#✧･ﾟ: * — we are of the same mind ⟩ satine / padmé | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tennessoui · 3 years ago

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“You’re such a bitch.” Would love it if you could make it work in the Cheating AU (cosss I'm obsesssssedd with it).

Ideally Anakin saying it to Obi-Wan, but doesn'tneed to be, whatever inspires you 💙.

hey hi hello!!! ok so this is set in the cheating au (gffa au where obi-wan and anakin cheat on their partners---satine, who knows and doesn't care and padmé who doesn't know and will definitely care---to be with one another), and i'd go into detail about the timeline more, but actually I think the characters pretty much say everything you need to know. In my mind this is about three months before Anakin gets hurt and obi-wan makes him choose between his wife and him.

(2k) (cw: infidelity, jealousy, asshole behavior from obikin)

The twi’lek waitress keeps making eyes at Obi-Wan and the man is letting her. His wife is right there, next to him.

Anakin is right across from him while he gently touches the server’s wrist, compliments the length and coloring of her lekku, refers to her by her name that he remembers—Niv’era—and laughs over jokes she hasn’t even really said.

It’s all very disgusting, and it’s even worse when Anakin catches Satine’s eye from across the table. She has the most annoying knowing look, and Anakin blanches beneath it. He hates that for a second, they’re in the same sort of twisted club. In love with a man who is an incorrigible flirt.

Well, Satine has said many times she feels no romantic inclination towards her husband. Anakin just can’t believe that’s true.

It’s Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan, who has taken a singular bite out of his correllian beef tenderloin and has stopped Niv’era on her way past the table to praise her for the suggestion, as if she personally cooked it herself. She probably can’t even cook. She looks younger than Anakin’s children, and they’re three.

Padmé shifts next to him, setting her fork down and placing her hand over his own fisted hand, as if trying to soothe him.

The movement catches Obi-Wan’s eye, and he pauses for a second before he continues, even louder and more flirtatious than before, running a hand through his hair with a roguish grin as the star-struck child of a server tells him about the last time she visited Stewjon and what she did there with her family.

Out of some unpleasant and nameless emotion, Anakin flips his hand over and intertwines his fingers with his wife. He can feel her wedding band against his knuckle. Anakin had forgotten to wear his ring. He usually does these days when he knows he’ll see Obi-Wan.

“Your anniversary is coming up, no?” Satine asks. Anakin glares at her, but she simply smiles in return. Bitch.

“In two weeks,” Padmé says, taking a tiny sip of her plum wine. Obi-Wan’s whiskey is untouched on the table before him. He’s finally dismissed the waitress and has turned his attention fully back to them.

Anakin fights a sneer and wonders if in a few nights, Obi-Wan will come back alone to this restaurant, ask the girl for a tour of the place, push her into a closet and coax her into breaking her marriage vows for the chance to lick the taste of whiskey out of his mouth. She probably wouldn’t say no.

Anakin hadn’t.

“And how many years will that be?” Satine asks, nibbling at the edge of a crust of bread. “Five? No. Six?”

“Six,” Padmé agrees. “We married very young.”

Anakin had married very young. Padmé had married at a respectable age.

“Six years, wow,” the blonde woman says with a tiny shake of her head. She raises her wine glass. “Here’s to six years of love and commitment. May there be many more.”

Padmé laughs and raises her own glass, tilting her head up to look at Anakin. She’s probably expecting a kiss from her husband. Anakin is hardly her husband anymore, and he is absolutely not the man she married.

Obi-Wan raises his own glass and tossses the entirety of the contents back in one go. “You’re such a bitch,” he tells Satine, pushing away from the table. “Excuse me.”

Padmé’s hand has fluttered to her mouth in shock at the words, eyes wide and quickly turning angry for the sake of her friend. “That was absolutely out of line, I’m sorry, Satine.”

“Oh, it’s alright,” Satine looks amused more than anything. “We’re all tense over the elections.”

“There’s no need for that level of disrespect though,” Padmé declares. Anakin knows he should say something, fall in line with his wife and agree. But Padmé doesn’t have all the information. Satine was being a bitch, and she’s the only one at the table who doesn’t know it or understand why.

“I know you two have an…unconventional marriage—” it’s no secret among friends that the Kenobi-Kryzes have an open marriage, something Padmé has never been able to fully understand— “but if my husband talked to me like that in a serious manner, I would divorce him on the spot.”

She looks at him and he nods because he’s supposed to nod. He’s supposed to find the threat slightly funny, and agree that he would never do something so uncouth like that.

But all he can think is, Promise?

“I’m going to go check on him,” he says, standing and putting his napkin on the table. He can’t spot the waitress either and now he’s thinking the worst. His chest is tight. If he finds Obi-Wan and he’s kissing someone else, Anakin doesn’t know what he’ll do.

It feels like it would be a betrayal. Of them. Their relationship.

But aren’t they both betrayers already? Obi-Wan’s marriage wasn’t open until three years ago, when Satine had declared to the pair of them that she wanted to have just as much liberty to take other partners as Obi-Wan apparently thought he had. And, she’d said, having an open marriage meant that she wouldn’t have to hide it. Unlike Obi-Wan and Anakin.

And Anakin and Padmé’s marriage….It was not always what it is now. The guilt should eat him alive and sometimes when he’s in the fresher, washing off the scent of Obi-Wan before his wife comes home, it does.

Most of the time though, it’s not there anymore at all. It’s been four years, sneaking around with Obi-Wan. He’s addicted.

Addicts can’t let guilt consume them. That’s what the addiction is for.

Padmé has slid over to his chair to grasp at Satine’s hand. She’ll probably have a long fiery speech prepared for Obi-Wan when he gets back. Suddenly Anakin doesn’t want to hear it.

For a brief second, he wishes he could just find Obi-Wan and leave the restaurant all together. Leave the planet. Run off into the stars.

He looks at the back of his wife’s head. She’d spent an hour styling her hair in the fresher mirror before coming out tonight. He’d been asked to hold certain pieces in place as she pinned them. In the early days of their marriage, which was also the early days of their relationship, he’d been humbled and awed to be invited into such a precious domestic scene. Tonight, he’d only felt vaguely irritated that she cared so much and that her caring had made them late, which meant minutes where Obi-Wan and Satine were alone at a restaurant like they’ve been for years before.

Anakin stares at the back of her head and feels the words rise into his mouth. You’re such a bitch, he imagines telling her. He wants to tell her.

But more than that, he wants the words to be true, and he knows they are not. He’d married a kindhearted woman with a soul just as beautiful as she is. And yet.

And yet.

Obi-Wan is in the restaurant’s fresher. It’s deserted otherwise, which is good because Anakin is fuming and he’s feeling reckless and as soon as Obi-Wan turns to look at him, he pushes him up against the edge of the sink.

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” he snarls and Obi-Wan’s hands immediately come up to fist into Anakin’s dress tunics, mess them up. Pull him closer. It’s always about closeness with Obi-Wan.

“I’m an asshole? What was I supposed to do, listen to your wife talk about your fucking facade of a marriage until the desserts course?” Obi-Wan spits right back. “You’re a fucking—”

Anakin kisses him to shut him up. It’s angry and too much so fast, too much teeth and spit and Obi-Wan is kissing him like he’s trying to draw blood, like the only reason he’s kissing him is so that they’ll go back to the table and his wife will notice Anakin’s red lips and ask what happened.

The thought that Obi-Wan is kissing him for any other reason than because he loves him—he knows he does, he’s said—makes him even more furious. He rips himself away as quickly as he’d attacked.

Obi-Wan is breathing heavily against the sink.

“Don’t fucking flirt with the waitress in front of me,” Anakin says as calmly as he’s capable of. He catches sight of himself in the mirror behind Obi-Wan, and he doesn’t even recognize himself. His eyes are dark and his mouth is red and his chest is heaving.

“Don’t fucking hold hands with your wife in front of me,” Obi-Wan shoots back like he has any right to demand that from Anakin, any right at all to dictate his relationship with his wife.

It makes Anakin let out a crazed sort of laugh and he scrubs his hands over his face, through his hair. “Fuck, Obi-Wan. What the fuck are we doing? This…this is too much. This—”

He cuts himself off because Obi-Wan has stepped forward, into his space. It’s dangerous and it’s perfect and half of Anakin wants to pull him closer. The other part wants to push him away. That part has never won, and Anakin doesn’t think tonight will be the night it suddenly does.

Carefully, almost apologetically, Obi-Wan fixes the lay of Anakin’s tunics, covers him up and makes him presentable. His hands move just as gently up to his hair to comb it into place. Anakin shivers and lets him. This side of Obi-Wan is addicting as well.

After he’s been fixed and fawned over, Obi-Wan’s hands come to the back of his neck and rest there. For a second, Anakin thinks that he’s going to rise up on his toes and kiss him. Instead there’s fumbling and then Obi-Wan lifts the necklace Anakin is wearing off his neck.

Anakin thinks he needs to stop him. After all, it had been Obi-Wan who had given the jappor snippet back to him in the first place two years ago, telling him that there was no way his wife wouldn’t notice.

“Why don’t you keep this for me?” He’d said. “Wear it around your neck, tell your wife you’ve just been missing Tatooine. It wouldn’t be a lie. We’d just be the only two that knows what it means.”

The symbol on the pendant that Obi-Wan turns to fasten around his own neck means homesick. He’d carved it for the man after a month and a half of not being able to see each other. He’d—it’d been hard. It’d felt impossible, it’d felt wrong. Homesick for Obi-Wan.

When Padmé had noticed the new addition to her husband’s wardrobe, she’d asked what it meant. After all, he’d given her one all those years ago, a snippet he carved that meant good fortune. “We’ll match,” she’d said with a charming giggle, showing him the bracelet she’d fastened the snippet into. “And let’s see about visiting Tatooine soon.”

What neither Padmé nor Obi-Wan had understood, of course, was that on Tatooine, nothing was more important than one’s home. A place for family. A place to shelter from the elements. Safety and comfort and love wrapped in one.

On Tatooine, the symbol for homesick had five lines diverging from the middle and curling around themselves in a knot to leave an empty circle.

The pendant around Obi-Wan’s neck right now has the same design, but the circle is filled in. This symbol means, simply, home.

“This is mine,” Obi-Wan tells him. They both know they’re not just talking about the pendant. “I’ll remember if you do.”

Anakin wishes he could bring himself to forget, but it’s impossible. Obi-Wan makes it impossible just by being in the same room.

Later that night as he’s getting ready for bed, Padmé asks him what happened to his pendant.

“Must have slipped off some time during dinner,” he tells her.

“Oh, that’s such a shame! You should call the restaurant tomorrow morning and see if they’ve found it. I know you were attached to it.”

“Yeah,” he says. “I will.” You’re such a bitch, he wants to say. But it’s not true. It’s not true and he can’t hurt her like that, not when he’s already hurting her in other ways. Ways she doesn’t even know about yet.

Yet.

#asks #cheating au #cw: infidelity #obikin #prompt fill #yes i am still working on these bless #obi-wan taking the pendant and wearing it is him basically gearing up to say #'i'm sick of not being yours/having you in public and i am very close to saying fuck it so be prepared for that xoxo'#anakin sort of gets this

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writerbuddha · 1 year ago

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The light side and the dark side are the two sides of the Force. If you have a coin, you have the tails and the heads, but they exist only relatíve to each other, they’re co-dependent, co-joined and consist each other. And the coin is what they’re in their undivided wholeness, encompasses, but also goes beyond both - it’s not heads, it’s not tails, nor both, nor neither, it’s something more, yet, both the heads and the tails are made of the coin.

In the Mortis arc, we can see that the Force expresses itself as living things: the Father (the coin) the Daughter (the heads) and the Son (the tails). The Daughter is creation, the day, birth, and evidently femaleness, selflessness and compassion, the Son is destruction, the night, death and evidently maleness and selfishness. Together, they proceed from the Father, who is all but in the same time, transcends all.

And all reality, all things and beings are mosaics of the Son and the Daughter. You can use your Son-side or your Daughter-side, and they’re like the “there are two wolves in me” on the non-physical level. Balancing them means the Daughter keeping the Son in check, so he won’t do terrible things, but that takes constant effort, and diligence, mindfulness of the Son, not letting the son to grab and cling on things and so on. And this way, the Daughter can do a lot of good things for the people you love and make you happy. So you need to choose to be her and “feed her”, like the “bright wolf” must be fed. And you feed her through cultivating mindfulness, non-attachment and insight.

