#the quinlan in my head would never act this way but that’s the quinlan in my head | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

2amcheese · 2 years

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FoxQuin Fic

Not made for the week specifically but around that time so I'm submitting it anyway @foxquinweek

8,500 words TW: slightly suggestive content, major character injury

Prologue:

The first time Fox was assigned to work with Quinlan Vos, he had been skeptical.

He had never known any Jedi personally. They tended to keep to themselves on Coruscant, and while a couple of his brothers had built close bonds with their jedi generals (specifically Cody. Incredibly close bond. Fox tried to stay out of any gossip unrelated to the war, but he had his suspicions), the Coruscant Guard didn’t have a Jedi General, so he didn’t have consistent contact with one.

That changed the day he met Jedi Shadow General Quinlan Vos.

Known for being an excellent undercover agent, the Jedi had been preparing for his next mission when Fox had been assigned to handle a separatist ship that had made it past the Republic blockade. This would be his men’s first real battle–and hopefully their last. They acted as a police force, not a full battalion for regular shootout battles. Hopefully their ships would shore up their defenses after this.

Quinlan had been told to go with them. Well, he had demanded it himself, citing boredom. Apparently researching local customs and politics on his next planet was boring. Fox had met the jedi earlier in the day. They’d shook hands and introduced themselves, went over tactics–pretty basic, the seppies had landed in an airfield area so as to have more room, so they were going to pick them off from a distance as much as they could before engaging.

Vos agreed with the plan, seeming to be excited. Now they were on their way to the battle field, standing in one of the LAATs.

“So, Commander.” Vos said. “You get out much?”

“No. I work here on Coruscant.”

“Sounds dull.”

“Occasionally.”

“Not very talkative, huh.”

“Have you said something deserving of my energy?”

“Goddamn! There we go, some personality!”

“Most people just call it sarcasm. Sir.”

“Quinlan is fine.”

“Not going to happen, General Vos.”

“Someday, Fox. Someday.”

“I doubt we’ll be talking much after this.”

“Cold. You must be a real pleasure at parties.”

Thire butted in. “We threw one once. Tried to keep a secret from him, but he found out when no one came to yell at him to go to sleep. He walked in, looked around for a minute to take in the scene, grabbed a bottle of the strongest whiskey we had and left.”

Vos whistled. “My kind of man!”

They were wearing their helmets, but Fox had perfected the Disdainful Head Tilt years ago. “It was late. I did not want to deal with your o’sik.”

“Is that–Mandalorian?”

“It’s Mando’a for shit. Jango, our genetic base, was mandalorian, we use it sometimes. Not for battle commands though.”

“Huh, cool. I’m multilingual, but I don’t know Mando’a. Maybe it’ll be my next language.”

Fox didn’t reply, keeping his eyes ahead of them. “We’re approaching. Get ready.” The ship dropped them off on the edge of the rest of the city. His men immediately began evacuating the civilians while they set up cannons and blasters. His snipers took the higher positions and heavy artillery the lower. Everyone was setting up perfectly. Fox couldn’t help feeling a spark of pride for his men. If all the battalions were like the Guard, the war should be over quickly.

[cut to the 501st having a Who Can Punch the Most Droids? Competition]

“How long until we can charge?” General Vos asked Fox, surveying the men around him.

“The goal is not to. A lot of my men would die. My guess would be an hour or two. Only one ship got by, so there aren’t that many. We can get the B1s and B2s–the most basic ones, two-legged for some reason–with this strategy. If there are any droidekas we’ll be in trouble. Not much we can do about those without getting closer. We can rough up the ground near them, but they’re three legged, and can get across rough ground much easier.”

“Leave them to me then,” Vos suggested.

“Bad idea. At least wait until we all go out.”

“You just said that they’ll shoot at your men without stopping. I can risk a little to get them down as long as you guys cover me from above.”

“You realize most of them will be shooting at you.”

“That’s what the lightsaber’s for, Commander.” The general winked. “I got this. Assuming they even have them.”

“I’ll attend your funeral,” Fox said drily, and turned to watch the droids advance.

They waited until they stood a reasonable chance of being accurate, and all the civilians had been evacuated, before Fox spoke calmly into the internal comm, “Fire.”

“Don’t people usually shout that command?” Vos inquired.

“Do you think my men would appreciate me shouting something in their ears that would be just as easy to say in a normal voice? Shouting is for the midst of battle.”

Vos nodded and turned towards the battle.

An hour later, droid corpses riddled the ground in front of the opposing army, and almost all of Fox’s heavy machinery was down. The separatist army continued to advance, and Fox could see droidekas rolling along the sides of the army. It was almost time to meet them head-on.

“General Vos,” Fox said, getting the Jedi's attention.

“Quinlan,” Vos suggested. First names were never going to happen.

“We have droidekas on their way. Looks like three on each side. You want to handle them, or was that all false bravado?”

“I’ll take out the three on one side now, and the rest when we do the full frontal. Just get your men to cover me.”

“Yes sir.”

Fox watched Vos jump down the battlements, in leaps that would definitely break his legs. Some Jedi power no doubt.

Fox turned on his internal comm. “The general is going down to deal with the right droidekas,” he said. “When they see him, give him some cover fire. Everyone not actively shooting prepare to move out.”

He saw his men comply with his commands easily. Fox pulled out his macrobinoculars to watch the General, he had to admit he was curious as to his battle capabilities. Even the most skilled jedi could have difficulties with droidekas.

Vos had veered wide to the side, and was creeping up towards them. No one seemed to have noticed him yet, even as he grew closer, which was made understandable by the fact that Fox’s eyes kept sliding past him. Some sort of force camo layer made him stand out less. He got all the way up to the outermost droideka, which noticed him just as he walked through its shield. Vos cut off its head before it had time to react, but every nearby droid noticed him as well.

The jedi deflected a few bolts before doing a high backflip backward, making it harder to hit him. Fox’s men were laying down cover, just as promised. Vos was deflecting and dodging many bolts as it was, he was lucky to have not been hit yet. He flung out a hand and seemed to yank one of the droidekas closer to him, a move that seemed foolish at first, but the point became clear immediately: the other droid’s blasts were only hitting the droideka’s shield. Vos held a detonator in one hand, and as he deflected bolts from the droideka right in front of him, he let the detonator go and used his Jedi power to move it in a straight line for the second one. Before long it was inside its shields. Fox realized again that droids really weren’t smart; any one of his men would have known to get away from that, but the droid didn’t seem to analyze it as a threat.

The bomb detonated, destroying the second droideka.

With that done, Vos walked through the last shield and lopped off its blasters, then its central processing unit, and then threw it into the nearest battle droids as he ran back to cover.

Fox was deeply impressed.

He had managed to sneak up to them unnoticed, develop a successful strategy, and deflect countless blaster bolts while executing the whole thing. Fox knew, of course, that the last was a big part of training for Jedi, as they liked to focus on defensive tactics, but had still been so many he didn’t know how he’d managed to catch them all on his blade.

Fox ordered his men to start forming a real marching force, and headed down to the left flank where he met Vos. “Shouldn’t you have the right flank if I have the left?” the jedi asked. “Not that I object to your presence,” he added with a wink. Fox kept his face stony under his helmet.

“You’ll be distracted by the droidekas. Thorn and Thire have the right.”

“You’re the boss!”

Mostly Fox wanted to see how Vos would deal with these droidekas, and to back him up himself if he needed it. Fox had always loved watching a good fight. He blamed Jango.

By then there weren’t an overwhelming amount of droids left, but they needed to prevent them from entering the rest of the city area, and this was the easiest way to do that.

“Attention!” Fox called into his internal comm. “And…March!” Everyone lifted on their right leg and stepped with their left in unison, except for General Vos, who walked out of time next to Fox.

They approached the army quickly, and when Fox judged the time was right, he spoke into the comms, “Fire.”

“I’m going to go deal with the droidekas,” Vos said, then made a giant leap over most of Fox’s men. Fox growled and jogged after him, his troops parting neatly for him.

By the time he got to the edge and could actually see the Jedi, one droid lay in a twitching heap on the ground, and Vos was using the other two as a shield against the lesser droids. Fox got as close as he could, trying to avoid getting shot. He pulled out a taser detonator and threw it underhand at one of the bots. He had gotten the velocity just right, and it slowed in time to roll carefully through the droid’s shield before detonating, leaving Vos with one.

The jedi was concentrated in not dying, his face the most serious Fox had ever seen him in their brief time of knowing each other. Vos gave him a quick nod, the lack of the second droideka allowing him to focus on lifting the last one up with the force. It wasn’t firing, Fox guessed that it couldn’t. Vos was glowering up at it, and brought a second hand up. He concentrated for a moment, then tore it in half. The shield flickered out, and Vos cast it away into the crowd of droids, which was thinning by the minute.

“Surround the remaining droids!” Fox shouted into his mic. “E-C command two!”

His sargents all called affirmatives and directed the Guard into the formation he had requested, wrapping around the droids to surround them. Fox followed Vos around to the back, downing droids easily with his dual blasters. Vos force-leaped to the center, where all the droids were being herded, re-ignited his lightsaber, and attacked with a new fervor.

This time instead of the angry, concentrated expression from earlier, Vos was grinning as he whirled around, deflecting bolts back into droids, cutting heads off, and flipping around.

It wasn’t long before they had defeated every droid in the army.

“And that’s a wrap!” Vos said, standing in the middle of the circle of dismembered droids. “Let’s go back, I’m hungry.”

Fox’s troopers roared their assent, and they all traipsed back to collect their stuff from their temporary base.

“You did well,” Fox said to Vos as they rode back to the Coruscant capital.

“That’s a very good compliment,” Thire stage-whispered to Vos.

“Thanks, commander. I haven’t really gotten to do that, y'know, I’m a Shadow so I mostly specialize in covert missions.”

“It doesn’t show.” And that was enough complimenting the man. He already seemed to have an inflated ego.

“Well, of course! I’m incredible.” There it was. “In wars, in training, in bed… I’ve got it all, really.”

“Yes, you strike me as a professional sleeper,” Fox replied drily.

Vos gasped in overdramatic outrage. “How dare you! Your mother would say otherwise.”

There was a general snickering from around the ship.

“I wouldn’t say such things about Shaak-Ti if I were you,” Fox replied evenly, causing even more laughter as Vos went silent.

Fox allowed himself a small, private smile under his helmet.

The next time he saw Vos, a couple weeks later the Jedi was lounging in his only chair. “Megs laam, jag?” he said. What’s up man?

Fox kept his face impassive. “Your pronunciation is o’sik. And how’d you get in here? I should arrest you for breaking and entering.”

“I have a particular propensity for getting into pretty men’s bedrooms,” Vos said with a wink. Fox was grateful for the helmet concealing his blush. “And I haven’t broken anything yet, so you can’t charge me for that. Also, I just started learning Mando’a recently, so give it a rest.”

“Hm,” Fox said. “Why’re you here?”

“I was bored.”

“I could always assign you a patrol with some of my men.”

“Only if you’re coming too, handsome.” Fox rolled his eyes.

“I have paperwork. You’ll have to live without me. Get out of my chair.”

“Just sit on my lap, Commander, I don’t mind.”

Fox’s face grew redder under his helmet as he crossed his arms. “Move. Sir.”

“Quinlan.”

“No.”

Vos sighed and stood up, gesturing grandly to the chair. Fox eyed him warily, but sat down at the desk and started doing the work.

Vos hung around for a while, generally being a nuisance, until he grew bored of it. “See you soon, Commander.” The stress on the last word turned it into something much more than a military title.

“Kriffing Jetii,” Fox muttered. No one had ever flirted with him before. He could never admit he liked it.

Then next time General Vos dropped by to annoy him, there were two chairs in Fox’s office.

[months later]

Fox breathed in through his nose, and out through his mouth. Several times. His heart rate lowered. “Go. Away.” After a small pause he added, “Sir.”

“Absolutely not. I love seeing you this worked up,” Quinlan Vos said with a smirk, draped haphazardly across the second chair sitting in Fox’s office. For the third time this month.

How one assignment had turned into Quinlan dropping by every time he was on Coruscant, Fox had no idea. He complained about this frequently. He suspected that the Force had it out for him, especially since Vos had started having more and more assignments on Coruscant itself, trying to root out attacks on-planet. He was good at it too, and useful, but not at 22:48 at night. (10:48 if you don't want to bother)

In the privacy of his own mind, he didn’t entirely mind the visits. They broke up the monotony of Coruscantian life. Fox still didn’t enjoy the constant urging for him to go to sleep.

He ignored the obvious innuendo in favor of gritting his teeth and scrawling a messy signature at the bottom of a datapad. “Besides,” Vos continued, “who else could possibly annoy you into going to sleep? You’ve been working for far too long. Go to bed.” He snickered lowly. “I could join you…”

Insufferable di’kuit. Anyone else who could never get away with that remark. Fortunately for Quinlan, they were friends. And had saved each other’s shebs a couple times. Not that Vos would ever know the respect Fox held for him, he’d never shut up about it. Fox had a reputation to maintain.

Fox took yet another deep breath and put down the datapad. “Do you get off on being an incredible annoyance, General?!” he snapped sarcastically, turning around in his chair.

“Oh, I absolutely do,” Vos purred. “Go to sleep.”

Fox crossed his arms. “The chancellor doesn’t pay me to do nothing,” he stated flatly.

“Our Esteemed and Holy Lord Sheev the Mighty Chancellor doesn’t pay you at all,” Vos reasoned, “but that’s a conversation for another night. I’m not kidding. Go to bed or you’ll be worthless in the morning.”

“Stop slandering the chancellor in my office.”

“What, you gonna turn me in?” Vos laughed lightly, rising and stalking over to Fox. “Unlikely.” His stupid pretty face held a challenge that Fox couldn’t help answering.

He stood up to meet Quinlan’s eyes. The action almost made him woozy. Fuck, he’d been sitting for longer than he’d thought. The general’s statements may have some merit, Fox admitted, but he’d never tell him that.

He should invest in some platforms for his boots. He did not like the fact that Vos was taller than him.

“Go away,” he growled. Again. The jedi just grinned at him.

“And leave you alone? You’d be so bored without me, Commander.” He stressed the last word as he liked to do, and Fox hated how he liked it. He hated Vos, he hated the war, and he hated his stupid traitorous heart, which couldn’t help but beat faster at the proximity of Vos’s face to his. Specifically, his lips.

“Believe me,” Fox said, glowering at the man, “I could find plenty of ways to entertain myself with you gone. Such as doing my kriffing work!”

Vos sighed, and took a half-step back, his face turning serious. “We’ve been assigned to work together on a mission tomorrow. That’s why I’m here. Not just for your handsome face,” he said, adding the last part with a sly smile. “Someone’s trying to kidnap Amidala, again. I’m in with them, but the council wants me feeding information directly to you and your men to help stop them. Please go to sleep so you can actually be effective tomorrow.” He crossed his arms as well, mirroring Fox’s stance. “Good enough for you?” he asked, a challenging air emanating off him.

Fox considered this. “...Fine. For the sake of the mission. Not for you.”

Quinlan’s usual good spirits returned immediately. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir,” he said with a wink, and then he was gone.

Fox pulled off his helmet and rubbed his face. Fuck. Now he had to deal with the flirtatious general all of tomorrow, too.

He ignored the part of his brain celebrating it. He could never let the idiot Jedi know how well his innuendos worked on him. Wasn’t Fox’s fault Vos was hot as fuck.

Shit. He was in so much shit.

The next day he woke to curtains being thrown open. “Rise and shine, sleepy head!” a voice called, sounding suspiciously like a certain jedi Shadow.

“Get out of my room!” Fox called back, blearily. He had been assigned quarters in the senate building to keep him as adjacent as possible. It worked for him, usually, but right now he wished he bunked with the other troopers in the barracks so he could have some backup.

He slowly rose and then quickly pushed the general into his conjoining office and shut the door. He couldn’t let Vos find out his greatest secret: Fox was not a morning person.

He put on his armor as fast as he could, trying his best to ignore the general cacophony in the other room. As soon as he finished, helmet under his arm, he flung open the door (i am aware star wars uses clicky slidey doors. Fuck off.) and asked, “What the FUCK are you doing, Vos?”

Vos grinned. “Got you breakfast!” he said. Indeed, there were two plates laden with scrambled eggs..sitting on his desk, which had previously been occupied by the many datapads which were now in a pile on the floor.

Fox could easily get past his annoyance over the callous treatment of his possesions upon seeing any food that wasn’t fucking ration bars. “I’ll forgive you for now,” he said, hurrying over to the desk and wolfing down the food.

“Damn,” Vos said, surprised. “Guess it’s true what they say. Quickest way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

“Pretty easy when the man in question eats ration bars for breakfast lunch and dinner,” Fox said, around a mouthful of eggs. If he eats at all.

“No way. That must be a human rights violation of some sort,” Vos said, frowning. “I get it when you’re on missions and whatever but just sitting on Coruscant?”

“They don’t have the budget. It’s fine. Now, are you going to brief me on the mission details, or just sit there being useless?”

“Anything for you, gorgeous,” Vos said with a wink, letting the previous conversation go and pulling up a document on his personal datapad.

“Comm check,” Fox murmured, checking that it was the right channel.

“All good,” Vos replied. “As much as I’m sure you love hearing my voice–” “I don’t,” Fox cut in, “--don’t comm me unless it’s an absolute emergency or I tell you it’s safe.”

“Roger, sir. We’re in position.” Fox surveyed his men. They all held basic parade rest in the lowest levels of the senate, reportedly where the criminals were attempting their infiltration. The main goal was Padme Amidala–when was it not–but they’d be happy to bag any senator. They were planning to use some sort of new drill machine to get up through the floor.

“Heading toward the eastern quadrant as expected,” Vos said through the headset. Fox did not respond, but held his position.

It was some time before he heard from him again. “Hallway G7,” Vos said, so quietly Fox could hardly hear him.

“G7!” Fox barked out. “Let’s go!” Thorn directed the other 10 men–only so many could reasonably fit in the halls–as they marched quickly to set up the ambush. “Set blasters to stun, men,” he said grimly.

