbye to his life on Tatooine, Shmi won’t say a word.

“Ben--” Anakin draws in a breath to call again, but then there’s movement out of the corner of Shmi’s eyes, and something jumps from the rock down to land on her boy.

She screams and darts forward, but the thing on top of her son snarls at her in guttural warning.

“No, Ben,” Ani coos, stroking at the face that yes, is human, now that it’s not in unnaturally fast motion. “That’s my mom, Ben.”

Ben--Ben??--growls anyway, pinning the boy--her boy--beneath him with his legs and arms.

“She’s fine,” Ani murmurs gently, one hand reaching up to stoke over the beginnings of a beard on Obi-Wan’s face “Oh Ben, I’m sorry.”

The man on top of Shmi’s child finally looks away from her and at her boy, which is both better and worse.

“Ani,” Ben drawls out, as if the word--or perhaps forming the word--hurts him.

Anakin is happy. Shmi can tell he’s happy without even being able to see much of him. It’s like the very air vibrates with his joy. “Yes!” her son says. “Ani. Ben.” He taps the man’s chest. “Ben. Ani.”

The man buries his head into Anakin’s hair, hands rubbing up and down his sides and his arms and his face.

Shmi needs to say something, wants to say something about this strange man touching boy like he owns him, but the memory of his growl and the flash of his golden eyes stops her from stepping forward.

“Anakin, get away from him,” she hisses instead of stepping forward and tearing the stranger off of her son. She has the distinct feeling Anakin wouldn’t let Ben go anywhere, not with the way his little hands are holding so tight to the man’s shoulders. The man’s shoulders that are covered with one of her old tunics that Anakin had told her became unsalvageable after its last wash.

“No,” Anakin says, tightening his hold on his...friend. “He says you didn’t give him food the entire time I was gone! He’s hungry.”

Shmi thinks there’s a very good possibility that this Ben is going to eat her, but she knows not to say anything of the sort. Not when it’s two against one.

“He hasn’t said anything!” She cries instead.

Anakin huffs at this and pats at the feral’s head. “Maybe not to you, but he talks to me.”

Shmi stares at him and wonders if there’s something she’s supposed to be doing or saying here. The man won’t allow her to tear him off her child, she knows that automatically. But she can’t--she doesn’t know--

“Anakin,” she tries, desperately.

But Anakin doesn’t even look at her, too busy petting over the man, who has at least allowed him to sit up. “Hey, I’m sorry, I thought she would,” he tells him in an undertone. “I really thought she would, but I’m back now. I’m not going anywhere without you again--”

He extends his hand and Ben presses his cheek against it with enough force that it pushes him back slightly.

“You’re coming to Naboo with us, Ben,” Anakin promises, clutching at the ends of the man’s long hair. “Or I’m not going at all.”

To Shmi, it sounds like a threat.

The way her son’s eyes flash an unfamiliar golden color makes her feel cold as a Tatooine night. She shivers, but no one notices.

#asks #feral!obi-wan #cw: torture aftermath #its really quite vague tbh #i wanted to use shmi as a narrator because i never really have before #but that means nothing but shmi's perspective gets shared #i mean obviously #but its defo outside perspective here #but this was fun #im not gonna tag it as obikin because anakin here is nine #but yeah i see them living on naboo and healing together from their traumas #and being the most important person to each other #and eventually when anakin is like 25 maybe even older #they kiss #but that's the story i didnt write lmao

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wickedscribbles · 3 years

Text

Come What May, Chapter Two

A/N: Enjoy! You can find up to Chapter 9 on my Ao3 if you get antsy for more; my username is just WickedScribbles. :)

Masterlist

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Original Female Character (Second Person Perspective)

Rating: Explicit

Tags: female masturbation, male masturbation, first kisses, admission of feelings, Obi-Wan ain’t give a fuck he’s getting some, that’s not how the Force works, discussion of the Jedi Code, Obi-Wan is a switch and you can’t change my mind, come marking

Word Count: 4.9 K

After the awkward ship ride home to Coruscant, Master Obi-Wan seems to make it his mission to stay as far away from you as possible. In the Temple, this isn't hard to do; most floors and rooms were meant to hold dozens, if not hundreds of people, and Obi-Wan knows its halls better than most.

It’s admirable, how he’s managed to vanish in a place that adores him so much. Have you seen Master Obi-Wan? is always followed by, Oh, you just missed him or No, I haven’t seen him. The most you’ve been able to see in weeks is the edge of his cloak slipping around a corner. A startled look over his shoulder as he flees the gardens, realizing that you’re meditating there, too. If you’re both attending a council meeting, you swear he ignores you so vehemently that you start to doubt your own existence.

And his life Force? Forget about it. He's shoved it down so tightly that he might as well not exist to you. You find yourself pining for it. If he's determined to never interact with you again, you had hoped to at least feel his Force touch yours, even in a friendly way. It's almost as if he yanked a part of your own essence away when he withdrew that night in Odryn. Something feels missing from you. In the mess hall, you start asking for cinnamon tea. It tastes flavorless.

In some ironic twist, now you're the one tormented by dreams. But each one leaves you right on the edge, with no one to reach out to. Alone in your quiet room, gasping for air as the details of the dream drain away the more awake you become. Obi-Wan. Smirking down at your naked body. Hands. Tongues. Breath. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Each time it happens, you bring yourself to climax, face muffled deep into your pillow, biting down a cry of his name.

Hesitant, you touch the thick cloud of life Force all around you. You have to swallow the bile rising in your throat. It's like slogging through floodwaters with Jedi on all sides; far too overwhelming. You have to pull out almost immediately, the sensation akin to being drowned under the weight of information.

You can feel the signatures of every Force-sensitive in the Temple, from the smallest youngling all the way to Master Yoda. They all have a presence. Lying on your back, you stare up at the ceiling with a fading sense of nausea. If you ever want to speak with Obi-Wan again, you’re going to have to get better at this.

Two more weeks pass before you can re-enter this headspace. Inhale, exhale. Don't try too hard to keep a rhythm. Body relaxed. Mind at ease. Then...you dive in.

Lit candles and a holonovel. Leaning on an old cane. The smell of blaster fire. Giggling and playing tag with your creche mates. Lying in a medbay bed, watching sunlight streak the window. Feeling fear wrench in your gut at the thought that this war might never end. Watching your Padawan twirl her sabers, her lekku flying behind her. Sitting cross-legged in the library tower, thinking about things you shouldn't.

The last one is him -- it has to be. There’s no other Force here that feels like this; the same mix of emotions run through it that you felt before. But now, they feel muted, pushed down under a working consciousness. You’re not sure you would’ve been able to sense it at all, had you not already made the connection.

Though you're still reeling from a dozen other sensations, you get to your feet. The library’s halfway across the Temple -- you trip and nearly fall flat in your haste to get there in time. Your urgency earns you more than a few strange looks, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You don’t even have a plan for what to say when you get there; all you know is that you need to see him again.

You slow to a walk when you reach the library’s entrance, trying to blend in with those coming and going. It’s the middle of the afternoon, the perfect time of day to be here if you wanted to go unnoticed. Younglings have just been released from their lessons, roaming the aisles. They chatter at a poorly managed volume, despite their minder’s warning. Older Masters roam to and fro as well. Some are glued to holodisplays, others watch the younglings play with fond smiles.

But where are you, Master Kenobi?

Dodging a group of Padawans, you scan the perimeter. Nodding hellos and exchanging brief greetings, your heart begins to drop the longer you investigate. It wasn’t him. All that work, for you to be wrong. Whatever connection had occurred on that mission is unwanted on his end -- so much that he's actively pretending that you aren't alive. Jedi are supposed to be good at letting go of attachments -- are forbidden from forming them -- so why does this sting? You turn to the library’s exit, fist clenched tight. Then, you hear it.

“Thanks, Master Kenobi!”

“Of course, Padawan. Any time.”

A short Rhodesian girl darts past you, beaming as she holds her unlit lightsaber with newfound determination.

Only years of discipline and training keep you from bolting past her like a Jawa to a shipwreck. Taking a deep breath, you round the corner. There he is. Finally. Sitting cross-legged, just as you’d seen him through the Force, warmed by the sun coming in through one of the high windows. He doesn’t look up when you spot him -- his brow is furrowed (like it was when he -- no, not here) like what he’s reading is too important to take his eyes off of.

Is it your imagination, or has he gotten prettier since you’ve had the chance to get a good look at him? His hair’s longer -- it’s starting to curl near his ears. The beard’s a little bushier, but still well kept. Obi-Wan brings a hand to his mouth, stroking it lightly. Maker. You swear the ghost sensation of the hair is still tickling your lips, though it’s never really been there.

Well, you didn’t track him down to stare.

You walk over to his small table in the corner, and he only looks up when your hand is on the back of the unoccupied chair. Must be one fascinating holotext. If your heart wasn’t pounding, you might have laughed at the expression that crossed Obi-Wan’s face before he composed himself. His eyebrows threatened to disappear right into his hairline. How many people could say that they’d caught Master Kenobi off guard in such a manner?

“Master,” you greet, bowing in a show of respect. “May I have a word with you?” You have to pull your hand off of the chair so that he can’t see it trembling.

For a moment he looks at you, apparently lost for words. You wish you knew what he was thinking -- or even better, could feel his life Force mingled with yours. You practically grieve it with him right in front of you, but unable to feel a thing. It’s torture, waiting for him to either accept or dismiss you with no hint about which he’ll do. At last, with the smallest of sighs, he closes the holotext and straightens.

“I suppose I can spare a moment,” says Obi-Wan, getting to his feet. “Come with me.”

Feeling like a youngling again, you follow him out of the library and into a hall that you’ve hardly ever been down. Together, you pass no one but a few busy cleaning droids. Neither one of you says a word as he pauses in front of a door, keying in a code. Looking around to make sure that no one’s watching, Obi-Wan waves you in before he follows. The door locks behind him.

It’s an abandoned training room. Still clean due to the presence of droids, it’s nonetheless clear that no living thing has set foot in here for some time. Wooden sparring sticks lie in a pile next to the door, and an outdated holoprojector sits in the far corner. The small size surprises you -- a room this large would likely only hold around half a dozen students. You imagine that’s why it’s no longer used.

“Please, sit.” Master Obi-Wan gestures to a floor mat, and you drop onto it obediently. He mirrors your assumed posture, back straight and ankles crossed. As if this was an out-of-the-way meditation session, not a tense confrontation that you’d been trying to have for weeks.

“You’re a hard man to find, Master,” you say, hoping to break the tension.

He ducks his head, the slightest hint of color creeping over his cheeks. “Yes. Well. War does keep one busy.” You watch his fingers drum on top of his knee, a habit never seen before. Is he anxious?

You nod. “Of course. And yet I notice that I haven’t been assigned any more missions.” When he doesn’t say anything, you continue.

“Our... mission on Odryn seemed to meet the Council’s standards.” Your tone is light, cautious. It’s true that you’ve been stuck in the Temple since then, with many other Knights coming and going. Hard not to believe that Obi-Wan hasn’t had a hand in where you get assigned. Or if.

Obi-Wan takes in a sharp breath, turning away. Was that going too far? He’s silent a moment before speaking, his tone lower than you’re used to hearing it. “Young one, I...that is to say...accompanying you that day was a mistake.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a look familiar to you from watching him chase Anakin Skywalker around.

You’re genuinely curious when you ask what he means.

“What I mean is--” the blush on his face is darkening, and you lower your eyes, biting off a smile. Cute, your mind tells you again.

“I knew that there was -- that I -- felt something toward you. That offering myself as a volunteer to go with you on the Odryn mission was a poor choice. That my thoughts would -- that I might --” He breaks off, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. “Yet I went anyway. I am so sorry for what followed.” Obi-Wan looks ashamed, not meeting your eyes when you go searching for his.

Ashamed? Sorry? Poor choice? That’s...the complete opposite of how you feel.

Felt something toward you! Your brain screams in retaliation, alight with joy that you hadn’t hallucinated the whole ordeal.

“Do you...remember anything?” you ask timidly. “The dream?”

“I remember enough,” he replies, not seeming to want to discuss it further. “Enough to be consumed with guilt for what you had to witness. I assure you -- I swear -- that every moment since has been dedicated to severing the bond I mistakenly forged. To improving myself as a Jedi.”

For several seconds, you have no clue what he could mean. Then it hits -- he thinks that everything that happened was all his doing. That you were a bystander, a -- a victim.

“Obi-Wan,” you stammer. You’ve never called him that before, and it feels far too intimate once it leaves your mouth. He looks up, blue eyes full of chagrin. “Did you really think that was all you?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Can I...could I just show you?” You swallow. Oh please I’ve missed you, please.

Obi-Wan opens his mouth, then frowns, seeming to think better of it. After a moment of hesitation he simply closes his eyes and inclines his head, an invitation. So relieved you could cry, you close your eyes in turn and drop your shoulders, relaxing. Yes, oh stars, yes. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.

When you reach, the door to his life Force is open -- barely ajar, but open all the same. This time you’re the eager one, the neglected one, and your Force greets him like a long lost friend. He wraps around you, hesitant but willing to take you, to listen. You feel tears slip down your face before pushing harder.

Sunshine, tea, cinnamon, cedarwood, shame shame shame. His purest parts clouded with it, making your chest ache so deep you can’t catch a proper breath. This isn’t right. This isn’t the whole picture. You long to make him understand. To let him know that you want him every bit as much as he wanted you that day, and so you flex forward and show.

You hear him gasp from the sheer volume of it. All your desire, watching him sleep and dream of you. Feeling the ebb and flow of his thoughts and thinking you’d never touched a more beautiful life Force. Watching his fantasy about you and feeding back one of your own. When you play back your affection toward him -- before Odryn and after -- he makes the smallest sound under his breath. And when you show him how you came just from feeling his orgasm, right there on the jungle floor, he withdraws from your mind so painfully it feels like a blow to the head.

“Stop,” he chokes out, eyes wild. “I -- I get the picture.” His hands clench tight to the material of his robes, arms crossed over his midsection.

“Are you okay?” you ask quietly, wiping your face. “I didn’t mean to overwhelm you -- but you need to know. It’s not just you.”

Both hands bridge in front of Obi-Wan’s mouth as he stares straight ahead. “I'm not sure if this is better or worse.”

“Why?” You lean forward, unable to keep the desperate note out of your voice. “Master -- Obi-Wan -- I don’t see the issue. This appears to be… highly mutual.” You let your eyes dart down to his waist, which he’s still keeping hidden from you. He catches your look and bites his lip, and never in your life have you wanted to break a rule more. Because you know exactly what he’s going to say before he even has a chance to explain.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are,” he sighs, shifting under your gaze. “You know why. The Code -- attachments are exactly the sort of thing we can’t have.” But you can hear how his breathing’s gone shallow and shaky. His own eyes are lingering on your mouth, like he’s imagining if you taste like you do in his dreams.

“I think that’s an outdated rule.” You cross your arms, not missing the way his gaze now bounces down to your lifted breasts. “You’re attached to Anakin. And his Padawan, Ahsoka.”

“That’s…” Obi-Wan sighs.

“If either were about to die on the battlefield, would you not run to save them? Or leave it to fate?” You quirk an eyebrow, knowing his answer.

“I suppose you’ve got me there. But that’s not -- not the same attachment. It’s familial, not -- this.” He glances up at you shyly. “I can say with full confidence that Anakin has never tempted me in the ways that you have.”

“You’re one of the only people in the Temple he hasn’t, then,” you laugh, trying not to bask in the thought that he’s just said you tempt him. Obi-Wan grins back. A bit of that sunbeam feeling returns, though his Force is nowhere near yours at the moment.