But there is only one Force. Not two Forces linked together. One Force and its two sides. One coin, and its two sides. This is the foundation of Eastern religions and spiritual traditions like Hinduism, Taoism and Buddhism, and Lucas clearly based the Force on them, and he never made a secret out of it. He switched which one of Yin-Yang is “femaleness”, though, which mirrors his tendency to portray women as role models and lighthouses for men (Padmé, Leia, Satine, but in Ventress and Ahsoka he gave us women who take the hero’s journey to get there.)

Since the Force is not a power one has, but rather what gives one their power, would it be reasonable, if accurate to assume the Light and Dark Sides of the Force are not just means to the power of the Force, but also psychological states of mind? Joseph Campbell's reading on Christ's "peace" and the Buddha's "Nirvana" as inherent within us and where we can properly act from by our learning to center ourselves in them has had me wondering.

Yes, that would be accurate! The power of the Force, the Force-powers and all that are externalized psychological states of the mind, made manifest by those who have the talent to have some control over the energy, which is the substance of those psychological states and the mind and self and consciousness.

For example, Yoda never manifests lethal bolts from himself, because he doesn’t have the psychological state of a violent storm. He is "only" able to absorb and repel those bolts, because he harnesses his mental state in which anger, hate and aggression, all what that lighting actually is, are dissolved or controlled. And if you watch Sidious, you don’t see him actually controlling his lightning. He can manifest it, sure, but in Episode III and VI, it's very clear that it's like allowing steam to burst out of his fingers, in the same way steam bursts out of your ears, so to speak, and he can direct that steam to targets and burning them. But when it’s reflected back onto him, he can't absorb it, he can't repel it. He is burning as well, this is why his face gets a scarred, distorted. He can only stop manifesting the steam. So, yes, the Force is not just giving strength to Jedi and Sith, it's not just a way to get strength, it’s also their psychological, mental, emotional, intellectual, spiritual processes.

The Kingdom of God and Nirvana would be a bit deeper that that, though, that’s more like the individual Force recognizing that its part of the cosmic Force, like a wave is part of an ocean, from which is made of, from which it rises and into which it will be reserved. This way, they can rejoice for those around them who are transformed into the larger=cosmic Force from the smaller=living Force, and can conquer their fears and they can let go.

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smhalltheurlsaretaken · 4 years ago

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What's your opinion on Padmé falling in love with Anakin while knowing that he killed a bunch of tuskin people and how he technically can't be in a committed relationship? Do you think it makes her an immature person or just someone who made the wrong choice?

Different anon:

Aaaah, I have a bit of a complicated relationship with Padmé. I dislike her as a character - as in, I don't particularly enjoy seeing her onscreen - but I try not to let that affect my opinion on her moral character. (I mean, I absolutely adore Dooku but I'm aware that he's a piece of shit, and I'm not really into the OT but I am aware that Luke and Leia are objectively shining beacons of goodness even if I'm not really interested in them.)

So since I kinda dislike her - again, based purely on personal taste, and I do genuinely recognize and appreciate her bravery or kindness even though I skip the Padmé-centric eps/scenes given the choice - I don't really think about her, or talk about her, except in the context of Anidala. (And that's because it's often brought up when talking about the Jedi Order, the one thing I'm much more interested in.)

Hence, I have to honestly say that I don't entirely know how she was intended to be understood. I do think at least some of the issues with the discrepancy between her morals and her behavior can be attributed to clumsy writing. If I had to go and hazard a guess as to how we were meant to see her behavior, it'd be blinded by love ('her judgement clouded by her emotions,' to use the appropriate Star Wars term), and somewhat selfish - but I certainly don't think Lucas meant for her to be a self-centered oblivious monster.

Regarding her telling Anakin he's breaking her heart, I disagree with the interpretation that it was because he was advocating for fascism now, and that was worse than what he'd done. I think it's simply that she was in complete denial up to that point - she didn't believe that he had killed the younglings, because she couldn't believe it (and she could still lie to herself about it because Anakin wasn't admitting to anything up to this point, just saying vague stuff about his powers and saving her). But then he says "I have brought peace to the Republic," and she just can't deny the truth any longer, and that's what makes her back and way and change her mind. It's not that fascism is worse than slaughter, it's that Anakin spewing bs is what opens her eyes, and so it's fascism and slaughter hitting her in the face at the same time.

The issue of the Tuskens is a more complicated one - though believe me, I have ripped into her often enough about it. But what are we meant to understand? That she takes Anakin at his word and thinks the Tuskens are indeed animals? That she just refuses to delve too deeply into the implications of Anakin's actions because she cares about him and she doesn't want to see his life ruined, and so she purposely blinds herself to reality?

I honestly don't know.

I don't know what we were meant to take away. I don't know how Lucas and Co wanted her to be read.

But if you're asking me how I read her...

My understanding of her marrying Anakin despite the rules is that she doesn't get the Order's rules, and so both her and Anakin convince themselves that What They Are Feeling Isn't Wrong (which, true, their love in and of itself isn't wrong) - when it's not the issue with their marriage. I think it was terribly near-sighted of her to marry him (in regard to her own career + the issues it raised regarding the Jedi's neutrality) and disrespectful to the Order as well (which again, I don't think she really understands). As Senator, she has some degree of power over them - so her flouting their rules and marrying one of their apprentices (not even a Knight) really rubs me the wrong way. She could have - should have - asked him to leave the Order for her, instead of accepting to live in secret, and he probably would have done it if she'd been the one asking. (And yeah, "but how could she ask that of him?" - well, Satine couldn't ask that of Obi-Wan so the two of them didn't get together - conundrum solved.)

Also, not disclosing such a connection to anyone - in the middle of a war - was beyond irresponsible. Irl, a high-profile member of government marrying a general during a full scale conflict and not telling anyone would get their asses in SO. MUCH. TROUBLE, and justly so. (And Padmé and Anakin's relationship ended up being a huge liability in the war on multiple occasions).

Her attachment to Anakin blinds her to who he is, to her duty, and to everything that truly matters. She is willing to overlook things she should never have let happen - like the whole situation with Clovis. Can you imagine the political shitshow that would have caused? You have the Senator of the planet the Chancellor is from manipulating her ex - the head of the neutral Banking Clans - with her current Jedi love - a member of the politically neutral Order the Senate oversees - shadowing them both and eventually beating the crap out of said ex. What would that look like? Are the Jedi influencing her? Is the Chancellor using her connection to Clovis? Is she the one influencing both the Order and the Banking Clans to profit her planet, with the approval of the Chancellor? We know it's not what's happening, but it could have led to a complete catastrophe, and she did nothing to safeguard herself against that.

Or when she traded Anakin for Grievous without telling anyone. That was a political nightmare as well, not to mention highly unethical.

So all in all, I don't know how much we were meant to criticize her for all of it, and how much we were meant to empathize with her. Since I personally don't like her, I had a hard time feeling sorry for her most of the time - except for when Anakin scares her or physically hurts her - but that's my own bias. I don't think she's a bad person - or at least, I don't think the worst implications of the way she was written were intentional. (Like how she waited eight months to tell Anakin she was pregnant, since RotS happens over a week max.)

I don't agree with bashing her, or tearing her character down completely, since I don't think that's what we were supposed to take away, but again I don't really know. But to sum it up: to me, Anidala was a gigantic mistake on many different levels, for many more reasons than just Anakin being a Jedi.

#ask #anonymous #padmé amidala #anakin skywalker #anidala #anti anidala #kinda #tusken raiders #sand people #sw talk #meta #more like me ranting #long post

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gwaean · 4 years ago

Text

The Rescuers

Part One: “Old acquaintances meet again"

Summary: You are a mandalorian rebel friends with Captain Rex so you are well aware of the entire "clone situation" going on. And of course you want to help as much as you can. You then go to Ryloth trying to help the Syndulla's and maybe find your old friend Cody.

Pairing: None. Yet. But will be a Crosshair x Reader.

Gender: There'll be no mentions of gender or pronouns on this part yet. Though further in the story it might have she/they pronouns used.

Word count: 1.6k

Tags: Injury recover, post-clone wars story, rescuing clones/friends, a bit of melancholy?

Warning: Brief description of injury.

Notes: So, I literally dreamed most parts of this story (I know, crazy Star Wars obsession here). I filled up some parts as I was writing of course. And it turned out a bit like a beautiful sad tragic. I might even do a playlist for this fanfic actually. Hope u enjoy it :)

The war, the republic, the jedi all have ended. Literally on the same day. And what it seemed like a fresh start, finally a moment of peace in the chaos turned into nightmares. You weren’t there when it happened, you just heard the news of Obi-Wan saying the jedi order and the republic had fallen and you also heard the now Emperor Palpatine telling everyone that the clone wars has ended and the jedi were traitor, they’ve tried to assassinate him according to well… himself. And now he’s forming this new galactic empire, giving people numbers like the ones clones used to have and killing off any resistance against this new order. Everyone seemed to believe him, you gotta give him that he was a pretty damn’ good liar indeed. But you knew better than that. You are mandalorian after all and were friends with no one less than Duchess Satine and Senator Padmé. You helped them countless times in their diplomatics and you even fought with the jedi and the clones at times. They were good people, yes, the order might have messed up at lot but traitors? Murders? They sure didn’t deserve to die like that and I guess… No one does.

You quickly then joined the rebellion. There you found many of former politics like Senator Organa and even a clone… Captain Rex (or is it Commander now?). You’ve met him once before and he seemed like a good person and looks like he’s really a great man just like you thought. You soon became friends. But sadly, the other clones you knew before like Cody were still with the empire. Though both you and Rex were very determinate to help others like him. And also, obviously, protect your allies against the empire.

Well, as expected trouble begins. There’s been rumors about what’s going in Ryloth with the Syndulla’s and the empire occupation. Worried about them and their people, you go there to help as you can. And if there’s need, you’d call more rebels to help too though you didn’t want to envolve more people yet because you’re afraid of the reaction it could cause ( and what that would cost for ryloth and its people). You also have a tiny tiny hope that maybe just maybe Cody could be there.

Arriving in Ryloth, you discover the Syndulla family have indeed oppose agains the empire occupation and they’ve went into a lot of trouble because of that but apparently a group of mercenaries (?) have already rescued them from the prison they were sent to. One less problem for you to fix I guess. You were glad for them but you still want to spy a little on the empire and see what you could find out after all, the trip couldn’t be for nothing.

You find your way and get to a particular high hill with a great view of one imperial base. You pick up your binoculars and the only person you see in a sort of balcony is a very depressive-looking Crosshair. You remember him from that one time clone force 99 saved your butt from the mess you’ve yourself in. He was… quite unfriendly, let’s say. But he did get the job done and made sure you were okay so you just ignored his behavior. Looking at him now it was looking at a shadow of him.

It made you remember what Rex told you once:

“We clones were all created with this chip thing in our my minds. We were made for the war and the war only but apparently someone thought it would be great if they let us think we've got free will. That we could be anything we wanted to be after the war. So we made friends, some of us found a family with our jedi. They let we hope. Just so we have all of that taken away from us with order 66. The war had ended for everyone except for us. We had our will taken from us, our minds controlled by this chip and we had to follow orders. While we're still there conscious of what we were doing we had to kill the people we fought together the entire war. I remember her face... I'm so glad she didn't see my face. I couldn't bare.”

Thinking about what all the clones been through, you can’t just leave him like this. He did save you once and this was your chance to repay that. Rex keeps saying we can’t save everyone (more to himself than to you) but one person is better than nobody, right? At the time you improvise a plan: neither the empire nor Cross can’t know yet that you’re a rebel. You haven’t done anything yet incriminating (at least not that they were aware of). So you can just jump in there where he was standing and talk to him. Worst case scenario he ignores you. However you sure knew how to annoy him enough that at least he would call you out and when that happens you act. Ok, that you still have to figure out exactly how you would act. Well, half of a plan is better than no plan.

You just jump in behind his back and of course he points his gun at you as expected. But he apparently recognizes who it’s standing in front of him and put his riffle down.