The hallway the perpetrators were going to use would lead into a square section with a four-way cross road. Fox had men outside the doors and in the two side passages, waiting for the enemy.

Soon there was the faint sound of footsteps rapid against the ground. They stopped as they got almost within a good range.

A shiny silver sphere flew into the room.

“Get down!” Fox roared, hitting the deck immediately.

But there was no explosion.

Not in that room, anyway. Fox’s stomach dropped to his feet when he heard the bomb go off in the hallway.

Abandoning all pretext of formality, he rose and sprinted to where Quinlan Vos lay in the middle of the hallway, groaning.

Quinlan POV [a few minutes ago]

Everything was going according to plan. They were in the eastern quadrant, creeping along the newly made tunnel. Judging by how they were going, they were going to reach the bottom of the senate building soon.

And there it was, he was right, per usual. The criminal leader of this escapade, a rodian named Dolik pulled a vibroblade from his pocket and carefully cut out a hole. Quinlan had to admire his strategy; he cut most of the metal but not all, to ensure no one above could see. While everyone else focused on that, tense and ready to go, Quinlan hissed “G7” into the comm. Hopefully Fox would be ready with his men. The second in command busted into the hallway, quickly and ready to fight but still quietly. They really had planned this out well, Quin had to admit.

In the end it would come down to if he had planned better.

The rest of the group went up through the hole. Quinlan mentally bemoaned the fact that he couldn’t force jump through the hole, and instead had to go to the disgusting trouble of clambering through. Baarsk, a trandoshan and his main contact within the group, clasped his hand to pull him up. “Thanks man,” he muttered.

And then the force tugged on him. Quinlan called up that pull, followed it…right to Fox. His heart hammered in his chest. Something was going to go wrong.

He wove to the front of the group as they all ran down the hallway. Dolik abruptly stopped them just as Quin reached the front. He silently raised the tablet he’d been holding in front of him. A heat signature display clearly showed the clones in front of them.

Quin’s heart skipped a beat, and he barely had time to think before the rodian chucked a bomb into the upcoming chamber.

Acting quickly, Quinlan broke out from the rest of the band, grabbed the detonator with the force, and yanked it behind him into the rest of the criminals. He was running toward Fox and the rest of them, but not fast enough–the bomb detonated somewhere between him and the band of bounty hunters.

Quinlan felt himself fall to the floor. There was a loud ringing in his ears.

Fox POV

Fox fell to his knees next to Vos. “Vos! Sir! Are you okay?” The general stirred, groaning. “Call a medic!” Fox called to Thorn. Thorn nodded and barked out orders to the rest of the men. They were restraining the injured insurrectionists, whichever ones were alive. Fox didn’t care.

“Sir. Can you speak?” There was shrapnel buried in his stomach.

“Force,” Vos wheezed, “love it when you call me sir.”

Fox wanted to cry. “Fuck off,” he said, voice breaking. “We called a medic. You’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Nice to know you care.” His voice was raspy.

“Of course I care,” Fox said sternly. “Di’kuit. If you die I’ll never forgive you.”

“Everyone dies, Commander.”

“Fox.”

Vos let out a rasping laugh. “Oh, now that I’m dying I can use your name.”

“You’re not going to die. You’re far too stubborn for that.”

“Not such a bad thing, Fox,” Vos said, his voice getting fainter. “Dying in the arms of a handsome soldier.”

“Don’t you dare pass out. Come on–Quinlan!” Fox ripped off his helmet. “Focus on me. Stay awake. Just until the medic gets here.”

“Aww, is this the first time you’ve called me by name?” Vos chuckled faintly, which turned into a cough. “Now I really can die in peace. Sorry babe, not sure this is something I can control.” His eyes closed, but his chest still rose and fell, albeit faintly. “Sorry love,” he whispered. Fox stared at him. Of–of course he would do this. Only man alive who could flirt while dying.

He shoved his bucket back on just in time for the medic to arrive. “Get him to the Halls of Healing!” Fox barked, standing up. “He’s a jedi, they’ll let you. Hurry up!” Vos was placed on a stretcher and rushed out. Fox fought the urge to race after them.

He took a couple seconds to collect himself before turning his attention to his men. Thorn put a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry, vod,” he said quietly. “I know you were close.”

“He’s not dead yet.” Fox insisted doggedly. “If anyone can survive that, it’s him. He’s– he’s fucking impossible. Stubborn ass.” He took another deep breath. “Status?”

Thorn snapped to attention. “None injured save for the general. Out of the seven others, three survived. Leader Dolik is dead. Second in command is alive, with injuries. Both trandoshans are alive as well. All three are going to the prisoner infirmary, and then prison until the trial whereon they will likely be sentenced to life unless they cooperate with us, if so they may earn a lighter sentence.” He took a breath. “That’s all sir.”

“Thank you. Go back to the barracks once the prisoners are secured. I’ll report the mission as successful.”

“Sir–Fox,” Thorn said gently, “if you want me to do the paperwork for this one, that’s okay. I can.”

“Thank you for the offer. That’d be appreciated.”

Thorn clapped him on the shoulder. “Anytime, sir.”

Fox stared at the place where Vos had lain for a couple more seconds before robotically moving with the rest of his men.

It wasn’t long before he found an excuse to fill out some reports, giving him time to himself. He decided to at the least try to get some work done, to distract himself, but it was of no use. He would have to go through the excruciating process of figuring out his feelings. And where he and Vos stood.

So he’d fallen for the man. It was time to come to terms with that. He was fucking insufferable, stubborn as all hell, and incredibly caring. And hot. Fox couldn’t help the way his heart beat faster at all his little comments and winks and smiles, and when it came down to it, he trusted Vos. With his life. Yes, despite how stupid reckless he was.

The thought flooded him with anxiety, and he stood up and started pacing. Maybe he should head down to the training halls.

He scrawled a short letter on a piece of paper before he could convince himself not to, and walked briskly down to the training halls. He encountered Thire on the way. “Could you take this to the Halls of Healing?” he asked brusquely.

“Yes, sir!” Thire said, then eased a bit. “Who’s it for?”

“General Vos. Got hurt on a mission today. This is a basic writeup on it, he might like my words better than whatever the nurses have.” It wasn’t a basic writeup, but that was none of Thire’s business.

“He’s your friend, right? At least, he’s in your rooms often enough for it.”

Fox gave him a stern look that quelled whatever almost-invisible smile was lurking on Thire’s face.

“Yes,” Fox said. “He continuously attempts to annoy me into going to bed.”

“Is he ever successful?”

“He is… incredibly stubborn,” Fox replied, avoiding the question. “And I don’t have military power over him to make him go away,” he tacked on hurriedly, seeing Thire’s face light up, “so don’t go getting any ideas.”

“Well,” Thire said, the hint of a smirk evident on his face, “I guess if it doesn’t work when I do it, I’ll have to point him your way in the future.”

Fox cleared his face. “Assuming he lives,” he said in a clipped tone.

“If he’s even half as stubborn as you make him out to be, he’ll be fine,” Thire assured him.

Fox nodded curtly. “See to it that letter is delivered. Unread.”

Thire shot him a snappy salute. “Yes sir!”

Fox shook his head as he walked away. His men meant well, but they were the prying sort. Not that he was really complaining. He debated if it would be worth it to issue a statement to the Guard that if they heard any news about General Vos they were to report to him immediately. He didn’t think they’d be too suspicious, by now the Guard had practically adopted him as their jedi. He helped a lot, being able to go easily undercover to root out bounty hunter and separatist plots. When he wasn’t offworld on crazy Jedi missions, of course, which was always a danger for the Jedi Shadow.

He approached the Training room with little tension. It was about the only place where rank didn’t really matter–he’d practice like anyone else, wait his turn in any lines, and no one had to stand on attention for him. It was almost relaxing.

If anything could be such while Quinlan was in the medbay.

One hardcore punching bag session later, and after a couple of spars with some of his better men, Fox was satisfactorily bruised and exhausted. By the time he got back to his room, he just wanted to stumble into bed. But then he might wake up well-rested and ready to face the day, and there was no way he was doing that. If he couldn’t think straight tomorrow then he wouldn’t have to deal with his thoughts! Ingenious.

He stayed filling out reports and doing paperwork late into the night, until he fell asleep at the desk. He woke up halfway through the remaining nighttime, just long enough to move to the bed and pass out again.

The next day wasn’t much better. He spent it in a blur of paperwork and training, and a meeting with the Chancellor that he barely remembered. Not that Palpatine would notice his distraction, the attention stance had been beaten into him at Kamino and Fox’s was immaculate. Between that and the helmet nobody noticed anything was off.

Good.

He also spent some time avoiding Thorn and Thire, who would definitely berate him for not sleeping. And being generally unhealthy. He’d barely eaten, the ration bars tasted like dust on his tongue.

Vos hadn’t died yet, that he was certain of. He would have been alerted if he had. Fox had smothered all sparks of hope at the thought; he still could die. Quinlan would contact him when he was well enough to. That could take a few weeks though, with the amount of shrapnel buried in his stomach. Blood loss, broken bones, serious burns, possibly a punctured lung or other organ…it was a miracle he had survived this long.

It was the next day that Fox was actually assigned to do something.

He got up sluggishly, ate half a ration bar, put on his armor and walked to the barracks.

A squad was already waiting for him. It was just a routine sweep, reminding the citizens of Coruscant that they were protected and safe. It wasn’t entirely true, crime on coruscant was rampant and the guard couldn’t get everything, but appearances were important.

They set off on their basic patrol, which took about four hours.

They were on their way back, three and a half hours later, when there was a shout from the back of the group. Fox whirled, blasters in hand, set to stun. Always to stun when dealing with civilians.

One of his men lay on the ground, and a bunch of poorly armed civilians stood behind the group. “We’ve had enough of the senate’s playthings!” a woman, who seemed to be the leader, shouted. “Enough of the threats! Get out of our streets!” There was a general cacophony around her. Force damn it, Fox did not want to have to deal with another one of these.

“Ma’am, I request that you step back and lay down your weapons. I have to bring you in for the assault of an officer, but if you stop now the sentence will be light and the rest of you will get off. If not, we will stun you and take you in anyway.”

Some of the group behind her shifted uneasily, but she responded boldly, “I will not lie down and watch the republic ruin our homes! We did not need you before the war, and even now we don’t need the show of arms in the streets! We need an end to the war, not a police force!” She raised her rolling pin into the air and her scions roared, and attacked.

Fox sighed and let out several stun bolts, downing her and the other insurgents along with the rest of his squad. The trooper hit earlier was fine and had stood up already, just knocked down by her surprisingly heavy rolling pin.

They all picked up one of the citizens as they moved on, someone called for a transport but they didn’t want to just sit and wait. Anything to get home faster. If Fox hadn’t been so tired he might have chastised the men for cutting corners, but he desperately needed to pass out.

For once his body seemed to agree with his brain, because he stumbled over a curb and almost fell. “You good sir?” Lock asked, noting the misstep.

Fox could feel himself growing weary, but he responded in a barely-slurred “Eyes up front, trooper.” Lock complied.

The prisoner transport would be here soon, and then he’d be fine. Probably. He felt the man he was carrying slip some and hauled him up. He could get through this. He was used to exhaustion.

And now there was someone blocking their path. Fox did not have the energy to deal with this o’sik.

“Where are you going with those people,” the person asked, legs spread wide in a defensive pose.

“Arresting them for assault of officers.”

They surveyed the set of clones. “You don’t look very assaulted.”

“They were unsuccessful.” Fox carefully set the man he was carrying down and showed the video of the protestors he had taken. He always took recordings of these encounters for this exact occasion.

The person moved aside. “Fair trial will be given?”

“Every time.”

“Good.” Fox bent to pick the man back up, and found it very difficult.

He managed to hoist him up, and another minute or two of walking, before he swayed and almost fell. He would have if not for Lock, who steadied him. “Sir. I think you need a break.”

“I think the damn prisoner transport needs to arrive.”

“Thire ran into a problem and it’s over there. I’m going to tell them to bring him with them. He’s one of the only ones who can talk some sense into you.”

“Don’t. I’ll be fine.” Lock hesitated. “That’s an order, Lock.”

“Yes, sir,” Lock said, clearly disagreeing.

Force. This had been a real shit week.

They stayed stopped. Fox did not sit down, but stayed still so as to not set off his growing headache. Despite his order, when the transport arrived, Thire was on it. Fox sent a glare around his men. The effect was only lessened somewhat by the fact that he still wore his helmet.

“Fox!” Thire called, hopping off before the transport came to a full stop. “How you doing?”

“Fine,” Fox responded through gritted teeth. What happened on your end?” Few prisoners lay in the transport.

“Attempted theft. We got them and are taking them in. When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night.”

“For how long?”

“Eight hours.”

“Liar.”

“I hate you.”

“How long?”

“Three hours.”

The squad all made small noises of disapproval.

“And the last time you had water?”

“Hour ago.” The rest of the squad confirmed this.

“Food?”

“This morning.”

“How much?”

“Half a ration bar.” Fox was too tired to fabricate anything.

“Before then?”

“Qui–Vos sent me a pb&j for lunch two days ago.”

“That’s it, you’re going to the medbay.”

“Unnecessary. I just need sleep and food.”

“And you’ll be getting that at the medbay. Come on. You’ll have to walk back without our esteemed commander, men,” Thire called to the troopers. They all made sounds of affirmation and started walking as Thire pulled Fox onto the transport.

“You’d know if General Vos was dead by now,” Thire said bluntly.

“Yes.”

“So he isn’t.”

“Yet.”

“Listen, Fox, I’m not going to pretend to know the nature of your relationship, but you were clearly friends. It’s okay to be worried, and it’s okay to need time for yourself. It’s not okay to neglect your body for it. Don’t think Thorn and I haven’t noticed that you’re always at the training center when we aren’t.”

Fox said nothing.

“Vos’ll pull through. You’ll figure your shit out. In the meantime, though, he wouldn’t want you to be like this. Take a few days off if you need. Maybe visit him. Whatever works. Thorn and I can take over the paperpushing.”

Fox didn’t want to admit that he was this thrown off just because his stupid jedi had gotten himself exploded. Unfortunately, he had gone off and acquired himself feelings for this jedi. Ones that he probably needed to work through. At some point.

Thire seemed to see that Fox was on the brink of agreeing. “And you’re no help like this,” he added. “You could endanger your squadmates, You could have dropped the man you were carrying, and that could be a lawsuit or something if he’d gotten injured.”

“I hope you know that I’m only agreeing because I’m too tired to argue.”

“Excellent. You’re going to the medbay for the rest of today, then I’ll put you on medical leave for another three days. We’ll just say you got clipped by the explosion and we didn’t realize until you almost passed out on the field from bumping into something.”

Fox sighed, and resigned himself to his fate.

The next two days were uneventful. Fox spent most of his time in the gym, at the sparring mats, shouting out advice. Thorn wouldn’t let him participate, despite all the rest and food he was getting. Bullshit, in Fox’s opinion, but Thorn didn’t care.

It was his last official day of rest when Fox saw Vos.

He was on his way back from the mess hall, where he had eaten with the rest of his men for once. He’d figured he might as well since he was already in the area, at the training halls. Thorn had PROMISED to send him some paperwork today. Fox wasn’t excited about that, but the feeling of being useful would be nice.

He unlocked and opened the door to find Quinlan Fucking Vos draped across one of his chairs, staring into space.

Quinlan’s face lit up as he saw him. Fox tried his best to ignore the fireworks in his chest. “How did you get in here? The door was locked.”

“I have a particular propensity for getting into pretty men’s bedrooms,” Vos replied with a wink, reminiscent of the first time he’d gotten in. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Fox sighed. “I’m… glad you’re okay, Vos,” he said stiffly.

“Oh, back to Vos again? C’mon, we bonded!” Quinlan tutted sharply. “I like it when you say my name. Stick to Quinlan.”

Fox flushed under his helmet. “Fine. I’m glad you’re okay, Quinlan.”

“Ooh, following orders?” Quinlan raised an eyebrow. “I should almost die more often!”

“No,” Fox growled, taking off his helmet, “you shouldn’t.” He sat in the other chair, facing the jedi.

Quinlan let out a small hum of acknowledgement. They spent a few seconds in silence, until Quin said, “I touched your stuff.”

Fox raised his eyebrows. “And why, pray tell, did you do that?”

“Psychometry. You’ve been getting decent sleep. Minimal work. Doesn’t seem like you.”

Fox scowled. “Thorn and Thire put me on medical leave for a couple days. They won’t let me train, patrol, they’ve even been stealing my paperwork.”

Quinlan’s eyes lit up in alarm. “Did you get hurt?” he asked.

“No. I didn’t.” Fox paused. “I almost passed out on patrol.”

Quin settled back in his chair. “...and why was that?” he asked pensively.

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?!” Fox finally exploded. “You could have died! You almost did! And I couldn’t even visit you! All for a bunch of clones! We’re expendable, Quin! One Jedi is worth far more than ten clones! Why the fuck did you put yourself at risk?” His breathing was ragged. “You were talking to me like you were going to fucking die! You–Force, Quin.” His voice broke. “You’re a fucking idiot.” He slumped in his chair. Clones were designed to not cry, but Fox felt like he might.

“You’re not expendable. None of you are. I know people treat you like you are, but you’re not. All lives are equal in the force. I’d gladly give my life to keep you alive. Don’t say that kind of shit about you and your brothers.” Quinlan looked upset, one of the only times Fox had seen him like that.

He shook his head doggedly. “You know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“And I’m not supposed to leave the halls of healing as soon as I can move, but here I am.” Vox shrugged, a gesture far too casual for the situation. “I’ve never cared what the Council thinks. Or the Senate.”

“You aren’t fully healed? Kriffing di’kuit, I’m taking you back.”

Fox went to stand, but Vos scrambled into a normal sitting position and laid a hand on his arm. “Wait.” He sighed. “Can we talk?” Fox paused. “I’ll go back after.”

“Fine.” Fox sat back down. “An hour, max.”