“Anakin has a...fast and loose relationship with the Jedi Code. Even more so now that I am no longer his Master,” he chuckles. “Still. I have to assert that this is a different matter.”

“Hmm.” You frown, feigning contemplation though your mind is already set. “What if we... promise not to get attached? To fall in love? Would that feel safe enough for you?” A long shot.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, giving you a sad sort of smile. “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be possible, dear. I’ve seen your thoughts. You’ve seen mine.” The seeds have already sprouted, he doesn’t say.

Unable to help it, you scoot closer until your knees touch his. “That’s too bad. I -- I really wanted to kiss you, Master.”

And there -- you’ve struck a nerve. Simply addressing him as Master in such a sweet, plaintive tone is enough. Obi-Wan practically flinches, lips pressed tight together. His eyes are bright and longing, looking right into yours now. His lashes are longer than mine. You know without looking into his mind that he remembers that particular part of his dream. Finding you in his room, bare but for your long, brown cloak.

For a moment, you stare at one another. Then he takes a deep breath. “Well. In for a chit, in for a credit,” he murmurs, and presses his mouth against yours.

Oh, it’s soft. So gentle. The barest touch of lips, yet it makes you shiver. You place a hand on his cheek with a happy hum, so glad you were able to convince him. Obi-Wan answers with a satisfied sound of his own, inching further into the kiss. When he presses harder, his moustache threatens to go up your nose. You pull away instinctively, fighting not to giggle.

“Not good?” Obi-Wan’s mouth is still inches from your own, his innocent question full of concern.

“No, it’s fine. But you’re a little,” you grin, “fuzzy.”

“Oh.” His hand drops to his mouth as if he’d never considered it before. “You’re right, I suppose. It is getting to be a bit much. Should I shave it?”

“No!”

“Trim it, then.”

“Later,” you breathe, coming for his lips at a less direct angle.

“Mm! Mmm…”

The urgency of his tone betrays him as he claims your mouth again, more confident this time. Obi-Wan’s legs fall open loosely, and you crawl forward to sit between them, not quite in his lap. His arms come around you, fingers tight on your shoulder blades. You let your mouth fall open against his closed lips as you pant, heart hammering. Gods, he’s strong. The knowledge that he could easily be rough with you -- and yet his mind shows that all he wants is to be gentle -- only makes you want him more.

Obi-Wan’s lips open against yours in turn, and you whimper at his breath mingling with your own, hot and inquisitive. You curl a hand in his hair, wondering if he’ll have the reaction you imagined in your Force projection. He doesn’t disappoint -- with a needy little gasp, he pulls you forward, effectively placing you onto the very erection he’s been trying so hard to hide. His cock flexes up into your core. Oh kriff yes there, your body sings, applying the lightest pressure back.

This time Obi-Wan is the one to pull away, dropping his forehead to your cheek. You slide back to the floor, leaning back on your palms.

“Would now be a bad time to say that I have no idea what I’m doing?” he admits with a breathless laugh. His Force is trickling back open like he can’t seem to help it, and oh, do you like what you feel.

You laugh too, just as flustered. “Doesn’t seem like it, Master.”

“I’m flattered, but really. I’m rather clueless. I assume from the way you’ve spoken about attachments that you are...not.” You sense curiosity from him, though he says nothing more about it. In return, you offer your thoughts. It’s easier -- and far less embarrassing -- to show. Your eyes seek Obi-Wan’s, asking permission to join his life Force again. He inhales shakily, and you don’t miss how tightly his hands are clenched in his lap.

Pressing a kiss to his temple, you re-enter, gentler this time. Truthfully, the experiences you have to offer aren’t that impressive. Fervent touches with a few fellow Knights who also had little to no experience, but passion in spades. Your hands on your own body, long after night had fallen at the Temple. Obi-Wan observes these parts of you, not critical or judgemental. Instead, you’re met only with his growing attraction to you, his consistent relief that what occurred on Odryn was not his fault (but you started it, you tease.).

And you? You prod. His Force shrinks a little, nervous, before opening to you further on the topic.

He hadn’t lied. In conscious practice, there’s nothing. You sift through years and years of thought in fast-forward and he’s never even laid a hand on himself, though the urge to simmers far closer to the surface than he prefers. This...definitely explains the lack of certain details in his dream. Aside from intimacy displayed by couples he’s seen out and about on-planet, he doesn’t have much to go on. This isn’t a topic they teach you as a youngling. Because why would a Jedi need to know? You remember your own firsts, everything coated with disquietude.

“Told you,” he mutters, breaking your concentration. When you open your eyes, he’s giving you a classic Kenobi smirk. Uncertainty lingers behind the kind crinkle of his eyes, anxiety that he can’t quite banish. Neither of you address it. “Are you still so eager to break the rules?” Do I still appeal to you?

In answer, you graze your mouth over his once more. When you tug at Obi-Wan’s bottom lip with your teeth, the pile of sparring sticks in the corner collapses and scatters.

“This is a training room,” you say between kisses, adrenaline flooding your veins at the noises he’s making. Quiet gasps ascend into groans the more daring you get with your tongue, his fingers trembling on your shoulder. “So we should make the best of it. Get some more experience under our belts.”

“I like -- your phrasing,” Obi-Wan manages. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to stop talking," one of his hands snakes to your ass and you squeak in surprise, "and come here."

Gladly, you have time to think at him, before he grabs your hips and lifts you right back into his lap. Nothing shy about it this time -- he's put you directly on his clothed cock.

Now you're the one caught off guard, and he can sense it all over you. How badly you want it. How long you've imagined. You must smell like need. Locking eyes with you, Obi-Wan rolls his hips into your cunt, slow and purposeful. When you whine, something seems to click in his expression -- like he's filing the information away.

I see.

See wh-- !

But you're not allowed to finish the thought. In one motion, Obi-Wan is rising up and over you, crowding you onto the floor under him. You lie there, the training mat stiff underneath you, as he continues to survey you. His hips press yours firmly into the floor, a delicious pressure as you lie flat and he sits astride you.

“There are several options running through your mind, little one,” he says at last, and you blush. No one’s called you that since you were a youngling, tripping over the hem of your robes and envying the Padawans with their lightsabers. To hear him refer to you as little, when you’re pinned under his arousal, does something to you. “Show me the one you want the most.”

Licking your lips at the way his curious look has morphed to one of hunger, you offer the image that has gotten you to climax for the past few nights. You had been desperate to be claimed by the one person who hadn’t seemed to want you.

How things have changed, you muse, watching his eyes go wide as he watches the scene play out in his own mind. Obi-Wan’s full lips part on a silent moan as it vanishes, blinking back to reality slowly.

“Yes. Yes, I think we can manage that.” His voice is so soft, a contrast to the hard press of his cock and hips. “Pull your tunic up for me.”

You scramble to obey, exposing the flat planes of your stomach, then the curve of your breasts. The sturdy material of the tunic is gathered up near your neck, leaving your torso bare for him. Obi-Wan reaches down to swipe the pad of his thumb over one nipple, making you squirm under his hold. He purrs at the desperate sensation it incites in your core, feeling it almost as you do through the Force.

Staying silent as he’d asked you to, you nonetheless beg him to hurry, both with your eyes and through the Force. You know he wants this just as badly -- can feel the stiffness of his cock and the arousal pooling in his gut as surely as if it was your own body -- yet he takes his time here.

So when he finally palms his dick through his trousers, forcing it flat against your stomach, you mewl for him. Your hands reach up to dig into his thighs, urging him on.

Exhaling through his nose, Obi-Wan continues to palm himself through the material, sucking in a gasp when he finally lets himself wrap a hand around it and squeeze.

“Out of everything you imagined,” he murmurs, undoing the ties on his pants deftly, “this is really what you want most?” His erection peeks out at you now, straining his underwear. With a bob of Obi-Wan’s hand, that too is pulled out of the way. Fucking -- Maker --

“Yes,” you whimper, mouth watering for it.

It feels like you’ve waited years to have Obi-Wan’s heavy, naked cock lying full on your stomach. He’s thicker than anyone you’ve been with, and flushed red with want. The tip is already dripping, warm on your cool skin. He grabs it firmly in his right hand, a ragged groan tearing from his throat as he gives it a slow pull. Powerless to stop yourself from wanting a closer look, you prop yourself up on your elbows. Your heart jumps to your throat as the extra attention makes him flush.

Those lovely eyes, framed by copper lashes, dart away from yours as he tugs harder, biting a knuckle to keep from crying out. Kriff, you wish he wouldn’t. You want his overstimulated sounds almost as much as you want his come smearing your chest.

One hand works his shaft at an increasing pace as the other tenses in the material of his tunic. "Always -- so much," he confesses in a gasp. "Such a m-mess to wake up to." And indeed, pre-come is dribbling down his cock and hand in rivulets now, pooling below your belly button.

"I've never," he shudders, shoulders tensing, "never done this -- on purpose --" Obi-Wan looks down at you, not really seeing, brows knitted with desperation. The normally composed Jedi is falling apart, and it’s driving you insane. "I can f-feel it about to happen." In his fist, his cock is making obscenely wet sounds as he covers it with his own juices.

"How -- how close?" you ask, unable to take your eyes off of the way he's working his hips in tight little thrusts now. Fucking into his hand like no matter how fast he strokes, it won’t be enough. You feel like your hips will be bruised by how hard he’s pinning you into the training mat, but you can’t bring yourself to give a damn.

“Close --” he whines, ducking his head, face screwed up as he pants. Obi-Wan’s hand and wrist are a blur as he pleasures himself, balls drawing up in anticipation. His hair is a mess, so untidy from its normal neat part, and you wish you could run your hands through it. “Oh, gods -- oh, gods --” His Force is blazing with the chase, teetering on the edge of an orgasm he’s never been able to fully experience. Going to come all over you, stars, feels so good --

“Please, Master, please,” you beg, shoving his hips further up your torso. You’re soaking in your underwear, waiting for him to mark you.

You see it in his eyes three seconds before it happens. They go completely round with wonder, a hand slamming over his mouth as the first spurts of hot come streak your stomach.

Little one, stars -- I’m coming, I’m coming -- oh f-fuck fuck --

Though Obi-Wan hardly lets more than a whimper escape past his own hand, you hear everything loud and clear in your mind. It’s every bit as intense as you remember from that day on Odryn, and you clench as his aftershocks roll through your empty cunt. Rope after rope of come covers your chest, from the bottom of your stomach to the hollow of your throat. The scent of it coats your nostrils, thick and musky and Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter closed, hand falling from its grip over his mouth. “That -- that was…”

“Messy,” you joke, offering a smile. Incredible, you add as a hint of embarrassment creeps into your bond. When you reiterate how good it felt to watch him losing himself in the pleasure of it, he relaxes again. With a sigh, he eases off of your hips and tucks his wilting cock back into his trousers, settling down on his side next to you.

“You do look rather pretty like that,” he admits quietly, cheeks still flushed from exertion.

“Just wait until we actually take our clothes off, Master.”

“Pfft.” Obi-Wan leans in and kisses you, as gentle as the first time. “I have to tell you something,” he adds, voice lowered to a conspiratorial volume though you’re alone.

“What is it?”

“You taste like that dreadful tea they serve in the mess.”

#come what may ao3 #wickedscribbles #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x you #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x oc #obiwan smut #ziva courtee #obi-wan x oc #obi-wan fanfic

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reallybadfeeling · 3 years

Text

It's been weeks and this idea won't fucking leave me alone so here I am, getting it out of my system by throwing it to the wolves.

WHAT IF Qui-Gon never took Obi-Wan as his Padawan BUT he pushed Dooku to be Obi-wan's Master instead?

Oh, and of course Yoda agrees with Qui-Gon that Dooku would be a better match.

Like, Yoda is such a troll that I kinda think he would basically challenge Dooku to try and make Obi-Wan less of a Maverick than Qui-Gon.

And Dooku is about to say no and fucking go to the other side of the Galaxy so that they would fucking stop pushing this thing to happen!

But of course Qui-Gon and Yoda meddles and somehow Dooku ends up having a debate with Obi-Wan about politics, the Senate, the Jedi Order and "YOU WON, QUI-GON! HE'S TOO SMART TO BE YOUR PADAWAN!" (Because of course Obi-Wan wins him over with his brain and his witty sarcasm!)

And having a Padawan kind of prevents Dooku from turning, because despite how much he despises what both the Senate and the Council are becoming, he has Obi-Wan to remind him that there are still good Jedi that can change the Galaxy.

So when Naboo happens Qui-Gon doesn't have a Padawan and asks Dooku to come deal with the talking, because he's obviously better at it. And Dooku agrees, more for the teaching experience for Obi-Wan than anything, but that's not important.

Obi-Wan kinda loves the whole experience despite the shenanigans happening around him, mainly because Dooku is so annoyed at Qui-Gon's methods and the two of them bicker constantly (just to prove that despite how much Dooku repeats the whole "you shouldn't let yourself get attached to people, they'll betray you", he's still kinda fond of Qui-Gon).

That doesn't prevent Dooku from loudly disapproving Qui-Gon's idea of becoming Anakin's Master when they stumble onto the kid.

I can kinda picture Dooku and Qui-Gon discussing it, with Dooku telling him that the Council would never allow it and Qui-Gon repeating that it's the will of the Force so they'll let him do it.

And in the meantime Anakin and Obi-Wan are listening to it all, and Anakin is asking thousands of questions about the Jedi and the ship and his lightsaber and... Obi-Wan is annoyed, because he wanted to enjoy the bickering between the two Masters, but he answers anyway.

When they get to Coruscant, the Council agrees with Qui-Gon's request (which, he rubs into Dooku's face), but they kind of have to still finish the job on Naboo.

And the whole duel with Maul is very different, because Dooku is there and "HOW DARE YOU TRY TO KILL MY PADAWAN?" Which, neither Qui-Gon nor Obi-Wan know to whom it's referred to, since Maul tried to kill them both before Dooku defeats Maul.

Not long after that Obi-Wan is Knighted, but since him and Dooku are such good politicians and the Galaxy is a political mess, they kind of travel together nonstop for most of Anakin's apprenticeship.

During their sporadic visit to Coruscant, Anakin still kind of clings to Obi-Wan, because everyone at the Temple praises him and Dooku constantly, and Anakin still remembers those first days away from Tattooine, and how Obi-Wan answered all his questions, and let him hold his lightsabers and... he basically has this weird hero worship/silly crush on Obi-Wan.

Till this one time the Council decides that Anakin is old enough for a mission without his Master, but not wise enough to be left alone. So who do they pick to go with him? The most reliable Knight they have: Obi-Wan.

And oh dear, Obi-Wan feels like trouble follow Anakin just as much as they always followed Qui-Gon and it's easy to see why the Council disapproves of their methods so much...

But Obi-Wan finds out he actually doesn't mind the change of pace. And Anakin does indeed have potential to become a great Jedi. Though, when the fuck did the little kid he remembers from Tattoine became a young man taller than him?! That's just wrong. He's not old! NOPE! Is he old enough for a Padawan of his own? Oh boi, Obi-Wan needs a cup of tea and to meditate on it before Anakin's bad influence rubs on him and rushes into something stupid!

Aaaaand, that's it, this all that's been nagging my brain for now. I'm sure I'll come up with more later, 'cause I enjoy torturing myself with dumb ideas.

#not fic #star wars #is this a prompt?#i don't fucking know #i still want this #count dooku #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #long post #ramblings

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tessiete · 4 years

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If you still take prompts: Rumors of the Duchess of Mandalore (bc patriarchal bs and misogynistic beliefs about female leaders) potentially getting married reaches Coruscant and Obi-Wan copes as well as can be expected. Cue sad boi sadness with maybe fluff at the end? Or go full angst I’m ok with either

I AM! I am still taking prompts, and I know this took a while to get around to because I’m also sloooooow at filling them. But here we are, dear anon. I hope you enjoy this little snippet! <3

THE GRAVITATIONAL DEFLECTION OF LIGHT

There is some silly, selfish part of him that he never outgrew, and like a weed in his gut it twists and writhes when he hears that the Duchess Kryze is to marry.