“ Hello there.” You say.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He replies.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you aren’t happy to see me.”

He gives you a faint of a smile. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

You smiled back. “But seriously, what you’re doing here all alone? And why- You finally noticed the burn mark on his now bald head. - are you like this? Doesn’t the empire takes care of its soldiers? Nor your squad? The bad batch, right? That’s what you called yourselves?”

His face closes again. “You have nothing to do with that. I’m-”

“By yourself?” You pause for a moment. “Alright, I get it. You’ve probably been through a lot. We all have. Not sure why you’re like this but it doesn’t matter right now. I just wonder… Don’t you want to get out of all of this?”

Cross pauses for a moment. It seems like he's considering the possibility. “I… I can’t.”

“But…” You then think. You remind yourself of how protective he was that one time you were saved by them. Maybe this instinct was still there, you had to try. You saw a pointed rock close to where you were standing and decided that you would accidentally cut yourself. “Ouch!”

“What’s up?”

“Oh! Nothing! Just might have cut myself here.” You show your hand now with a bit bigger than you expected cut and some blood.

He almost laughs at it. “What a little clumsy one you are, eh?”

His mocking at you, that’s something, right? “Yeah, I guess….”

“Well, let’s go?” He points to the door.

“Go where?”

“Don’t you wanna take care of that, sweetheart?”

“Right, medical bay then?”

“Obviously.” Perfect. He would be right where you needed him to be.

The both of you enter the facility and walk directly to the medical bay. The empire base is pretty much a bland dark and boring military base with some troopers walking around, some commanders (you think) yelling at the soldiers and some droids doing whatever they have to do. You knew only that they were “r - unities” but droids weren’t exactly your area of expertise. However you do notice that the troopers walking around still wear the same clone armor from back the war. And you feel guilty. Because as much as you’d like you won’t be able to help them all. They’ll stay there with their chips on being controlled by the empire…. By the force, that was a hole guilty trip you knew you shouldn’t take. It wasn’t your fault. No, no. They did this. Palpatine and his men were the monsters. Not you. And certainly not these poor clones. One day, yes, one day maybe you could come back and save them?

“Hmmm…. You wanna me to do this?” Cross says. You were so distracted in your thoughts you don’t even realized you were already in the medical bay.

“Oh. You don’t have to.”

“It's fine. I’m used to do this anyway.”

“Ok. Be my guest then?”

“Wow, you’re so funny.” He jokes.

“Whatever. Just do your thing.”

“Give me your hand.”

You give him your hand and he takes it. And to your surprise he’s very gentle while taking care of your wound. He applies some alcohol pads to clean the wound. And as he presses the wound to stop the bleeding you reach for your gun and keep looking at his face. His very concentrated. It’s almost like the rest of the galaxy doesn’t matter. He’s only there at the moment focused on helping you. And you’re trying to plan how you’re gonna knock him out to take his chip off.

“Now I’m gonna get some stuff to make a bandage for ya, ok?” He says and turns his back. Now is you chance. You turn your blaster to stun only and shoots. He falls.

“I’m sorry. But there’s no other way.” You whisper as if he’s actually listening.

It takes some effort (seriously, Crosshair's heavier than he looks) but you manage to put him on one these surgical stretchers. You also have to learn super quick how to use the pad control to see where the chip’s in and take it off. But it’s done. And you wait and wait… For what it seemed like hours though it was only like 15 minutes.

And he wakes up very confused.

#swwriting #tbbwriting #the bad batch #tbb spoilers #the bad bad spoilers #the bad batch fanfiction #crosshair #crosshair x reader #ct 9904 #crosshair x y/n #crosshair x oc #female reader #gn!reader #clone wars #star wars #clone troopers #writers on tumblr

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mostthingskenobi · 3 years ago

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Can't make my mind over this so I'm asking the expert

I absolutely believe that during their year on the run, Obi Wan and Satine got down and dirty

But do you think after so many years of not seeing each other and him now being a Jedi Master and her the Duchess of Mandalore, did they DEW IT?

I can totally get behind the idea of a few stolen kisses here and there, but I do think that at this point Obi Wan is far too committed to the code and probably more cautious and aware of his actions, with him being aware of Anakin/Padmé, so not to come off as a total hypocrite (at least to himself) and so he won't go that far with Satine she probably would

A lot of this is based on that conversation Obi has with Ani in season 6 "senator Amidala and I are just friends" "and friends you must remain"

It sure is fun to read about it in fics though :P

Hello Anon!!! What a question LOL!!! Thank you for bringing a smile to my face :)

OK, I am 100% in agreement with your assessment. I fully believe that Obi-Wan and Satine had an intimate relationship when they were young. And my main reason for thinking this was best summed up in a post I made a few years ago. Here is part of what I wrote:

Whatever happened [between Obi-Wan and Satine], it caused tension that still existed 15 years later. I would argue tension like that would not be so palpable and painful if they only had an innocent infatuation. That kind of tension comes from scorned love. And can I also say that innocent infatuation would not endure 15 year’s separation, but deep abiding love would. To still love a man (who likely broke your heart) even though you haven’t seen him for 15 years, and to declare it publicly, nay! to declare it with your dying breath, indicates something far more meaningful. “I’ve loved you always. I always will.”

Here is a link to the full post if you want to read it: OBITINE: INNOCENT LOVE OR BABY-MAKING LOVE?

Now to answer your other question...

DID JEDI MASTER OBI-WAN KENOBI AND DUCHESS SATINE OF KALEVALA DEWIT?

An excellent question...and one I explore in most of my fan fictions...

As a fic writer and an Obi-Wan stan, I like to think that Obi-Wan and Satine had a secret relationship after they reconnected during the clone wars. I just want Obi-Wan to have had some secret happiness, where he was loved and cared for as much as he loved and cared for others. For god’s sake is this asking too much!?!?!?!?!

However, do I believe this happened for reals?

As much as I wish it were so...

...I don’t believe it is in character for Obi-Wan. At this point in his life, he’s a fully committed Jedi, 1000000% living by the Code. He says as much in CW Season 7 when Bo Katan says, “I thought she [Satine] meant something to you.”

Obi-Wan replies that she did and still does, but that he cannot allow his feelings to cloud his judgement.

This is a man who held the love of his life while she died, never telling her how he felt about her...

...well at least we never saw a moment like that. Perhaps there was a private moment somewhere in the archives of Dave Filoni’s brain where Obi-Wan and Satine had intimate conversations. But I suppose those will never see the light of day.

There was a moment in season 3 where Satine confessed to Padme that she and Obi-Wan still talked...like...were they texting night and day, sending pics of their breakfasts with heart emojis saying, “wish we could have breakfast and cuddle”????

By the time season 7 rolled around, Obi-Wan gave off the vibe that he and Satine had an “understanding.” That they loved each other but were too committed to their responsibilities to act on those feelings.

But on the flip side, Obi-Wan was a member of the “do as I say, not as I do” Jedi Master club. So, is it possible he was trying to keep Anakin from making the same mistakes he had made???

All in all, I generally don’t think anything happened between Obi-Wan and Satine during the clone wars. Do I think it’s possible that something happened between them? Yes, I’m open to the possibility :) Obi-Wan Kenobi deserved better.

If you want to hear more about my thoughts on the subject, you can check out my podcast episode where we discuss whether or not we think Korkie is a Kenobi. We delve a little deeper into why we think it’s very likely that Obitine was a hot and heavy item when they first met.

youtube

Thanks so much for the ask, Anon! It’s a subject I love to discuss 💕

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imagineyourworld-old · 4 years ago

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The Duchess and the Captain (Part One)

Captain Rex x Fem!Duchess!Reader

Summary: Regency AU! Marrying Duke Palpatine was not your idea of a perfect marriage, but meeting a certain Captain in his personal guard might make up for it.

Warnings: This is in no way historically accurate and the names I came up with are truly terrible, mentions of sex

Check out my other works: Masterlist

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Of course you had always known you’d one day have to marry a man your parents chose for you. And yet you couldn’t stop hoping and wishing that you wold marry a handsome, kind man, maybe even someone close to your own age instead of the older men your friends were married off to. But these dreams stopped the moment your parents told you who they had chosen as your husband. “Duke Palpatine is a very respectable man with a huge fortune”, your mother had told you. “He will provide for you and any children you will have”, your father had added. “And he’s old, if you’re lucky he’ll die sooner rather than later”, your brother had tried to console you. Of course your parents hadn’t appreciated that comment. But now here you were, in a carriage larger than any you had ever traveled in, on your way to your new home. Just hours after the wedding ceremony your new husband, though part of you still refused to call him that, had told you he’d need to leave for one of his many estates first thing in the morning. And after the wedding night, which you refused to think about, he left with most of his men, leaving you to travel to your new home without your husband. “I can tell you miss him already”, your mother smiled. She was accompanying you to your new home and would stay a few weeks to help you get settled until the Duke’s return. You turned away from the landscape you had been looking at through the window. Deep down you knew you had no reason to be mad at your mother, all she had done was make sure you were married to a wealthy man. It wasn’t her fault you were not allowed to choose your own husband, nor that Palpatine had proposed and your father had accepted the offer. In fact, you didn’t even know whether your mother had any say in the decision. “It’s hard to miss someone you only knew for a single day, even if that someone is your husband”, you told her. Just as she opened her mouth to reply the carriage came to a sudden halt and a moment later someone knocked on the door. You opened it just a little bit to reveal General Skywalker, the leader of the troop of your husband’s personal guard that was accompanying you. “General”, a small smile found its way to your lips at the sight of the friendly face and you opened the door a bit wider. “Why are we stopping?” The young General bowed his head ever so slightly while still keeping eye contact. “We were just informed that part of the way was flooded due to heavy rains last night, your Grace. I thought it best to stop at this inn for tonight and continue our journey tomorrow.” You tried your best to smile politely, even though this unexpected stop was the last thing you wanted right now. “Of course, General.”

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Just a few minutes later General Skywalker lead you into the main room of the small inn, your mother following with the Captain, whose name you had not yet learned. “If you’ll allow, my lady, I will arrange the rooms while you wait with Captain Rex”, the General said. He turned around to look at the other man and you did the same. Of course you had noticed him from a distance, but from up close you could see that his eyes were not dark, but a light caramel brown and even hints of brown roots where his hair was growing out. “I will be just fine with the Captain. Thank you, General.” Only a moment after General Skywalker left another man approached you. He looked so much like the Captain, you assumed they must be related somehow. He bowed to you and your mother before turning to the Captain to tell him something in a quiet tone. “ “Alright, Fives”, the blond agreed after a while. Just as the other man turned to leave, however, your mother asked him to escort her back to the carriage to get some personal belongings she didn’t want anyone else to get their hands on. “You don’t mind waiting here for me, do you, darling?”, she asked you. You shook your head and just a second later you were alone with the Captain. You tried your hardest not to look at him and inspect your surroundings instead, but you could feel his eyes on you. His stare, though burning, felt protective and comfortable rather than threatening, but after a while it made you face him nonetheless. “Is there something you want to say to me, Captain?”, you asked in your best Duchess voice, a tone you still needed to practice a lot more based on the glint in his eyes. “Nothing at all, your Grace.” You nodded. A small smile graced his handsome face and there was a certain warmth in his eyes you did not expect from someone in your husband’s guard. “I must admit, you are not like I expected you to be”, he finally said after a moment of silence. You knew it wasn’t his place to say such things, and based on the shadow that took over his features he knew as well, but you couldn’t help but be intrigued. “I do hope that’s a compliment”, you said with a smile. The first real smile, you suddenly realized, in weeks. The Captain nodded. “It most certainly is. You are younger than I expected, kinder, and more beautiful as wel-” “Captain”, General Skywalker interrupted his kind words. Any warmth disappeared from the Captain’s face as realization set in. He stood up even straighter than before as he turned to face the General. “I am sorry, sir. I should not have said those things.” Even though you barely knew the man you could tell General Skywalker was fighting a smile and there was a hint of amusement behind his sinister expression. “You should apologize to the Duchess, not to me, and hope she was not offended by what you just said.” The Captain turned back to you with a blush on his face. He wore a schooled look of remorse and respect, but there was just a hint of fear in his eyes. “I was not offended, Captain Rex. Quite the opposite, you paid me very kind compliments and I should hate for you to be punished for that.” Your last words were directed more at the General than the Captain. “T- Thank you, my lady”, the blond stuttered with a look of utter relief on his face. You would have liked to say something else, maybe even compliment him in return, but your mother’s arrival destroyed any thought of that. “I would like to be shown to my room now”, she said. Her words, her posture and her tone made you realize how inappropriate your conversation with the Captain had been. A Duchess should demand respect and not talk to her guard as if he were her friend, even if that guard was good looking and nice and made her feel like a person for the first time in a while.