“Deal.” Quinlan sat back and looked at Fox in an evaluating way. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for almost dying.”

“Don’t apologize. Not your fault.”

“I should have seen that they had a thermal scanner. I messed up the whole operation.”

“You can’t get everything. No one’s perfect.”

“You almost died because I fucked up.”

“But I didn’t, because you have a fucking hero complex.”

“It’s called ‘caring about other people.’” There was a silence. “I got your letter.”

Fox swallowed. “Mm.”

“Short but sweet.”

“One way to put it.”

Quinlan pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket. “‘Quinlan,’” he began reading. Fox buried his head in his hands. “‘Nobody else died. Thanks to you. Idiot.’”

“Is there any way I can convince you to not read the whole thing?”

“Not unless you want to attack a poor invalid. What, you embarrassed?” Quin sent him a worried glance. “If anything here isn’t true, I can stop. We don’t have to bring it up again.”

Fox’s face burned red. “No. You’re good. Just–bad with this stuff.”

“Really? Hadn’t noticed. Now hush. ‘Thank you for saving me and my men. Pull something like that again and I will kill you. I’m sorry for fucking this up, and I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before that I really care about you. I have difficulties saying it but I want you to know, because I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t tell you. You’re very important to me and your stubborn ass better pull through this so I can tell you in person. The mission went well aside from the obvious. Get well soon, Commander Fox.’”

Quin folded it up and put it back in his pocket. “Comments? Questions? Concerns?”

“Yes. Why did you read my own letter back to me?”

“In case you forgot,” Quin responded with a cheeky smile. “You made promises.”

Fox frowned. “Ones that you are making awfully hard to follow up on.”

He let out a long breath.

“Yes. I care about you. You’re nice and funny and shit. You’re… a great friend.” He looked at Quin. “Happy?”

Quinlan had a kind of sad half-smile. “Yeah. Thanks man.”

Fox felt like he had messed something up. He’d done it right, right? The ‘telling him he cared’ thing? “I’d say anytime, but I don’t know if I can promise that. Sorry.”

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’ll stop making my feelings your problem.”

Fox was definitely missing something.

Quinlan stood up to leave. “I should head back to the halls of healing,” he said, walking toward the door

Fox stood up and grabbed his wrist. “Wait.”

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean? About your feelings being my problem?”

Quinlan sighed, smiling sadly. It was nothing like his typical grin. “Me falling for you isn’t your problem. I don’t want you to have to manage it.”

What.

“You have a crush on me?”

“Yes? Was it not obvious from the flirting?”

“I thought you were like that with everyone!”

“Not to this extent! I thought you might like me back, from the letter, but you obviously don’t. Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” He made to leave again, but Fox held on.

“I… am really, really bad with my feelings, Quin,” Fox said. Kriff, was he really doing this? Force. No wonder the Kaminoans told them to avoid romantic attachments. Really does fuck up your brain.

“I’m aware.”

“So… even if I’m trying to be honest about how I feel, the extent may not come across clearly.” Force this sucked.

“What are you trying to say, Fox?” Quinlan said, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“You’re really going to make me say it.”

“Absolutely.”

“I… may… also have feelings for you.”

“May?”

“Oh, fuck off.” Fox folded his arms, unconsciously assuming a defensive stance. “Quinlan FUCKING Vos, I have romantic feelings for you. Bitch.”

“Wasn’t aware I’d changed my middle name to ‘fucking.’” Quin was grinning, despite his snarky words.

“I take it back.”

“Too late bitch!” Vos said giddily. “It’s out there! Which pickup line was it? I know there were a lot but I gotta know which one it was.” He started listing some of them off. Fox rolled his eyes and pulled him in by the wrist he was still holding, until they were flush against each other.

“Oh.” Quin said, stopping.

“May I kiss you?” Fox asked roughly, glancing at his mouth.

“Uh, yes,” Quinlan said. “Please.”

Fox closed the distance between their lips, smiling.

“I should probably walk you back to the halls of healing,” Fox said regretfully.

“Fuck that,” Quin said, a small smile on his lips. The two were sitting against the headboard of Fox’s bed, arms around each other. “I feel fine.”

“Okay. But your torso is wrapped in bandages and you’re on pain meds. I think you need a little more time.”

“Fine.” Quinlan sighed and pulled himself off the bed, Fox following suit.

He checked himself in the mirror, glaring daggers at Quin seeing the marks on his neck. “Did you have to?”

“I absolutely did. Just put on your bucket, no one’ll notice.” Fox glowered at Quinlan and followed suit.

“I hope you know,” Quin said as they walked out and started heading for the Jedi Temple, “Now that we’re dating, I’m still going to flirt with you. I’ll just be able to back up my words with actions.” He shot Fox a sly smile.

“We’re dating?”

“Oh! Sorry. Only if you want to be.” His smile faltered some.

“No. I have romantic feelings for you, and I just made out with you, but I don’t want to date you. That sounds awful.” Fox’s deadpan was very good.

Quin punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up.”

“Just–keep it a secret for now? Don’t need every trooper I have trying to figure out who the kriff I’m kriffing.”

“I’m a Shadow. I deal in secrets.”

“So dramatic.”

“You know you love it.”

“Fuck off.”

When they finally neared the halls of healing, Quinlan turned to Fox. “I’ll come by your room once I’m officially let off.”

“Of course you will,” Fox said with a roll of his eyes as a Jedi healer emerged from the room.

“Master Vos! You have not been cleared to leave the Halls of Healing! Thank you, Commander,” he said, directing the last part at Fox.

“No problem, sir. And General Vos?”

Quin turned around as the healer ushered him inside.

“I’ll be waiting.” He turned briskly on his heels and started walking back to his rooms. Thorn had probably sent along the paperwork. Thank Force he hadn’t walked in on him and Vos.

Fox smiled. Kriffing Quinlan Vos. He couldn’t wait for the war to be over.

Bonus:

[cut to an hour ago, when they were doing feelings]

Thorn approached his Commander’s door, holding a couple datapads that Fox had requested. He heard quiet voices from the other side. “Quinlan FUCKING Vos, I have romantic feelings for you.”

Thorn backed away from the door.

He’d come back later.

[cut to a couple days later]

“So you’re telling me you can’t tell me you like me, at all, but you can just pull me close and ask if you can kiss me?”

“The kaminoans didn’t teach us how to process our emotions. My brothers and I tend to be more… physical people.”

Quinlan grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Show me.”

Fox pulled his boyfriend closer. “Yes, sir.”

#this took me six days lmao #commander fox #quinlan vos #foxquinweek2023 #foxquin #star wars #swtcw #my fic #barely edited #enjoy!

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vivalavili · 11 months

Note

Growing up, Vader never really thought he had many friends in the Temple. He really wasn’t sure if he was his own friend, considering how much he struggled with his identity.

But if he had one enemy worse than all of them, it was you. You, the other perfect little blonde kid who was infinitely smarter than him and had friends of your own- Aayla, Quinlan, Obi-Wan. He never had that friendship with any of them.

And now, you’re the leader of the Rebellion. The leader. Somehow the people decided that they would all willingly listen to you. And you’ve been killing his men. Destroying his bases.

Now, as he stares at the news story alerting the galaxy of your nearly fatal injury, he can’t help but make sure he’s the first one there. Well, perhaps not the first- but definitely the last one to see you before you end up living in his palace.

The second he enters the scene, people clear the way for him- whether it’s out of fear or something else, he doesn’t care. He waves off the medical examiners crowded around you and scoops your body up, giving them a nod as he passes back around them to get back to his ship.

“Gentlemen,” he drawls, “Thank you for your cooperation.”

He holds you the entire ride back to the palace, deciding that he’s earned the right to stare at your unconscious body since you’ve made his life a living hell for so long. In fact, he gets so enamored with your beauty - which he now recognizes as genuine beauty - that when he lands back in the hangar of his palace, he doesn’t want to get up. But he does anyway, because he wants Kix to check you out. A hit to your head that hard surely means you’ll have a severe concussion, maybe even… amnesia.

“Kix,” he greets the man as he finally makes his way into the medical center just a few minutes later, “I have a task for you.”

“Anything,” Kix shrugs.

“Do a full examination on this woman. Find out everything that’s wrong with her- particularly focused on her head and memory,” Vader nods. “If she doesn’t remember anything… good.”

He leaves you with Kix for however long it takes the man to do a full checkup on you, grinning sharply to himself as Kix makes the call that you do in fact have severe damage to your memory. Apparently you’d already woken up and told him you barely remember anything. Time to enact his plan.

When he arrives in the medic center and finds your room, he gives Kix a nudge with the Force as a warning to not act surprised. Because the next thing he does is give you a fond smile as he hurries to sit next to your bed, taking your hand in his own.

“My love,” he breathes, brows furrowing, “I’m- I’m so sorry. Are you… feeling better? At all?”

Step two of his plan, if you fall asleep soon, will be to contact Zyn and let her know she has some homework from him. And then Cody will help him enact the rest of his plan, when it comes to alerting all the clones that you will be joining them for now.

Oh! And Ruhn! What an excellent idea to bring someone into Ruhn’s life as his mother. The two of them could use a female figure in their home- even if it means bringing in his enemy. But you deserve it. You deserve this torture and punishment. This is all for you. If this is the last thing he’ll ever do, it’s worth it.

Gods, Cody is going to love this plan. And so will Ruhn. Ruhn has actually been asking about a mama, even at his cute little young age. He’ll have to bring Ruhn in when you’re more rested.

I stare at him in confusion, frowning, “what- what? I’m sorry. I don’t know you.” I carefully try to pull my hand from his.

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

OKAY so on the topic of Star Wars takes wrt “character ends up in an A/B/O universe where they’re an omega, but they were previously a cis male in their canon”

@atagotiak and I had some Thoughts on discord

So, obviously, Anakin would make a good omega and he’s also incredibly murdery. Foregone conclusion that we're using him for this.

There is no preexisting Anakin in the Omegaverse. He shows up JUST as the war is starting. Canon timeline is in the third year of the war (he’s 22), but whatever dumped him into omegaverse also tossed him back a few years. No de-aging, just a bit of mismatched timeline stuff.

He's... really good at war, and clearly a Jedi, so the Temple just kind of goes "WELL OKAY THEN, SURE, YOU'RE IN, EVERYONE PRETEND HE'S BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME." The Jedi, by and large, don't care about omegaverse dynamics beyond 'what do you need, medically, to be happy and healthy' and 'what do you need to be aware of so you can be prepared for biases you encounter in the field?’

None of the civilian natborns (mainly politicians) want to put him on the field because of those biases. Anakin, being Anakin, is VERY blatantly an omega in scent, has never been on suppressants (because it wasn't a thing he fucking NEEDED), is incredibly emotional as a person, loves kids, etc.

Like, nobody wants an omega fighting a war anyway, but THIS one is like PINNACLE omega, and those awful Jedi are making him FIGHT just because he's good at stab!

The Jedi: Actually, it's because he's got several years of war experience that we don't, and he's a good tactician that works well with the clones-- Coruscant: You MONSTERS The Jedi: Look, we gave him the option to not stab and he looked absolutely devastated. Anakin, several days earlier: You don’t want me? I’m not good enough??? Jedi: Also he can beat up at least half the temple.

He doesn't know a damn thing about dynamics, but he DOES know that sometimes he's so horny he wants to stab HARDER. The clones are largely disinterested in their generals' dynamics because between mostly-Mando* trainers and no-dynamic Kaminoans, they only really care if a person can shoot.

* Mandalore approves of Fighty Omegas. As far as (traditional) Mandalore is concerned, you want an omega that will kill the threats to your children as well as you do.

Anakin: You know more about being an omega than I do. Rex: ...I'm an alpha. Anakin: Yeah. Let that one sink in a bit.

We have two options for Obi-Wan!

Omegaverse local Obi-Wan (beta) has never met this man before, and is very unnerved that the immediate default reaction Anakin has to his presence is releasing Family pheromones as if Obi-Wan is his DAD and like. This strange, too-tall man from another dimension has got absolutely NO control over what he projects in the Force OR in his dynamic.

Obi-Wan was ALSO transplanted from canon to omegaverse, and is also an omega, for contrast reasons. He is nice and friendly and and likes poetry and that sort of thing... but also he has the highest dismemberment count in the movies. Also he doesn’t prioritize romance.

We went with the second one because it's hilarious.

Someone watching them spar: Wow, omegas from that universe are terrifying.

As previously mentioned, now with some tweaking to account for both: Obi-Wan and Anakin just straight up don't exist until they drop headfirst into the council room, already covered in blood. (It's mostly not theirs.)

Nobody realizes either one is an omega until they "naturalize" to this dimension and Anakin goes into heat... and doesn't realize it, actually, because his primary symptom is heightened protectiveness and aggression. Everyone else with the right nose realizes, because the man has no control over his pheromone production, but Anakin? No. He just stabs. He’s angry and horny and he will cut someone.

Ahsoka has no reaction to human pheromones but basically everyone smells Anakin's "my child!" reaction to her, so... Cool. Have a padawan, we guess.

Anakin ends up sparring a lot with Aayla and Ahsoka, because only humans and near humans have dynamics, so these two don't REACT to the pheromones situation.

(Palpatine is a Kindly Old Beta who tries to treat Anakin the way he EXPECTS Anakin wants to be treated, which is. Not. Accurate.)

(Anakin hates it.)

I'm just so in love with "An omega can't fight." "You wanna fuckin' bet?"

There are plenty of omega Jedi, by the way, it's just... most of them can keep it relatively low-key instead of Anakin's jet-engine broadcast. Some, if they're known to be omega, probably take advantage of being underestimated, like Obi-Wan probably (and especially a version of Obi-Wan that was always an omega, unlike this version). They have a very different way of presenting themselves than Anakin, who's not subtle about being an omega and also not subtle about being all aggressive and stabby.

At one point, Anakin has to protect some Very Traditional Individuals who get all "Stay back, Omega, it's not safe!" and he's just... so tired of this shit. “You are squishy civilians and I'm a trained Jedi Knight and accomplished GAR General who's killed more people in one sitting than there are in this entire palace. Sit the fuck down and let me do my job.”

It starts making the rounds that Anakin insisted on fighting in person, and the rumors shift from "how dare the Jedi force an omega to fight" and over into things that are deeply hurtful in-universe in the vein of "broken omega" and some people try to say it to his face but like...

He didn't grow up here.

He doesn't care.

Say that to one of his friends and he's going to rip out your spleen, probably, but say it to him and he's just staring at you flatly and asking if that's a negative on getting away from the encroaching battle droids, sir?

"You're rather unpleasant for an omega, aren't you?" [deeply offensive] "I literally could not give less of a fuck about your opinion. Move."

It's not that there aren't omegas that act like Anakin, either, it's just that most of them aren't, you know, Jedi who regularly interact with the upper crust, or capable of his level of destruction. Unbeknownst to Anakin, everyone clocks him as Outer Rim based on his behavior, well before his accent gives him away, and certainly before he mentions he's from Tatooine, because Core Omegas Don't Act Like That.

Someone they meet in a more diplomatic setting says something decently passive-aggressive about how at least Obi-Wan acts more like how an Omega should. Then a battle breaks out for some reason, and... well. Anakin and Obi-Wan cause such a scandal by keeping score of kills in a battle, don’t you know?

Turns out sending Anakin to fight Ventress is great because she keeps expecting him to react a certain way but NO he's here to STAB.

I like the idea that Obi-Wan's favorite opponent these days is Grievous because the cyborg doesn't have a nose, and thus gives zero fucks about dynamics or heats. Dooku is a rich old man who has opinions heavily influenced by Sith Juice Making Him More of a Dick, and the Dathomiri can smell dynamics even if they don't have them, and so they have biases about those things. Meanwhile, Grievous is just there to Kill, and Obi-Wan genuinely appreciates the lack of commentary on his dynamic.

Dooku’s probably an alpha, or a beta who's used the whole "we are more level-headed" thing as one of several angles to keep himself the public face and supreme commander of the CIS.

On to more fluffy things that have less to do with political biases.

There's a lot of "I'm upset that my loved ones don't know me," but also please understand the appeal of Obi-Wan marching up to Quinlan like "Yes, hello, I understand you've been read in on the full situation behind myself and my former padawan. I was close friends with your alternate universe self, which I feel is necessary disclosure before I propose the following: Would you like to join me for my upcoming heat, as I have minimal experience with the dynamics situation and even fewer people I actually trust, and I believe I can put my faith in you to treat it as casually as necessary while still having control and respect for my person."

(The Team is in a fairly safe place to process stuff, but having sudden unexpected changes to your biology has gotta be a little traumatizing, on top of ending up in a universe where none of your friends know you and people have a whole host of unfamiliar forms of sexism to point at you.)

Obi-Wan, who wasn't quite touch-averse but was much more easily overwhelmed by physical contact than Anakin (who craved it), suddenly finds his body switching gears and insisting on cuddles with Trusted Loved Ones, which is.... mostly Anakin, on account of nobody else really knowing him yet. Also Ahsoka, who is aware that she's something of a replacement for her alt-universe self, but Anakin explained it as "I love you so much no matter which dimension I'm in or what you're like, and I'd like to get to know you the way I got know her."

(It's rather eloquent for Anakin. He got Obi-Wan to help him draft up the script for when he pitched taking on omegaverse Ahsoka as a padawan.)

Anakin gets a more intensely sexual heat than 'usual' at one point for Reasons (IDK it could be as innocuous as 'we got better food than the usual rations and my body is reacting to the higher fat content with the belief that it's safer to have a baby now'), which nobody takes a whole lot of notice of because they're in a WAR, and also this is only his fourth one so it's not like he's got a lot to compare it to... except then the predominantly alpha clones can't stop themselves from reacting to the pheromones, mostly by wandering past his door and asking if he needs anything, offering up alpha-scented blankets and stuff for the nest to soothe the hormones, bringing snacks and electrolyte drinks, and like, Anakin is flattered, really, but fuck off please.

(He got a warning from medical a few hours before it hit that it would be different, so he actually does have alpha-scented fabrics to help him out. Apparently that's a thing you can just ask friends for, so he asked Rex if he had anything on hand that he could spare. He now has one of Rex’s recently-used sheets and a bodyglove in the nest.)