And suddenly, he finds himself thinking of her more often, and more frequently during situations where his attention would best be put to use elsewhere. In council, he is forced to ask Master Windu to repeat a question he’d failed to hear, his mind being drawn by the gleam of light off the Senate dome on the horizon. During a sparring match, he takes a hit he’d never have missed except that Anakin threatens to deliver him a close shave at the end of his saber, and he’s struck dumb by the memory of her hand upon his cheek. There are peace lilies in a vase in the Archives, and pure beskar changes hands in a deal he’s meant to disrupt at a Separatist camp, but by far the most egregious lapse comes in the midst of relief efforts in a small village on Taskeed. He is caught, for a moment, by the sight of a woman with blonde hair and a young boy on her hip turning away from him. His focus slips. A blaze of light flashes more quickly than he can see, and by the time he hears the retort of a blaster rifle he is already on the ground.

The clones close ranks around him. Cody kneels, calling in a medevac even as Obi-Wan tries to rise.

“No, sir, stay down,” he says, laying one hand against his shoulder. Obi-Wan winces at the contact. His muscles strain at the effort, the nerves at the site of his injury ruptured and ragged.

“Cody,” he chokes out. “There’s a hostile.”

His second is a merciful man and makes no comment on the idiocy of that statement. Instead, he bites open a pain tab, and shoves it between Obi-Wan’s teeth. Then, so rapidly he has no time to protest, he removes his belt, and tears apart the fabric at Obi-Wan’s waist, sprinkling sulfa powder over the gory wound, and pressing a bacta patch down to cover it.

There is no more blaster fire to mark their passage back to the ship, but the wound is too serious to treat on board The Negotiator. He is sent back to Coruscant as a consequence of his foolishness.

There, he is dipped in bacta, where he doesn’t dream, and he spends the next week of his convalescence thinking of her.

It had never been this bad during their first separation. The months following her ascension to the duchy had been painful, that he cannot deny, and he spent hours in his room lonely, and self-pitying, but he had been a child then and he can forgive himself now of the folly of youthful indiscretions. There followed more than a decade between them and he had gone days, weeks - upon the outbreak of war even months - without thinking of her at all.

But with one touch of her hand, he’s fallen again, his resolve crumbling into dust as though his indifference to her were only a veneer grown thin and brittle with being stretched over so much time.

The Duchess of Mandalore is to marry.

Why should that matter to him? They are friends. Hardly that, and nothing more. And it was he who had defined those terms. So why should he be restless, and anxious, and fretted up like some craftsman’s handiwork at the thought of it? It is silly. It is demeaning - to her, and to him.

And yet...he wants to know.

Who is she to marry? And when? How did they meet? Is he a Mandalorian, like her? Or did she meet him here? Did they meet at the Senate while he walked in the Temple only a few klicks away? Have they much in common? Do his political aims match hers? Does he long for peace like she does? Will he stand by her side in upholding it? Would he die for it? Would he die for her? Does she love him?

She must, he thinks. She must love him. She would not choose him, otherwise.

And that, perhaps, is the cruelest thought of all.

He is confined to medbay with nothing to occupy his time but his holopad, his dispatch reports, and her when he sees a news story flash on his screen.

At Last! The Lily is Plucked

He cannot help himself as he reads about a chance meeting, a whirlwind romance, and plenty of private assignations held at various hotels and restaurants across Capital City. There are holos, too, and reels. He sees her leaving the Bal Silvestre on the arm of Corellian senator, Garm Bel Iblis.

Senator Bel Iblis is older than her, and seems a bit unkempt, his long hair pulled half back in a simple style. Obi-Wan knows of him by reputation, and heard him called a rake. His politics brand him a maverick, and a rogue, and he has been known, once or twice, to engage in backdoor negotiations in order to ensure a vote swings one way or another in his favour. Beside him, while he stands smug in his dark brocade, she shines. She is spotless. Luminous. They are not well matched.

He scours the net for more, and because he is looking, he finds it. There are many articles - hundreds. Some map out timelines of their courtship (they met years ago, apparently, at some gala held while Obi-Wan was still helping Anakin with Basic), some tell the history of their previous romantic entanglements (he was engaged to a woman now dead. She was once rumoured to be promised to a Vizsla. Obi-Wan’s name is not mentioned). Some merely provide pictures of their exploits, and comment on their mutual friends, making conjecture after conjecture about how their romance came to be, and what must happen next now that the flame has been rekindled. It is torturous. And tedious. And soon, Obi-Wan loses track of the details that appear in one article, and again in every other.

But one thing remains clear to him: Satine Kryze is going to be married. She has forever slipped his reach.

A reach, he pathetically reminds himself, he never intended to extend. All this self-flagellation is for naught. He is being ridiculous.

So he thumbs off his pad, turns out the lights, and tries to sleep with the image of Satine, smiling and resplendent flickering in his mind. The next morning, feeling no better for the little rest he managed to steal, he deletes the history of his pad, and determines to feel absolutely nothing at all about Satine Kryze.

Then Padme comes to the Council and requests a padawan be sent to Mandalore’s aid.

It is Ahsoka who goes. Of course it is. He takes small solace in the fact that it had not been he who suggested her, but since she was assigned, he feels well within his rights to enquire about the Duchess upon her return.

“She seemed fine,” Ahsoka tells him. He has invited her for tea following her report to the Council, hoping he might, in his hospitality, coax a few more personal details from his grand-padawan. “I mean, there was a moment where Almec - that’s the Prime Minister, or rather was - anyway, there was a moment where he had her in a shock collar, but like I said, the cadets and I managed to sort it out.”

“Right,” he concedes. “As you said.”

A moment passes between them. Obi-Wan sips his tea, struggling to swallow as the fist around his throat grows tighter and tighter. Ahsoka, blissful in the aftermath of a successful solo mission, grabs another biscuit and a strip of perami gammon.

“And tell me,” he ventures. “What of her - her consort? Any word of him? Where was he during this mess?”

“Her consort?”

“Her husband.”

Ahsoka scrunches her nose, and cocks a brow at Obi-Wan’s wild inquiry.

“She had a nephew,” she says. “But no one ever said anything about a consort.”

“Ah,” he says. “Perhaps he was occupied elsewhere.”

“Maybe,” she agrees, amicable and amenable to letting the whole thing slide. He only hopes she won’t think it significant enough to mention to Anakin later. His curiosity won’t be as easily sated with tea and deflection.

He is not a lucky man.

Anakin comes blazing into his room with an ambitious stride, and a grin that speaks of imminent mischief.

“Heard you were asking Ahsoka about the Duchess’ consort,” he says, throwing his cloak over the back of a chair and dropping to lounge across Obi-Wan’s low couch.

“I was asking about her mission,” he corrects. He turns his back to set some water to boil, knowing that such an entrance by his padawan indicates a visit of extended duration. “And the key players, therein. Purely professional.”

“Purely.” Anakin smirks.

The subject is dropped when Anakin is diverted by the service being laid before him, and the inclusion of several of his favourite confections.

“Noorian memba tarts!” he cries. “Where did you even find these?”

“An old recipe,” Obi-Wan says. “But I remember you enjoyed them when we dined on Belasco and thought I’d try my hand at it.”

It is not a bad effort either, judging by Anakin’s display of enthusiasm. He eats the first with some degree of etiquette, but the fourth, fifth, and sixth are gone with no display of decency or shame whatsoever.

Obi-Wan sips his tea. He is thinking of Tahl while Anakin is thinking of the sweetness on his tongue, and making excuses for his absence the previous night.

“I’m sorry, Obi-Wan, but I was unavoidably delayed after the Senate recessed for the evening. I had to - to assist a delegate with a personal matter.”

Obi-Wan says nothing, but remembers how Qui-Gon, too, used to invent reasons to disappear unchecked. He invents nothing. He only cleaves to his duty, while time and fate conspire to keep him absent anyway.

Anakin must hear something in his silence, because his expression loses the tension of equivocation, and he falls to studying Obi-Wan’s face.

“I was only teasing, master,” he says. “Before. I didn’t think to ask Ahsoka anything about the Duchess. She spent most of her time with the nephew, but he seemed a bright kid. Close to Satine. I can ask her to ask him if he knows anything -”

“Absolutely not,” says Obi-Wan. The words are soft, but definite. He rises swiftly to clear the detritus of their meal. “Thank you, Anakin, but Duchess Kryze is only a friend. I merely inquired out of a desire to assure myself that the report issued to the Council lacked nothing in the thoroughness of its presentation. I should hate to think that such a personal association might be overlooked as an avenue for effecting harm.”

“Oh.”

“But I thank you in any case. Ahsoka’s report was well done, and you should be very proud of your padawan,” he says. “As I am of you.”

He turns to Anakin then, smiling and benign. His padawan meets his look with a vaguely skeptical one of his own, before patting him on the shoulder, and shrugging back into his cloak.

“Alright, master,” he says. “I’ll let her know how thorough she was.”

“Goodbye, Anakin.”

“Goodbye,” his friend replies. Then, just as he crosses the threshold of the door and moves into the open hall, he looks back. “Oh,” he says. “There’s a quick supply run being made to Mandalore for relief in light of Ahsoka’s investigation. Scheduled for tomorrow, but unfortunately, I’m needed back at the Senate. I meant to ask - you wouldn’t mind making the trip for me, would you? You don’t even need to get off the ship.”

---

There is nothing he can say to Anakin, so of course, as contrived and embarrassing as the whole thing is, he goes. And he does get off the ship.

Satine is there to meet him.

“Master Kenobi,” she says, extending her hand. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

He drops a brief, and reverential kiss then lets her go.

“Cleaning up after my padawan and his padawan, it seems,” he says. “Apparently, a master’s work is never over. Congratulations on your recent engagement, Duchess. I hope you’ll both be very happy.”

The look which passes over Satine’s face is one he cannot decipher. He thinks she looks in equal parts shocked that he has heard, disgusted by his presumption in speaking of it, embarrassed by his boldness, and wearied by his presence. But she doesn’t deny it, so he makes his excuses to leave.

“Excuse me, Duchess,” he says. “But this was only meant to be a very brief visit, and I should prepare for departure.”

“Can you not stay for midmeal?” she asks, and he hesitates upon the precipice of her invitation. “Surely you don’t mean to tease me with a visit as brief as this? And surely your men would enjoy some rest and repast before you go?”

The troopers at his back shift, and he can feel their eagerness undulate in the Force. It would be cruel to deny them for the preservation of his own fragmented dignity, so he relents.

“Of course, your grace,” he says. “We would be most honoured.”

“Captain,” she says to the Protector at her right. “Have these men fed and watered immediately. The kitchens and my staff are at their disposal.”

He clicks his heels, and disappears, while she steps forward, and wraps her arm around Obi-Wan’s as though completely uncaring of any beau or consort or husband who might see.

“You, my dear master,” she murmurs slyly by his ear. “Are to be attended elsewhere, at my discretion.”

He does nothing to resist as she pulls him along.

Soon, they are at the Palace. Soon, they are sat at a small table in her private quarters, drinking Mandalorian kava, and eating freshly baked land’shun. Soon, they are alone.

She sets her drink aside, and dusts her hands on a fine silk napkin before broaching the subject trapped between them.

“Now, what is this about my nuptials?” she asks. Her blue eyes are steady upon his own, and he feels his palms slick with sweat. She is radiant. She is regal. There is no holo or reel or word that could do justice to the beauty of this woman in the flesh, and he feels that insidious root of jealousy writhe with agony.

“Satine -” he begins.

“No, no,” she protests, seeming to anticipate his deflection before he has begun. “I should like to hear why you think I ought to accept your congratulations, and why you felt you ought to offer them personally, in particular. Mandalore seems a rather dull trip for a High General to make.”

“I came in Anakin’s stead, actually,” he replies pertly. Another sip of kava lends some sophistication to this claim.

“Of course,” she says, but she does not look away. He can feel her gaze upon him. He can feel her glittering in the Force. She is laughing.

And he cannot bear it.

“Forgive me, your grace,” he says, rising to his feet. He sets the cup upon a saucer where it clatters inelegantly against the pot of sucre next to it, overturning the dish and sending the crystals spilling across the table. “Forgive me,” he says again.

She lunges forward to right the pot, and still his hand beneath her own. For a moment, he doesn’t breathe. Then, he pulls away.

“I read about it on the net,” he says. “I saw the holos, and the reels. I only wanted to see you one last time, to see...I wanted to see that you were happy. That’s all.”

“Oh, Ben,” she says, his name like a sigh upon the breeze.

“It is nothing,” he says. “A foolishness all my own. I am sorry if I have troubled you, and I offer you my sincerest congratulations.”

He bows, though when he raises his head, his eyes do not rise with it, so he does not see the look of sorrow upon her face. Still, he imagines it as pity, and moves to make his escape. She is faster than he is.

“No,” she says, standing between him and the door. “I will not accept your congratulations, and I will not accept your departure on such callous terms as these.”

“Duchess -”

“Ben,” she counters, leaning on the name. “I am not engaged. I am not married. And I do not intend to be, no matter how devoted to the idea of it you are.”

“I - devoted?” he asks, his voice rising to the height of his indignation. “I am devoted to no such thing. I have only - only been reconciled to it for weeks, thinking only of you and your happiness.”

“And your own misery, too, I’d wager.”

He chokes on his denial because he knows it is too big a lie to fit through his lips, and stares at her in dismay. She is smiling. Force, he thinks. She is incandescent. Like she has swallowed a star, and he can’t look away. He would that he could be consumed by her too, and finally, he gives in.

“Yes,” he says in an admission of guilt so great it brings relief. “I was miserable. I am, I think, an infinitely miserable person.”

“You are,” she agrees. “But I am not getting married, I am not engaged, and I am only as in love as I ever have been. And if you are foolish enough to forget that, then you are deserving of every misery you heap on yourself.”

“Have pity,” he begs.

“None,” she says.

“Have mercy,” he pleads.

“For you?” she says. “Always.”

They fall together like gravity and sunlight, and for a moment, whole galaxies bend to their will.

#my fic #prompt fill #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #obitine #garm's here #and anakin #and ahsoka #i mashed everyone in #star wars #fic #gffa

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glimmerglanger · 4 years

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Whumptober 2020 - Day 2

Time for Part Two of the Oof!au. Featuring Vader’s POV and... the first deaths in the story? Warnings for Vader being himself. Violence. Further mistreatment of a prisoner and a dip into some torture (good job, Anakin). Mentions of possible suicide. The “oof” starts in earnest tomorrow. I did not do all three sub-prompts today, just the one.

(Oof!au information: post-Order 66 Vader-catches-Obi-Wan au. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan. Serious warnings to come. Eventual happy ending.)

No 2. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY “Pick Who Dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

In his life before, when he’d been someone else, Vader had lacked patience. He’d learned to wait, since he first came to Mustafar. He’d had no choice. There had been nothing to do but wait while his body recovered, at least as much as it was ever going to, while he sent bounty hunters out across the stars to chase rumors and shadows.

He’d never much cared for patience, for waiting. But he was beginning to see that they could have their benefits. The joy of delayed satisfaction finally come to fruition was sweet, he found, when the bounty hunters he’d hired dragged out the battered body of his traitorous old master.