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You stood in front of the grandest and most beautiful house you had ever seen in your life. How this could be called a house instead of a palace was, quite frankly, beyond you. There were more windows than you could count, a polished facade and flowers growing all around it. You could hear a soft “oh” coming from your mother, who stood a few feet behind you. It would take you a while to get used to the fact that your mother, being a lady, would now always stand behind you, the Duchess of Empireshire. In front of the house stood the servants, from the butler and the housekeeper to the gardeners and kitchen maids. As if on command they bowed or curtsied the moment your eyes landed on them. When they came up again a good looking man with a well kept beard approached you, followed by a beautiful woman with the kindest eyes you had ever seen. “Allow me to introduce myself, your Grace. I am the butler, Obi-Wan Kenobi. And this is Satine Kryze, the housekeeper. Welcome to Senatehall.” You gave both of them a smile you hoped looked graceful, even though you felt incredibly out of place. In this moment you were supposed to have your husband by your side, to take your hand and guide you to your new home. Though you supposed being alone was favorable to having Palpatine with you. “Thank you, Kenobi, Kryze.” At least you knew how to address your new employees. “Thank you for this kind welcome. I am very much looking forward to exploring this breathtaking house, but for now all I want is to retire, preferably with a cup of tea.” You could almost sense your mother’s nod of approval. This was how a Duchess was supposed to behave, not getting lost in a Captain’s eyes in a roadside in. A Captain you had not even seen all day. “Certainly, my lady”, Kryze, though you couldn’t help calling her Satine in your mind, said. She waved and a young woman approached. She could not be much older than you were, though you considered her to be a whole lot prettier. “This is Padmé. She will be your lady’s maid, unless of course you brought your own with you.” You shook your head to tell her that you had not. In fact, you had never even had your own lady’s maid and had shared one with your mother your whole life. “It is nice to meet you,Padmé.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you too, my lady. Would you like me to show you to your rooms?” With a single nod from you Padmé ushered you inside. Though you could see how beautiful and expensive everything was on the inside, you were too tired to actually pay attention to anything. “I hope everything is to your liking. I took the liberty to redecorate a bit, but of course you’re free to change anything you like”, Padmé said as she opened one of the doors in the very long hallway. She stepped aside to let you enter and you found yourself in a stunning sitting room. Two small sofas were in the middle of the room with a table between them. The walls were lined with shelves, some filled with books, other with small trinkets or flowers. Next to the huge windows overlooking the park stood a small writing desk with nothing but a picture of your husband on it, which you decided to ignore for now. “Padmé, it is beautiful”, you told the other woman. She lowered her head in thanks, but you could see a smile gracing her lips. “I am glad. Would you like to see the bedroom and the bathroom before your tea arrives?” The bedroom was just as beautiful, though a bit smaller. Two wardrobes stood on both sides of the door, a vanity table next to the window and a small nightstand with a bouquet of flowers next to the bed. The bed, however, took up most of the room. It was gigantic, bigger than any bed you had seen before, and beautiful with its soft pink blankets, matching pillows and canopy hanging around it. But it made you nervous as well. You hated thinking about what would eventually have to happen in that bed, and who it would happen with. One night had been more than enough and your husband had not hurt you, it had been nothing like the sweet and romantic experience your friend Nova had described to you in whispers after her own wedding night. Other than the bedroom and the sitting room, the bathroom was nothing special. Still pretty, but mostly practical. “You’re tea is here, my lady”, Padmé called from the sitting room, but you barely registered her words. The other woman entered the bedroom just a second later. “Are you alright, your Grace?” It was only when you felt her hand on your shoulder that you were awaken from your trance. “I’m fine, thank you. Could you help me loosen my corset, though? I can barely breath in this thing.” Padmé got straight to work. She helped you undress and loosed the string of your corset a bit. Immediately you felt freer and could actually take deep breaths. “Is that better, my lady?” You nodded in relief. “Much, thanks. Though I wish you’d stop calling me that, I am (Y/N).” Though Padmé stood behind you, you could see her from the vanity mirror. She shook her head, but a smile was on her lips. “I don’t think I can to that. It’s not proper.” You turned around. Being alone with someone your age, having your corset loosened and finally realizing your position made you desperate. “I know. Believe me, I know. But we’re going to spend a lot of time together and I would be more comfortable if you called me by my name. Plus, I need a friend since I don’t know anyone here and I’m hoping you might be that friend and friends call each other by their first names.” This time Padmé saw no other choice but to agree.

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Being alone for the first time since the wedding and the warm tea in your stomach made you more relaxed than you had been for a while and before you knew it you were asleep. When you woke you didn’t remember even falling asleep, nor why you had woken up. Only the warm and secure feeling the dream gave you remained, until your growling stomach made even that disappear. You sat up from the rather uncomfortable position on the sofa and looked around the room. The moon outside was illuminating most of it and a small fire did the rest, nonetheless you were shivering. Quickly you made your way to the bedroom, where you found a warm, soft robe folded at the foot of the bed. You slipped it on while your stomach growled again. Back in the sitting room the clock on the bookshelf told you that it was already half past nine. Which was way past dinner time and made you wonder why no one had woken you up to eat. But you decided not to dwell on the though, instead you opened the door and slipped into the hallway. It was dark, only a few candles were lit along the walls, but they gave you enough light to find your way downstairs to the entry hall. From there on, though, you had no idea where to go. Finally, after trying to remember whether Padmé had even told you what direction the kitchen was in, you headed down another hallway. This one was darker than the one upstairs, and colder as well. You shivered in your thin dress and robe, but didn’t want to give up your search for the kitchen. “Who’s there? Reveal yourself!”, a stern voice sounded from your right. Though you knew it wasn’t the smartest move, you yelped and turned around with wide eyes. “I- Miss (Y/N), no, wait! Duchess (Y/N)”, you remembered your new title. Suddenly a door opened and illuminated the hallway. Due to the sudden brightness you didn’t recognize who stepped out, you only saw a tall, muscular man. You opened your mouth to scream for help, hoping someone would wake up and hear you, when the man spoke. “Your Grace, you really should not be here this late at night.” “Captain Rex?”, you asked, recognizing his voice. The Captain stepped closer so that you could finally see his face. His eyes seemed to be glowing in the dark hallway, though his eyebrows were crunched in confusion. “What are you doing here?”, he asked in an almost hushed voice and suddenly you realized how inappropriate the situation was. Though you were still dressed, your corset was looser than you were used to, you hair had come loose and parts of it hung down your back, not to mention that you were alone with him. “I was looking for the kitchen. I missed dinner because I fell asleep and now I’m awake and I’m hungry and I was hoping there might be some leftovers in the kitchen, or maybe at least some fruit. Maybe a couple of strawberries. I love strawberries, don’t you?” You knew you were rambling, but you had no idea why. This was now your house and you shouldn’t need excuses to be wandering the halls, no matter what time. You stood up straighter, prepared to tell the Captain as much should he say anything else. But he didn’t question you any further, instead he let out a low chuckle. “You’re as far from the kitchen as it gets. It’s downstairs, and that’s quite a maze itself. But if you let me I could guide you back to your room and you could send someone to get you a snack.” You had no idea what made you blush, his words or the sound of his laughter, but you felt your cheeks heat up and suddenly had the desire to pull the robe tighter around your body. “I actually don’t want to bother anyone, the servants should be asleep by now and-” “You really think they’re asleep already?”, he interrupted you. As soon as the words left his mouth his eyes darkened. “I’m sorry. I should not have interrupted you. Forgive me, your Grace.” As much as you disliked Padmé calling you “your Grace” and “my lady” hearing the Captain apologize was worse. “Please, feel free to interrupt me whenever I speak untruths. It’s a service, not an offense.” He nodded, but didn’t say anything else. Neither did you for a moment. “I still don’t want to inconvenience anyone. I will just go down to the kitchen and get a piece of bread or something. Perhaps you could point me in the right direction”, you finally said. The blond looked at you with raised eyebrows. He seemed to be thinking about what to say. “With all due respect, my lady, I don’t think you will find your way to the kitchen by yourself.” He stopped for a moment. “I could show you, if you want.” “Lead the way, Captain”, you said with a relieved smile. He didn’t lead the way, instead he walked right beside you, closer than he probably should. You kept glancing at him from the side. There was no denying that he was good looking, and nice as well, but he was just so stiff, as if he was afraid that putting a single toe out of line would get him punished. “Is General Skywalker very strict?”, you asked after a while. Partly to break the silence, but partly because that would explain his constant apologizing. For a millisecond the Captain stopped before he continued on his way. “He’s not. He is a good man, a bit reckless at times, but we are lucky to serve under him.” That statement only confirmed your suspicions. The General had not seemed strict, but rather kind, but what other explanation was there for the Captain’s behavior? Though maybe it was just in his character to be safe rather than sorry. “Where are you from, Captain?” From the corner of your eye you could see him raise an eyebrow. “Kamino. It is a small village in the North.” At first it seemed as if he wanted to add something, but he stayed silent and just kept walking. By now you were close to the entry hall again. “Do you have family?” As you walked through the entry way, which had better lighting, you could see more of his face. He was smiling, just a little bit, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that almost made you reach out to touch his arm. You had already lifted your hand when you realized that that would make the already inappropriate situation even worse. “I have three brothers. Fives, Echo and Kix.” The first name sounded familiar and made you remember the other guard you had seen yesterday. “Fives is a guard as well, isn’t he?” The Captain nodded. He finally stopped in front of a door you almost didn’t see, it was half hidden behind a statue and painted the same color as the wall. He opened it and let you pass through first. You found yourself on top of a dark staircase, only a torch on the wall gave a bit of light. It was colder than in the main house, which made you wrap your robe tighter, and everything was stone, no carpets covering any of the surfaces. The Captain grabbed the torch and asked you to go on down the stairs. “He is. Echo as well. Kix is studying to become a doctor, though, like our father.” His voice got more and more quiet with every word, letting you know his father was dead without ever saying the words. “You must be proud of him. A cousin of mine studied medicine and told me how difficult it was.” Since the blond was now behind you you couldn’t see his face, but you could swear you heard a smile in his voice. “I am proud of all my brothers.” Before you knew it you had reached the bottom of the stairs and a moment later the Captain was beside you again. “Almost there”, he told you, to which your stomach responded with an embarrassingly loud growl. The closer you got to the kitchen the stronger the smell of fresh bread and warm tea got. Finally you stopped in front to the opened door to the largest kitchen you had ever seen. The room could probably fit a dozen cooks and three time as many kitchen maids, but right now there was only one present. A girl with her back to you stood in front of the last gleams of the oven fire and cut some fruits or vegetables. “Ahsoka”, the Captain said. The girl turned around. You could now see that she was pretty as well and started wondering whether everyone who lived and worked in this house was good looking. “Rex and, oh my! You’re the new Duchess!”, she exclaimed and fell into a deep curtsy. The look the Captain shot her had you imagining him with his brothers or disciplining guards. “You were not out front when I arrived”, you told the girl. Ahsoka shook her head before letting it hang low. “You know how they say children should be seen and not heard? Turns out a kitchen maid should not even be seen. I mean, I understand that I’m not much to look at in this dirty dress and ugly apron, but it’s not my fault I only get old hand-me-downs from the other maids. I still think I should get to see my new employee, since Duchesses usually don’t visit the kitchen”, she said with a sly smile. Next to you you felt the Captain stiffen, making you realize just how close you were standing to him. Though you blamed it on the cold, you had probably instinctively gotten closer to share body heat. “Ahsoka, you shouldn’t s-” “It’s fine, she’s right”, you interrupted the Captain before he could scold the girl without reason. You stepped closer to her, farther from the man next to you. “I was actually hoping to get a snack. I missed dinner, you see.” Her eyes lit up. “You want me to make you something to eat? No one ever wants me to make them something to eat.” You weren’t sure if her words meant you should rethink your decision, but she was so eager you couldn’t help but nod. “Why don’t you go over to the servants hall and I’ll bring you some food in a minute. And tea as well?” You nodded once again, but before you could finish the motion Ahsoka was already preparing a plate. You felt the Captain’s hand on your arm, making you turn and face him. He was closer than ever before, so close you could feel his breath on your face. Slowly you closed your eyes, just for a short moment, before opening them again and looking right into his. “Let’s sit down, Ahsoka will have your food ready soon.” Without another word he lead you by the elbow, out of the kitchen and into a room just across the hall. This room was darker and colder than the kitchen, no fire was burning and the space seemed sad and deserted. “Usually it’s full of life, but everyone else is asleep. Thanks to you not showing up to dinner there was a lot less work”, the Captain explained. His tone was far more casual than a few minutes earlier, he seemed more relaxed. Ahsoka entered the room before you could say anything, carrying a tablet with a steaming pot of tea, cups and a plate. “I’m afraid the food is not the dinner you’re used to, my lady. This late there is often not much left”, she said as she sat the plate filled with bread, cheese and fruit in front of you. Your eyes grew wider as you saw a couple of big, juicy strawberries and as if to tell you to eat them already your stomach growled once again. With a sly smile, hoping the others had not heard how desperate you were for food, you bit into the biggest strawberry. A loud moan escaped you and your face instantly blushed to match the fruit. If a growling stomach was something no one should hear, this sound was indefinitely worse. To your horror the Captain looked at you with wide eyes and even bit his lip, until he noticed you looking at him at least. Ahsoka, on the other hand, laughed. “Seems like you love strawberries as much as Rex here. I remember one time last summer he came rushing into the kitchen because he could apparently smell the strawberry marmalade we were making all the way from the stables. You should have seen the look on his face, it was-”, suddenly she interrupted mid sentence. She looked from Rex to you and back again, while you tried your best not to look at the Captain as well. “I shouldn’t have said that, I’m sorry, my lady.” She cast her eyes down as she started pouring a cup of tea, focused on the dark liquid in front of her. It took you a moment to realize what she had just apologized for. Having been raised in a much smaller and poorer house as a lord’s daughter, not a duchess, you were used to talking with the servants, being friendly, even if you weren’t exactly friends. “Please stop with the constant apologies, both of you. I’m glad to know more about the Captain and loving strawberries is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I am much worse than the Captain. When I was little I once escaped from my governess to go to a nearby strawberry field. I picked and ate strawberries for what felt like hours, until I fell asleep. By the time my father found me my white dress was stained pink and I later got sick because I ate so much. After that I wasn’t allowed any strawberries for a month.” A smile grew on your face from the fond memory. It had been a good time, before the talk of balls and husbands had started. The little story had lightened the mood, because Ahsoka went on to tell about that one time she had climbed a tree to get the biggest apple and then fallen, resulting in her breaking her leg. Even the Captain jumped in and told you about his first time falling off a horse. You liked to know these little things about your servants, it made them more like people and less like employees. And you really enjoyed how Ahsoka’s voice changed throughout the story, it got louder and quieter, faster and slower, making you really feel what she must have felt in that moment. But the Captain was a whole other story. It wasn’t as much his voice that changed as his face. There was a light in his eyes and the corners of his lips, which you tried not to look at, lifted whenever he talked about his brothers. His chuckles made your insides turn warm and when his eyes landed on you you felt as if you were on fire. Though you didn’t know why he had that effect on you, you knew it was thrilling and comforting and dangerous, but mostly you knew you should ignore all of that, because it went beyond anything you should feel for the Captain of your husband’s guard. Ahsoka was in the middle of telling a story about General Skywalker when low bells interrupted her. “Shit, is it midnight already?”, she exclaimed. Out of the corner of your eye you could see the Captain open his mouth, probably to scold the girl for her language, but before he could say anything you stood up. “I should go. And you should get to bed, Ahsoka”, you said. The girl nodded. She drowned the last of her tea, which must have been cold by now, and reached for the empty plate. “I’ll clean this up and then I’ll go”, she told you. For a moment she halted in her movement and looked at you. “It was very nice meeting you, your Grace.” There it was, the reminder that you had not just made friends, but were talking to your servants. No matter how good you thought you got along, you would never know whether they enjoyed your company or were just pretending in order to keep their jobs. And in that moment you wanted nothing more than to tell Ahsoka, tell the Captain, to call you (Y/N) and to let them know how much you had enjoyed the evening with them, but you knew you never could. “Let me walk you back to your room, my lady”, the Captain said. You just nodded, suddenly more tired then you were moments before. “Good night, Ahsoka”, you said with a smile you hoped was kind rather than sad. The two of you walked in silence. Though the way back was shorter, since you didn’t make any detours or got lost, it seemed to last an eternity. Finally you reached the top of the stairs and turned down a familiar hallway. “I had a good time tonight”, you said as you were nearing your door. It wasn’t until you actually stopped in front of said door that the Captain answered. “Me too.” He paused to look at you. You felt his eyes wander from your disheveled hair to your eyes, your nose, your reddening cheeks and finally your lips. A strange tingling in your stomach caught your attention, but you decided to analyse that later. For now you were quiet happy standing in a dark hallway close to a handsome and kind man whose breath you could feel on your face. It smelled of the strawberries you had offered him earlier. “You know it can never happen again, don’t you?” You closed your eyes at his words. Though there was a new familiarity in the tone, and he hasn’t even used your title, they felt colder than anything he had said that night. Like a goodbye. “I know it’s... I know it’s not exactly proper... But it’s not really improper either, is it? It’s not like we were alone, we had Ahsoka with us.” As soon as the words left your mouth you realized that in that moment you were alone. Alone in a dark hallway and closer than you should be to any man who is not your husband. You could feel the Captain taking a slow, deep breath. His hand brushed yours, whether accidentally or on purpose you couldn’t tell, and his eyes fluttered close for a moment. The tingling intensified and you braced yourself for what was to come, though you weren’t sure what exactly that was. But then he took a step back. “Please don’t make this harder than it needs to be.” There was a new emotion in his eyes, one you couldn’t read but were convinced you never wanted to see again. “I’m sorry, I... I suppose... I guess I still need to adjust to all of this.” You lifted your hands and pointed down the corridor. “And you...” You decided it was probably better to end your sentence there, you didn’t even know what you wanted to say, so instead you reached out your hand to open the door. You stepped inside your sitting room, still facing the man in front of you. “Goodnight, Captain”, you said with a smile. He mirrored your smile, though it looked somehow sad on his face. When he didn’t say anything for a few seconds you started closing the door and it wasn’t until it was almost shut all the way that you heard him softly saying “Goodnight, (Y/N).” With a sigh you leaned against the now closed door. “Goodnight, Rex”, you whispered into the cold, dark, empty room.