(Anakin has no idea how to feel about the nesting instinct, but at least it’s warm.)

Tia asked "Oh hey, who has the scared and horny reaction to his carnage?" and like.

Listen. I'm not saying I've been low-key imagining this as Rex being a very subby alpha who's really into Anakin's whole Thing but...

At one point Anakin gets injured in a way that requires painkillers and he ends up whining to the point of almost crying about the fact that nobody is cuddling him right now in medbay and Kix just gives up and comms Ahsoka to come hug her weird older brother.

And Then There Is Purring.

That’s a Thing Now.

Rex ends up in the pile somehow. He came over to check on Things and ended up yanked in by half-asleep, half-high Anakin, who has a grip like an octopus and no impulse control and is purring like a pod motor while NUZZLING HIM.

There’s a lot of blackmail photos featuring Rex’s very intense blush as he’s cuddled by his commander (giggling at him) and general (clinging like a tooka and rubbing himself all over).

Anakin is deeply offended that ANYONE thinks he'd want to get pregnant by just any old person, NO he needs to fall in LOVE there needs to be EMOTIONAL DRAMA and if Padme won't have him (apparently she's in a relationship and no he's not BITTER) then he'll find someone else to have a whirlwind romance with!

People think Anakin's a slut because he can't control his pheromone production (he has NO practice and for health reasons he can't go on suppressants) so he always smells open and ready for flirtations, which Obi-Wan also has to a somewhat lesser degree (he's older so his body just naturally produces less), and then someone tries to cross a boundary and grabs his ass and ANYWAY Anakin has to now fill out an incident report for breaking a civilian's arm.

Again.

#Anakin Skywalker #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Rexwalker #Quinlan Vos #star wars #the clone wars #time travel #omegaverse #alpha beta omega #phoenix posts

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kkrazy256 · 2 years

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Vox and 27 perhaps?

27. “You don’t need to stay.” “I don’t need to stay. But I want to.”

cw injury and stitches

Awareness doesn’t fully return until Fox feels the mattress against his back. Even then, there’s a fuzzy quality to his vision that puts the entire world on tilt. He doesn’t remember a single thing.

Fox closes his eyes with a groan, willing the bed to stay still. The act of throwing his head back makes his entire torso seize, and he chokes on spit with each stuttered gasp. It tastes awful. His eyes snap back open, wet hands clenching down on the sheets. Why the hell are they wet?

“Woah woah woah hey!” A hand presses on his chest and he flinches. His muscles seize again at the motion, his breathing quickens, muscles clench, fire burning down his body. An endless cycle of pain he will never escape—

“Fox, you’re okay. I’m here, I’m right here.” The hand isn’t actually pressing. It’s light, it's rubbing gently. The voice, he knows it, it’s—

“Vos?” He croaks out, and the blur of colors over him sort themselves out into the shapes he knows as Quinlan Vos.

“Hey.” Vos gives him a smile, but it looks off in the dim lights, “quit moving so much yeah? You’re making this very hard to pull out.”

“What are you,” Fox peers down his body as far as his neck will allow him to strain.

Oh kark, that is one big fucking dagger.

“Oh.”

The wetness on his hand (and now the sheets) is blood. The awful taste in his mouth is blood.

Right, they had been doing some reconnaissance on a meet site with a target. A simple mission, really. All they had to do was sit at different tables, order drinks, and listen. Except the target had thought to do the same and realized something was wrong.

One thing led to another. The target was leaving, and Fox was already on his feet, ready to chase. They couldn’t afford to lose this information.

He had turned a corner, and someone bumped into him roughly. A hard pressure rammed against his side, and he winced. He had thought it was an elbow (that happens often enough during city patrol) and kept moving, eyes still on the retreating back of the target. Except he hadn’t gotten more than a few steps before he tripped over his own feet like a fool. He faintly remembers arms stopping his fall as things started to fade.

“My clothes are ruined.” He murmurs, pressing the back of his hand over his eyes. The throbbing inside his brain makes the hand feel like it’s bouncing. He only has so many pairs of civvies for these kinds of missions. He had liked this set too. It was stylish and at least half a step above plastoid in terms of comfort. His body is warm, borderline uncomfortably hot. And at least it’s a lot cooler in these than his armor.

…Well, if he had had his armor, he wouldn’t even be in this situation.

“We’ll get you new ones.” Vos hums, and Fox hisses a breath through gritted teeth when he feels a hand gripping the dagger handle. His entire body is tense, feeling the blade as if it were an extension of himself.

“..don’t have money.” His mind is floating, it’s so easy to drift. If he drifts, he won’t have to think about the way Vos is testing the pull of the dagger. He’s been through worse, this is nothing. Just stop thinking about it.

“You can wear mine then.”

“Hahhh, as if they’d fITFUCK!” His snort of laughter gets cut abruptly by Vos pulling the weapon out in one fucking go without warning, “OW.” He reiterates his complete and utter displeasure.

Vos doesn’t apologize or even respond. He goes straight into applying pressure with one hand. The other is reaching into the medkit at the foot of the bed. There’s a silent intensity in his brown eyes that has Fox looking away.

“Where did you get the medkit?”

“Manager’s bathroom.”

Fox has a hard time believing the manager of this hole-in-the-wall hostel would be so generous. His eye twitches when Vos starts stitching. Deep breaths, Fox. Deep breaths, “and she let you? What did you tell her?”

“Nah, stole it.”

He needs to stop trying to laugh. It hurts.

“What did she say when you walked into the building with me bleeding on the ugly carpet?”

“I didn’t, I took the window.” Vos nods his head towards it, the ratty curtains billowing in the dusty wind.

“Is that why my head hurts? Did you give me a concussion on the windowsill?” He asks, feeling near-delirious. Everything just seems so fucking funny right now.

“That would be the poison.”

“The what.”

“It’s okay, nothing serious. Just something fast-acting to incapacitate someone. A numbing agent mixed with some other things. Symptoms include fever and temporary loss of motor function. We just have to let it run its course.”

“And how do you know that?” Things are starting to feel less funny.

“Hm.” Vos sounds distracted, and Fox takes another look past the gore on his abdomen. Vos had paused in his stitching, one hand over the blade of the dagger. His glove is off and the intense focus in his eyes is looking elsewhere. Vos lets go of the weapon, blinking twice. Then, he’s back to stitching up Fox’s wound.

It’s quiet inside the room. The bustle on the street outside seems muted, and Fox keeps his breathing steady with each pinprick of needle against flesh.

Eventually, he hears the snip of a scissor cutting off the suture wire. A towel wipes the blood away gently. He hears the pop of a bacta jar lid.

“You’re good at this.” He says softly.

“I’ve got practice patching myself up.”

Somehow that doesn’t sit right with Fox.

“I mean you’re good at patching other people up.”

“Ah.” Vos rubs some gel over the stitches, and the cool burn is welcomed, “well, you wouldn’t believe the number of scraps Aayla would get herself into back then.” He sounds the same way Fox does when he talks with Remedy about the dumbest reported injuries each quarter.

They’re both quiet again as Vos moves on to bandaging. At one point, he helps Fox sit up so he could wrap his torso.

“Fox?” He jumps away from the whisper of hot breath against his ear. He had started to doze, leaning back into Vos’s warmth.

“You’re good to go. Lie back down?” The Jedi is wiping his hands on a wet towel and Fox nods. His eyes are itchy and falling shut every few seconds.

The mattress is lumpy, but he’s already drifting before his head hits the pillow.

He hears shifting beside him.

Vos has settled in the chair at his bedside, arms folded across his chest.

The consequences are starting to catch up with Fox’s brain and sleep slips away. There’s a hollow feeling in his gut.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs, willing the tremors out of his fingers.

Vos tilts his head, an eyebrow raised, “for what?”

“I’m sorry, General.” He repeats, tacking on the rank. A reminder. This isn’t some getaway from work (even if any time away from Coruscant feels like one. Even if any time with Vos feels like one). This is work. And he had just screwed it up.

“Not your Genera—”

“—you don’t need to stay. You should be tracking down the target. I’m sorry for slowing you down, sir.”

Now they’ve lost their informant, and it’s because Fox had been too impatient. He just hadn’t been good enough.

“Hey.” A hand pulls at his clenched fist, finger by finger and he lets it. Vos holds onto his hand, intertwining their fingers. He tries not to think about the sensation of dried blood flakes that linger on both of them.

“You don’t need to stay, Quin.” He tries again, barely above a whisper.

“I don’t need to stay.” Quinlan’s other hand reaches up to brush back his sweat-clumped curls, “But I want to.”

“....yeah?” Dark eyes stare back into his, and he wished he had the strength to lean closer. He’s so tired.

“Yeah.” The hand trails down to cup his cheek, a thumb rubbing against it. There’s warmth there. And wetness. He doesn’t know why he’s crying, but the tears keep falling even though he’s not sad at all. To the pit with poisons.

“But the target…”

“It’s okay, I’ve got him.” Quinlan nods towards the dagger he’s placed on the corner table, “saw some leads on their base location.”

“Really?” His chest feels lighter.

“Yeah Fox, you did good.” He leans into the hand on his face, “just try not to get stabbed for it next time, alright? We’ll get them next time.”

“Next time?”

“After we head back to Coruscant. We should get you to your medic. I’m okay with stitches, but y’know, not the best.”

He squeezes Quinlan’s hand tightly, swallowing the bitterness down at the thought of his glittering, dying city.

“...or, we could find a nice doctor here. Get you fixed up and take another week or two to heal? There’s a festival here starting next week…how’s that sound?”

“Mm.”

“Good, now get some rest, alright? I’m staying right here.”

He nods and lets his eyes fall shut. A moment later, there are warm lips pressing against his own. He doesn’t have to move much to deepen it. To savor Quinlan’s taste, his smell, and his little sighs. To feel the pulse on Quinlan’s wrist press against the pulse on his neck when he cups the back of Fox’s head with utmost care.

Things will at least be okay for now in their little room away from home.

on [ao3] if you would like to leave a kudo/comment <3

#commander fox #quinlan vos #vox #quinfox #tcw #star wars #sw mine #<3

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nevertheless-moving · 4 years

Text

Star Wars Aus

I have so many star wars time travel aus in my head. writing fanfiction is really, really hard (mad props, no idea how you do it). it is 1:26am. and i have come here to shout into the void.

crack/rock star fluff fix it: obi wan several years post ROTS travels back to the very beginning of TPM. Had enough time to mostly process/repress Order 66 and imagine 10000 if-i-had only-done-things-differently, so after a fairly brief freak out he can pass off as an intense force vision, he’s a pretty effective time traveler. Frees Anikan AND Shmi, keeps qui-gon from dying, properly kills maul on Naboo. Anikan is brought to the creche so he has time to befriend other initiates and learn Jedi culture before becoming a padawan. Obi wan is a young knight, he privately tutors Anikan and works with him on his issues and also his issues. The very first second Palpatine starts sniffing around he point blank tells Anikan do not let yourself be alone with him, I can’t explain completely but trust me and Anikan does.

Obi wan also has the independence to go off on missions and start covertly undoing only-visible-in-hindsight complicated sith conspiracies that have been eroding the republic and trying to gather actual evidence to take Chancellor Palpatine down cleanly without people turning on the Jedi. Doesn’t confide in anyone because a) he’s still a crazy hermit man and b)his biggest advantage is that Sideous has no idea he’s on to him. He has to disable all the back up destroy-the-Jedi plots before he plays his hand.

But this is all just background plot for the real meat of this au! Which is Obi Wan Kenobi is secretly a famous mystery pop star! Bear with me!

Obi Wan needs covert money to work against sideous.

He has knowledge of the future! Easy money.

He could invest in stocks or gamble on famous races, but...

Just in case his covert ploting and secret money ever gets uncovered (yeah, he’s Xanatos gambiting) he needs his source of space cash to be clean, and not seem like everyone’s worst fears about Jedi seers.

What was that ridiculously viral pop song towards the end of the clone wars that got stuck in every human and near-humans head? That never stopped playing on space radio? That obi wan of course knows all the words to because its the most viral, slightly irritating but so catchy song ever made?

And wasn’t the guy who wrote it just, the worst? Like, Obi Wan wasn’t exactly following celebrity gossip, but towards the end of the songs replays someone would feel the need to ‘you know what that guy does to’- ‘yes. its a pirated version’. R Kelly problematic. Absolutely fine stealing his art before he makes it, noble even.

And hey, Obi Wan’s got a decent singing voice.

So! Obi Wan goes down a few levels. He finds a sketchy recording studio, picks up some backup musicians from dive bars, and records a demo.

The song goes out from a big recording studio who got it from a small recording studio who got it from an agent who got it from a lawyer who got it from a mysterious B.K who never reveals his face, who was absolutely convinced it would go viral, just protect the copyright, don’t ask or answer any questions, and channel the money into these discrete untraceable accounts and you can be ridiculously wealthy.

It takes a year or two, Obi Wan is a little concerned that the cultural influences just didn’t come together. or he didn’t replicate the recording perfectly enough. oh well.

And then it becomes an even bigger hit then the original timeline

He has enough money to fund his one man campaign against the trade federation. Success.

B.K’s mystery identity fuels a ravening, obsessive fanbase. The random band he picked up become overnight stars, and they literally have never seen B.K’s face, he appeared out of the ether, paid them in beer for a couple days while they jammed together and arranged with the lawyer for them to get a cut of the proceeds ‘once the song took off’

A few people who know obi wan do make jokes that the singer kind-of sounds like him. Bant and Garen tease him a little and try to get him to come to space karaoke to sing it but they never actually think its him.

Qui-Gon, who listened to him sing in the shower for a decade asks him about it the first time he hears the song and Obi-Wan just acts offended that he things he would write trash like that. He’s still a little suspicious but he know Ob-Wan doesn’t even like pop music so he just chalks it up to the force working in mysterious ways.

Quinlan is convinced its him. Obi-Wan won’t flat out deny anything, just scoffs and responds sarcastically. It drives him absolutely insane. Because it is just such a stupid song and Obi-Wan writes sad poetry how did this happen. WHO even are you. Makes conspiracy boards with yarn. Obsesses over it. Tracks him and finds him doing convert anti-trade federation/banking clans stuff. HOW DO YOU HAVE TIME TO DO THIS AND BE A SECRET POP STAR.

#star wars #star wars au #my au #crack #secret pop star wars au #sw #sw au no 3 #star wars au no 3 #pop star wars au

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starwarsbundle · 3 years

Text

Promo: CodyWan Big Bang!

@codywanbigbang

Presented to you by tumblr’s three

(My first Big Bang! I’m so excited!)

Title: In Essence

Writer: @ann-i-inthestars

Artists: @shadowlight17 @jisa-patryn and Me!!

(Cover art by @shadowlight17 )

Rating: Mature

Word Count: estimated 50,000 to 60,000

Pairings: Cody/Obi Wan Kenobi

Major Warning(s)/Tags:

No Archive Warnings Apply

Slow burn relationship; mutual pining; forced indentured; Jedi culture; Mandalorian culture; family; fluff, hurt/comfort; romantic soulmates; platonic soulmates; Fantasy Au; Galaxy is a single Planet; kinda modern AU; Death Watch; Background Fox/Quinlan Vos; Background Fox/Riyo Chuchi; Background Fox/Quinlan Vos/Riyo Chuchi; Background Padme Amidala/Anakin Skywalker; Background Bly/Aalya Secura;

Posting Date: 18/2/2022

Summary:

Manda’lor Jaster Mereel was assassinated. The City State of Mandalor was mourning. With his father Jango preoccupied by politics and grief, Cody Mereel-Fett and his younger brothers take it upon themselves to carry out one of the most important family traditions; cleaning out the Mereel Manor after the death of the Head of House. While going through the ancient things stored in the attic, he finds a strange box holding even stranger glass spheres filled with colored smoke, each labeled with a name. When he is inexplicably drawn to one specific one, he picks it up and then accidentally breaks it. As it breaks, the smoke becomes a man. Not just any man, but a Jai’hai; a mythical being of immense power. // Despite being tied to Cody against his will, the alluringly beautiful being, who introduces himself as Obi-Wan Kenobi, insists on helping his family bring Jaster’s killer to justice. The two of them very quickly form a bond, and feelings, that neither can act on. However unintentional, Obi-Wan is tied to Cody by ancient powers. He is, in a very strong way, his slave. Love can overcome many things, but Cody doubted that included divine power. As long as Obi-Wan was tied to him against his will, nothing would ever come of the connection between them. No matter how much they both desired it.

Sneak-peek of art by @jisa-patryn

Sneak-peak of art by me…

Story Snippet:

The one he was drawn to most was the brilliant sky-blue one. Drawn to was putting it lightly. It was more like the thing sung to him a song he had never heard but needed to know. It swirled enticingly, like it was whispering to him specifically. Like it was calling his name. Calling him in and promising change. Promising happiness. Cody didn’t understand, but he wasn’t strong enough to stop himself from picking it up.

The allure of the sphere only increased tenfold as he held it. He had the strange feeling this sphere was meant for him. That it was created for him to hold. To admire. To love. It made no sense and caused the skeptic in him to frown.

“What the hells are you?” He whispered to it, not at all expecting a response. Nor though, was he expecting it to warm up slightly in his hand.

The sudden warmth was so startling that he dropped the sphere. He cursed as it fell, knowing that he likely just broke something ancient and priceless. More importantly, that he had just broken the most beautiful, wonderful thing he had ever seen. The curses turned quickly into choked gasps though as the smoke began to swirl and weave upward. It sprung and twisted until it began to take a very solid form.

Cody was sure that he was losing his mind. It was certainly the only explanation for what he was seeing. Before his eyes the smoke began to dissipate, and as it did so it left something impossible in it’s place. It left a man.

After a moment the being lifted a hand to run through beautiful fiery hair. When he dropped it down, he stared at the limb in almost disbelief before letting out a shuddering breath. After another moment he lifted his head and gave Cody a smiled that could only be considered pained.

“Hello There.”