Obi-Wan looked a breath away from dying, sprawled across the hanger of Vader’s new fastness on Mustafar, limp and covered in blood. And, for a single, treacherous instant, the ghost of Anakin Skywalker kicked in Vader’s head, because he’d seen Obi-Wan like this too many times and there was something - something trained into him that made it his first instinct to jerk forward, to offer aid, and--

And he wasn’t Obi-Wan’s dog anymore. He gripped that weak lurch in his heart, harshly, and looked across at the dregs of society before him. “He’s alive,” the leader - a Twi’lek woman with purple skin - said, looking satisfied, “just like you asked. Now, about the other half--”

“Hardly unharmed,” Vader said, used, by now, to the strange sound of his own voice.

The Twi’lek frowned at him, lifting her chin. “He wasn’t cooperative,” she said, gesturing to the taller man by her side, scaled and fierce looking. “Arrok had to… subdue him.”

Vader considered the damage done to his prize and decided that patience was, indeed, a fine quality. But there was something to be said for more immediate gratification. He stretched out a hand, fingers flexing, and heard Arrok choke as he lifted. “Hey--” the Twi’lek started, even as he twisted his hand, satisfied by the crack of bone that echoed as Arrok’s neck twisted, nearly all the way around.

He let the body fall and waved a hand, absently, towards the troopers at his back. “Kill the rest of them,” he said, flatly. They had delivered to him a long-denied prize, but they’d mishandled the situation, obviously.

And, besides, he did not want word of Obi-Wan’s capture getting out. The rebels would be far, far too interested in such information. He gestured to the trooper by his shoulder, the prize of his entire staff on Mustafar, while blaster shots rang out and he felt the rest of the bounty hunters die, one after another. He said, “Take the traitor to the medbay. I don’t intend for him to die. Yet.”

Vader went to view his prize, in the small hours of the night, unable to still his thoughts. Excitement, he told himself, stalking through the grey walls of his grey fastness, a shadow amongst all the white-clad troopers.

None of them spoke as he made his way to the medbay. There were only droids in the space. His Master had decided the troopers had no place tending to the wounded. That wasn’t their purpose.

He found Obi-Wan floating in a bacta tank, and something went wrong with the processors in his legs, causing him to lurch to a stop. Memories, unwelcome and wrong, sleeted through his head. He’d seen his traitorous old master floating thus so many times. The last time, Obi-Wan had taken a blaster through his side, after shoving the man Vader had been to one side, and--

Vader turned aside, because there was something wrong with his life-support systems. They’d all lurched out of alignment, suddenly, forcing his respiration and heart rate to accelerate, almost dangerously.

He turned on his heel and stalked away from the medbay. It would be better to gloat once Obi-Wan was awake to hear the words, anyway.

Vader stayed away from the medbay, during the traitor’s treatment. He was busy, in any case. There’d been trouble on Mandalore again. They were a people that, singularly, did not know what was good for them, always causing trouble, refusing to just listen to the instruction of their betters.

Vader’s Master had suggested simply… cleansing the planet. Mandalore was a beautiful world, or would have been, if it’s irksome inhabitants were out of the picture. And they were, without a doubt, asking for the harshest measures to be taken.

And so Vader did not hesitate to order the executions. He read the reports that returned from the planet’s surface, the death tolls climbing on an hourly basis, until he finally received a surrender from whoever thought they were in charge down there.

He left the Mandalorians to dig their mass graves. There was ever more work to do.

The medical droids sent Vader a message, when Obi-Wan was recovered. Vader read over the message thrice before deleting it from his subprocessor. He stood, rising from his rest chamber, enjoying a thrum of excitement through his chest.

He’d waited for what was to come for nearly three years.

He did not go directly to the medbay. He took the time to collect the special project he’d ordered constructed, just for his old master, sliding his fingers across the ring of metal, a smile tugging at his ever-chapped lips, under his helmet, where no one could see.

The droids pulled Obi-Wan from the bacta on Vader’s orders. They dried his limp body and dragged him forward, leaving him sprawled at Vader’s feet. He looked so small and weak, ribs visible, new skin pink, more of his hair faded to gray.

It was ridiculous that Vader had ever thought there was something impressive about this shell of a man. He was pathetic, and always had been. The Council’s lap dog, too weak to ever do what needed done.

Vader put a foot on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and pushed, rolling him onto his back. The great General Kenobi, nothing more than a tired old man. A bastard who had taken everything from Vader, who had turned Padmé against him, who had poisoned the Council, who had ruined everything---

Servos whirred in Vader’s hands. The leather covering his knuckles creaked. Across the room, a droid made a distressed sound and then crumpled in, crushed by the pressures in Vader’s head.

Vader ignored all of that. He’d waited so long for this moment, so long to look across into Obi-Wan’s eyes and begin his righteous revenge. He saw no reason to delay, and snapped, to the troopers standing by his sides, “Bind his arms.”

He had carefully chosen all the troopers to work around his prisoner. It had been difficult, finding members of what had once been the 212th. So many of them seemed to have perished, and in strange accidents. That was a problem with many of the troopers, one he didn’t understand and didn’t care about.

They’d never accidentally spaced themselves before, after all.

But what did that matter. His Master said they were little more than glorified droids, only less useful. Their organic nature made them weak, failable. They malfunctioned. And they reminded Vader of things he’d rather forget.

The troopers with him bent, obedient and without comment. They rolled Obi-Wan back to his stomach, dragging his arms to the center of his back, fitting on the shackles that Vader had constructed personally, enclosing his arms from wrist to elbow, metal biting against skin.

“Hold him up,” Vader ordered, his respiratory systems malfunctioning as they hauled Obi-Wan upright, though he remained unconscious. He just dangled there, head falling forward, hair still damp with bacta.

The strands stuck to Vader’s glove when he reached out, closing his fingers in Obi-Wan’s hair and pulling his head up, sneering into his blank expression. This man, this piece of nothing, had ruined everything. But that was fine. Vader was, finally, going to have his revenge.

He let go of Obi-Wan’s hair, his head falling forward, all dead weight. One of the troopers - faceless behind their white mask - bounced a finger up and down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, an unsteady rhythm. Some new defect, perhaps.

Vader dismissed it. He didn’t need these models to survive for long. Just long enough for Obi-Wan to see them. To fully comprehend his situation and place in the galaxy. The place in the galaxy of everyone he’d ever cared for. They were all where they belonged, now. Under Vader’s heel.

He made himself smile, reaching for the ring of metal at his belt. It fitted perfectly around Obi-Wan’s neck, when he closed it. He’d had to guess about the measurements, but he’d spent so long considering Obi-Wan’s throat, in another life and--

The metal pressed directly to still-damp skin. The collar was a thick thing, wide enough to stretch from just below Obi-Wan’s jaw to his shoulders. There was a large loop in the front, perfect for connecting to the chain Vader had ready. It hummed, as he closed it, turning on.

And Obi-Wan jerked in the hold of the troopers, as soon as it shut. He flinched, all over, sucking in a shallow breath, just enough to make a sharp, agonized sound. Vader stood there, motionless, watching him struggle his way to consciousness, relishing the way Obi-Wan jerked his head up, the way his eyes were already wide and horrified, the sharp drag of his emotions, twisting through the Force, a connection Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to feel now, not with the collar around his neck.

The collar did so many useful things. Vader had tried it on, once, himself. Just to make certain that it worked. He knew, better than most, how conniving and tricky Obi-Wan could be. He’d wanted to be ready for this moment, and so he’d worn the hateful thing.

The power field it generated shut out everything. Every single scrap of the Force. Vader had worn it and felt… nothing, nothing at all from the outside world. It had made him aware of the noise in his head, the terrible, splitting agony thrashing within him, trying to get out, the boy he hadn’t managed to kill yet, and--

He’d been screaming, apparently, when a droid pulled the thing off of him. He’d destroyed the droid with a single movement of his wrist and laid on the floor, breathing hard, until he felt centered again.

It was easy to imagine how it must feel to Obi-Wan, shut up in his head, all alone. Cut off from the Force, cut off from everything.

“Hello, Master,” Vader said, mockery in his voice, as Obi-Wan stared at him, small and restrained and weak, completely in his power, ready to face all the consequences for his crimes. Vader smiled. “Welcome home. I’ve missed you.”

Obi-Wan just kept staring at him, blue eyes unblinking, getting his feet under him. He should have been screaming. Or perhaps begging for mercy. That would have been appropriate. Shown an understanding of his situation. And so, of course, his old master drew in a breath that barely shook, and said, “Well, this is a new look for you, Anakin.”

Anger flared white-hot inside Vader’s skull. That Obi-Wan would dare use that name, would dare try to make him seem small and weak again--

He struck Obi-Wan across the face with the back of one hand, and heard something crack. His metal hands were so heavy, unwieldy. Obi-Wan’s head snapped to the side; he made a little sound, wet, and a moment later drops of blood splattered across the pristine floor.

“You will never use that name again,” Vader said, as Obi-Wan looked up at him through the fall of his hair, his mouth and chin crimson, his cheek already bruising. “I am Lord Vader.”

And Obi-Wan snorted, tongue darting out to poke at his split lip. He said, his eyes steady for all the agony he was trying to control, “You are Anakin Skywalker and--”

His words choked off as Vader lifted a hand, curling his fingers around open air, remembering, terribly, exactly what Padmé’s throat had felt like under his fingers, when Obi-Wan had forced him to kill her. Something was wrong with his system regulators. His chest hurt, horribly, like it was tearing apart.

He released his grip with the Force, activating the collar’s punishment function, instead, watching as Obi-Wan thrashed against the hold of the clones, who only stood, dispassionately, tightening their grip as his knees gave and he sagged between them.

Vader turned off the collar’s nerve stimulator after a moment, listened to Obi-Wan breathe, his head hanging forward. His mouth twisted with distaste when Obi-Wan spat on the ground. He reached out and gripped Obi-Wan’s hair, pulling his head up and saying, his voice sharp and flat, “You will be punished for any impertinence, Obi-Wan. Now. I have tried to be reasonable with you, more reasonable than you deserve. What is my name?”

Obi-Wan made a sharp sound. A laugh, Vader realized, as one edge of his mouth curled up. “You,” he panted out, his eyes hard as they’d ever been on any battlefield where they fought beside one another, “are Anakin Sky--”

Vader left the collar on until Obi-Wan wasn’t twitching anymore, just dead weight in the clones’ grip. He cleared his throat, then, trying to process the burning in his gut and up his spine. And he said, “Take him away. Secure him as we discussed. I shall deal with him again, later.”

#whumptober2020 #no.2 #collars #clone wars #fic #mistreatment of a prisoner #torture #oof!au #codywan #my writing #vaderwan #mentions of suicide

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lifblogs · 3 years

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Whumpay 2021: Day 30 - Breaking Voice / Stoicism

Hide the Pain

read on ao3 1744 words star wars, the clone wars, post-zygerria arc, anakin skywalker, angst, ptsd, implied/referenced rape/non-con, slavery mention, alcohol use

“And that is all that happened on Zygerria and Kadavo?” Mace Windu asked.

Anakin did his best to keep his face completely plain, stoic. When he spoke, he tried to fill his voice with respect, “Yes, Master.” Though that word: master. It was like curdled milk on his tongue, going down to fester in his belly.

Thankfully he hadn’t had to use that word around the queen, but it had been everywhere. Nothing but slavery.

“Thank you, Skywalker. You’re free to go.”

He bowed, and then left the Council chambers, feeling sick enough to collapse, or to perhaps go back in there and tell them all off for sending him, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Rex into that mess.

It wasn’t fair! And why him? Their answer before sending him to Zygerria was that he was the one who had discovered the missing Togrutas, so he had insight on the mission. By insight they had probably also meant that he knew how the whole slave business worked.

So Anakin had tried to pretend that he was alright with playing the part of a slaver, had told himself that master was a good title for him. But really, being forced to make his Padawan dress like that, and presenting her to the slaver queen. It was one of the many heavy burdens he now carried with him.

Ahsoka had mentioned that she would be in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditating, trying to center herself after all they’d been through. So he decided to leave her in peace and quiet. Obi-Wan was in the Halls of Healing. Anakin decided that’s where he would go. He couldn’t go back to his cluttered room and pretend everything was fine, couldn’t go back to Padmé’s apartments or her office. She would touch him, expect him to touch her. And he wanted to. Blast, he wanted to, and yet… Queen Miraj Scintel was stuck in his head like some infection.

He couldn’t see his wife. Not yet.

Truthfully, Anakin wasn’t sure he wanted to see anyone, but he knew Obi-Wan had been tortured, so it was only right to visit him.

He was in a white tunic and pants when he entered the room he’d been given. He was surprised to see that Rex was there as well. Both looked weary, but most of their wounds were now light scars.

Anakin forced a smile onto his face, even while his blood boiled inside and his stomach churned.

Remain calm. Don’t let them see.

Obi-Wan started getting up to greet him, but Anakin waved it off.

“No, lay still. Rest.”

Rex saluted him. “General.”

Anakin saluted back. “Surprised to see you here, Rex.”

“Well, since I was so involved with the mission the Council thought I should stay close.”

“I’m glad. I hear the Halls of Healing have much better care than the military hospital.”

Rex leaned back, putting his arms behind his head. He shifted in his bed, and let out a sigh, eyes closing contentedly.

“That we can definitely agree on.”

Anakin went and patted his shoulder, and then went to Obi-Wan. He took a seat by his bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him, though it was a thin, weary thing, nothing but a mask. “Seeing as I no longer feel like I got shot, whipped, and beaten, I think I’ll be fine.”

Anakin shook his head. “I’m sorry, Master. I was leading the mission, and—”

Obi-Wan held up his hand. “Stop. Don’t carry that guilt with yourself. I took risks I thought necessary, and well, I paid for them.”

“That’s not your fault either.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” Obi-Wan said in a somewhat bland, noncommittal tone as he leaned back against his pillows. “How’s Ahsoka?”

“Mostly unhurt. She was treated for dehydration, but she’ll be fine. She’s meditating.”

“Good, and you?”

Anakin paused. His heart beat wildly, and for a few moments he worried that his former master could hear it. Why were they even keeping up this charade? None of them were truly fine. Anakin could sense it, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame and guilt. He was sure that if he closed his eyes and focused he would be able to see Kadavo, see glimpses and brief flashes of the tortures he had gone through.

He tried to force a smile on his face, but he felt it was more like a grimace. So then he kept his features stone cold. His insides boiled, and burned.

“I’m fine.”

“Anakin—”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“Mm hmm.” Obi-Wan peeked around Anakin, and asked, “Captain, do you perhaps feel well enough to give us some privacy?”

Rex peeped open an eye and then got up with only a little difficulty. “I was thinking of taking a walk anyway, General.”

“Very good. Enjoy your walk.”

After Rex left, Anakin sighed, lowering his head. He didn’t want to face his former master.

“Anakin, on Zygerria… what happened to you?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? I sense much anguish for nothing to have happened.”

Anakin swallowed roughly, and shook his head. “Just forget it.” His voice was gruff, not at all the hard phrik ore like he’d wished to display.

“Look at me,” Obi-Wan pleaded, voice gentle. “Please, Anakin.”

“I should go,” he said, getting up and making to leave.

“I want to help you!”

“You can’t.”

Anakin left, insides like a hot furnace, like fire and lava deep within a planet’s core. Darkness festered in it, and he wanted to rip his very skin off.

He wandered, blind to where he walked, until he found himself outside Yoda’s meditation room.

Before he could knock, he heard Yoda say, “Come in.”

Anakin entered.

“Troubled, you are,” Yoda said as Anakin went to take a seat across from him. The blinds were half-open, letting in some of Coruscant’s light.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“Questions, have you?”

“Why, Master?” he asked, all of the hardness he’d tried to build around him melting, liquid ore bursting forth. What he was left with was a broken voice, and tears building up in his eyes, the sensation pinching at his sinuses.

“The will of the Council, it was.”