-------

Next Part

The idea for a Rex Regency Au just popped into my head and I had so much fun writing this. More parts will definitely follow, I already have a rough idea of how I want everything to work out. Though I’m currently writing another Rex fanfiction and a second part for my Poe Dameron fanfiction as well, so I’m not sure how fast I’ll be...

#captain rex x you #captain rex x y/n #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #rex x reader #rex x you #rex x y/n #rex imagine #star wars self insert #star wars imagine #clone wars imagine #clone wars self insert #star wars the clone wars #clone wars au #captain rex au #rex au #regency au

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themusicplayedherlife · 4 years ago

Text

to love is the greatest gift

3. The Child

pairing: obi wan kenobi x f!reader (past!din djarin x reader | past!obi wan kenobi x satine kryze) characters: f!reader, din djarin, baby djarin obi wan kenobi, anakin skywalker-amidala others word count: 6k+ warnings: angst, fluff, death, longing, slow burn, guilt summary: au! It has never been the right timing for you and obi wan, but maybe this time will be different. a/n: so, this was planned and partly written before we knew grogu’s name, and there’s actually a reason why baby’s name is baby, but probably won’t come up lol — now we’re just upping the ante and I’m not sorry lol if you have any questions about this story or requests, send them my way and I will try my best to answer ☺️

Then.

The loud noises of the bar were swallowed alive by the cars that rushed by and the occasional helicopter that flew overhead—faint music thumping from all directions; neon lights so bright like artificial stars, fading headlights moving in all directions.

Pretty. Picturesque, but not what you focused on for too long.

You moved fast, hand pulsing with pricks of pain and refusing to listen to Obi Wan, who followed closely behind, pleading for you to stop and—will you listen to me? Your determination to get away from him, the bar, and find his stupid piece of junk car in the packed parking lot drove you forward. He already dragged you out, might as well leave altogether—if only Anakin and Padmé would hurry!

“What were you thinking?” he asked after you, voice thick with worry and indignation as he kept up with your quick pace.

“He was being an asshole!”

“So you decided to punch him?” He heaved a sigh, grabbing your wrist and keeping you from continuing (or from running away from his impending lecture). “A man twice your size?”

You jerked away from his hold, refusing to meet his gaze and find disappointed blue eyes staring back at you. “You didn’t hear what he was saying—”

“Oh, I heard perfectly, my dear, but I wasn’t about to engage with some drunkard.” He said it so dismissively and judgmentally that you recoiled, the anger you managed to release earlier coming back tenfold, but this time for a different reason.

Why did he always have to be so non confrontational, so unlike Anakin and his hit-first-think-later personality? Why couldn’t he allow himself to get angry even for only a moment? Why did everyone else have to get angry for him? More importantly, why did you have to get angry for him? You don’t understand!

“How are you not mad then?” you outcried, throwing your hands up in the air. “He called you—”

“Why would I be?” He smiled, like he knew something you didn’t, and it only made you more frustrated. “I have you to defend my honor.”

“That's—Obi Wan! Seriously?” Maker, he was too much! “Take this seriously, will you?”

He chuckled and reached for your hand, the same one that had glocked the giant’s jaw. It hurt, a lot, much more than you were willing to admit, but in Obi Wan’s hands, the pain felt nonexistent.

“I didn’t expect you to hit him.” You wished he looked at you, showed you what he was thinking. He squeezed your hand in his, inspecting it gently. “Could’ve gotten hurt.” He sighed again. “I wanted to—needed you safe.”

“I wasn’t going to let him get away with saying those things about you,” you murmured, the cold air harsh in your throat, hard to swallow, but his hand was warm—he was warm.

“I know.” He ran his thumb over the area, careful to not cause you more discomfort—always so careful and sweet with you. But there was something swimming in those eyes of his, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place as they followed the movements of his thumb.

“I’m sorry I ruined your birthday,” you murmured.

“You could never.” He lifted your hand higher and you allowed him to—let his warm breath fan over your stinging skin. “My little warrior.”

Lips connected with your knuckles—soft, plush, delicate, and your breath hitched—he was never this bold with you, always keeping you at a certain distance for as long as you could remember—his darling, but never truly his.

“I am envious of the person you will choose to spend the rest of your life with,” he said, hesitant—barely breaking through the blood rushing in your ear—wanting to say more than what he was allowing himself to; hand dared to push back a stray piece of hair that couldn’t stay in place, choosing to dance with the wind. “Your future family will be lucky to have you.”

Now.

Din’s love can be powerful and kind. But he is also a man with too many layers and shields up to protect himself from the onslaught of cruelty life can gift to one human being.

Someone once told you (joked really) that loving him was like the age old question of how many licks did it take to get to the center of a tootsie pop. It was a stupid analogy then and it’s still a stupid analogy now, but it didn’t make it any less fitting.

Anakin never understood your relationship with Din, seeing only the surface level of the man you were once in love with. Padmé saw beyond the gruff and tough exterior, but she grew worried that you’d expend too much of your love and energy to get to where he could finally return it with equalness.

And she was right.

Sometimes, it was too much, and the selfish part of you wanted to walk away many times; wanted to give up the patience that you had thought you’d nurtured and grown over the years. But you’d fought against that selfish part of you, stood strong and tall as you worked through all of his layers of armor. Loved him and his toddler that you saw as your own (because he was, he was much more yours than the mother that left him on Din’s doorstep a couple of years ago).

It was Din who gave in first, the struggle of having someone wanting to be part of his life, wanting to give their all to him was so foreign to the poor man that sometimes he didn’t know what to do other than fight against it—against your love.