#cwbb #cwbb 2021 #codywan #star wars #clone wars #cc 2224 #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #fantasy au #modern au

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 2 years

Text

Just an assortment of thoughts about Jayna if she were in the Obi Wan Kenobi Series because Star Wars brain rot

Jayna Dar: Masterlist (for reference)

Two options on where she is in life: 1) she and Maul have parted ways because he was making too many waves in Crimson Dawn and Vader came in to obliterate them or 2) she still works for Maul and she runs into Obi Wan on her vacation

Still have no idea how she’d get tangled up in everything which is why I probably won’t write it but I still have thoughts

Main thought is that she’s there to get the reward on Leia rather than Obi Wan; she doesn’t hunt Jedi

Either way, doesn’t pop up until episode 2 on the planet Leia is being kept on

Acts as an assist to Obi Wan to get away from the swarm of Bounty Hunters

More willing to use the force and her lightsaber since the Inquisitors already know there is a Jedi on the planet

Certified wine aunt by episode 3

Calls Leia “kid” and “kid” exclusively

Thematic contrast to others in the series; she encourages Obi Wan to go back to his ways before, keep your head down, don’t be a hero, survive

I never said I wanted her to be a good influence

She and Obi Wan do need a conversation about the order; Jayna tells him she doesn’t think she was ever meant to be a Jedi, even Quinlan was a better student than her back in the day

Seeing the under ground is her first look at somebody actually helping Jedi; it does shake her up a bit

Seeing Vader though scares her

If she and Maul have separated she would have barely survived Vader the first time around and knows the best thing to do is run; if she’s on vacation just looking at him operate is enough to get her to run

She does not go back for Obi Wan and instead goes with Leia down the tunnel

Leia: You’re a coward!

Jayna: You bet your little boots I am!

One problem is that she’s face off against Reva and imma be real y’all it’s at best a fair fight but otherwise Jayna is wiping the floor with her

She’s been well in practice the last ten years and has been training with a former Sith; Reva and the other Inquisitors are skilled but they haven’t faced someone like Jayna before so it might disrupt the story flow

Anyway, like I said, probably won’t write it, just thought I’d share my ramblings.

If you’ve got more questions about Jayna feel free to drop and ask, I’m always open.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi series #kenobi #kenobi series #obi wan kenobi #jayna dar #star wars oc #leia organa #darth maul x oc #maul x oc

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karlyanalora · 3 years

Text

That One AU Where Both Anakin and Obi-Wan Fall (But They Didn’t)

So, in my Speak for the Silent AU, the Jedi found out about the crap going down on Kamino shortly after the “Wrong Jedi” Arc. I have a scene where Obi-Wan asks Ahsoka to go undercover there and get vulnerable clones out.

Obi-Wan nodded. “If Ahsoka at any time wishes to stop or never even start, I will leave the Order in a dramatic act of going rogue and ‘Falling’ and become the boogeyman of Kamino.”

That actually makes Ventress laugh. “And Anakin?”

“Will ‘Fall’ spectacularly with me.”

Ahsoka rolls her eyes. “Oh, yeah, I can totally see Skyguy enjoying that way too much.”

(Did I forget to mention Asajj is there too?) Anyway, lovely reader Yui_Cheshire said they wanted to read a fic where exactly that happened. While I would never write it myself, we did some brainstorming and came up with this. Feel free to use it!

It starts with Umbara. Rex is the one to shoot Krell and he gets sent to Kamino. Now, when Dogma disappears, Anakin assumed he was killed like so many others. But when Anakin returns and Rex is gone, Anakin wants to know what happened.

He gets vague answers at first. But eventually, he learns Rex was taken to Kamino. Anakin wants to know when Rex will be back but the clones just give him strange looks. But eventually, when Obi-Wan confronts a mourning Cody, he learns about reconditioning and decommissioning.

The war be danged, the Jedi are not going to sit back and let this happen. They’d send Quinlan, but he canonically hates clones. The Council knows Anakin will probably go to Kamino with their blessing or not, so the least they can do is send Kenobi with him.

Corrupt politicians will have a field day if they hear the Jedi are “amassing a personal army”. They’re really on a time crunch and considering Ti still hasn’t found or heard about Rex, they come up with a rather unorthodox plan.

Anakin and Obi-Wan’s “Fall” is very public, very flashy, and very dramatic. (They even wear golden contacts for it and put red light filters inside their lightsabers.)

It’s the inside joke for all the Jedi; they listen all grave-faced to senators fret over these two new Sith, adding new outrageous tales of evil with complete seriousness. Then die of laughter the moment they get back inside the temple. Jedi walking around the Temple being all sarcastic whenever they refer to how disappointed they are "that such nice young men like Kenobi and Skywalker could fall the Darkside". Palpatine is miffed that some other would-be Dark Lord stole his future pupil. He’s very distracted tracking down all the possible Darksiders it could be because of course, Obi-Wan made some speech about serving “a grand and powerful Master the likes this galaxy has never seen!”

Dooku is having doubts about how secure his place as Apprentice is and starts prepping plans to kill Palps.

Obi-Wan is really impressed with Anakin's acting. He's really getting into this whole Darksider act! But it doesn't take too long for Obi-Wan to realize Anakin isn't acting; his Padawan is walking the knife's edge between Light and Dark and he keeps leaning too far in the wrong direction. Things come to a head one night, and Obi-Wan can no longer deny it when Anakin genuinely terrifies him doing some not moral crap.

He tells Anakin no cover is worth doing such immoral things, only to find out Anakin was not playing Darksider at all. He was “being a Jedi.” (You know, the kind of crap he pulls by himself when he’s angry and alone during the Clone Wars.)

This leads to a yelling match about ideals, doing the right thing, morals versus getting the job done, “they’re bad people”, and so on. They are not on speaking terms by the end and the long-necks are terrified that they now have two angry volatile Sith Lords in Tipoca City.

But by this point, they’ve become local heroes among the cadets. They both go to sulk in silence alone and run into understanding young clones. They make up and Obi-Wan helps Anakin center himself in the Light. All the sly crap Palpatine has been pulling from day one comes out and the Chancellor isn’t around to mess with Anakin anymore. Anakin comes to see him as the jerk he is.

I’m not sure about Rex’s fate. I’m tempted to let him die. Yui_Cheshire had a few suggestions. Rex is reconditioned and kept on Kamino a) as just a loyal trooper constantly hunting down the dangerous Sith who dare threaten his little brothers or b) a test case on how a clone acts under the various chip protocols.

Ahsoka will be ticked since she isn’t allowed to come. I’ve got ideas for who picks up her training. She could work with Luminari and Bariss, either helping the latter stay in the Light or have to turn her in before she bombs the Temple. Or Mace takes her on as the expert on the balance between the Destroying and Saving parts of the Light. He unwittingly prepares her to help Anakin when he gets back. Or she just mopes with Jocasta Nu.

Padme has to be physically restrained from going to Kamino to save her husband. She may or may not accidentally scream at some Jedi Council member “He’s my husband!” as she desperately tries to reach Anakin who is playing his part a little too well. She might not get pregnant due to Umbara being a whole year before Revenge of the Sith.

Anyway, those are all my ideas. Hope you liked it!

#star wars #clone wars #clone wars au #captain rex #pong krell #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #sith anakin #sith obi wan #but not really #clones #sheev palpatine #count dooku #ahsoka tano #mace windu #bariss offee #my writing #original something

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

KUWSK is killing me with cuteness like I literally feel my heart clench with every one shot. I was wondering if you could maybe do a lil one shit on the aftermath of the aftermath of the router incident 😭 after obi-wan clarifies he does in fact love the kids and doesn’t want them to leave…I just need anakin to tell obi-wan he wants to stay… love this sm

oh bless, i'm happy to hear you like them!!! this is a bit sappy and also um definitely unedited so 🙈🙈but i think this includes the most obikin content of them all so far which is wild seeing as how my google doc for KUWSK is literally 15k at this point.

(here is the aftermath of the Router Incident, for context)

(1.6k)

Comforting and calming the children, that’s the easy part. Children forget grievances like water rolls off a duck’s back. Adults are trickier.

Adults don’t just forget and forgive.

Obi-Wan finishes the book he’s been reading to the kids. Last night, they had been on Chapter Two. Tonight, the kids are asleep by Chapter Four, but he keeps reading, all the way through the denouement at the end of the book. He knows he’ll have to go back to Chapter Four tomorrow night, knows that he may have bought himself some time but not enough time to make a difference.

But if Anakin really wanted to leave, there was nothing on God’s green earth that could stop him.

He places the book on the nightstand between the two beds and quietly stands, adjusting his glasses.

Finding and signing a lease can happen very, very quickly. He suddenly wants to wake the kids up, just to read another chapter. There are so many books left to finish, but finding and signing a lease can happen...can happen very, very quickly.

How many more chapters do they have left?

The entire time he spends walking down the stairs, he’s hoping that Anakin will have already gone to bed. But the light in the living room is still on, which means Anakin doesn’t want to keep ignoring the elephant in the room, which means in turn that either Obi-Wan can continue down the hall at the bottom of the staircase to his own room and just pretend that he doesn’t know Anakin’s waiting up for him, or he can confront the situation and perhaps even act his age.

He goes to the living room. If he only has a certain block of time left with Anakin in his presence, he’s not going to waste any of it hiding in his room.

Anakin is standing with his arms crossed, looking at the mantle of the fireplace and the photos lined up there. His face is hidden from view, but his posture is stiff.

“The children are asleep,” Obi-Wan says, mostly to announce himself. Which he knows is stupid, seeing as how Anakin most definitely heard him come down the stairs. But suddenly he wants Anakin’s eyes on him quite desperately. He will, in fact, do most anything to have the man look at him. His eyes are so expressive. His eyes are so beautiful.

Obi-Wan shakes the thought from his head and reminds himself of what’s very quickly become his mantra over the past few months. You will not make your housemate into your rebound.

It had sounded so logical when Quinlan had suggested it. So easy to agree to.

“Thanks,” Anakin says, turning to face him. It’s awkward. Anakin hasn’t thanked him for putting the children to bed for months.

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replies, coming into the room completely. “I--”

“I--” Anakin starts, but cuts himself off when Obi-Wan speaks. “You go.”

“Ah,” Obi-Wan stutters. “Well. I. I meant to say. That I...I understand. Obviously. If you were to. Want to leave. You must have had time by now to...have found a place that could. Better fit your needs.”

Anakin clears his throat. “I guess,” he says. “Yeah. I’ve. I’ve looked.”

“You have?” he asks, much too quickly and with much too much painful interest dripping off the words. “And have you? Found a place?”

Anakin hesitates and looks askance at the frames on the fireplace. “No,” he admits. “Not a place that’s. That’s anything like here.”

Obi-Wan’s smile feels so forced on his face that it actually hurts to hold. “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, Anakin.”

Anakin looks at him as if he’s lost touch with reality. “Obi-Wan, come on, you have to know.”

Obi-Wan stays quiet. He doesn’t know anything. Just a day ago he had wondered absentmindedly how they were going to deal with a teenaged Luke and Leia both wanting the singular second floor bathroom in the mornings before school.

And now--well.

“You have to know,” Anakin insists in the face of Obi-Wan’s silence. “I would stay here. If it were up to just me.”

“If not you then who is it up to, Anakin?” he begs and then tries to pretend that he isn’t begging by rubbing a hand over his beard and turning away. He’s faced immediately with a picture of the twins on Christmas morning, passed out in the foreground as Obi-Wan is in the background trying to put together one of their new toys.

It had been one of the most frustrating mornings of his life. He wouldn’t trade it for the world.

“Do you...do you really think...that I don’t--that I hate the twins? Anakin, you have to know I love them--”

“No, I’m sorry,” Anakin quickly says. “I never said that, Luke was just--he--”

“He made his own conclusions,” Obi-Wan finishes.

The other man nods gratefully. “Obi-Wan, I know you love the kids, I know you do. It’s not. It’s not the kids.”

“So if it’s not you, and it’s not the children, it must be me,” Obi-Wan concludes dully. Of course. Of course it’s him.

Anakin doesn’t immediately say no, and that pause is enough of an admittance that Obi-Wan has to pause to take several deep breaths to regain his composure.

“You’ll get tired of it,” Anakin finally says quietly. “You never signed up for us, for this for this long. I don’t want to impose. I--” he turns away to stare at the mantle, where a picture of the four of them after one of the twins’ school plays sits proudly in the middle. “I don’t want to see you growing to resent m--us. You shouldn’t have to tell us to leave. It’s your house.”

“Anakin, if you think it’s just my house still, after all these months, then I don’t know what to tell you,” Obi-Wan scoffs. “Other than to look around. “There’s stains on the ceiling I didn’t put there, we never managed to get Leia’s crayon drawings fully off the walls in the hallway, and I can’t walk twenty paces without tripping over some sort of mechanical part I have no idea what to do with if I try to pick it up off the floor. I haven’t thought of this as my house in months.”

Anakin ducks his head, as if he’s being scolded. “I’m sorry,” he says, barely louder than a whisper.

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan wants to yell, but he’s mindful of the children asleep just a floor away. He walks closer to Anakin instead, and speaks with a quiet sort of intensity. “I’m not, Anakin. And if you leave, it will still not be my house. It will just be--”

He purses his lips and sets his jaw.

“What?” Anakin asks, coming forward to meet him in the middle of the room. His hand twitches as if he wants to reach out and touch Obi-Wan, but he doesn’t.

Obi-Wan shakes his head and swallows, but he figures he’s already committed to this sort of confession. There’s nowhere else to go from here. “A house I live in,” he admits quietly. “A big, quiet place that I’ll dread coming home to.”

Anakin looks speechless, and Obi-Wan tries to smile. He can’t--he shouldn’t pressure Anakin. He’s said his position. If Anakin truly had only been afraid of overstaying his welcome, surely Obi-Wan has assuaged those fears.

But the fact that he hasn’t said anything must certainly mean that Anakin harbors other reservations. Ones he doesn’t want to share with Obi-Wan.

Very well.

“I will not...pressure you,” he tells the man. “I understand. I do. I--”

Anakin cuts him off and grabs his shoulder. “Obi-Wan, I want to. The children want to. I don’t want to leave. I’ve never had…”

Obi-Wan waits on tenterhooks for the end of the sentence, as Anakin searches for the words.

“...a home that feels like this,” Anakin finishes quietly, his hand slipping off Obi-wan’s shirt. Obi-Wan misses the muted heat of the touch immediately.

“Then don’t leave,” he pleads, crowding forward into Anakin’s space. “Anakin, stop looking. Would it help...would it help to quiet your fears if we were to draw up some sort of lease?”

“A lease?” Anakin asks, sounding strange as he looks down at Obi-Wan.

“Just something that says we’ll talk about this every year. To check in and make sure we both still want to live here?” Obi-Wan knows his answer won’t change. Probably won’t ever change. But if it’ll help calm Anakin, he’ll sign whatever.

Anakin seems to think about this for a minute, mouth pursed and eyes downcast. Obi-Wan wants to thumb at the moue of his lips, wants to press against his wrinkled brow until the skin smooths out.

No.

“Alright,” Anakin finally agrees. “We can draw up...a lease tomorrow then. But it won’t be legally binding, alright? As soon as you want us out, tell me and I’ll start looking. Please, Obi-Wan. That’s my only condition.”

Anakin’s only condition to stay is that Obi-Wan will tell him as soon as he wants him to leave?

Does the other man know the extent that Obi-Wan would have tried to go to convince Anakin to stay?

“Alright,” he says, instead of anything else he’s thinking. “Of course. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Anakin repeats. “Okay. Um,” he backs up. “Goodnight then, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan reaches out and grasps his wrist as soon as he turns to leave. He doesn’t know why. He just. He wants. He doesn’t want to see Anakin go yet. The idea of being alone right now terrifies him in a sort of undefinable way.

“Sit with me?” He says, instead of what he really wants to say, which is thank you, thank you, thank you.

Anakin gives him a sort of half-smile that’s impossible to read. “Sure,” he replies. “I’d like to hear about your day.”

Obi-Wan winces, thinking about how much of his day was spent fretting in Quinlan Vos’ office. “Oh, I’m not entirely sure about that, dear one,” he laughs self-deprecatingly, and Anakin’s smile grows, and Obi-Wan knows that everything is going to be okay.

#u know what #i've noticed in my writing #that i'm just too southern to always pull of obi-wan #the other snippet said something about butter not melting in his mouth #and this one says god's green earth #but i was like 'i Do Not Know How Else To Phrase This'#asks #KUWSK #they finally talk a bit #i think the struggle with them is that both of them think they have the most to lose #which means neither of them wants to risk saying anything #in case they lose something #which is just what i love the most about mutual pining and idiots in love #so im glad it's the dynamic in KUWSK

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trixree · 3 years

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Best of 2021: Trix's Fic Recs!

This is a list of the best things I've read in 2021 (not necessarily WRITEN in 2021), organized in no particular order because formatting long tumblr posts is impossibly irritating. However, things ARE grouped by fandom. I might make this a tradition, to do a yearly roundup, since I don't tend to do much fic rec otherwise!

Fandoms are (in order of most to least recs): Star Wars: The Clone Wars + Prequel Triology, The Mandalorian, Loki (2021), Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood, Spiderman, One Piece With apologies to my non-Star Wars followers. I've had... a year

If there's something you want me to read, send me an ask! I'll reblog all fic recs I receive (in any fandom!) from now up until the New Year! Happy holidays! Stay healthy, stay sane, be happy!

Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) + Star Wars: Prequel Triology

- esama's Name of the Game 40k, M, Complete, Cody/Obi-Wan "'I don't know everything that's happened to him since I was his master, I've only met him a few time since and accurate records of his exploits are hard to find, but… somewhere along the way, his constant contact with war likely made him fall to the Dark Side. It's obvious he thrives in warzones now. But it's not for greed or power or even the pain he gets to inflict on others. He's in it for the glory.' Cody looks up automatically and then away. Glory, huh?"