“Yes, but why? Why send me? Why send any of us? You know my past. How could you do this to me! How could the Council—!”

Yoda held up a small green hand.

“Peace, young one.”

Anakin snarled at him, but quieted himself.

“Against this mission, I was. Hurt you it would, I feared. This pain you feel, from things you did not speak to the Council of, is it?”

Anakin nodded.

“What happened to me…” He clenched his jaw, and turned away. He couldn’t admit it. Not to anyone, not even to himself. “It shouldn’t have… I wish…”

“Know this, I do. Sorry, I am, as we all should be.”

“You think the rest of the Council is going to feel that!” Anakin shouted, getting to his feet, waving his arm about. “In the end, they agreed to send me there. Did they aim to hurt me? Is that what’s going on?”

“Young one—”

“Don’t call me that!” Anakin snarled. He knew he was young, yet he didn’t feel it. Not after all the horrors he’d been through, and not after his… his nights spent with the queen. “There is something wrong here,” he admitted. “With—with the Council, with all of it, if the leading vote was that I, a former... slave, should go on that kind of mission.”

“Insight, they thought you had.”

“Yeah, sure. Insight into all the pain and torture, and how humiliating and debasing it is! I had to expose my own Padawan to that! It—it dredged up things I wanted to forget.”

“But forget the past, we must not. Accept it, and move forward.”

“How am I supposed to accept it when it’s shoved in my face like that? When I’m forced to… When I’m…” Anakin trailed off, holding in a sob. Part of his voice came out as a whimper.

“Young Skywalker, these experiences you had, part of you they are now.”

“I don’t want them to be,” he ground out.

“For us to decide, that is not. To truly be a Jedi, accept who we are, accept the past, we must. Trust in the Force.”

Trust in the Force. Trust in the Force? Was that the only answer he was going to get? Anakin trusted in the Force, day after day, and yet hadn’t it betrayed him? Hadn’t the Jedi betrayed him?

“Forgive me, Master,” he said, bowing, needing to be alone. “I should not have troubled you.”

Despite Yoda’s admonitions, Anakin left.

Time slipped past him in agonizing moments, every noise setting him on edge, making him want to fight, freeze, or simply run and hide. He wanted to lash out at everyone, at the universe. He held it in, letting it rot in him with the blackness Miraj Scintel had put in him with her touches.

Hours later he found himself at a bar, not even sure where he was. He just knew he needed another drink.

Wobbling in his seat, he called over the bartender and ordered another shot of whatever it was he was putting in his body—spotchka, maybe. The bartender began to refuse, and Anakin just passed him more credits, hoping that would be enough to stay his worries.

A shot of blue liquid that glowed and twinkled in the dim light was passed to him, and Anakin drank it greedily. The alcohol was poison, but why not add to the poison already there? It was already going to kill him, surely.

His comlink beeped, someone wanting to speak with him. He ignored it, but a few minutes later, it went off again.

Anakin turned from the bar, and answered.

“Anakin, where are you?”

“Padmé?” he questioned, voice not wanting to come out, but it did so anyway.

“I heard you got back from your mission hours ago. Where are you? Why haven’t you visited?” Suddenly, a brawl started up in front of him, and there was cheering and yelling. “Are you—are you in a bar?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes! I want to take care of you.”

“I don’t think anyone can.”

“Anakin, come home. Please. I want you to talk to me. What happened on that mission?”

“Nothing.”

“Anakin, I—”

He broke the connection, sneered at the bar fight, and went back to his drink. Yet it wasn’t enough to hide his pain.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars: the clone wars #star wars: the clone wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #anakin skywalker #angst #post-zygerria arc #tw: rape mention #tw: slavery mention #fanfiction #writing #my writing

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the-cry-of-youth · 4 years

Text

Bad Transmissions

Pairing: Captain Rex x Fem!Reader

Words: 2.1k

Rating: General

Warnings: Mentions of Torture, Angst, a little bit of fluff, obi wan being a responsible man, anakin- not so much

Summary: y/n is kidnapped, and it's up to Rex and co. to rescue her.

Gradually, you awaken from your induced slumber, only to notice that you could no longer feel your arm. Shit, did this bastard really cut off my arms?!? You thought in your comatose state, not fully in your senses yet. Once you get your eyes open you notice, to your relief, that you indeed still had your arms. They were suspended above your head, bound in force cuffs, effectively dulling your connection to the force. The room you were contained in was dark, the only source of light being emitted from the cuffs.

The sudden hiss of the door opening captured your attention. Blinded by the sudden light from outside the door, you are unable to see who had entered the room, until a very distinct voice was heard throughout the room.

“Not so tough now are you, jedi.” sneered Ventress. A moment of shock overtook your thoughts, but was quickly overwhelmed by pain as you were suspended higher into the air, dangling from your already numb arms until you were just on your toes.

“I must say ventress, I thought you had abandoned the Separatists after being betrayed by Dooku.” you chided to the woman that was now circling your bound body, “but I must say, you have gotten smarter with your strategies against the republic. Tell me how you got a hold of clone armour and a republic transmission signal?”

“You think that I’m still working for the fool Dooku? That's adorable,” Ventress scoffed, “you are simply a bargaining chip for me, either the republic or separatists would love to get their dirty little paws on a jedi. But an intact Jedi is a little less appealing than one that has been through a few rounds of tourture, don't you think? The more helpless you look, the higher the price you’ll be worth. But I must say, you talk far too much. Let's change that.”

The lights in the room suddenly turned on, blinding you even further. When your eyes adjusted, you noticed Ventress standing beside a table covered in different instruments of torture. At first you believed she would reach for a vibroblade to make good on her threat of silencing you by taking your tongue, but instead she grabbed a gag.

Once the gag was fitted in place, she tapped away on her wrist comm. The doors then hissed open and four people walked in wearing clone armour. You knew that they were not clones (most likely as you could not see their faces). Ventress simply left the room with a quick wave and a perky “have fun.”

As the ‘clones’ closed in, all holding different devices aimed to inflict pain, you knew this was going to be quite the time.

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The council was in full discussion after receiving a rather disturbing transmission from the same location that they had sent Y/n a week earlier.

The transmission in discussion featured a rather smug Asajj Ventress standing beside a rather defeated and beaten Y/n. It was evident in the different shades of bruising that she had been held there for the entire time she was supposed to be helping with a distress call from a lost republic transport ship.

“Were we able to trace the location of this transmission?” asked Mace Windu, rather concerned for his former padawan.

“It appears to be coming from a moon of Felucia.” voiced none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. “I believe it will be most efficient if Anakin and I go with the 501st battalion to felucia on this mission, as we have had an extensive past working with Y/n previously.”

“Save Y/n, you must.” encouraged Master Yoda. “be quick, you must. Much time, you do not have.”

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Anakin and Rex quickly break from the strategy briefing for the rescue mission with Obi Wan. After Rex rounded up his brothers to board the transports, Anakin pulled him aside.

“I know that you and y/n have a past, I’m not quite sure as to just how close you two are, but I need you to be prepared. Obi-Wan has shown me the transmission, and I must say Rex, she isn’t looking good.” warned Anakin. An expression of concern and worry overcomes Rex’s face as he thinks of his friend in pain.

The entire trip to Felucia, it is apparent that Rex is deep in thought, with worry across his body posture as he is in full armour. He remembers all the time you both spent while on shore leave goofing around and having genuine conversations. Other times it was quiet time spent together enjoying caf and reading in chairs beside each other in the café just around the corner from the senate building that she introduced him to. He is unsure if his feelings about her are strictly platonic or if they’ve evolved into something more.

As soon as that thought came into his head, he instantly pushed it away. Of course thinking of her in any other way than platonic could just not happen. She was bound to the order, forbidden to form attachments, and he was in the GAR, he could be court marshalled for having a relationship, let alone a relationship with a Jedi.

Little did Rex know, but his thoughts were projecting across the transport, of course though only two other people could read them. Obi-Wan, being the gentleman that he is, respected Rex’s privacy and ignored them. However his former padawan had different ideas, being the nosey little man that he is.

Anakin felt as if his captain needed a little push towards taking the right actions. He projected the thoughts of his secret marriage to Rex, careful to not over project them to Obi-Wan. As intended, he met the cold stare of Rex’s helmet across the transport and knew that his thought sparked the right ideas in his commander's mind.

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The fight to make it to the room that Y/n was held captive was fought quite quickly, as Ventress no longer had the support of the separatist droids, but instead had a small group of four bounty hunters fighting for her while she was elsewhere, most likey with y/n in an unknown room.

As they walked through the halls, Fives pointed out a pile of discarded clone armour to Rex and Anakin.

“That is most likely how Ventress was able to get secure contact with y/n and the council.” stated Obi-Wan. “She was sent here for either an aid mission or a rescue of a small number of clones. I’m assuming it just led her to ventress and the hunters as this vessel is quite outdated, as well as the armour.”

The search for the room that y/n was held in ended up being relatively short, as they just had to follow the sounds of screaming once reaching the main hallway.

At the sound of pain, Anakin, Obi-Wan and Rex all started sprinting towards the sound, the rest of the battalion following behind quite quickly. More screams followed the frist few and rex’s heart clenched at the thought of y/n being hurt. Is the screams were anything to go by, Anakin's warning would be living up to the worst scenarios the commander had thought up on the journey to the base.

They reached the room only to find the door opening and Ventress stepping out of it, taking off in a sprint the other way down the hall.

“Anakin, you go in with Rex, Fives and Kix to free y/n and ensure she is well, I will go after Asajj. You come find me once you are sure y/n will be okay.” Obi-Wan commanded before he took off after Ventress.

The breath was knocked from Rex as he entered the room to see and bruised and bleeding y/n dangling in the middle of the room. She looked so defeated, yet a look of pure fear overcame her features as she looked up to see the three clones entering the room.

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“Please, no more, please” you begged as your eyes locked on the clones. In your battered state, you failed to notice the different markings and colours of the armour, as well as the Jedi leading them. “Please, I can’t take any more. Just please make it stop.”

“Y/n, please, we aren’t here to harm you. Let us help get you out of here.” you heard Anakin state as he walked more into your sight line, blocking your view of the clones, and your best friend.

“But the clones are here to hurt me, that's all they've done to me, is hurt me.” you cried out as Anakin stepped forward. The closer he got, the more you pulled back. Once he was in front of you, he used the force to release the cuffs, causing you to be set on your feet.

As soon as your feet touched the floor, your legs gave out and you were caught by Anakin. He set you on the ground as he looked over at his clones.

“Rex, Fives, Kix, remove your helmets. It may help is she can recognize your faces.” Anakin suggested.

Rex instantly ripped off his helmet and slowly walked toward you, Fives and Kix staying further back. Kix taking out the medics pack and getting bandages and medicine ready to treat you there.

“Cyar’ika, It’s me, Rex.” he called soothingly to you.

You rolled over in Anakin's arms, eyes widened. “Rex?” you exclaimed, surprised at his presence where you used to see simply the clones intending to hurt you. As you locked eyes you exclaimed a little louder “Rex!”

Trying to reach your best friend, you scrambled out of Anakin’s arms, only to tumble to the floor. Rex quickly ran to your side and scooped you up into his arms.

“It’s okay ik’aad, I’m here. I won’t let anyone else hurt you.” Rex soothed as he

Held you close to him, rubbing your back as you cried into his shoulder. “I’m never going to let anyone touch you again cyare” Rex locked eyes with the other clones and Anakin and nodded, they would bring you to the transport to be healed to relieve you from this environment.

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Two days later you awoke in a hospital bed, but there was a strong warmth surrounding your right hand. As you were jogging your brain back to consciousness, you opened your eyes to see Rex hold your hand, head resting on the bed as he sat beside your bed.

“Rex, wake up” you attempted to say but came out raspier than intended. He jerked up at the sound of your voice, used to sleeping light due to his years as a soldier.

In an instant he was out of his seat, cradling your head in his hands, rubbing his thumb against your cheek bone as he looked over your face, tears slowly streaming down his face.

“Cyar’ika, you had me so worried. I thought I had lost you when they had received that transmission.” he stated as he leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes and bringing your right hand to his lips, kissing it lightly.

You bring your left hand up to cradle his cheek, not unlike how he had yours in his hand.

“Rex, look at me.” you instructed. You made eye contact with him, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay right by your side, always.”

Rex simply nods in response. The air then turns tense suddenly. He closes his eyes and crashes his lips against yours for a long overdue kiss. As you break apart, you see nothing but love and admiration in his eyes.

“How are we to do this Rex? I am bound by the code and you are in the battalions, we are forbidden to have this kind of relationship.” you voice your concern about the relationship after your first, earth shattering, passionate kiss.

“It's simple really,” he replied, “ we can just have a secret relationship like Anakin and Padme.”

“WHAT?!?!?” this revelation brought out a surprised response from you. “Anakin is with Padme?!? How long has that been a thing?!?”

“Oh, they’ve been married for quite some time, although I believe that we are now the only people to know of this pairing.” Rex chuckled out after your response.

“Well then, if that idiot can manage to pull off a secret marriage, then I suppose we could figure out a relationship.” you state. “ It's not like we acted much different from a relationship before this.”

Rex simply smiled in response to this, and then kissed you with all the love he could give.

#captian rex #captain rex x reader #clone wars #Star Wars fic #clone wars fic #star wars #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #mace windu #yoda #star wars imagine #angst #fluff

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

As Lightning to the Children Eased Chapter 5

In which we are still not back on Naboo but Anakin has a Force-breakdown! Read on AO3!

Padmé hadn’t been sure what to expect of their Jedi protectors when she had first met them. They had certainly protected them well against the invading droids, but they had still come too late. Her planet had been invaded, her people hurt, beaten, and forced to endure whatever cruelties she didn’t even dare imagine.

And all of that because the Jedi had been too late and hadn’t been able to talk to the Trade Federation.

For the first few minutes, adrenaline rushing through her veins, fear clinging to her heels and guilt squeezing her throat shut, Padmé had been angry like a child. She had been so incredibly frustrated at them and her own helplessness, even though intellectually she knew very well that it was not the Jedi’s fault that Naboo’s situation had come so far. If anything, she should be glad the Jedi had come at all.

Without their aid, Padmé would likely be rotting away in a cell now, or perhaps even be tortured, or be forced to watch her best friends be hurt just so that the Trade Federation would gain whatever advantage they were aiming for.

For the first time since she had been made Queen, Padmé truly doubted her chosen path. She wondered if any of the other candidates would have done better than her, but when she looked at Eirtaé she only saw the same worries staring back at her. In that split second Padmé was glad that it was Sabé acting as the Queen and that she as Padmé, the Handmaiden, could allow herself a moment of weakness where she didn’t have to hide her emotions.

It had been easier to be Queen when she was a mere representative of the government and not its whole body. The emergency laws now in power gave Padmé much more power than she should carry. They had been created when entertaining the possibility of an invasion, not because they had actually thought it would come this far.

Naboo was a part of the Republic – what use was the Republic if it could not protect its own?

She was bitter and exhausted and she wanted to go home. Not back to the suit in the palace, she wanted to go home to her family. She wanted to hug her parents and play games with her sister and leave this all behind and for once let somebody with more experience deal with it.

Unfortunately, this was not meant to be.

And whatever she had hoped to achieve in the Senate had also crumbled to dust with the Trade Federation once more speaking out against her. Bastards that they were, Padmé wanted to take out her hairpin and stab it right into the representative’s chest, see how he liked it when his heart broke as his people suffered and starved.

“Do you think going back is really the wisest option?” Sabé asked her as they got dressed. Padmé became the handmaiden once more as Sabé took on the appearance of Queen Amidala. It was really been a miracle and a blessing to have Sabé at her side. The Naboo were skilled in hiding their faces and their intentions, but Sabé and her had a special connection, or so it felt at times.