Even if he was the one to end it, there was no denying he had loved you, loved you in ways that were intimate, kind, and sweet. He made you feel things that no one else had, made your mind and body sing in ways that you sometimes search for in other partners.

Although the love you share now is different, like friends that have seen each other grow and blossom into who they are today, you don’t regret the time you spent learning and loving each other. He’s the first real, adult relationship you have ever had (and in a way you’re his first too), after all. You don’t regret any of it.

You don’t think he does, either.

“Are you sure you can watch Baby?” His fretting is still as cute as ever, worried that he’s asking too much of you. He knows Baby is yours as much as he is his, but his insecurities always get the best of him.

“Yes, yes!” You wave him away, too busy focusing on your little one with his chubby hands grabbing at your necklace. Maker, how you adore him. “I don’t have any meetings today”—thankfully—“I only have to go over the checklist for the Winter Charity Gala.” You finally spare him a glance as he hovers by the door. “Besides, people love babies, and if they don’t we could just switch guides or kick them out—either or, isn’t that right, my little womp rat?”

Baby giggles, slapping your chest gently in excitement, his little legs squeezing your middle as you balance him with one hand holding him and the other holding his leg. “Yes!”

He sighs heavily, muttering your name like he used to when you “sacrificed” nights to help him when Baby was teething and wouldn’t let him sleep.

You roll your eyes affectionately. “Stop it, Din. It’s fine. My work is flexible and besides, I've been wanting to spend more time with Baby during the week, anyway.”

His expression falls and his eyes fill with remorse, and stars are you a horrible person. You didn’t mean to make him feel bad!

“Din, I didn’t mean it like that.” You would never blame him for spending time with his son. The fact that he even lets you take him on weekends or even spend days with him during the week is such a huge thing. You’re not Baby’s mom, but Din lets you be his mom. “I just meant I love spending time with Baby.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks.

“Don't be! You do more than enough,” you assure him, berating yourself for even making him think you don’t appreciate what he does for you. “You don’t need to let me spend time with Baby, but you do. You make sure I do.”

“Of course, I could do no less,” he says, soft and warm, like the blankie you and Din bought Baby when he turned one. “You are Baby’s buir. Blood or no blood.” He closes the distance between you and wraps his arm around you and Baby, pressing his forehead against yours. “We are family.”

You look up at him with glassy eyes, and he smiles down at you, kind and tenderly. His own eyes glassy and the area around his eyes red. “Family,” you repeat, heart bursting in your throat.

“Family!” Baby exclaims, making you and Din burst into wet laughter.

“That’s right, ad’ika,” Din says, rubbing Baby’s back. “Who am I?”

“Papa!”

“And who am I?”

“Mama!” It never gets old hearing him call you that.

“Our Baby is so smart,” you coo, kissing his chubby cheeks loudly, making him giggle and lean into you for more kisses that you’re willing to give. “So, so smart!”

There’s a knock on the door and Din moves just slightly to where you could see the door as you ask who it is.

“It’s, uh, Obi Wan.” Your breath hitches, the hold you have on Baby tightening slightly—I’ve missed you, my dear. I will see you soon; warmth on a cold night, hands brushing hair away from eyes and tears away—shit.

“Who?”

Glancing at Din, you realize you haven’t told him about Obi Wan’s sudden return… visit… whatever this is, not two nights ago when you showed up at his apartment and asked if you could spend the night or yesterday morning when you woke up with puffy eyes and made them a breakfast too large for a family of three.

His eyebrows furrow in question, trying to figure out who Obi Wan is on his own. He practically knows everyone you work with or are friends with except for Obi Wan, whose picture he has definitely seen and name he has definitely heard offhandedly from Anakin and the others but can’t quite place.

“Come in, Obi.” It’s a slip of the tongue, an affectionate nickname that you can’t quite stop yourself from saying even in the presence of an ex-lover.

“Obi?” Din mouths.

You really owe him an explanation.

“I’m sorry about my sudden intrusion, darling. Anakin”—of course Anakin has something to do with this—“had hoped we could have lunch together. He’s sent me—” The door opens slowly and Obi Wan peers into the room, almost as if afraid to enter. And with good reason, when he sees Din and Baby his mouth falls slightly agape at the unexpected sight and he trails off. “Sorry, I didn’t know you had company, if I had known—”

“It’s fine, Obi Wan,” you interject softly, hiking Baby higher on your hip. He’s getting bigger and heavier now, harder to hold, but it doesn’t stop you from carrying your little one. “You’re not interrupting.”

“I was just leaving,” Din follows, glancing at you with intrigue and the silent question of—who is he? You exhale softly.

“Din, this is Obi Wan Kenobi, an… old friend of mine and Luke and Leia’s godfather.” Recognition flashes in his eyes. “Obi Wan, this is Din Djarin.”

“It is nice to finally meet you.” Din moves away from you to offer his hand to Obi Wan, who accepts it. “I have heard a lot about you.”

“As have I,” Obi Wan says, stern and firm, guarded and completely unlike the Obi Wan you once knew.

Din raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything while you groan internally. What exactly has Anakin been feeding Obi Wan?

“What about Baby?” The little one in your arms squirms indignantly and you laugh, finding him looking at you with a scrunched up face, displeased that you haven’t introduced him, yet.

“I’m sorry, honey.” You nuzzle his little button nose with yours, closing some distance between you and Obi Wan. “Obi Wan, this is Baby Djarin, Din’s son.”

“Our,” Din corrects, shooting you a look.

“Right.” You bite your lip to hide your wide smile, ducking your head before nodding. “Our son.”

Obi Wan blinks, taken aback by the sudden information, and you don’t blame him. You’ll have to explain this situation to him, since apparently Anakin and Padmé chose to omit this part of your life from him, at a later date. (You ignore the fact that you have as well, but then again, you weren’t the one that kept in touch with him after he left the second time, and it’s not like you’ve had a chance to tell him since he got back either.)

He clears his throat and a smile settles on his lips, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “It is a pleasure to meet you too, little one.”

Baby is absolutely delighted that Obi Wan is offering his hand, practically jumping out of your arms to shake his hand. Din quickly balances him and you by placing a hand in your back and another on Baby’s tummy.

“Careful,” he murmurs, which makes Baby pout and mutter, “No, thank you,” even though he’s straightening up. Chuckling, he ruffles his son’s curls. “I should get going.”

“Good luck,” you tell him, watching him lean down to kiss the top of Baby’s brown curls. “There’s no doubt you’ll get the job.”

He sighs, a corner of his lips lifting into an unsteady smile. He’s nervous. “I hope so.”

“Hey, you’re going to do great,” you assure him firmly. “You know all the ins and out, and have Cara and Greef vouching for you. You are more than qualified for this position.”

He cracks a small smile. “Yeah, you’re right.” He doesn’t sound super convinced, but he still manages to nod resolutely and picks up his sling bag, but then he pauses. “You sure this is fine?”

You roll your eyes again. “Yes, Din. It’s fine. Baby being here is no trouble at all. The team loves him.”

“Okay. Okay. Just—I’ll try to head back as soon as I’m done.”

“Take your time and don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

His head tilts slightly, but then he nods, finally relenting. Turning to Obi Wan, he says, “Again, it was nice to finally meet you.”

“You too,” Obi Wan supplies back, it’s still tense and stern, but there’s something else too, something detached and unfocused.

Din doesn’t let it bother him, instead focusing on his son. “Bye, Baby.”

“Bye, Papa!”

“I’ll see you both later.”

“Yeah, yeah, go!” you urge. He shoots you a look and you laugh. “Go.”

Din finally slips out the door but not without another kiss to Baby’s head.

“Son?” Obi Wan breaks his silence as you put Baby down.

He’s quick to run to his bag and pull out a blanket, handing it to you to place for him on the floor, in front of the blue, grey loveseat. Din and you always place it on top to make it easy to take out, and after seeing you and his dad do it so many times, Baby just knows his ground blanket is always on top.

“Yes.” You spread the blanket out, smoothing it, and Baby tries to help by grabbing the corners and tugging.

“How old is he?”

“Hey, Baby,” you faux whisper, “wanna tell Obi how old you are?”

Holding up four fingers in Obi Wan’s direction, he practically yells, “Thwee, almost four!”

Obi Wan chuckles, thoroughly amused at how excited Baby is to share his age and his inability to truly say the letter r. “Wow! You’re so big.”

“Yes,” Baby says, dropping himself onto his bottom once he’s satisfied with how you’ve laid out the blanket. “Very big!”

“He’s turning four in a month,” you inform him with a smile, sitting down next to your little one. “It’s why he’s starting to put up four fingers. Luke and Leia have been teaching him.”

“So Anakin and Padmé know?”

“Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

His eyebrows furrow and he looks away from you for a moment. “They didn't mention it to me.”

“Oh.” Probably because Anakin didn’t think they’d be part of my life after Din and I broke up. But that’s not what you voice, instead you say, “I figured they hadn’t with how you reacted earlier.”

“Baby is from a previous relationship of his?” He wasn’t, not exactly, but Obi Wan doesn’t need to know what isn’t your information to give. “And you and Din are co-parenting?” He raises an eyebrow, a perfectly arched eyebrow, and it reminds you so much of the young Obi Wan Kenobi that you’d try so hard to impress with your ever growing knowledge.

You’re sure he doesn’t mean to sound like he’s being judgmental, but it sure as hell sounds like it when he stares at you like that—like he’s questioning your choices. You don’t like it. Never did.

“Baby was only a few months old when he came into our lives.”

“You have grown attached.” It isn’t a question, it’s a statement, a heavy loaded statement, one you don’t know if you even want to begin to decipher.

You sigh slowly and say, “Yes, Obi Wan. I am attached.” Baby slaps his hands on your thighs, grinning toothily, and you smooth his hair away from his wide, brown eyes. “How could I not be? We are family. Blood or no blood.”

“I see.” He wants to say more, you can tell by the way he speaks his words slowly, with restraint.

Something bubbles in your stomach, nothing pleasant. It's anger and frustration and this need to yell at him like when you were both younger and less mature. It only ever happened when he wasn’t listening to you, treating you like you had no idea what you were doing or saying. It was rare those moments, mostly born from lack of sleep from all-nighters focused on essays and exams, or sometimes born from nothing at all, just bad luck and circumstance.

It makes you want to push, just like then; to force him to tell you exactly what he wants to say. It’s never stopped him before, so why now? But Baby babbling in full sentences to himself while trying to pull his toys out of his bag reminds you that you are not that person anymore, haven’t been that person in such a long time. And maybe it’s for the best.

“Wed truck?” Baby asks, showing off the newest toy in his collection, and when you place your hand out, thinking he wants to give it to you, he stands on his two little feet and walks over to Obi Wan, careful to not trip over the blanket. “Cheer up, pwease. Wed truck will help!”

Any hint of anger or frustration or hurt that may have remained, dissipates as Baby looks up at the standing man, his little hand holding onto his pant leg and the other holding up the truck.

Obi Wan stares down at him, and that earlier aloofness, that stern way he regarded Din, and even you with, is gone, replaced by something tender, warm and soft. “Thank you, Baby,” he says, dropping to his eye level and gingerly taking the truck from chubby hands—the toy that seems so big in Baby’s hand completely swallowed by his larger one.

Baby lets out a pleased giggle and tilts his head, grabbing onto Obi Wan’s knees. “You're very welcome!” With a random smooch to Obi Wan’s nose, he moves away from him and makes his way over to you, grinning proudly.

Obi Wan stands, watching the little boy fondly as you ruffle his hair, giving him a wet kiss to his cheek that makes him laugh loudly. “You’re raising a wonderful boy, both you and Din.”

You pause your onslaught of kisses—Baby managing to slip away from your grasp—and you watch him closely, love filling your chest. “I like to believe we are.”

Baby moves to his bag and pulls out his learning tablet, immediately plopping down with it and opening up the case to pull up one of his many learning apps. It had taken you and Din a long time to finally give in and get him the darn thing, but Padmé had vouched for the item. Now Baby can’t have enough of it, always curious about everything and waving the thing in your face occasionally to ask you a question.

“I always knew your future family would be lucky,” he says, far away look in his eyes and smile barely lifted—there, just not wide. Your breath stutters. “You and Din make a lovely couple.”