- Maddy_B's The not good, very bad, terrible Jedi 245k, E, Incomplete, Cody/Obi-Wan + Fox/Quinlan Vos "You know, Snips," said Skywalker in the tone of voice that meant he was about to stir the shit in a major way, "if you aren't comfortable calling him by his name, you could always call him by his official title," he downed the rest of his drink, which was a lot of alcohol to have drunk in only a few minutes, and looked directly at General Kenobi, "Obes Kenobes." The group gathered around the moonshine fell silent. Kenobi cleared his throat. "Cody, would you be a dear and hold my drink for me?" he said, tone light, and Cody fumbled to take it from him. "Oh kark," said Skywalker, and took off at a run, tossing his empty cup down on the sand.

- SLWalker's Witness me 512k, M, Incomplete, Obi-Wan/Maul "For every unkind moment you could name, I can name a thousand more where you embodied the opposite; for every stumble you’ve made, I can name a thousand steps where you were not only forging forward, but making sure you didn’t leave me behind while you did it.' He shakes his head. 'You didn’t have to hold your hand out to me, but you did. I didn’t have to choose to take it, but I did. I have had-- so few choices in my life, but I chose you."

- spqr's patron saint 15k, M, Complete, Cody/Obi-Wan She is, parts of her, something that Cody will never fully understand, something almost supernatural, a being with access to power that he can only stand in awe of when he’s not scared witless by it. But to him, to Ghost Company and the rest of the 212th, she’s aliit, which means none of the rest of that pfassk matters.

- SunsetOfDoom's and then the singing 10k, T, Complete, gen fic "They say if you listen, you can hear the ghost laughing. And they say that it sings."

- whymylife (nabringa)'s stars sing my name, scars tell my story 14k, T, Complete, gen fic Anakin takes a deep breath. "There is always a chip."

- zuzeca's Will Save the Galaxy for Better Credit Ratings 19k, M, Complete, Obi-Wan/Maul “I failed you,” said Kenobi. “When I did not give you an honorable death. And again and again when I failed to see the bridges between us, the space for common purposes, and when I forgot the faces of my forebears and acted in anger instead of compassion. I am not a very good Jedi, Maul who is no longer Darth, so perhaps we were always meant to be matched.”

- antigrav_vector & Quarra's Two Strikes 384k, E, Complete, Cody/Rex & Cody/Fox & Wolffe/Fox & Cody/Rex/Fox & Cody/Rex/Wolffe/Fox & Cody/Rex/Obi-Wan “Yeah, that’s the karking problem, Vod. You’ve been mind kriffed and tortured and who the kark knows what else. No one really knows how bad it was, because you either won’t say or can’t say, and still you think that--” It took absolutely everything that Fox had, but he flung his pillow right in Wolffe’s face.

- Elthadriel's Love Each Other With Abandon 25k, T, Complete, gen fic "When the boy gets back, we are going to get you spectacularly drunk, and you’re going to tell me what your general has done to turn you into such a pathetic sheb. And then, I will decide what the appropriate act of vengeance is.” Fox nudges the glass he gave Cody, raising his eyebrows. “He didn’t do anything,” Cody says, but does what he’s told and takes a long drink from the glass. He makes a face; he’d expected more expensive alcohol to taste better. “It’s not his fault I’m in love with him.”

- esama's On the other side 53k, T, Complete, gen fic* *one minor scene with Obi-Wan/original male character (casual) but in no way central to the story Qui-Gon eyes him and feels an oddest sense of longing for a lost opportunity. Not for the Padawan Kenobi might've been, the Knight he could've become – though by now Qui-Gon knows for sure that Kenobi would've been a magnificent Jedi Knight. But to become that he would've never been this, and what he is now is something special.

- blakkat's Spring in Hell (and everything is blooming) 91k, E, Complete, Rex/Jon Antilles Rex closes his eyes, gripping his scarred hand, and wonders what would have happened if they'd met on leave, or on a mission, or anywhere other than a cell in the middle of enemy territory. He wants to think that Jon still would have caught his attention, that he would have seen even then that John was the kind of man who'd let himself be tortured to save someone else. That making Jon laugh would still come with a flicker of victory, a wash of elation.

- blakkat's made of hurricanes and ether 57k, E, Complete, Echo/Fives/Jon Antilles Fives's smile is crooked, and he reaches up, fits his hand over the palm-print Captain Rex left on Echo’s armor on Rishi. “What’re the odds,” he says, and Echo can't help but look down at Jon again, still and worn between them. He reaches out, almost not able to resist, and is startled when his knuckles bump into Fives's, halfway through the same motion. Surprised, Echo looks up, finds Fives looking back with a raised brow, and can't help but snort. “Really?” he asks. “Really?” Fives repeats, mocking, and Echo gives in grudgingly, rolling his eyes. Practically daring Fives to say anything else, he strokes lightly over wet hair, and Fives snickers, his fingers tracing a scar that slants down Jon's cheek.

- dimtraces' Hell is just a beat away 28k, M, Incomplete, gen fic It thrums inside Maul’s veins. Master sent me. Master trusts me. The knowledge burns, hot like lava. Hot like the suns that Maul has read about, life-giving and warm and pleasant, they say, even though that had never before made any sense at all. Maul knows what suns are made of. They are nuclear fusion. They are radiation, and it is unwise to look at them, and they are up above him, for the first time not blotted out by Mustafar’s thick soot. The sunbeams caress Maul’s skin. For a moment, he forgets he is supposed to always be angry. He almost forgets to be afraid.

- glimmerglanger's By the Sea 153k, E, Complete*, Cody/Obi-Wan *The main story is complete although the third part of the series (various snippets that did not fit into the main storyline) remains incomplete and the series itself is marked incomplete Perhaps, by tending him, letting him go, Obi-Wan would, in his own way, secure the gift of turning to nothing and blowing away on the wind, instead of burning for what he’d done - who he’d loved - or going, soulless, into the ether.

- glimmerglanger's Transactional States 41k, E, Complete, Jango Fett/Obi-Wan He thought about all the marks on Ben’s skin, and decided, with a settled feeling in his chest, that he might finally be doing the right thing. He’d half-forgotten what that felt like.

The Mandalorian

- spqr's The word is help. 8k, M, Complete, Din/Luke "None of this is the right time, really, Luke thinks, skin turning pink under the scalding heat of the shower. They feel like something that happened by accident, that shouldn’t have happened at all in a pre-ordained universe, and somehow that makes Luke even more sure of it, of them — Din isn’t destiny, he’s not fate, he’s not some prophecy passed down by the all-powerful all-knowing Force, he’s just a man who stumbled into Luke’s life and decided to stay."

- ballonstand's The Whole Way 15k, E, Complete, Din/Luke “If we try to live off of the fruit of dead trees we’ll starve. We can’t live by the Way of an exterminated civilization. We have to build a new one or we’ll never live aboveground, we’ll never get out of the sewers. We have to choose what it is to be Mandalorian now.” He takes a breath. “I have to choose. And I choose this.”

- spqr's Good Idea 19k, E, Complete, Din/Luke “Look,” Luke hurries to explain, “there was a couple at CPS that wanted to adopt him today, if their paperwork had gone through there would be no way I could get him back, and there wasn’t any chance of getting you in front of a judge in family court until at least tomorrow morning.” “So he’s yours,” Din says, after a long pause. “No,” Luke says. “Well, technically, for now, yes. But I’m not trying to — ” “I know,” Din says. “I know. I trust you.” Luke fights down a sudden wave of possessive lust, then takes another drink to cool himself off.

- redyucca's but home was a dream 39k, T, Complete, Din/Luke “Master Yoda said to me once,” he continued. “When I was being petulant and afraid, he said: Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter. It’s taken me until now to understand what he meant. Everything about our matter is light. We’re not dull, or small, or empty. We’re full of light. We are light. Down to the molecules on our skin.”

- ice_hot_13's "The Way Home" Collection 226k, E, Complete*, Din/Boba *The series contains two works that tell the same story from different character's persepctives. One of these stories is complete (Din's POV) hence me marking this series as complete, although it is technically incomplete "The only word Boba knew in Mando'a was the word for exile, because that was all his father had been. The Mandalorians had turned his father away, and his father had told him not to bed for acceptance from people who didn't want them, but then he'd died, and he'd never told Boba what to do when there was no one left in the galaxy who wanted him."

- deniigiq's it's called a flush 130k, T, Complete, gen fic “What if we kept the jedi?” Din asked, rubbing his thumb in the orange fabric. There was a long pause. “We cannot keep the jedi,” Fett said. Din felt the corner of his lip twitch. He hit the comm button again. “But dad,” he drawled. “He’s got fleas,” Fett said. “GIVE ME THE TWINK,” Fennec roared somewhere behind him. “Sit back down,” Fett barked at her. “We are kindred spirits, I can’t carry all the gay in this team by myself,” Fennec snapped back at him. Din shook with giggles he could not, under any circumstances, let those two hear.

Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga

- bastoustai's Come What May 183k, M, Complete, gen fic* *minor Darius/Edward/Heinkel, pre-Edward/Roy "You're going to live Mum's legacy," Al suggested quietly. Ed shrugged his left shoulder. "Sure. Except I'm still going to be here when you show your ugly face again." He flashed Al his best shit-eating grin. - aetataureate & silentwalrus' caveat emperor 138k, E, Incomplete, gen fic* *pre-Edward/Roy, casual Edward/Winry. I marked this series as gen because to me it's more about Ed figuring his shit out post-Promised Day, less about a single ship Winry comes visiting for a whole week, primarily, she says, because she doesn’t believe Ed has friends. “I do too have friends,” Ed argues. “I have lots of friends -” “People you’ve fucked once in a train station bathroom don’t count, Ed -” “One time! That was one time!” “- and I’ll believe it when I see it,” she says, to which the only response is to hang up and resolve to take her to one of the neverending sports parties.

Loki (2021)

- (orphaned work) simple man 6k, M, Complete, Loki/Mobius After a moment, Loki pulls away. “You don’t want anything from me, do you?” he asks. Mobius says, “Oh, honey, I want lots of stuff from you.”

- spqr's lonely lonely heart 7k, M, Complete, Loki/Mobius He’s always wondered why so many poets chose to locate love in the heart, instead of the mind. Love is a chemical reaction, he knows, a hormonal response meant to reinforce the biological imperative. But he crosses the threshold to the bathroom and sees Mobius’ bare feet on the tile, and he understands suddenly that love is in the heart and not the mind because the heart is the body and the body knows what the mind is too smart to know—that love is not an idea but an incontrovertible fact of the soul.

Spider-Man - All Media Types

- deniigiq's Inimitable Verse 452k, M, Incomplete, gen fic He didn't know why it was so hard for him to reconcile the fact that Peter could be Spiderman, Lab Manager, and Urban Witch all at the same time, but it was.

One Piece

- 8ball's As Told by Fate (As Told by Us) 13k, E, Complete, Zoro/Sanji What was important was this; no one was bound or thethered or weighed down. No one was forever trapped by some invisible force that compelled unknowingly. They were only people, and what an amazing discovery of something so ordinary.

#fic rec #my posts #fic recs #long post #trixree speaks #clone wars fic recs #mandalorian fic recs #fullmetal alchemist fic recs #loki fic recs #spiderman fic recs #one piece fic recs

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mahizli · 3 years

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Reckless (There Is No Chaos, There Is Harmony)

Beautiful art that can be found here, and that shows what happens *after* and not *during* this story, that is also Part 3 of Threading The Way.

26 BBY.

“Why don’t you ever say something nice to me?!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anakin…”

“See what I mean? It’s never enough for you, is it?”

“Now don’t pull that card on me, Padawan–”

“No, you don’t get to Padawan me!”

Anakin paused, out of breath, cheeks flushed with rage, facing Obi-Wan whose eyes had started to brighten as well but still stayed infuriatingly calm. He had crossed his arms, though, fingers twisting the fabric of his tunic, meaning even perfect-and-tidy-Master-Obi-Wan could get upset. And Anakin wanted his Master to get upset. He wanted him to feel just as angry and betrayed and hurt as he was.

“You don’t get to tell the Council my actions were a bit rash. I saved your kriffing life, Master, I prevented a whole building from collapsing on you, and just because you’re too weak to do the same, you don’t get to be jealous of me and belittle me and call my actions rash in front of stupid Master Windu!”

He was as tall as his Master now. And he would get taller than Obi-Wan, that much was obvious, because he had already outgrown him in matters of boot-size. Meaning he was on eye-level with his Master. Meaning he had a full view of the whirlwind of emotions blossoming in Obi-Wan’s stormy eyes, and the way every bit of colour left his Master’s cheeks.

Obi-Wan’s fingers tightened around his arms, and for a few seconds, even the Force felt still around them, leaving Anakin quivering with rage and something uncomfortable feeling a lot like shame.

“Master Windu is not responsible for the way you feel about me”, Obi-Wan finally managed to push out, in a somewhat breathy voice.

And the angry beast deep within Anakin raised its tail again, clawing its talons deep into his chest and belly.

“No, because you are”, he spat out, and of all the things he could have done, his Master blinked.

It made Anakin even more angry. He wanted Obi-Wan to roar, to stand up against him, to yell at him, to call him names, to fight. Not to stand there looking like a small, breakable thing that could be crushed in an eyeblink, if Anakin wasn’t watching – and Obi-Wan had not a clue, Obi-Wan never had a clue…

“Anakin, my intention never was to belittle you.”

“Well I don’t believe you.”

Something in Obi-Wan’s face closed then, and Anakin felt his Master’s shields slam shut, leaving their bond blank, like the aftermath of an explosion. Obi-Wan’s hands left his arms, and then his Master simply walked past him, leaving their sitting room for the kitchen.

It was always the same, whenever Obi-Wan felt overwhelmed. He would simply stop talking, leaving the argument like he would leave a room, and it drew Anakin nuts.

“What are you doing?”, he asked, angrily, watching his Master open a cupboard, fetching a sponge and an old cleaning rag, without even using the Force – sometimes Obi-Wan seemed to forget it even existed.

“I’m clearing the dust”, Obi-Wan rasped, in that strangled tone of voice he had whenever Anakin had pushed every possible button to draw him ballistic. “It’s been weeks since we’ve been here, and I’m not sleeping in a dirty room.”

“Have you listened to a word I said?”

“Have you?”

Strange, how Obi-Wan’s fierceness could sound so much like sadness. Strange, also, how luminous his eyes could look whenever he finally chose to stand up, to fight back – and he didn’t even use his lightsaber, just some ratty sponge and rag, wiping the table with enough strength to wipe out every possible stain.

“I’m clearing the dust. I suggest you do the same, literally or metaphorically.”

“Typical.”

And with that last insult, hissed like a fire-breath from whatever nasty beast was feasting on sadness and hurt behind his chest, Anakin left their quarters, slamming their door shut, heading straight for the hangers where droids and speeders were waiting for him, and could do nothing but agreeing with him.

It had been six years. Six kriffing years, since Anakin had arrived at the Temple, had heard Master Windu tell him he would never become a Jedi, and yet there he was. There he was, going on missions with his Master, flying their ship, fighting alongside Obi-Wan and saving the day whenever his Master’s disturbing habit of talking them out of trouble backfired on them.

And yet, Anakin could not shake the nagging feeling that no one really wanted him there, that they were all watching him with narrowed eyes, waiting for him to slip up, to prove them they had all been right, no matter how hard he tried.

And Obi-Wan did not help. Not anymore. He was trying to reign Anakin in, instead of letting his power grow, instead of letting him prove himself, talking about balance and reason and mindfulness, when all was just a piece of rubbish.

“How is mindfulness going to keep you from getting crushed?”, Anakin muttered, teeth gritted around a nut he was determined to screw deep within the speeder’s core.

His hair was soon matted with dust and oil, and his skin salty with sweat. He was about as far he could get from Obi-Wan’s notions of cleanliness, and it felt so deeply satisfying that the beast behind Anakin’s chest finally quietened.

He spent enough hours under that speeder to get hungry, but it was out of the question to go back to their quarters and to Obi-Wan – because going back was almost like apologizing, and Anakin did not want to.

So he did what he always did, whenever he fought his Master and wanted to vent about him. Master Quinlan was useless in such cases, getting all stern and serious to the point even Aayla was beginning to look worried – but then, Master Quinlan was always a bit overprotective of his friends, so…

No, the best person whenever he wanted to talk, and explain just how betrayed and misunderstood he felt was Master Luminara, who somehow always managed to calm him down, and to silence the beast within him.

“Hello, Padawan Skywalker”, she greeted him, night-like eyes sparkling with unspoken fondness. “I see you have made it back from your mission.”

“Hello, Master Luminara. There is no need to Padawan me, you know.”

“Oh, I know. But I, too, do enjoy a tease every now and then. Do come in.”

“Thank you. Oh.”

Master Luminara’s usually impeccably tidy rooms were crowded with two empty shelves, what looked to be parts of a desk and two mechanic droids adding to the mess and bustle.

“Don’t tell me you are dusting as well”, Anakin muttered, dejectedly.

“Because Obi-Wan is?”, Luminara asked, cheerily, moving to the kitchen to brow themselves a cup of caff.

“Mhm”, Anakin let out, allowing his long, gangly limbs to cram themselves between the bench and the table, and to let out a dramatic sigh.

“Oh. Sponge or rag?”

“Both.”

“That bad, then…”

She was not laughing at him, though. Master Luminara never was. She always listened to him, and she never judged, unlike Master Quinlan who didn’t hesitate to yell and occasionally even shake him – not that Anakin minded, because it was always somewhat amusing to watch him loose his cool.

“He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand how I feel. He thinks I’m acting rashly, that I only follow my instinct and my whims instead of thinking things through, that I rely too much on my emotions, and not enough on the Force. But it’s not true! I’m the one who saved him from being crushed, last mission, and he keeps pulling stunts like that, getting into trouble and then lecturing me because I got him out!”

“What happened, Anakin? DUM, NIK, would you please put those shelves in the spare room – and the desk as well, opposite the bed…?”

“Why are you refurnishing that room, Master Luminara?”

“Never mind now, Anakin. Please tell me, how did you prevent Obi-Wan from getting crushed, exactly?”