They were closer than sisters. Padmé would even go as far as to call them soulmates, two halves of the same mask.

“I’m not sure,” Padmé replied. She ought to be lying, to be reassuring her friends, but they would all just see through it. They had been taught to read her entire mind by the curl of her painted lips. “But what other option do we have?”

“Think the Jedi will come with us again?” Eirtaé asked. “They were useful, even little Ani.”

Rabé snorted out loud and tugged her hair beneath her hood.

“'Can I fly the ship? Do you know what planets are in this system? Have you ever had Alderaani pudding?’” Rabé’s voice was a little high pitched as she tried to copy the voice of the boy. “’Do you know what makes a star collapse?’”

They all sobered up at that last question.

Anakin had truly chattered endlessly during the whole trip, seemingly untouched by the events that had taken place around him. While his sunny demeanor had been nerve-wracking at first, Padmé had come to enjoy it. It was nice to focus on something that wasn’t politics for just a few hours at a time. Besides, Anakin had been so sure that they would manage to save her people. He had looked so serious as he had said it then, as if it was a fact already. Something about that had just made her want to believe him.

Truth be told, Padmé hadn’t thought that Anakin was old enough to be accompanying them, he was so young for such an undertaking. The Naboo were known for getting their children involved in politics at an age most systems wouldn’t even consider doing such, but he had still looked so much younger than them. Nevertheless, Master Kenobi and Jinn had treated him as their full mission partner.

But who was Padmé to judge the Jedi for their practices, especially after they had helped them so?

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask,” Padmé replied. “And Sabé never did get to share her famed pear pie recipe with him.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” Sabé groaned. “I’d kill for one of those now!”

The group of girls descended into blissful laughter, the death threats hanging over their heads fading into the background.

Anakin was distracted, Qui-Gon was exhausted and Obi-Wan had to prove to the Council that he was a capable Master and that this mission had gone as well as it could have. From the way the other Jedi Masters were staring at them, he got the vague impression that he was not being as convincing as he could have been.

“-and that was when we landed here,” Obi-Wan finished his statement. “Anakin has proven himself capable and followed my directives exceptionally well.”

The slight joke hit its mark as it did make many Masters smile, if not outright grin. It was well-known that Anakin Skywalker was a little stubborn and all too willing to do things his own way if he thought he knew better. Oftentimes, that ended in utter chaos, for all that Anakin had the knowledge of the entire galaxy stored in his head somewhere, he was still a nine-year-old boy and kids his aged tripped and fell.

It was Obi-Wan’s job to ensure he would also get up again.

“The Queen wants to return to her planet,” Qui-Gon added after he’d been silent throughout the entire briefing.

Obi-Wan barely managed to hide a wince. He had taken over leading their mission briefings a couple of years ago, preparing for his Knighting. Qui-Gon only really spoke up to add to it or, in the cases that had them all stuck up here for hours, to argue about whatever conclusion he had reached and attempt to convince everyone of his opinion. In that way, he was very much Anakin’s grandmaster. “She has called for a vote of no confidence after her Senator’s urging.”

And that move was more than just a little shady. Destabilizing the Republic leadership now was not exactly the smartest move, but Obi-Wan was not a politician and chances were that whatever upheaval would come, it wasn’t going to do much to the Jedi Order. The Senate leadership had become stagnant over the years and their relationship with the Order hadn’t changed much. With every changing terms, the Order maybe got some more requests from Senators that were usually talked over as everybody else was busy gearing up for a campaign. Involving Jedi in your political campaign was always a risky move as public opinion of the Jedi tended to vary a lot. It was a safer bet to keep them out of politics.

“They have requested that we accompany them again,” Qui-Gon finished.

“A wise course of action you think this is?” Master Yoda asked. “Tired Padawan Skywalker is.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both looked down at Anakin. He was exhausted, yes, reaching to somewhere far away, zoned out right up until Yoda addressed him.

“I need to go,” Anakin insisted, back straight. “It’s important.”

Obi-Wan actually wouldn’t mind handing the mission off to another pair of perhaps a more experienced Knights, but he knew that expression on Anakin’s face better than anybody else. He was determined to see this through and there was no telling what he’d do if he wouldn’t return to Naboo. Perhaps sneak onto the ship of the ones who would go.

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded, his sun-kissed face oddly pale. “Something’s coming. I need to be there.”

His tone of voice was ominous, his words dripped from his lips like a poisonous prophecy. The Force called and Obi-Wan heard its echo.

And with that their decision was settled.

They made a small stop at the crèche to greet Ahsoka. The excited youngling lit up as soon as she saw them and excused herself in only a short few words before she rushed into Anakin’s waiting arms. From there she quickly climbed upon Obi-Wan’s back and let herself be carried throughout the temple. They didn’t have much time here, not for more for a meal which they had to eat in the cafeteria as Shmi was apparently not in the temple.

“Where is Shmi Skywalker?” Qui-Gon asked the nearest Jedi, a Nautolan Master only a few years younger than himself, as he got something to eat for himself.

“Padawan Skywalker you mean?” the Knight asked, their eyes twinkling with amusement.

Qui-Gon stopped shoveling fruit salad onto his tray. “Padawan?”

The other Jedi Master grinned. “Oh, yes. Haven’t you wondered why Yaddle didn’t attend the Council meeting? She decided to take on Shmi as her Padawan. It was the most brilliant thing.”

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, who had been caught up in a silent conversation with Ahsoka, miles and two realities away from where they were. “Did you know?”

Anakin tilted his head at the question and closed his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating. When he opened his eyes again, they were a kaleidoscope of colors, a thousand worlds within his sight.

“Yes,” he said his teeth just an edge too sharp in Obi-Wan’s vision. “The kyber’s whispering to her now. She’s going to bring the cleansing fires.” Anakin’s eyes faded to their usual blue color, though the flicker of sunlight didn’t leave them as he reached for Ahsoka’s hands, holding them tight. “It’s not going to like it.”

“It? Who?”

But Anakin stayed silent.

After their meal, Qui-Gon got the notification that the Queen’s departure was delayed and so they had another two hours to relax. As expected, Qui-Gon was dragged back to the Skywalker’s rooms where Anakin and Obi-Wan repacked for their mission. Qui-Gon spent that time napping on the Skywalker’s sofa with little Ahsoka sitting on his stomach, rambling about what she had been up to since they had left the temple. Qui-Gon was fairly sure that when he had been her age, his teachers hadn’t let him even touch a training saber, but the child described in detail how much fun she had had training with one. Saying goodbye to her again hurt a little and silently Qui-Gon vowed not to abandon his lineage or active mission duty until he got to see Ahsoka fight and grow into the terror she was bound to be.

They took a speeder to the hangers of the Senatorial suits where the Queen’s party was already waiting for them. Qui-Gon was glad to see that all the girls were accounted for and visibly perked up when they spotted the Jedi approach them.

“Master Jinn, Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker,“ one of the Handmaidens greeted them formally. “We are glad you’ve decided to return to Naboo for us.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon retorted. “That’s what we are here for.”

“Still,” she replied. “The Queen is aware that you are doing more than we can ask of you three.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the world shifted-

Pain ripped through him, through the Force, sharp as a lightning strike. A sudden nausea overtook him and Qui-Gon felt as lost as he never had before, not even after Thal’s death. He thought he was drowning, lost in a storm, suffocating endlessly. Something was pulling him into the dark depths of an endless ocean. The void engulfed him and no light from the surface fell into his eyes, leaving him not just blind, but deprived of all sensations. Ice froze his flesh, broke it to pieces, chipped away more and more of himself until only his very soul was left and even then, sharp claws dug into him, pressed intensely into his mind like needles. His consciousness began to bleed, red drops of innocent compassion dropping to the floor like raindrops, becoming muddled with darkness and dirt on the ground.

He vaguely registered Obi-Wan next to him, Anakin too, his shields frayed and bleeding out like a body on a surgical table. Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan reaching out, tugging at his own light and crafting bandages out of them, helplessly wrapping them around Anakin’s very being in hopes of mending the never-ending number of cuts. Where he succeeded, the shields that had always been a little like mirrors, transparent glass reflecting your self in the Force, became durasteel walls of protection, cutting Anakin off so rashly that Qui-Gon was caught off balance. Anakin’s presence in the Force was near unbearable when they had first met him, but his absence was even worse, leaving Qui-Gon a starving man in the desert. On unsteady feet, Qui-Gon stumbled after Obi-Wan and Anakin, whom he thought to see running into the ship, fleeing from the monster they had uncovered.

“Master Jedi?” He thought he heard the Handmaiden ask.

He wanted to reply, and perhaps the words ‘security check’ did leave his mouth, but he couldn’t be too sure, caught in this cruel spiderweb where every move only entangled him more, a prey ready for slaughter. He just walked forwards, hand pressed to his mind, clinging to the cool walls of the hsip, trying to stitch together what had been ripped wide open.

When he came to, he found himself rushing towards the fresher.

Obi-Wan sat there in the small room, looking so much like the boy he had taken as his Padawan in the aftermath of a terrifying trial he shouldn’t have had to go through in the first place. Qui-Gon had been so blind then and now he found himself struck with the same blindness, except the image that was starting to unravel was even worse.

Obi-Wan had collapsed against the wall and Anakin was half in his lap, clammy fingers holding onto Obi-Wan’s robes while his head was lowered above the toilet, vomiting up the few greens he had eaten for their last meal. His whole body seemed to twitch unnaturally like there was something hidden beneath his skin which was even paler than before. Anakin appeared like a ghost only inhabiting this shell for as long as it served its purpose, something much too grand pressed into this small body and rebelling against its constraints. Anakin kept throwing up until only acid burned his throat. He cried, tears running over his cheeks as the cold got closer and closer, so much that Qui-Gon expected to see his own breath as a hazy fog.

“Sssh,” Obi-Wan tried to calm his Padawan, his own eyes bloodshot, the afterimage of a night terror. “All is well, I’m here, we’re warm, we’re safe, all is well, I’m here…”

His ramblings were almost meditative, repetitive, drawing the same pattern, guiding Anakin towards steady breaths as much as they grounded Qui-Gon.

It took another few minutes, or perhaps hours, time slipped away as easily as the light of stars already dead thousands of years, Anakin managed to calm down. He was still a shivering mess in Obi-Wan’s arms, but he was no longer vomiting up his guts or crying uncontrollably.

“What-“ Qui-Gon couldn’t speak. He didn’t know how to describe it, this pain, this agony, the-

Poison, darkness, decay, tor, burn it, BURN IT, IT IS KILLING ME, US, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY CHILDREN-

“There was nothing,” Anakin mumbled his soft voice a contrast to the screeching in Qui-Gon’s heart. “It was nothing, just the absence, the end of space and of time and of life and he will deplete us of everything and there will be darkness and there will be no death, there will be nothing!”

Anakin’S voice grew more frantic, louder until Qui-Gon wasn’t sure if Anakin was truly speaking anymore or just carving his words into Qui-Gon’s mind.

“It’s infecting us, I’m sick, sick, bilious, and all that bubbles up my throat are decaying orbits. It’s devouring my flesh and I will leave and the fractures and bigger and bigger and it’s ripping me apart and I can see my heart beating!”

At this Anakin began to curl into himself, placing his hands on his heart. His eyes were glassy, seeing a world Qui-Gon couldn’t perceive and he couldn’t shake this double vision off. “It’s awful, take it away Obi-Wan, I don’t want to be here, I want to go, I want to go, it’s hurting me, I don’t want to be bound anymore, help me, Obi-Wan, please-!“

Anakin began to cry again, scratching at his own skin, deeper and deeper until the scratches turned red.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice in a realm beyond panic. “Anakin, no, no, no, dear one, don’t do this.”

He took Anakin’s hands in his own, so he would stop harming himself, but Anakin only began trashing, resisting. They needed to sedate him and they needed to do it now.

“Sleep,” Qui-Gon ordered, focusing on Anakin.

He’d always been good with mind tricks.

Slipping into another’s mind, finding cracks where to insert your own thoughts and demands. His Master had been worried about it when Qui-Gon had been young. It was an ability easily misused, an ability that made him quite valuable in the right circles if word got out about it and his Master had been keen to protect him from it.

Qui-Gon would be the last to claim that he didn’t rely on it a little too often, but he was also one of the Jedi often sent into the worst of the worst situations. He had never dared to use it on another Jedi, would never think of using it on Anakin whose mind was an uncomfortable place to reside in even when he was peaceful.

There were certain boundaries in every mind. They shifted ever so slightly in every person depending on what you had experienced, but with Anakin, it was simply as if they had never been there in the first place. Qui-Gon didn’t want to look at what rifts ran through Anakin’s mind because he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t lash out and pull him in and swallow him whole. He’d be entrapped in the universe, in the melting point of a star, the heart of existence and he wouldn’t be able to escape.

But what other choice did he have?

“Obi-Wan,” he said, his Padawan’s name command, prayer, and apology all at once. Obi-Wan was the only one so deeply connected to Anakin that he could bear to stand in his revelation. He understood Anakin as much as anybody ever could, to a degree that was foreign to even Shmi and would likely also never be within Ahsoka’s reach. The bond Anakin had forced upon Obi-Wan when he had been driven more by instinct and need than wisdom and control sang with power.

Qui-Gon begged for the same strength.

There was no gentle way of doing this with Anakin.

Qui-Gon took one last breath of sweet air, then he stepped into the wildness of space. It was freezing, but not the all-consuming cold of before, that took from him until he had nothing left, not even his mind. This was cold of existence, the contrast between the endlessness and points of existence near stars that were just ticking bombs, waiting for their final explosion.

All of this was Anakin and Qui-Gon didn’t know what to reach for.

He followed a path of broken glass, sharp emeralds, kyber, dug into his bare feet, leaving cuts all over. Every step was agonizing, depriving him of his strength and taking more than a century. Around him planets were born and destroyed in the same breath as Qui-Gon moved past them into the tangled cadences of orchestras, strings tugging him in different directions, asking him to follow their tune. His vision swam with colors repainting the world he saw.

And still, despite it all, he carried on. The temptation was sweet, he knew he could be home here, in this place where he had been born and where he would go once he ended.

He was one with the Force and the Force was with him, always.

But Qui-Gon refused that they truly wanted him to remain here. This was like Ilum, the innermost sanctums of the temples he had visited, a trial to prove himself.

And Qui-Gon would not fail this child who needed him.

He pushed through another door and found himself embraced by the most humbling of experiences.

“How cruel they were,” Qui-Gon muttered, gazing upon eternity imprisoned in a mortal mind. “Forcing you into this.”

Anakin wept and tried to tear at the chains pinning him down, keeping him constraint in the body that had been crafted for him. He was a mess of blood, stars, nebulas, stories written in languages that had never been spoken and never would again.

Anakin hadn’t been meant to possess a consciousness, Qui-Gon realized. He hadn’t ever been supposed to exist at all. The Force had pushed a scalpel into itself to carve out something that could eradicate all its other infected wounds, but, as with all self-inflicted injuries, this action too had damaged it.

It was the utmost cruelty, to themself and to the being they had created. This task was too much for one person. The entire galaxy was a bleeding, festering wound and Anakin couldn’t be enough to clean it, never mind do all the stitches to close it afterward.

And here Anakin was now, trashing because he had become aware of the darkness growing right beneath their noses. He was panicking because he had glimpsed upon his purpose in this world and had understood down in his very core that he was lacking despite all the gifts he had already been given.

Anakin cried and cried, and Qui-Gon had to watch as the same gentle feathers he sometimes saw flickering outside his vision on his Padawan’s back were trying to cover Anakin’s many all-seeing eyes, take away that horrible truth he had choked on.