Did he not know? Is this why he didn’t know about baby?

“Obi—” Your eyebrows furrow and you find yourself standing, tentatively reaching for his hand—and why do you feel like easing whatever turmoil he is in?—“Din and I… we care for eachother, deeply. He is my friend, the father of my child, but he and I—we haven’t been together in such a long time.”

“Maker.” He breathes in and out, squeezing your hand and lifting it to his face. “I have no right to be—I have been gone for too long, haven’t I?” He rests it against the slope of his cheek, nuzzling into your palm. “Missed out too much on your life. You’ve grown so much.”

“So have you,” you whisper, allowing him to press kisses to your palm, wanting nothing more than to weave your hands into his hair. You repeat the words, because it’s true. You can see it in his tired eyes, how they don’t shine as they once used to—the lines that have appeared at the edge of his eyes and the beard he’s starting to grow out, keeping it nice and trim.

“Not as much as you think, my darling.” He chuckles, kissing your wrist one last time and just allowing your hand to cradle his cheek. “Appearance wise, maybe. But mentally…”

“That can’t be true. You wouldn’t be here if it were.” Even if it’s only for a couple of days.

“Perhaps.”

Baby giggles and you briefly glance at him. He’s perfectly content, mouthing words and sounding them out.

“If I,” Obi Wan starts, stealing your attention from your baby, “if I told you I wanted to stay, what would you say?”

Your throat swallows—dry, like sandpaper, eyes wide as they study him, searching for a semblance of uncertainty or lie in his words. Perhaps for a confirmation that this isn’t a cruel joke meant to tug at your heartstring and pull them apart until you’ve become undone. There is nothing in his clear, blue eyes that tells you it is.

But you know that Obi Wan wouldn’t say something like this without it holding some truth.

He waits patiently for you, eyes searching yours just as intensely—but he’s worried, eyes wavering, unconfident.

This isn’t you. This isn’t him. This topsy-turvy, unstable relationship where you’re trying to figure out the other person, learn who they have become in the years lost without asking or finding a reason to talk. No, your relationship was always about comfort, knowing the other by watching and observing, of making the other feel safe—at home.

You know how to respond, “I would say: welcome home, Obi Wan Kenobi.”

“I’m home,” his voice hoarse and thick, “my little warrior.”

Your mouth falls open—the words, the question: “are you truly staying?” stuck in your throat and trying to form on your tongue, but you’re in disbelief. “Obi-Wan, what—”

A small arm slivers around your leg, and you stumble forward from the startle and momentum, knocking into Obi Wan. Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you upright and steady against his chest. Your eyes lock onto blue ones in surprise and he mumbles a soft, “Hello, there.”

You huff under your breath, mumbling your own, “hello” and he smiles at the sound. Ignoring the flutter in your tummy and chest (blaming it on the stumble you almost took), you glance down to find Baby with an arm wrapped around Obi Wan’s leg and yours, hugging you both tightly.

“Welcome home, Obi,” he exclaims when you both glance down.

Obi Wan laughs loud, head thrown back and hair falling over his eyes—your heart constricts at the sight. When was the last time you saw him laugh like this—not in pictures or videos but in person?

Too long, your heart supplies in a broken whisper.

“Why thank you, little one.” He slowly untangles himself from you and crouches down in front of Baby, brushing his curls away from his face. “Would you like to see a magic trick?”

“Magic?” Baby claps, letting out an excited chirp of agreement, ready to be wowed by whatever Obi Wan was about to show him. “Yes, please!”

Warmth takes over you as you watch how gentle Obi Wan is with Baby, which doesn’t surprise you. But it hits differently when it’s your own child he’s being sweet to. Is this what it would’ve been like if he had given you both a chance? Kids of your own? Marriage?

Your phone rings, pulling you out of a spiral of thoughts you would rather not go down when he’s present. You thank the maker for the timely call and answer without a thought—“Anakin.”

“Where are you?”

You sigh, turning away from Obi Wan and Baby to focus on your shelves full of astronomy books. “I’m not coming to lunch.”

Baby squeals in delight and you can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as he grabs the quarter Obi Wan produced from thin air.

“Is that the little womp rat I hear?” You hummed in agreement, briefly explaining why Baby is with you and not his father. “That usually doesn’t stop you from coming out to lunch with me.”

Baby shows you the coin and you mouth an excited, “Woah, that’s amazing!” He laughs giddily and returns it to Obi Wan, asking him to do it again.

You briefly glance at Obi Wan and Baby and lock eyes with the former. You offer him a small smile before quickly turning away. “You have something to tell him, don’t you? You said you would.”

“I—I know.”

“Not so easy, is it?” you murmur, trying to make a joke out of it, but it falls flat, and you know it does when he sighs.

“I’ll do it. I will,” he affirms. “Rip it off like a bacta strip.”

“Ani, you don’t have to.”

He’s quiet for a moment and when he breaks it, his voice does too, “I owe him this much.”

This much. Clean—the air was too clean when there was blood and death and—stop!

You shake your head and your heart drops to your stomach. Stars. You should’ve figured this had nothing to do with Obi Wan but everything to do with Anakin. Maker, how stupid could you have been? You were so worried about you and Obi Wan that you neglected Anakin completely!

“Ani—“ your breath stutters.

“Darling?” You turn around, and Obi Wan stands only a few steps away from you, Baby sitting on his forearm as if weighed nothing—blue eyes watching you worriedly. “Everything all right?”

No.

“Yes.” You clear your throat. “I think Baby and I will be joining you for lunch, afterall.” Anakin says your name, and you cut him off. “We’ll meet you by the pendulum.” Anakin once more says your name, but you hang up on him.

“Shall we get going?” You meet Obi Wan’s gaze with a shaky smile, pushing your hair away from your face.

There was never a dull moment when it was you, Padmé, and Obi Wan. Your headmistress used to call you and Padmé trouble, wondering how it was possible you two could influence each other so badly and still keep up with your grades—as if sneaking out and fooling around occasionally was so blasphemous.

Things only got livelier when you graduated and Anakin moved to Coruscant. Thankfully for your headmistress’ blood pressure, you were long gone, starting university and finally moving into the apartment your parents had promised you would be yours (and Anakin’s). Instead, you were giving Obi Wan headaches and Padmé heart palpitations.

Much to their dismay and your amusement.

“Remember when you punched the guy?”

“Don’t remind me!” You groan, clutching your hand. “My hand still hurts whenever I think of that night.”

“If I remember correctly, Anakin also punched him,” Obi Wan says pointedly in Anakin’s direction. “And that ultimately got us banned from the bar.”

“To be fair, he was asking for it.” Anakin shrugs. “I only finished the job she started.”

“Go!” Padmé yelled, louder and with much force than Anakin.

“What?” You didn’t even get to finish the word as the large man you had punched emerged from the bar, blood caked to his face and eye swollen beyond belief—which you know for a fact you didn’t do. And he wasn’t alone; four other men with menacing mugs followed after him, heads whipping in different directions—until they landed in your direction.

Your eyes widened and your heart dropped to your stomach—that’s not good. “Kriff!”

Without waiting for the others, Obi Wan took your hand in his and began to lead you away from the parking lot, ignoring your sudden yelp at being tugged in the opposite direction of where you were positive he parked his car.

“What did you do, Anakin?” Obi Wan yelled back at the twenty year old, who looked far too amused by the situation than he should’ve been.

“Gave him a little taste of what he deserved!”

Padmé yelled something, voice drowned out by a motorcycle rushing by you, but it was followed by laughter so loud it overpowered the sounds of the ever alive city.

“What was it that Padme said while we were running?” you ask, trying to remember with narrowed eyes.

“That they couldn’t take us anywhere nice,” Anakin says with a shit eating grin.

You scoff, muttering, “That’s right,” while turning to Baby to make sure he was finishing his soup.

“And she was right.” Obi Wan shakes his head. “Having to pick up my car from the tow yard was a nightmare the next morning.”

“Hey! Padmé and I thought you two were already in the car.” Anakin gestures between you and Obi Wan. “I was kind of chancing on our getaway car being ready, but no, instead you two were just standing there in the middle of the parking lot.”

Lips connected with your knuckles—soft, plush, delicate and your breath hitched—he was never this bold with you, always keeping you at a certain distance for as long as you could remember—his darling, but never truly his.

The corners of your lips drop and you try to pick them up again as best as you can, hoping it doesn’t look like a grimace. It does. You know it does with how Obi Wan’s smile wavers and Anakin glances between you with a raised brow.

“Well,” Obi Wan starts, hoping to remove the uncomfortable veil that has fallen over you, “it’s a birthday I’ll never forget.”

“It was a good one, wasn’t it?” Anakin takes the bait, recalling that night fondly. “But nothing beats turning 18 and finally moving to Coruscant, for me.”

You laugh under your breath and Obi Wan chuckles, both sounding a little strained, but Anakin doesn't seem to notice. Probably for the best.

“All done,” Baby suddenly celebrates, raising his arms with glee in your direction.

“Good job, you little womp rat!” Anakin reaches for Baby and cleans his face with a napkin, your little one allowing him to do so, unlike when you try to do it. While Anakin might have some thoughts towards Din, there was no denying Baby holds a spot in Anakin’s soft heart.

“I’ll get the check,” Obi Wan offers, waving to get the attention of your waiter. You’re about to refute him, but Anakin nudges your shoe and shakes his head. Sighing softly, you close your mouth and watch him give up his card to the young man that had been serving your table.

“Thank you,” you whisper gratefully and he smiles at you.

“It’s my pleasure, darling.”

With your meal paid and Obi Wan’s card returned to him, you exit the restaurant with Baby holding your hand and walking, refusing to be held and carried to the trolley. It means you’ll be walking slower, but maybe this is exactly what you need to be able to tell Obi Wan—more time.

You and Anakin exchange looks and he gives you a little nod while you let out a sigh—it’s now or never.

Rip it off like a bacta strip, little one.

“Obi Wan,” you start slowly, “there’s something we need to tell you.”

He pauses mid walk and steps aside to leave an area of the sidewalk free for people to walk by. It’s a busy day, even for a weekday, but it’s not surprising. The plaza and park near the Observatory are always busy on bright, sunny days.

“We’ve been—we’ve been having—” Anakin lets out a growl of annoyance, struggling to be able to form the words. His eyebrows scrunch up and he scowls, and you gently pull him back with a squeeze of his shoulder. He glances at you and you tilt your head to the side.

He sighs and steps aside, taking Baby from you and leading him over to the grassy field to distract him for a few minutes.

“Is everything all right?” There’s a hint of panic in Obi Wan’s words and you quickly nod to try and dispel it.

“Yes!” He’s taken aback by the volume of your voice and you soften your next words, “Everything is fine. There’s just something he’s—we’ve been wanting to tell you for quite some time.” Now that your hands are unoccupied, you wring them and keep your eyes leveled with his chest. “Every year, for the past few years, we—we’ve been visiting your father’s resting place,” you whisper, afraid of what speaking these words aloud might do to him. Last time you tried telling him, he shut down the idea before you could even bring it up completely.

“I—I see,” he answers with trepidation, unsure.

“Everyone gets together to clean the area and replace the flowers we leave for him when we visit.”

“I—I appreciate it.”

“And when we’re done we go home and we—”

“You honor my father,” he says hoarsely, finishing it off for you.

“It’s what he wanted,” you murmur. And it was. He knows this. He was present when Qui Gon said so. “We would—we would like it if you joined us, Obi Wan. Everyone brings a dish and we have live music, and we share stories—”

“I—I see… and when is this happening?”

“The day before—”

“The day before he passed,” he once again finishes for you and you nod hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze, and although he’s already looking at you, his eyes are glazed over, not exactly focused on you.

“Obi—”

He takes a step back and clears his throat. “I’m sorry, darling. I—I need to go.”

Not again. Please, not again!

“Obi—” you try once more, reaching for his hand, but he jerks away and your hand falls, grasping the empty space between the two of you—again.

“Please tell Anakin I will speak to him soon.” He turns on his heels and swiftly walks away—shoulders tense and never once looking back.

“You must let go when the time comes, little one.”