And so, Anakin finally got to tell someone about how that building exploded, how his Master was standing just below, having been talking to officials, and how Anakin prevented the building from collapsing, holding it up with the Force for almost twenty minutes.

“He just lectured me. In the med-centre. Of all the things he could have done, he lectured me.”

“In the med-centre?”

“Yeah. I… sort of collapsed, after that. But it was okay. The medics said I just had some Jedi-Force-exhaustion, and I slept it off, and that was it.”

“I see… And how long, exactly, were you unconscious, Anakin?”

Anakin watched the caff swirl in his cup, as he moved it around in small circles, until he finally let out two pitiful words, refusing to look up.

“Two days.”

Luminara let the words sink in, and gently placed a soft, cool hand on his. But she didn’t say a word, just waited for him to rise his eyes and let out a small, undignified breath sounding a lot like a sob.

“I just wanted to make him proud”, he whispered, and Luminara drew him against her, allowing him to hide his burning face against his neck. “I know I should have thought of something else, I even know that he probably would have jumped away, but I… I knew I could do it, and I wanted to save him. And instead…”

“You saved him, Anakin. And I do not think Obi-Wan denies it. I think he was as scared of losing you than you were of losing him. I think that, whenever Obi-Wan calls you reckless, he is chiding himself for not protecting you better. For exposing you. He knows just how many eyes are on both of you. And I think your Master is trying to shield you – to make it appear like he is the one failing to hold you back, whenever you get passionate, so that you can continue to be who you are deep inside.”

Anakin frowned at that, and then he shook his head.

“I’m too chaotic for him. Sometimes I think he’d be better off without me.”

“Nonsense, Anakin. Obi-Wan thrives in chaos, believe me. Quinlan, Master Qui-Gon, and now you – he needs someone reckless enough to draw him out of his shell.”

That made Anakin smile, and unfold from Luminara’s embrace.

“So. Why are you putting those shelves and desk into the spare-room?”, he asked, and he watched Luminara’s face soften in quiet joy.

“Because tomorrow, Padawan Skywalker, I will welcome my very own Padawan into those quarters. I have waited for her to become of age, and tomorrow, we will finally start our apprenticeship together.”

“Your apprenticeship, Master Luminara? You are no apprentice anymore…”

“But I am, Padawan Skywalker. I am going to begin to learn what it means to be a Padawan’s Master and companion – it is not something we are born with, you know… And the Master learns just as much as the Padawan, on their journey together.”

It was late already when Anakin finally left Master Luminara’s quarters. He had helped her move the furniture where she wanted them, and had even managed to empower the droids so as to allow them to fix some of the shelves to the wall, standing one on top of the other. The room was clean and tidy, just like his had been when Obi-Wan had open his door to him – and Anakin remembered, with a sinking heart, just how different things had been for both of them, and just how much time it had taken for Obi-Wan to claim his own room and find the courage to clear it from Master Jinn’s things with him.

He opened their door with a slow, controlled Force-brush, and closed it noiselessly behind him, tiptoeing inside. The sitting room was clean, without a speck of dust, the plants were watered and even the holobooks and holovids had been dusted and put lovingly back into place. The kitchen was spotless as well, spoons and cupboards neatly stored in the cupboards, and even the ground was shiny and smelt of cleanliness. Anakin’s room was untouched though – Obi-Wan having learned very early that Anakin was very peculiar about boundaries, storing treasures and droid-parts – save for the bed that had been made with fresh sheets.

He found his Master in his own room, not even needing to open the door. Obi-Wan had dusted and cleaned his own room, and Valentine was letting out small, regular puffs on the windowsill – her very own way to snore.

Obi-Wan himself was stretched on his bed, feet still brushing the ground and arms circling his face, like someone who had sat down, then let himself fall backwards, without moving ever since. He was still holding the infamous rag in a loose grip, but he was fast asleep, hair still a bit sweaty from exertion, features lax behind the stubble he kept growing to hide just how young he looked.

Anakin shook his head, and took the rag from Obi-Wan’s hand, wrinkling his nose.

“Gross, Master. And ridiculous”, he whispered, careful not to wake him up.

He managed to shower and change without Obi-Wan even stirring – and Anakin realised then just how tired his Master must have been. He had not really noticed, but in hindsight it was obvious. Because his Master never slept whenever he was ill or injured, always hovering anxiously at his side, even pretending not to be.

He came back to Obi-Wan’s room with a data-pad, and had managed to reach level 72 of his newest game, when he finally heard a deep sigh leaving his Master’s chest, and realised Obi-Wan was waking up.

“Hello there”, Anakin whispered – and his own chest felt oddly tight, remembering the dreadful words he had thrown at his Master.

His Master whose first reaction was to smile at him and reach out for his hand, placing warm, loose fingers around his wrist, in an instinctive gesture of love or care that made the knot in Anakin’s chest even tighter.

Obi-Wan sat up, and then only seemed to remember that they had fought and were supposed to be at odds, his face getting all tight and apprehensive once more. But his hand was still around Anakin’s wrist, and Anakin did not let him speak – he just embraced him fiercely with everything he had, hiding his face deep into Obi-Wan’s chest.

“I am so, so sorry, Master. I never meant any of it. I promise. I promise.”

Obi-Wan just breathed out and hugged him back. They stayed like that for some time, and their bond was no longer silent and cold, but simply there, like it had been for six years – tying Anakin to the Force and to his Master.

“Have you eaten?”, Obi-Wan finally asked, ever practical, and Anakin shook his head.

“Shall we, then?”, his Master asked. “There’s pie in the cantina tonight.”

“Wizard”, Anakin muttered, but he didn’t let go.

Not before he managed to ask that very important question, the one that had fuelled the beast’s anger deep within him.

“Master, do you think I’m… too chaotic? Do you think… Do you sometimes think about… how different life would have been… without having to take me in?”

This time Obi-Wan straightened. And this time his Master’s voice was as fierce and powerful as it could get – just like it was whenever he put a stop to all the nonsense the Galaxy allowed to happen during their missions, just like it was whenever he did something so great Anakin could just stand there and gape and think about just how awesome his Master was.

“I don’t even want to begin considering it.”

Anakin’s throat tightened, and he closed his eyes, feeling his Master’s hands on his back, gently tapping him.

“I’d die of boredom”, Obi-Wan whispered, grazing Anakin’s hair with his stubble, laughing silently at his indignant squawk. “Besides, Padawan mine…”

He let go of Anakin, just enough to be able to look at him, and to place Anakin’s braid back behind his ear.

“There is harmony to be found, even within chaos.”

He placed something into Anakin’s palm, smiling softly at him, and watched him discover a small black bead harbouring a beautiful golden streak.

“What is this one for, Master? I… I just yelled at you. I called you… I told you some horrible things.”

“But you also saved my life. And you taught me that sometimes… sometimes I still put things the wrong way, whenever I try to talk to you, and about you.”

“I do so as well, Master”, Anakin whispered, fingers closing shyly around the bead.

“Well then, Padawan… I think we still make quite the pair.”

And we can both become better Jedi together.

His Master’s voice was warm and loving in Anakin’s mind. And so Anakin smiled, and pulled his Master up, determined to pull him towards the cantina as fast as he could.

Because, tonight, there was pie, and after all, Anakin was starving.

#star wars fanfiction #Anakin Skywalker #Obi-Wan Kenobi #padawan anakin #arguing #hurt/comfort #hurt anakin #hurt obi-wan #Luminara Unduli #jedi june #jedi appreciation #JEDI goodness #rather jedi summer than jedi june #because I am really late #sorry

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animemangasoul · 4 years

Text

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

[In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.]

Chapter: 3/10

No one gossiped quite like the Jedi. A miniature change, a Knighting, a death, a Trial gone wrong. All of it spread like wildfire and within a blink of an eye, the words were across the Temple, twisting the realities behind said words and painting the walls with new and highly unlikely truths. Breathing in the swirling masses of twittering gossip was just part of every day life of the Coruscanty Jedi.

Qui-Gon of course knew how much Jedi liked to gossip. Knew very well how vicious rumours could get; even if it was never done out of malice, just too much curiosity and the indulging need to share things. He knew, and yet…..

"I heard Kenobi tried to leave the Order again."

"I heard he touched the darkside."

Qui-Gon came to a stuttering halt. Head tilted just so, chin high and gaze fixed on a far away spot as he tried and failed to tune out the Naboo crises that had for the last couple of weeks become the hot topic of the Temple. Why was the refectory three floors too far from his quarters? Was it always like this or was every step suddenly too heavy, too slow, now that Qui-Gon desperately needed to get away.

"He's lucky the council hasn't kicked him out," filtered through to him. Spoken too loud for him to be able to ignore and….

Something foreign, something cruel crawled it's way up his throat. Each whisper of curiosity making him burn. Burn as if the force itself was being ripped from his soul.

Fingers clenching around each tray, one filled with all assortments of dishes; little Ani was all too wide-eyed and adventures with his need to try all types of food now that he realized it wouldn't be withheld from him, and the other with nothing more than the bare essentials.

They shook; both trays vibrating with the unsteadiness of his hands.

"Master Qui-Gon had to stop him from turning into a Sith. At least that's what people are saying."

"Did you know he isn't even a Padawan anymore?"

"Really? I mean, I know Master Qui-Gon has a new Padawan but I thought they'd Knighted Kenobi. Didn't he kill a Sith?!"

'Yes!--' he wanted to scream. A strangled sort of cry dying in his throat as he forced himself to put one foot in front of the other.

'Ignore them. They don't know. They don't understand. Ignore them,' he told himself. But how could he, when all he wanted to do was scream at them. Frayed edges and all. Scream the bloody and raw truth for the entire Temple to hear.

His boy had killed a Sith. Had defended him. Had protected him. His Obi-Wan was a SithKiller. He was an exceptional Padawan. Brilliant and radiant and so so kind. He wasn't….. He wasn't what they thought. With their soft whispers behind lifted hands and flittering glances.

They didn't know the truth.

They could never fully understand the truth.

What did they know….. What did they know.

"Master Qui-Gon most have seen something wrong with him."

He kept walking. Snippet of unwanted conversation filtering through despite his best effort to ignore them.

"My friend told me no Master want to take him."

"But Padaw--- Kenobi is so nice! Why would he-----"

And on and on it went. Anywhere and everywhere in the Temple. Rumours about Obi-Wan and his supposed disgrace kept circulating like month to flame. Padawans, younglings, even Knights scurrying away the second they noticed him walking by, mouths clamming shut and shame clouding their eyes for letting their fantasy run away with them.

Qui-Gon wanted to snap. Shout at the top of his lungs that none of their ridiculous rumours were true. That they were so far of base they might as well be striding across space. That his boy was good. He was kind and gentle, and the truest of Jedi there was. That he saved his life. That he scared him as Qui-Gon's last fading moments were filled with sheer and utter terror that he'd wake up to a dead Padawan that had given too much of himself to save his dying Master's life.

Obi-Wan was good. So good. So how dared they defame him like this. Slate his name…….

He wanted to set them straight. Wanted it so badly it burned. But he couldn't. He wouldn't.

To protect Ani, he couldn't.

Anakin was feeling out of place as it was. Scared and lonely, missing his mom terribly. If people around the Temple realized the truth, that Qui-Gon had let go of his Padawan of ten years to take a kid that was too old….. It would put Ani in a difficult position. And the poor child was already dealing with so much. Missing his mother, learning all these foreign cultural norms, adapting and even worrying about Obi-Wan on top of it all. Qui-Gon couldn't in good consciousness clear up the rumours while also protecting Ani from them.

In the end it was a matter of who needed him more, and right now, that was the Chosen One.

So he clammed his mouth shut, gritted his teeth, pulled the trays closer to his chest and kept walking. Blocking out every curious, hurtful word, and let his emotions fade into the force.

Repudiating Obi-Wan hadn't done his young Padaw-- former Pawadan any good. Especially with the boy's spotty reputation as it was, but Qui-Gon was sure as soon as Obi-Wan got a new Master this would all die down. He just needed to hold on a bit longer. Besides, his former Padawan had been in the Halls these past couple of weeks; and oh, if his heart didn't give a painful tug at the thought, so none of it would have reached him. The Temple gossip wouldn't last much longer.

And maybe when Obi-Wan got a new Master, when the rumours died out, Anakin too wouldn't have to be kept away from the Temple life any longer. Maybe then Qui-Gon wouldn't have to keep little Ani secluded; shielding him from curious eyes and less than flattering opinions of Obi-Wan. Besides few friends the kid had made, Anakin didn't go out much, not even to classes. Qui-Gon having decided it was for the best he homeschooled him for now.

It was for the best.

The gossip wouldn't last forever.

Even if Qui-Gon didn't like it. Even if he wanted to put a stop to it. Even if after killing a Sith and saving his life people were likening Obi-Wan to Xanatos. Even if…….

It was for the best. At least for now.

So Qui-Gon kept walking. Kept his head down and wondered how his boy was doing. How he was healing. If Master Che was taking care of him. If he was smiling or laughing. If he was worried, if he was thinking about him. If, if, if.

"Greeting, Master Jinn."

He didn't startle, but it was close. Qui-Gon blinked slowly, re-entering himself. "Knight Vos," he said pleasantly. "Back from your mission I see?"

Shadows didn't talk about their missions, even newly assigned Shadows like Vos, so Qui-Gon wasn't surprised when the young man's only response to his question was a careless shrug. "Dinner?" he asked instead, nodding at the trays Qui-Gon was balancing in his hands, one eyebrow arched.

"Yes. Ani is just about done with his homework so I offered to grab us a bite."

Something crackled around them, the force nearly suffocating with emotions Qui-Gon couldn't quite decipher before it vanished just as quick. Vos, for it most have been Vos, clamming down on his emotions as fast as he had let them slip. The Kiffar's shoulders were tense, a tiny grove appearing between his eyebrows darkening his expression. Suddenly Qui-Gon felt as if whatever little regard the Shadow might have had of him, had evaporated.

It felt like he'd failed a test he hadn't even been aware of taking.

"Is that so? How nice." The last word was practically spat at him. "Good to see that you have moved on from the Naboo incident. Content with your new perfect life are you now, Master Jinn?" If looks alone could kill.

Qui-Gon frowned. "We are all making due with the hand we were dealt, Knight Vos. But I can assure you Naboo haunts us all. However as Jedi, we cannot let our emotions get the best of us."

Quinlan stiffened. "Have you even gone to see him? Do you even--" Clenching his fists, Vos's glare was almost too much. "He isn't dead you know. There's no need to act like he is."

And that. No. That was one step too far.

"Knight--" he hissed, trays perfectly still even as his heart shook and his breath hitched. "Know your place."

"My apologies," Quinlan muttered, eyes flashing as he bowed, deep enough to be respectful, shallow enough to put his point across. "I did not mean to overstep."

Giving him a stiff nod in return, Qui-Gon tried not to think of his own hurt, his own anger, of Obi-Wan. "See that you don't."

The Kiffar nodded back, sidestepping to walk past him. Air too tense to continue any meaningful conversation. Qui-Gon listened as the newly Knighted Jedi's presence drew further and further away from him, but just as he was about to make his way back to his quarters; the clawing desperation scrapping against his throat boxed away for another day, Vos spoke up again. His voice distant, but in these empty halls, all the more potent.

"Some Padawan's thrive because of their Master's guidance," came his words, cutting across the distance between them as if he was right next to him, whispering into his ear. "Others thrive despite of it. I pray for Skywalker's sake he follows Obi-Wan's path of the latter."

And, oh….. That was….. That hit harder than Qui-Gon expected it to.

It's as if Vos was suffocating him. As if he'd reached across the hall and squeezed his heart in an unrelenting grip of death.

Years of mastering his emotions is all that prevents Qui-Gon from stumbling back. Quinlan without realizing it having dug up a pain so profound it's scars were still screaming with agony under the shell that was Qui-Gon Jinn. Feemor, Xanatos, now Obi-Wan. He doesn't even notice Quinlan's footsteps fading away, no. All he can focus on is his shortened breath, his pounding heart and the shake. He's shaking. Because……… he'd somehow managed to fail Obi-Wan like he'd failed everyone else and……

He can't breathe.

He can't.

And it's only what feels like hours later that he comes to. Curled at the farthest corner of force knows where. Food nowhere in sight, knees pulled against his chest as he tries to just breathe.

Quinlan Vos's words shouldn't have gotten to him but they had and Qui-Gon hated himself for it. Because….. Because, what did Vos know. What did he know about his struggles. What did he know about the sacrifices Qui-Gon had made. This was the Will of The Force. Why did no one understand that! This wasn't about him or Obi-Wan. This wasn't about the council or hurt feelings. This was about the Chosen One and how he needed training. The force had willed it so, so why was everyone trying to stop him?!

He hadn't failed Obi-Wan.

He hadn't.

Not really.

Obi-Wan was the man he was today because Qui-Gon had done right by him even as he was still recovering from Xanatos. Even with all the scars Xanatos had carved into his heart, he'd let Obi-Wan in, raised that boy like he was his own. And Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan had repaid his devotion by being the light in his otherwise darkened soul. Obi-Wan had saved him. Loved him, respected him and…..

Did they honestly think he would abandon his boy if the force wasn't guiding him?

This wasn't his fault. This was the council's fault. They had forced his hand. Made him choose. If they'd only Knighted Obi-Wan like they were supposed to none of this would have happened. They had changed and twisted tradition before, so why not now?

Qui-Gon knew why.

It was to spite him. They didn't like that he wasn't bending to their every whim and they took it out on his Padawan.

This wasn't his fault. It was the council and their incessant need to punish him for not being a puppet like everyone else.

Now Obi-Wan was Masterless and Qui-Gon couldn't fix it. Couldn't take back what was done. 'And you wouldn't,' his consciousness whispered traitorously. 'Training the Chosen One is more important. Obi-Wan isn't more important than bringing balance to the force.'

And Qui-Gon knew he wasn't and that's why he'd let him go.

It was for the best.