But Obi-Wan, for all that he likely understood more of the Force now than Qui-Gon had up until now, was still so young and not strong enough.

Qui-Gon didn’t know if he would be strong enough, but what kind of Jedi would he be if he didn’t at least try?

“Let me teach you one last thing,” Qui-Gon muttered.

Messing with memories was a delicate task. Qui-Gon had read as much about it as the temple archives had permitted him too. He had been terrified at fifteen that he might overpower his hold on another’s mind and would erase their self completely. That in his demand of obedience the Force had gifted him with, he wouldn’t heed its gentle encouragements and push beyond all reasonable requests.

The Jedi were skilled when it came to the manipulation of ones’ self or mind. Revan came to mind, a Jedi made Sith and forged into Jedi again. It hadn’t been perfect, hadn’t been stable, but this needn’t be either.

It just had to be enough.

Qui-Gon laid one hand on the first chain tying Anakin down and tugged at the Force and the way they bound the world together. He just had to reshape it, turn cold metal into warm blankets, not keeping him chained up, but giving Anakin a place to rest and retreat to. If Anakin forgot that these chains were meant to bind him, then perhaps he would cease struggling against them.

One by one Qui-Gon reworked the chains into sweet comforts and watched as Anakin closed his eyes, returning to a peaceful slumber. The child, so much larger than Qui-Gon in his own mind, impossible to entirely understand his beginnings and endings, didn’t grow any smaller. He nevertheless calmed, stopped struggling so that Qui-Gon had to worry less and less about Anakin accidentally cutting himself at these manipulations.

Only the future would tell how long these would hold him back and grant him peace of mind.

Or if Anakin would ever forgive him for this once he discovered how Qui-Gon had warped his reality just to keep him tied to them a little longer.

“It is done,” Qui-Gon announced, his voice echoing in the small fresher.

His knees buckled under him and he caught himself on the washbasin only in the last second.

Anakin was asleep in Obi-Wan’s arms, dead to the world.

“Is he- is he alright?” Obi-wan asked, clinging to his Padawan as much as Anakin was holding onto him.

Qui-Gon observed the steady rise and fall of Anakin’s chest, then sighed only tiredly. He felt much older than the years he had counted, the millennia within Anakin’s heart not fading away as quickly as he’d like them to.

“He will be,” Qui-Gon promised.

He didn’t know if he was lying, but he knew he was not speaking the truth either.

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #padmé amidala #fanfic

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avengersassemble-fics · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found

part 07/10 “a flagship assault”

masterlist

previous part

word count 6.7k HAHA

an: um..... smut warning oop. i don't have anything else to say besides enjoy hehehe

spotify playlist to listen to while you’re reading!

here’s the AO3 link if you are on mobile and it starts being fucking stupid

The realization that the Chancellor was in fact not the intended target made Anakin’s frustration grow more each day that passed. Probably what irritated him more was the fact of not only the Council’s delay on a plan of action, but the Senate’s as well. When the days turned into a week, then more than that he grew even more angry. It was getting ridiculous when day 16 rolled around, and you were still missing. Not only had a plan not been formed, but he couldn’t feel you in the Force anymore. And that’s what worried him the most. 16 days and he couldn’t feel you during any of them. He walked, or more so nearly stomped, next to his Master towards the Council meeting.

Anakin’s behaviour over the last two weeks made Obi-Wan worry, and also grow frustrated that a decision had yet to be reached. Frustration didn’t come easy for him, but having to deal with Anakin’s tantrums were starting to wane on him a bit. Not that he would ever admit that, especially to his Padawan. Obi-Wan was the first to enter the Council room but slowed his steps when his eyes laid on the Chancellor. How strange, the Council normally didn’t allow non-Jedi in on these types of meetings.

“Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker - join us, we thank you,” Yoda greeted. Obi-Wan and Anakin nodded in respect, and Obi-Wan was the first to speak.

“Has there been a development?” Obi-Wan asked, and he could feel Anakin’s anticipation radiate next to him.

“Indeed there has,” the Chancellor spoke, standing tall beside the smaller green Jedi, “we believe we’ve located where your friend was taken.”

The casual term made Anakin unsure if he was directing that at him, or to all the Jedi. But he nodded in understanding, but the Chancellor glanced down at Master Yoda, which made Anakin start to rub this thumb against his palm nervously.

“A problem we face,” Yoda said, “Dooku’s flagship we believe she is on. Not seen for weeks it has.”

Obi-Wan glanced between the two men, and spoke first before Anakin could get a word out, “You said you think you know where she is though, Master Yoda.”

A small hmm noise left the older Jedi, “His ship we are sure. But where it is we do not know,” he looked to Anakin, and motioned for him, “felt anything have you? Through the Force?”

Anakin’s frown only seemed to grow as his head fell, “I’m sorry Master but no. . Not since that night.”

Another hm left his mouth, but he gave a reassuring nod, “Try again, you must.”

The electric shock that coursed through your body felt like you were on fire. Pulled forward off the hard metal table against your restraints you held in your cry despite wanting to give in. The current that swept over you lasted for what felt like minutes before it stopped and you flattened against the table once more. Breathing heavily, you opened your eyes to watch Count Dooku circle you.

“This would be much easier on you if you just answered my questions,” he said. You pulled a bit at your wrists under the lock that held them down and scoffed.

“You’re asking me stupid questions,” you threw back. Dooku’s face never faltered, but he turned back to you fully.

“Where are you from?” He asked you once more, though he kept throwing more questions your way, “What is your purpose? Who do you serve?”

You laughed a bit, though it felt forced coming from your weak body, “What am I supposed to say to that? That I serve Banthas?”

“Your childish remarks are beginning to tire me,” he replied, folding his arms behind his back, “we shall see how long you can hold out.”

“Good,” you glared, “because you haven’t managed to break me yet.”

He grinned, “That’s where your hope fails you, child. I will break you like the filth you are, and maybe then you will see the true power of the Dark side.” With the wave of his hand, the droid in the room activated the shock wave again, and pain burst through you once more.

Another day had passed. Maybe. You didn’t know that was true but when Dooku grew bored of your lack of respect and foul mouth, he ordered for the droids to take you back to your cell. One of the droids mentioned to Dooku the head from the captain of something happening down on the planet below when he was leaving. That’s the only time you could tell that some amount of time had passed. They bonded you in some kind of cuffs that hindered your Force abilities, and had to painstakingly drag you back to your humble abode.

It was cruel, to say the least. You began to question how in any way the Sith were right about anything. This was inhumane. It was even soul crushing a bit. The way the droids practically tossed you back into the cell, and the ray shield closed behind you, you were met with the same cold feeling of metal on your face. You groaned as you hit the floor, though it was only to yourself. The last however many days had taken its toll on you. Not just your body but your soul. You rolled over so your back laid against the floor and you stared blankly at the ceiling.

You laid there with your hands bonded on top of you, and your body bruised. The blast you had gotten long ago (how long ago again?) never had time to fully recover. Maybe you should have stayed in that medic wing after all. It felt fresh and ached all the time, you just knew it was infected by the way you were covered in sweat all day everyday (y’know, forgetting the fact you were being tortured).

You cursed Dooku’s apprentice in your mind. He had gotten the better of you that last night on Coruscant. You hadn’t felt him hovering over you until before his hand gripped your neck. If you got out of here alive, you were going to pay him back for that.

If. You hadn’t really thought about that big glaring reality. If you got out of here. You kind of laughed at that, albeit it was a sad laugh, you laughed either way. If you lived. If you somehow escaped (which seemed unlikely everyday), if you were rescued (maybe the Republic didn’t see it fit to come for you?), if you lived. It all hinged on that if.

You shook your head, still staring up above you. Your breathing even out and your mind started to wonder. You were drifting when that familiar voice whispered in your ear.

Call out.

It was so quiet you would’ve missed it. Maybe. Who knew. Your eyes opened more as you focused on that voice. Again, please say something again.

Call out to him. He will hear.

Anakin will hear you.

You nearly wanted to cry. Anakin? That was funny, yet hurtful all at the same time. Your last interaction with Anakin wasn’t exactly the fondest. Well. . It started off fond, but didn’t stay that way. The laugh in your chest turned to something sadder, and your smile fell. No. He couldn’t hear you. He wouldn’t.

Call for him.

The voice whispered again in your ear and you caved into it’s wishes. A tear slid from the corner of your eyes down to your ear, but your lips whispered out in caution. Fear. Weakness.

“Anakin.”

Anakin’s head snapped up from looking at the ground. He was alone in his quarters, but the voice rang very much clearly around him. He stood from his position on the floor, from meditating, and looked around him.

Your lip trembled as another tear fought its way out. You didn’t hear or sense anything, and you didn’t hear his voice reply. You squeezed your eyes shut and said it more forcefully.

“Anakin. . Please.”

Anakin heard it now, it was muffled like it came straight through him. He blinked once and everything was dark around him. He looked around quickly, not seeing anything in front of him anymore, not until he looked into the distance, and saw something on the floor.

His heart dropped. It wasn’t something. It was you.

You were about to give up, feeling a sob come from your throat until something touched you. Your eyes shot open and you gasped, before feeling Anakin scoop you into his arms. Oh he looked so perfectly distraught, but under that scrunched face was those familiar blue hues and his hair gently touched your skin. No this was very much him. Your Ani.

“Ani,” you whispered again as he bundled you into his arms. You saw his eyes water, and he shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-”

“Ani, I can’t hold on to you much longer,” you whispered again, gripping his sleeve in your bound hands. He looked down at the tug and then met your gaze once more. He used his left hand to hold your cheek, and you closed your eyes at the sensation.

“Tell me,” he whispered, “tell me where you are. Please. While we have the time.”

You had to think back to that short conversation Dooku had with a droid. You had to fight through that haziness to hear what his lips had said.

“His ship,” you said and Anakin nodded.

“Do you know where?” He asked, and your eyes opened to lock with his gaze.

“Dathomir.”

You could feel Anakin’s grip start to fade on you, and he saw you starting to slip through his fingers. He begged for you to stay, but you faded away almost as quickly as you had appeared. He kneeled on the floor in his room, holding nothing but air. He had to look around his room to make sure what he just experienced and felt was real.

No you were real. He held you and he knew you were real, even if you weren’t there with him. It wasn’t the Force he felt in his arms, it was all of you. Anakin stood from his spot on the floor and stormed out of his quarters. It was like he was on autopilot as he headed back to the Council. He didn’t care if the Masters were in session right now, he burst through the door and they all stared at him in surprise.

“Dathomir,” he breathed, coming to a halt before Master Yoda and Master Windu, “his flagship is over Dathomir.”

Master Yoda glanced to Windu beside him who only nodded, and Yoda looked back to anakin, “To Dathomir, Obi-Wan and you go,” Yoda commanded, and in a few second Obi-Wan was by his Padawans side, “the 501st you will lead once more.”

Another day had passed. You groaned when two droids pulled you off from the ground you had laid on over the duration of several hours. At least you were sure it was several hours since your encounter with Anakin through the Force. You hissed in pain as you were pushed along through the corridors of the Separatists flagship, to your familiar destination. Straight past two intersections, then a left down another, until you came to a holding block. This time you were shoved against the wall once more, but when you turned around a containment field blocked you from retaliating. You glared at the droids before you when the door you entered opened, and in walked Dooku himself.

“I see we’re switching it us today,” you goated, not earning much of a response from him

“Do you not tire yourself out from your own lack of self worth?” He asked, and you smiled a bit.

“I’m not the one who has someone else locked in a containment field,” you pressed your back flat against the wall, “I think that says more about you then it does about me.”

He chuckled a bit, though you didn’t know if it was from enjoyment or irritance, “What do you think you’re getting out of the Jedi?”

You shook your head, “I didn’t ask them for anything.”

“Ah yes, but they seek something from you,” he took a step closer, “tell me. Do you really believe they would have taken a lowly slave in to train under their ideals, if it didn’t warrant them something in return.”

You twitched. You despised the reference he often liked to throw in your face, the glaring truth of your past was not what you wanted to discuss with a Sith lord, “It doesn’t matter what I believe.”

He looked you over in pity, “The anger inside of you is compelling,” he commented. You glared at him.

“Uh sir,” one of the droids spoke from near the door. During your heated exchange you hadn’t noticed it open, and Sooku turned from his spot to look at the hunk of metal, “there’s a situation on the bridge.”

Dooku seemed to think his choices over before giving a nod to the droid and disappearing from the room. You slowly peeled your back from the wall and moved closer to the ray shield closing you in to look around.

“Stay back, prisoner,” one of the droids said to you in a monotone voice.

“Alright, alright,” you said, easing yourself down to the ground to sit criss crossed. You took a heavy breath in and closed your eyes to focus on something past you. It was harder to do now, to calm the pain of nerves under your skin and the refining cuffs didn’t help with this either. But you tried to press forward, to get a gauge of things and-

That familiar warmth tickled your fingers first, like it was reaching out to you as well. A small smile crept over your lips, and your eyes opened in sync with the first shake of the ship.

They were here. The Republic was here to fight for you. Anakin was here to fight for you.

The rattle of the ship made the droids look around in confusion, and your eyes went to the terminal that they lurked around and you focused on it to feel for the buttons. You couldn’t help the grin that came over your face when you were able to flick the switch with your mind.

The containment field lowered and the droids looked to you in surprise. You had risen from the ground and your shackles fell from your wrist in a loud thump on the floor. You took a step past the line where they could have locked you again, and glanced between the four droids, who all raised their blaster at you.

“Hold it right there,” one said, taking a little step towards you. You raised your hands up in surrender, and another one spoke as you pressed your hands to the back of your head, reaching out into the force once more for something.

“The Jedi doesn’t have their lightsaber,” the one joked, earning a couple roger’s in response.

You latched onto something and slowly pulled your hands from behind your head so they rested at your sides, and the droids looked at what you grasped in one of your hands.

“Oh no,” a third one quipped, and with the push of a button you ignited your familiar weapon and slashed through each one easily.

The ship shook again but you stood straight, collecting yourself as you stared at the door. It was time to get out of here, and you had vengeance on your mind. The closer you stepped to the door it opened up to the hallway before you, but the sight of more battle droids down the hallway made you groan. There was only one way out of here, and it was going to be in a fight.

Anakin’s ship weaved in and out between the Separatists fighters with ease. He evened his ship out and flipped a couple of switches above his head as he flew closer towards Dooku’s flagship. The rumbles around him were no match for him in this state, though Obi-Wan’s ship beside him did make him weary.

“Rex and Cody, we haven’t lost you two out there have we?” Anakin asked over his headset, narrowly avoiding one of the enemy bombers.

“We’re right behind you, sir,” Commander Cody answered.

The plan was simple. With the amount of firepower they had brought, getting these small crafts to Dooku’s ship was going to be easy. The fleet behind them had exited hyperspace and automatically began firing on the two flagships above Dothomir. While Anakin hadn’t expected the second flagship, the plan still was running relatively smoothly.

“Any idea where our captive friend is?” Obi-Wan’s voice came over the comm.

As Dooku’s ship neared more and more, Anakin briefly closed his eyes, trying to reach out to find you amongst the chaos. Vulture droids and starships engaged one another all around him, but he could see you clearly. Your body looked tired but the look on your face screamed determination, brows low and a bit of hair in your face. All he could see were droids all around you, but sparks flying past your face.

“I have an idea,” he replied to his master.

You sliced through another battle droid and held your lightsaber to your side. The white light contrasted the dark metal of the hallway you stood in and you dashed down the corridor, trying to find your way off this crap ship. You were careful before rounding each corner until the heavy door before you opened and two commando droids faced you down the hallway.

If you managed to make it off of this junk of metal, you would be glad to never have to step foot in one again.

Anakin and Obi-Wan finally managed to board the flagship (it was more of a desperate maneuver, but Anakin wouldn’t ever admit that). Destroying the droids in the landing bay was easy, but finding their way through the ship was another story. The small battalion of clones they had brought with them worked tirelessly to aid the Jedi to the detention center of the ship.

But the amount of droids they encountered was more than they expected.

It wasn’t until the lift they were headed for opened did the group come to a grinding halt. The two Jedi watched as Count Dooku stepped out of the lift, looking at them smuggly. Obi-Wan stepped in front of his Padawan, and Anakin raised a brow.

“Go,” he commanded him. Anakin looked at the small group of men behind him and nodded, running back down the corridor to find another way to you.

Commando droids and battle droids were totally, completely different as far as attacking. Commando droids seemed to be able to adjust and press harder against a foe than the average battle droid. Which wasn’t the best scenario for you, not in your weakened state. The pair had managed to push you back enough that you took cover back near one of the corners you had rounded earlier, a stray blaster shot shooting past where you had just stood. Frustrated you tapped your head back into the wall as you tried to think. One thing you had over them was a brain. You looked down at your lightsaber and changed the grip on it slightly, pushing back off the wall to face the droids again. They trained their blasters on you and you cracked your neck, charging at them once more.

Anakin and the Clones raced down another corridor towards the detention center. He kept checking his comm to see if there was any word from Obi-Wan, but he knew he could handle himself against the Sith. Anakin slowed his run and looked around, in the middle of an intersection, and he didn’t know which way to go. But the choice flew from his mind when up ahead, they say blaster fire. The shots echoed and the Clones took a defensive position next to anakin, who pulled his lightsaber from his hip and ignited it.

A hissing sound filled the air, and the body of a destroyed commander droid launched from one side of the hallway past the other, with a flash of light with it. Anakin squinted to see that white fly back the direction it came from. A couple more blasts sounded, but he heard it bounce off something. A lightsaber.

Suddenly the other droid that was firing was thrown in the same direction of the first one, this time not followed by the lightsaber. Instead, from the direction the blasts came from someone walked into the middle of the hallway, a lit white lightsaber in hand. Anakin straightened his back as he took the sight in.

You looked disheveled, staring at the heap of metal you created before shutting your lightsaber off. The Clones beside Anakin lowered their weapons and the sound made you look over. Anakin sheathed his weapon as he took in the details of your face. Dirt covered your cheek, your hair was a mess, and you breathed heavily. But the smile that spread over your lips made one appear on his. His group was quick to meet you when your feet started to take you towards him.

“Glad you could finally join the party,” you managed when you were close enough. You tripped a bit over your feet and Anakin caught you in his arms.

“You call this a party?” He asked, throwing your arm over his shoulder as one of his arms went around your waist to keep you upright. A laugh escaped your lips.

“No, I’ve just been saving that joke for a while now,” you admitted. Anakin looked down at you and couldn’t fight the smile from his face.

“Let’s get you out of here,” he said, and looked back up to Rex and Cody, “have them ready the transport ship.”

Rex spoke something into his comm and they started back the way they came, Anakin holding you up against his body. He was so relieved to have gotten to you, to have you by him again. Now all they had to worry about was getting back to the hangar in one piece. The ship around them shook once more tilting to one side and Anakin braced himself against the wall. That was not a good sign.

“Anakin,” a voice came in over him comm, “Dooku escaped.”

It was Obi-Wan. Anakin wasn’t surprised and when everyone was ready on their feet once more and moving, Anakin lifted his free hand to his mouth.

“Should’ve expected that, he’s a runner,” Anakin said. You grumbled a bit beside him. Your revenge would have to wait it seemed.

“The ship is nearly destroyed, I hope you found what you were looking for,” Obi-wan quipped again. Somehow they had managed to make it back to the hangar without any more conflict. The ships were in sight when a sudden explosion knocked everyone to the ground. Everyone flew in different directions, and you impacted and skidded against the ground hard. You blinked as the ringing in your ears started. You coughed at the sudden smoke in the air, flakes of black in front of you. The ringing continued even when you pushed yourself up from the ground to take in the scene around you.

The transport you assumed brought the Clones here had been destroyed, and only three of them remained. Anakin was pulling one up from the ground when he desperately looked around for you. You squinted through the smoke as he rushed over, before something else caught your eyes.

Through the ashes someone was emerging. Someone you hated to admit was far too familiar. Their sight was set on you and the red lightsaber in their hand was enough for you to react. Without hesitation you felt for the one on your hip, flipping it over and using your other to send Anakin away as you ignited the saber to meet with Dash’s.

The scene before him was almost in slow motion. The clash of the weapons sizzled before you as you tried to plant your feet firmer below you, but the fatigue was finally getting to you. Dash’s glare on you was evident as he pressed firmer, your sabers disconnecting as he pushed you back. Panicked you allowed your feet to carry you backwards, blocking each slash he threw to you. The crashing of each strike rang in the air as Rex helped Anakin back up to his feet.

He took a few steps towards you when your eyes went to him again. He was coming to your side when you stretched your arm out to him again, knocking him back once more. He grunted, sliding across the ground. What were you doing? He shook his head in protest as he pushed himself up again from the floor. Another crash rippled through the air, as Dash pressed his saber against yours.

“They’ll never accept you,” he growled behind the flicker of light, “my Master knows it. You know it.”

You breathed, pressing firmer against him, “Your ignorance misguides you, as it does Dooku’s.”

Dash’s glare deepened, “Then you’ll face the wrath of the Dark side.”

The Force pushed you in a direction opposite direction of Anakin. You hit the ground roughly and your lightsaber flew from your hand. Gasping for air, you looked up at just the right moment before Dash was to swing his lightsaber down to you. Desperate, you reached forward and shut your eyes.

You waited for his strike but it never came. Careful to open your eyes, you were met with a sudden, frozen image of his attack. His arm held his lightsaber high above his head, but couldn’t bring it down to kill you. His whole body was frozen in this movement, but his eyes flickered around. Looking at your hand you realized what you had done.

Or maybe it was the other voice in your head that had done it.

But you stood from the ground, your chest heaving heavily as your eyes locked with the man before you. Neither of you said a word, so you stepped aside, making your way back to Anakin. You reached out for your lightsaber and it flung back into your grasp, and you hung it to your hip. Anakin watched in awe as you made your way over to him, a slight limp in your step.

“Sir,” Rex broke him from his daze, “we can use one of their transports. But we need to leave now.”

Anakin nodded, and when you made it back to his side you faltered, but he caught you. He would always catch you, he would make sure you knew that. As he helped you turn the Separatists transport, Obi-Wan appeared from the other side of the hangar. He glanced back at the still frozen apprentice, then back to Anakin, who only shook his head.

He figured his Padawan would tell him later.

- - - - - - - - - -

Seeing Coruscant again was like a dream come true. You never thought you would see it as such but right now it meant the world to be back. The noise, the people, seeing the people you knew was what you needed right now. You had to go over every detail you could remember to the medic team, and then every detail to Obi-Wan and Anakin. It was an excruciating process, but the longer the meds were in you, the more you felt like yourself. And your exhaustion had started to settle in.

Obi-Wan was the one who insisted on there being higher command Clones to watch over you, until they felt the threat was gone. Not that the ones who once protected you weren’t fit, bless their souls, but Rex and Cody we’re also adamant on being the ones to watch over you. There was some kind of joke over never having to see Count Dooku again, and it made you laugh.

Though the feeling of anger at his name did cross your mind.

Night had fallen once more, but you couldn’t bring yourself to lay in that bed again. You paced in front of it as you let every rampant thought cross your mind. From how the last time you laid in it you were strangled and kidnapped, to how you watched someone behind the assassin strike down the two innocent Clones, and it made you rub at your neck. Those were just the beginning of your trainwreck thoughts. You could still see it in your head.

How you had finally fallen asleep and at the last second you woke and the hand was over your throat. How you gasped for air and your hand reached for your lightsaber, only to be crushed by what you could assume was a knee. How the person had climbed on top of you and enveloped your neck with both hands. And how you couldn’t fight the darkness that overtook you.

There was a light rasp on the door behind you that made you jump. Still rubbing at your neck you looked to the door and gulped at the lump in your throat. Because of your rambling you hadn’t even noticed the small steps behind it. You took a couple steps over and pushed the doors open, only to reveal the one person you didn’t think would be standing there.

Anakin was staring at you with some kind of look in his face. Your arms fell to your side as you registered it as irritance for what you had done to him in the hangar.

“Anakin, I’m sorry for what I did-”

Your sentence was cut short when he took a step closer to you. You glanced him up and down as he closed the gap between you, and your heart raced in your chest. Anakin’s lips parted as if to say something, but closed again. Instead his hands lifted to grab your face, his eyes not leaving yours for even a moment. You sucked a breath in as he neared, but it all came loose when his lips met yours.

It was soft and needy, the way he kissed you. You felt yourself bring your hands up to hold onto his arms and his thumbs felt like they pressed a little more into your cheeks. Anakin’s lips separated enough for you to feel his hot breath hit you. But you shook your head in denial.

“I need you to tell me you want this,” you whispered to him, “that you want me as much as I want you.”

Your eyes fluttered open when he didn’t answer, and his eyes locked with yours, and a small graced his lips, “You’re all I want.”

The sentiment made you melt, and he kissed you again. You let him steer you backwards until your legs touched the bed. You halted for a moment, and his lips disconnected a bit to gauge your reaction. His hands trailed down to your hips, and he shook his head.

“If you don’t want to-”

“No I just,” you chuckled a bit, and threw a glance over your shoulder, “the last time I was in that bed. . Y’know.”

He pressed a quick kiss to your lips, “I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.”

His words made you bite your lip, and you carefully slid each strap from your dress past your shoulders. When you shimmied them down your arms your dress fell in a heap on the floor, and Anakin looked you over in wonder. He grazed his hands down the curves of your side and made a small hissing sound in appreciation.

You smiled at him, and this time you grabbed his face in your hands and brought him back down for a kiss. He let you guide him forwards as you eased yourself onto the bed and his arms held himself over you. His tongue danced with yours and he felt your leg draw up on one his sides and he grabbed hold of it. The way his metal hand gripped at your thigh made you gasp a bit as you felt him press into you. The sudden noise made him trail a kiss down to your chin and you sighed happily. Your hips squirmed under him as you felt the fabric of his pants press against your tender folds.

A grin played across his lips as he kissed at your neck. Feeling you squirm beneath him made something ignite in him like never before. He used his metal hand that gripped your thigh to his body press it open, and he felt your breath hitch as he brought his fleshed one to your core. You squirmed a bit more and he caught your lips in his as he slid two fingers down your folds. The noise you released in his mouth made it even more enjoyable as he slid two fingers into your hot, wet core and pumped them in and out.

You gripped onto his shoulder at the sudden movement, and he grinned against your lips. You were unfolding before him and it was marvelous to feel. His thumb started to rub against your clit and you suddenly disconnected from his lips to gasp. You sounded so beautiful in his ear when he nibbled on your neck, and even more so when he slid a third finger in you. Your head fell back into the soft blanket and he kissed down to one of your breasts, grabbing a hold of one in his mouth.

Anakin knew how to make you squirm, as you were learning. The way his fingers curled into you made the thigh he held onto quiver a bit. Feeling his hot breath against your skin made your heart rush under him. But he was so caring in this moment. The way his eyes looked over you like you were the most precious thing in the galaxy to him, how he grinned when you made the tiniest of noises, and the way he kissed your skin. You were suddenly very aware of the fact he was completely clothed and you itched at pushing his robe off of him. When you made the move he quickly released your thigh and pressed your arms above your head.

“Not yet,” he commanded. You found yourself nodding in response, and you felt his thumb pressing a little firmer against your clit, his fingers pumping a little faster in and out of you. You whimpered and he grinned in the night.

You clenched around his fingers and he let out a satisfied sigh. His bulge was pressing into your leg, he knew that, but you were too beautiful to stop. He could watch you come undone before him all night, but when you whispered to him he couldn’t help himself anymore.

“Please,” you had whispered, and he nodded to himself more than you. He brought his fingers from your slick folds and licked them clean. You watched in awe and worked at pushing his robe off, and he took over by practically throwing it off. You pulled the hem of his shirt up and he tossed it somewhere as well. He had to peel himself from your body to push the bottom of his clothing off, and he looked you over as he did.

You fidgeted under the moonlight, and he smiled to himself. That hunger in him turned to something else when he climbed back onto you. The air had changed as you grabbed his face in your hands again and kissed him deeply. When you separated from one another neither spoke, but the look that was exchanged said it all. Anakin braced himself before he entered you, and quieted your gasp with his lips once more.

You felt even better like this. Your walls clenched around him and it made his mind race with thoughts, but he let you settle against him. As he pulled out and pushed back in you moaned into his mouth and he let your lips go. You wrapped your arms around his neck and he let his head come down to your neck as we pushed in and out from your wet core. When his hisp met yours you bucked in time with him, and Anakin couldn’t help himself pump into you a little harder. You dragged your nails over his shoulder as he quickened his pace, and he felt you shudder under him.

You were unraveling way quicker than you wanted. The snap of your skin meeting his felt so good, feeling Anakin fill you and press into your body was intoxicating. But you couldn’t handle that, not right now. You had no self control in your body. It was all him. You felt yourself tighten around him and you knew he felt it too when he slowed down a bit, adjusting his body so he could hit just the right spot like with his fingers.

He wanted to watch you, really take in the sight before him. The way your breasts bounced with each of his pumps and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Gods he would never be able to forget that look on your face. He was close, but he could never finish before you--

“Anakin-” you whispered and he nodded.

“Come for me,” he nearly growled. Your hips bucked him in response as he pushed in and out of you harder.

“Ani-” you weren’t even able to finish his name when he watched you gasp, and felt you twitch around him. Behind your eyes you thought you were seeing stars, and he lowered himself to kiss your chin again as he pushed himself over the edge too.

You felt amazing coming undone for him. Your hand rubbed his back as he pressed into you and you felt his pulse inside your walls. He slowed his pace as he rode it out and nothing but hot and heavy breathing filled the room. You savoured this moment as not only your bodies became one, but the connection between you two did as well. Anakin’s energy felt so peaceful at this moment, and you kissed his shoulder gently.

He pulled himself out of you and looked down at you in awe. His hand traced down the side of your cheek and he pressed another soft kiss to your lips. He lingered for a moment before he peeled himself off your body once more. He couldn’t help but still look over your body and he offered his hand for your to grab, and you happily did. He pulled you up from the bed and put his hand to your back to lead you to the refresher.

Anakin took great care in washing your naked body down under the steam. The smile on your face was enough to make him forget everything in his life for once. He was just living happily in this moment. His hands glided over your body with soap and he took the time to work shampoo through your hair. Anakin tried his best not to notice the many bruises that covered parts of your body, but he worked gently over them so you didn’t twitch from pain. You rolled your head to one side as your back faced him and he took the chance to kiss you again in the exposed curve. Your giggle made him smile against your skin.

You also took care in him. Washing his body with soap and running your hands through his long hair with shampoo. Anakin was tall and broad and watching the soap run down his body was a show all on it’s own. The little jokes you both shared was what made this moment perfect. Even when it was over, he took great care in you. He picked out a fresh set of clothes from you and pulled his pants back on from earlier. In a different manner than before you pulled him into bed with you and he pulled the blanket over you both.

As if in perfect motion, he laid on his back while you crawled under his right arm, resting yourself on his chest. He placed a soft kiss against the top of your head and your arm rested above his heart, perfectly. Anakin brought something to your chest you had never felt, but one thing was clear as the two drifted off to sleep.

Things would never be the same after tonight. And neither of them would complain of that.

- - - - - - - - - -

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