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

"If you really wanna visit Mr. Obi-Wan, you should!" Anakin chirped, stuffing his face with another spoon full of stew; having finally let go of being cross with Qui-Gon for the late dinner. The old Master having gone back to the refectory; after his unexpected breakdown to get them two new plates of food while still not quite knowing what happened to the previous ones.

"Is that so," he muttered, slowly sipping at his tea. "And don't talk with food in your mouth, Ani."

"Sowwy."

Qui-Gon glared and Anakin flushed. Chewing and swallowing quickly, the kid muttered a soft apology under his breath making Qui-Gon smile in satisfaction. "It's ok. Just don't forget it next time."

Nodding and looking a little less enthusiastic now, Anakin fidgeted in his seat. "So are you?"

"Am I what?" He knew he was being difficult and by the tiny frown on Ani's face, the kid knew it too.

"Visit Mr. Obi-Wan," Anakin huffed, crossing his arms. "He's awake you know and he's super good at talking without falling asleep in the middle of it now, and he has all this candy and gifts that he shared with me and maybe he'll share it with you too and he's really nice and he misses you and why don't you go visit?!" The last words were practically shouted at him. Anakin having stood up in the middle of his rant to slam his hands on the table.

"I can't," Qui-Gon said, voice sharp even as he tried to temper down his emotions. "Master Che won't let me."

The surprised little "Oh," Anakin let out, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaped open in disbelief made a flush of jealousy course through Qui-Gon's veins. Because-- "But she lets me visit all the time!"

How was that fair?

The fact that Ani could visit his boy when he was denied. The fact that Vokara didn't think the kid that upended Obi-Wan's life would give him stress but he, Obi-Wan's Master. The man who raised him through his adolescent, somehow would. How everyone from his friends to the council members to even Anakin could visit his Padawan, but all Qui-Gon could do was brush his mind against his son and drink in his presence from afar.

How was any of that fair?

It burned. It curled around his throat and burned. Anakin had just arrived. He hadn't even been here for a full cycle and yet he knew the state Obi-Wan was in better than him. Could eat his breakfast, finish his school work and bounce of to the Halls to go see the one person Qui-Gon wanted to see above all else.

Oh it burned.

Anakin didn't know what he'd taken from him. What the Will of The Force had taken from him….

And just as soon as the jealousy flared up, it died down. Overwhelmed by a sense of shame and embarrassment that Qui-Gon had even let himself entertain such destructive and baseless emotions. This had nothing to do with Anakin. The kid hadn't made his choices for him. Ani was innocent in all of this. How could he even blame him?

"Maybe…. Maybe you can ask again? I'm sure Master Che will let you see him if you ask super nicely?" The lilt of uncertainty in Anakin's side of their bond, pulled the Master back out of his own head. Eyes landing on the small boy sitting across from him; dinner long since abandoned and if that didn't make Qui-Gon feel even worse. Anakin ate with vigor because he still couldn't comprehend that the food would still be there afterwards, and now Qui-Gon had worried him enough to abandon it in hopes of appeasing him.

Sighing deeply, Qui-Gon shook his head. "I'm sure she will Ani." Smiling gently at the poor boy, he was rewarded with a wobbly one in return. "Let's finish eating shall we?" Lifting his fork he clinked it playfully against Anakin's own, which made the kid's uncertain smile bloom into something more real, and that was enough for now. If this was all Qui-Gon could do at the moment, make a little boy smile, that was enough for him.

Especially since he knew deep down; despite the irrational feelings that suffocated him sometimes, that none of this was Anakin's fault. This was all new and scary to the kid as well. He didn't need Qui-Gon's issues on top of his own.

Besides, he mused tiredly, taking a bite out of the Tufkus cake Obi-Wan loved so much. This was his own cowardly fault in the first place.

He was the one who'd broken Obi-Wan's trust. He had been the one to run out of the kid's hospital room after unbraiding his hair because he was too afraid to look him in the eye and tell him what he'd done. Selfishly he'd still wanted Obi-Wan to look at him as if he'd hung the moon, so he couldn't, he wouldn't…….

It had been so much easier to do it while his boy was unconscious. To run his fingers through his hair one last time, file away every little detail of his peaceful face to memory. To never forget. To never let go. Even as his fingers fumbled to untie the braid. The moments, the days, the history.

It had been so incredibly hard.

Putting it all away. Cutting their bond.

And now there was a brown wooden box under his bed were familiar beads and bands once tied to Obi-Wan's bbraid, lay collecting dust.

Yes, it had been…. Hard. But duty rose above all else, and Qui-Gon knew with time, Obi-Wan would come to accept it too.

Still, not all hope was lost. Because no matter how many times Master Yoda had told him to stay out of it, Qui-Gon was going to fix this. He had a last ditch plan if all else failed. There was no way, force wills it, he was going to let his kid be sent away again. Not under his watch.

He'd been keeping an eye on Mace and Yoda's efforts and it was safe to say it wasn't going well. Which wasn't a surprise seeing as Obi-Wan's records were well, not exactly perfect. Leaving the Order left a stain on someone's legacy and while Qui-Gon had already forgiven him for that transgression, not many would be able to do the same.

No, it was definitely not going well. Master Yoda all but admitting it to him when he'd checked in with him for the fifteenth time; Mace unwilling to look at him let alone talk to him after that fated council meeting.

"Looking we are. Little success we are being met with. Have heart you most. Abandon Obi-Wan we will not."

'Unlike you,' had floated between them, unsaid.

But it was Yoda's parting words that had stayed with Qui-Gon. Lingering in his head, days after the wise old Jedi had looked at him with such sadness and regret.

"Hurting, you are. But band-aid to your pain Obi-Wan is not. Band-aid to your pain Obi-Wan should have never been. My mistake it was, assigning him to you."

My mistake. Assigning him to you.

Mistake. Assigning him. Assigning Obi-Wan, to him.

Yoda regretted creating their partnership and Qui-Gon didn't know how to process the absolute devastation and anger that ignited within him.

There was nothing wrong with his partnership with Obi-Wan. Sure they'd had their ups and downs, but the good times far outweighed the bad and for Yoda to say something like that, to hold such conviction in his voice as he said it……

No. Neither Master Yoda or Master Windu knew what was best for Obi-Wan. They wouldn't find him a Master to take him in. They wouldn't succeed, and in the end, his boy would once again end up on a train taking him far away from home.

Qui-Gon would be damned if he let that happen.

In fact, he had the perfect plan to prevent it all and keep his Padawans with him.

"Master Qui-Gon sir?"

"Yes?" he said, momentarily putting a pause on his running thoughts. "You finished your dinner, Ani?"

Nodding eagerly, Anakin pushed his empty plates away and jumped off the chair. "Can I go now?"

Shaking his head a fond smile playing at the corner of his lips, Qui-Gon stood up too, collecting their plates. "Have you finished your reading?"

Anakin moved restlessly. "I wanted to do it tomorrow? But-" he said, giving him a pleading look. "I did all of my other work. I promise! Can I please go?"

Frowning thoughtfully, Qui-Gon made his way into the kitchen, well aware of the hasting footsteps hurrying after him. "Why leave it for tomorrow?"

"Um," looking over his shoulders he watched as Ani twiddled his thumbs.

"Um, what?"

"Well," the kid smiled, uncertainty practically flooding the force. "Obi-Wan said he'd help me with the reading and it's really late right now and Master Che said I couldn't visit when it's late so I can't go and ask him for help. So….. Tomorrow?"

Something lodged itself in Qui-Gon's throat and for a second, it was almost too hard to breathe again. "That's…. Nice," he managed to force out. Not daring to look at the little boy who practically gave him everything while taking away all that mattered to him. "Where are you planning to go?"

"Aayla said she'd show me the hangers and I promised to meet here after dinner! Please?"

Aayla Secura. Quinlan Vos's Padawan. Gritting his teeth, Qui-Gon released his bitterness into the force. Apparently nothing was going his way today.

"So can I go?"

He sighed. "Yes. But--" he called out as Anakin let out a little yeep and darted to the door. "Be home at a reasonable hour this time."

"I will!"

Qui-Gon scoffed. He doubted it.

But Anakin was very independent, not like Obi-Wan. And he didn't want to hamper that independency, especially since the kid was destined to save the world. And with the kid having to stay home and study alone for majority of the day, Qui-Gon didn't think refusing him his nightly outings was fair. So he wished the Chosen One goodbye and settled down for an hour of meditation.

He felt far too restless for mediation these days, but it was only through centering himself that he found that he could get close to Obi-Wan's force signature. And loathe as he was to admit this level of attachment, he did not feel ashamed enough to stop. Being near his boy. To quietly hover around that bright, warm presence. It eased something deep and painful within Qui-Gon.

And it strengthened his determination to carry out his plan all the more.

Dooku, he thought, kneeling. Eyes closed and mind wandering despite his almost desperate need to find that serenity so he could seek out Obi-Wan's presence within the force. Master Yan would arrive back at the Coruscant within a week, and as soon as he got back, Qui-Gon would corner him and somehow convince him to finish Obi-Wan's training.

He didn't get along with his former Master and frankly Qui-Gon was all too willing to carry on with their current norm of never speaking to each other outside of polite greetings, but right now, Dooku was his only option. The right option. After all, Master Yan had shown keen interest in Obi-Wan's education in the child's earlier years; thankfully Qui-Gon had managed to keep his Master away from his very impressionable student, but now he might be his very last triumph card. And Obi-Wan was twenty-three now, he wouldn't be so easily corruptible by Master Yan's distinct interest in Sith history. Besides, Qui-Gon knew how distant the older man was. He could probably convince him to take Obi-Wan as a Padawan and then leave him here, with him. That way Qui-Gon could keep both his Padawans, train them and no one would be sent away.

It was the perfect plan. The perfect idea. And with his former Master being much kinder now that Qui-Gon had barely escaped with his life against a Sith, he was sure it would all work out like it should.

He was sure of it.

Letting himself sink even deeper into the force, he filtered out all the pulsating force signatures around him. Drowning them all out as he sought out the one candle light that was as familiar to him as his own and there. He smiled.

Obi-Wan.

Warm like a crackling campfire in the middle of freezing winter. Comforting like a hug given by a tiny thirteen year old who'd seen too much of the world far too quickly and yet managed to retain his innocence.

His Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon wasn't going to let him down again. Not this time.

Slowly drawing himself back away from his boy, he breathed in and opened his eyes. The loss of the blazing presence that was his former Padawan making his chest ache, but he knew he couldn't linger, less the kid noticed him.

It didn't matter either way. Because it was only matter of time before he would be reunited with him.

Standing up, he brushed imaginary dust of his robes; faintly hearing the echoes of Obi-Wan's laughter at his old man habit.

Today was the day the auburn haired youth would leave the Halls. It should have been yesterday, but according to one of the Padawan's in rotation that he'd coaxed the information out of, a small complication had delayed Obi-Wan's release.

Since no Master had claimed him yet, Obi-Wan Kenobi would be assigned to the Initiate dorms again, and Qui-Gon was not willing to let that happen.

He would go pick him up and surprise him with the good news that he could stay with them. Him and little Ani until they found him a Master; Yan Dooku if Qui-Gon had anything to say about it. And he was sure his boy would be so relieved to know that Qui-Gon still had his back. Maybe that could be their first step in mending what had been broken? Especially since Anakin and he seemed to already get along splendidly.

Of course it might be mildly embarrassing for Obi-Wan for a bit; sharing quarters with the boy who'd replaced him, but he would settle down eventually. Qui-Gon was sure of it. His boy was nothing if not adaptable. And after he heard the effort Qui-Gon had put into keeping them together, he would forgive him. He had to.

If he didn't, Qui-Gon wasn't quite sure what he would do with himself.

Making his way through the living room; ready to grab his boots to go, he stumbled over a box by the sofa and nearly fell. His quick reflexes the only thing keeping him standing.

Frowning down at the scattered boxes of Obi-Wan's things that he'd packed away weeks ago, so Anakin could have more space for his own stuff, Qui-Gon sighed. They'd have to find somewhere new to place them. Maybe Obi-Wan could take his room, since Ani had already moved into the older boy's? And Qui-Gon could take the sofa, just for now. Just until he applied for bigger quarters. Nodding to himself resolutely, he sidestepped the rest. But just as he arrived at the door, there was a knock. Followed by three more rapid bangs.

"Hold on," he called out, reaching for the panel and as the door slide open he came face to face with Muln. Garen Muln. Another of Obi-Wan's delightful friends. And by the sour look on the kid's face, just as delightfully furious with him.

"Knight Muln," he greeted softly followed by a bow.

Garen grinned, all teeth and stormy eyes. "Master Qui-Gon," he said cheerfully, bowing back. "I'm here to pick up Obi's things."

Qui-Gon stiffened, folding his hands under the sleeves of his robe. "Ah, he's being released today," he said. Neither making it a question nor a statement.

The shaggy haired man nodded enthusiastically, his force presence practically swallowing them both up with a sense of coldness that sent chills down Qui-Gon's spine.

"Yeah," he answered, jaw twitching. "He's finally leaving the Halls and I was sent to get his things." Nodding his head at the boxes strewn around the floor behind him. "So if you could just get them for me--" clapping his hands, Muln smiled; his eyes were cold. "That would be wonderful."

Clearing his throat, Qui-Gon gave the clearly resentful Knight a tight smile. "There is no need to take Obi-Wan's things--" He ignored how Muln flinched as the name left his mouth. "To the Initiate dorms. They can stay here until he gets a Master."

Now. Now Muln's eyes were sparkling. There was a sense of vicious glee swirling around them in the force and it made Qui-Gon tense. What was going on?

"Oh you don't understand," Garen smiled back at him and this time, his smile did reach his eyes. But it looked foreign on the face of the otherwise furious man. "I'm not here to take Obi's things to the Initiate dorms." Here he paused, his force signature practically dancing. "He already has a Master and said Master asked me to bring his things. So you see--" a giant grin. "Nothing for you to concern yourself with."

"What?"

"You heard me. Master Jinn." The last two words were dragged out, Garen's lips widening even further into an almost sadistic smile. "His Master sent me to get his things."

But Qui-Gon couldn't quite comprehend it. He couldn't……

A Master? Already?

When, how, why?

"Who?" Was what came out. The burning question that mattered the most…… who?

Garen Muln slid in past him and chuckled. "Believe it or not," he said, voice practically a giggle and tone conversational. He was enjoying this. "Master Windu."

Wi…..

"Mace?"

Qui-Gon could barely keep a lid on his shock. Because…. Mace? Why would he take Obi-Wan.

'Why would he take Obi-Wan away from me?'

The young Knight shrugged. "Yeah. He asked him yesterday and Obi agreed." Lifting his hands he concentrated and before long all the boxes were floating; Qui-Gon couldn't even muster the necessary disapproval to scold him for the improper use of the force.

"Obi-Wan….. Agreed?"

Floating the last mementos of his Padawan past him, Muln smirked. "Yup. The Master of the Order. Isn't that crazy."

It……

Mace…… Mace had taken his Padawan.

But it wasn't supposed to be Mace. It was supposed to be Yan.

Yan Dooku was supposed to take on Obi-Wan and then give him back. So they could all stay together. Here. Like they were supposed to. Not….. Not Mace.

"Now Obi doesn't have to leave, you get to keep your prized Chosen One, Master Jinn. And all will be sunshine and rainbows." Practically skipping out the door, Garen Muln gave him a wink. "All as the force wills it, right?" And with that he was gone. Leaving Qui-Gon in a stupor he couldn't shake. Not even hours later when Anakin snuck his way in, letting out a yelp when he found his Master sitting listless by the door. The poor kid nearly stumbling over him.

"Master, what's wrong!"

'Nothing,' he wanted to say. 'Obi-Wan found himself a Master. Isn't that great!'

But he couldn't. The thought alone made him want to rip his hair out. Because deep down he'd assumed there would be no capable Masters willing to take Obi-Wan, not with his spotty record. And those who might have been willing to see past it, would have already had Padawans or were far too young to train a Padawan as old as Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon had; loathe as he was to admit it, almost counted on it. Subconsciously relieved each and every time he'd heard of another rejection. Even as he felt great sadness for his former Padawan. But he'd known Master Dooku was coming. His Master was coming back to fix everything, help him restore what had been broken. Qui-Gon had been so close to getting his family back. And now it was gone. It was all gone, thanks to Mace Windu.

Mace had stolen his Padawan from him.

"Master, Master! What's wrong?!"

Nothing, nothing at all.

The End

Never have I ever found a character as hard to write as Qui-Gon Jinn. I literally ended up putting on robes, letting my hair down and pretending to be him for a full 24 hours to get his stupid character down. Hopefully he came out ok. I didn't want to make him a 100% bad person but I also knew he wasn't a great person either, so he had to land somewhere in the middle. In character, yet an asshole. So in the end, I have summarized Qui-Gon like this [Everything is about him. Even though he loves Obi-Wan it's about Qui-Gon. His pain, what he needs, his jealousy, trying to keep both Padawan instead of finding any other solution blah blah blah].

He isn't a bad person. He's just a really shitty Mentor. Like imagine telling Obi-Wan he will stay with them, while being an absent mentor's padawan just so Qui-Gon can continue playing at being a dad...... this man needs serious help. And I actually feel kind of bad for him because he does love Obi-Wan. He's just not good at anything else besides that first step. (Sorta reminds me of Bruce Wayne actually lol)--- sorry for the super late update guys! Please enjoy!!!

Qui-Gon: You can stay with us!

Obi-Wan [......]: You gave my room away. You disowned me and you never even looked me in the eye when you did it.

Qui-Gon: Semantics.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #qui gon jinn #qui gon a+ parenting #quinlan vos #garen vos #anakin skywalker #mace windu #fanfic #fanfiction #ch 3 #star wars fanfiction #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Quinlan and the Interdimensional Ingenues (except not really)

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

“You think I’m being dumb.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Quinlan thinks there might be dust, even.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Kenobi?”

“Hm?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good?” Quinlan hazards.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Guys?”

“Over here, Skywalker.”

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

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

“Anakin--”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

“Kenobi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We really should invite Ahsoka, though.”

“Not tonight, padawan.”

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

Additional notes:

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

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

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

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