Your shoulders sag, letting out a shaky breath as Anakin comes to a stop beside you. There’s no need to look at him to know he’s been hurt by Obi Wan’s reaction, because you have been too. But what is there to expect of a person who doesn’t want to let go of the dead?

Obi Wan was right, he hasn’t changed at all, and you were a fool to hope otherwise.

“Let’s go,” you break the silence, taking Baby from him and placing Anakin’s hand—that hand—in yours, not missing the way it trembles in your hold.

Mando’a translations

Buir = parents/son/daughter

Ad’ika = my child

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #reader insert #obi wan kenobi imagine

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the-13th-battalion · 4 years ago

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ooh how about exile: “all this time, we always walked a very thin line.”

Ok this one gave me some trouble at first but then I went and listened to the song and!!! IMMEDIATELY I saw post-deception Obitine so I hope you ship it and I hope you're in for some PAIN

exile: "all this time, we always walked a very thin line." from these prompts

You're staring. Obi-Wan shifted balance from his left to his right leg, then back to his left. He kept his hands neatly folded and hidden in his sleeves. Stop staring. You won't accomplish anything that way.

His gaze wandered out to the rest of the room. Senators mingled with each other over wine and bites of exotic food. A quiet melody from the band in the far corner floated under all the chatter.

Obi-Wan recognized a few faces beyond hers, but he remained against the wall. They had assembled to celebrate the passing of a controversial bill. He had played a small part in it with a speech delivered a couple weeks ago, before- well, before that happened. He didn't see the necessity of his presence, but he happened to be on Coruscant (extended medical leave, thanks to several concerned Council members) and Padmé had practically insisted he attend.

At least someone still wanted to be in his company.

His eyes meandered back to her. She had pointedly ignored him for the duration of the night, never once catching his eye or even glancing his way. I deserve it for what I've done.

A senator spoke to her, loud enough for Obi-Wan to detect the jovial tone but not enough to make out the words. Satine laughed in response. A fake laugh. A forced laugh.

Finally, he let gravity bend his head down. What am I even doing here?

He had his head down for only a minute. When he lifted his gaze, she was gone. His eyes darted around the room. He took a half step away from the wall. He met Padmé's gaze instead. She subtly titled her head to the side, gesturing with a pointed glance. He followed the path her eyes set out.

There. Satine hurried to the door in a rush of deep purple satin, her eyes lowered.

Before Obi-Wan even knew he had moved, his hand caught the door as it swung shut.

"Satine!"

His voice was hoarse and barely rose above a rough whisper. She heard it all the same and froze.

"You should return to the party, Master Kenobi," she called over her shoulder.

Obi-Wan hesitated. "I'm not one for parties, Duchess."

"Then why are you here?" She turned slightly, her tone both accusatory and curious.

He fiddled with the edge of his sleeve. He felt small and insignificant in the vast hallway, the drone of cheerful voices and late night traffic in the background.

"I didn't want our last conversation to be the one we part ways with." He thought of the angry tears spilling down her face and the sting of her hand on his cheek. He absently rubbed at the lingering red spot.

"You deserved that."

"I know." Obi-Wan thought he saw her flinch at his immediate reply. "You could hit me again and I'd probably thank you."

Satine huffed out a humorless laugh. "Well, if that's why you're here, then I'm afraid I must disappoint you."

Obi-Wan caught himself reaching for his long gone padawan braid. Somehow every conversation with her reduced him to that poor, flustered teenager again. "I want to apologize, properly. I didn't get the chance to yesterday."

She crossed her arms. She kept her back mostly turned. She remained silent.

He cleared his throat. The simple action turned into a coughing fit. He muffled it in his sleeve. His eyes watered and his throat burned. He cursed his weakness as he doubled over, limbs trembling.

When he could finally breathe, when he could stand straight and had scrubbed some of the water from his vision, Satine had come closer. She faced him now, her brow furrowed and unshed tears in her eyes. She had a hand half outstretched, as if she had reached out to help him and stopped before she got too close.

They stared at each other for a long minute, neither one moving or speaking.

"I am truly sorry," Obi-Wan managed, "for all the pain I caused you. I know no matter how many times I say it, it will never be enough. I understand if you never forgive me."

He lowered his head and turned to leave, back to the cheerful music and pleasant conversation, back to the wall where he could remain unnoticed, alone.

"Obi-Wan, wait-"

And suddenly, she was there, right there, pressed against him, her hands against his chest, on his arm, grasping loose fistfuls of his robes. Her breath stuttered against his neck. Her tears coated his heart. He stood still, his arms hanging at his sides, his mind and heart racing.

"I forgive you," she whispered.

He wanted to ask why; why forgive him when he felt so unworthy of it? Why hold him when he felt untouchable?

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her, rested his cheek on her head, and closed his eyes.

He let himself breathe.

#this got so long omigosh #I REALLY LOVE THEM OK #I was going to give this a sad ending but I just couldn't do it #they deserve to be happy #*sobbing*#ANYWAY #star wars fanfiction #my fic #obitine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze

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crispmarshmallow · 4 years ago

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If you're still taking fic ideas, I *need* Satine & Anakin BroTP!! How about: while she's on a diplomatic trip to Coruscant, Anakin is surprised to find out something rather un-duchess-like about Satine. Genre is author's choice: humor, angst, action, whatever you want!

Okay, so I started by answering your ask and then it started taking a life of its own. I had to stop myself from making it even longer. I hope you like it. It took a long time to come up with. And so sorry for such a late reply.

Anakin is playing Sabaac with the Duchess of Mandalore. Satine Kryzé.

Or rather Anakin is losing spectacularly at Sabaac against the Duchess of Mandalore.

He doesn’t even know how he ended up doing this. Actually, he does. However, it is the last thing that he thought he would end up doing.

It started with Obi-Wan - on behalf of the Council - interrupting his patrols upon the Resolute around the Outer Rim to inform him that he is to return to Coruscant with the Duchess in tow. Senator Organa and Padmé are hosting an event for the refugees on both sides of the War and the Duchess is to be an esteemed attendee.

Anakin - ever the obedient Jedi Knight - informed Obi-Wan that he would do as told. However, not without getting in a cheeky quip or two of his own. His former Master had ended the transmission with a highly unimpressed glare.

Anakin might have said something along the lines of I’ll make sure your girlfriend makes it to the Coruscant - safe and sound.

After which he left the Resolute under the charge of Yularen and Ahsoka and made for Mandalore on the Twilight. He picked up the Duchess and her Guard. And set course for Coruscant.

He joined her in the lounging area of the ship, and tried to come up with something to say.

Anakin wanted to know the Duchess better. It bothered him that he didn’t.

The Duchess Satine is an important person to Obi-Wan - even if he denies it. And Obi-Wan is beyond important to Anakin.

So he feels that he should know the woman that captured Obi-Wan’s heart. After all, Obi-Wan knows Padmé very well.

He wanted to know what was beneath all the righteousness and pacifism and politics.

However, Anakin has never really been talented when it comes to conversations with women that are not Padmé or women that don’t violently dismantle battle droids for a living.

He cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I’m not much company, your highness.” He couldn’t help adding, “Obi-Wan has always been better at this sort of thing.” He sneaks a glance at Satine. Oh, he didn't know her well enough to know how she would take that.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that she seemed to be fighting a small smile at his comment. “Please, Master Skywalker. You overestimate Obi-Wan’s skills.” She put down the datapad she had been scrolling through. “Had the Jedi Master been here, I do believe we would have devolved into one of our shouting matches..”

Anakin let out a laugh. Yes, that did sound about right. He had witnessed one of those on the Cornet. And to be fair, that had been the highlight of that particular mission - Obi-Wan and Satine trying to act as though they don’t want to do unspeakable things to each other by shouting at each other.

“In his defense, Obi-Wan only does that with you.” He tried and failed to keep out the suggestiveness out of his word.

“I’m sure.” Satine looked amused, and Anakin knew that she knew what he was doing.

He continued. “Obi-Wan does not lose his cool easily.” He gestured to himself. “I would know.”

“I can imagine that you were a menace to raise, Master Skywalker.”

He grinned. He had been.

Satine looked thoughtful for a moment. “However, I do remember Senator Amidala mentioning that you are often her Jedi protector.”

Anakin froze. Yes. He made sure of that.

“What do you do to keep her company?”

Uh. Anakin’s mind froze. He could improvise when he faced death, but otherwise, he was really bad at it. Satine would not want to know what he and Padmé got up to in their free time if she had a clue.

“We..” His eyes fell onto the box of Sabaac cards that were under the lounge table. He and Ahsoka and Obi-Wan often played it to kill time. He doesn’t know how the tradition began, but it was something they did for fun. Fun is in short supply these days. “We play Sabaac.”

Satine looked at him funnily before asking. “Sabaac?”

Anakin nodded. Maybe too eagerly.

Her eyes fell on the box of Sabaac cards, and her eyes lit up with mischievousness.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t do the same.”

Anakin blanched. The Duchess played Sabaac?

ii.

And that is how he found himself losing to her.

She played and she played well.

Anakin thinks he should take a few notes as he loses yet another round.

Satine does not hide behind a mask of indifference like Obi-Wan - who admittedly Anakin has never won against - she is a lot like Anakin truthfully. Loathe he may admit it - just smarter.

She tries to intimidate her opponents, and it often works. She always looks so confident that it is unnerving. However, she does not let emotion take over. She does not panic like Anakin does from time to time.

“You’re far too good at this game, Duchess. Are you cheating somehow?”

Satine laughs. “And I would have thought Obi-Wan taught you how to play better.”

Anakin shrugs. “Obi-Wan didn’t teach me.”

“Padmé then?”

Force, no. He sighs. “I learned it on Tatooine.”

She looks surprised. “You’re from Tatooine?”

Anakin wishes he hadn’t brought that up. It brings back bad memories. It brings back the rage. He nods, clenching his jaw.

Satine must have noticed because she tries to steer the topic away from his home planet, but he knows that she is curious. A lot of people are curious about his past.

However, Anakin does not want the Duchess to mistake his reluctance to speak of it as weakness so he divulges a little bit more.

“I watched and learned from the pilots that dropped by at the shop I used to work at.”

Work. Satine must have caught on what he meant. Anakin was brought to the Temple as a child, and he must have been a child when he worked. And often children on Tatooine worked because they had no choice but.

She doesn’t look away. She just slightly deflates at the mention. “I learned it from my sister a long time ago. She learned it from who knows where.” Something in her voice sounds wistful as she speaks of her sister.

They continue their game. At first, it is as if a shadow has been cast upon them. Shadows from their pasts. Nonetheless, they slowly come out of it.

Anakin tries desperately to win. He has always won except against Obi-Wan and he wants to keep it that way if he can help it. Defeating Obi-Wan, Anakin is never sure if he’ll get that good.

They know each other inside and out, but Obi-Wan is not rash like Anakin.

He doesn’t hold back his whining as Satine wins and wins.

She lets loose as they go round by round. She laughs. She smirks. She even curses eloquently under her breath whenever Anakin does catch a rare win.

Anakin wonders if this is who Obi-Wan fell for. He thinks he would understand better if it was.

Unsurprisingly, and to Anakin’s chagrin, Satine wins. She gleefully gathers Anakin’s stack of chips. Her eyes twinkled from the win.

“I remain to be undefeated by anyone when it comes to Sabaac.”

Anakin scowls, though it slowly turns into a smirk. “I would like to see you try playing against Obi-Wan.”

“Oh. I have played against Master Kenobi.” Satine smirks right back at him. “Who do you think taught him?”

iii.

Anakin Skywalker is an interesting person.

Satine thinks as she and he make their way to enter the banquet hall. Apparently, the Jedi Knight had been invited too. Something about being the face of the Republican effort.

She had wanted to get to know him better. Obi-Wan has practically raised the boy and she wanted to see what he had grown up to be.

She knows that Skywalker resorts to unsavory measures when dealing with conflict. He has little regard for the lives of those on the enemy side. She had witnessed that on the Cornet. And she still has a lot to say about it.

However, she decides she quite likes him. He is nice company even if he denies so.

He is a decent Sabaac player too. Just no match for Satine.

It has been ages since she has even played the game. She thinks the last time was with Bo - before everything collapsed upon the two.

She had enjoyed herself during those hours upon the Twilight. And lately, Satine has enjoyed very little - with the Republic and CIS trying to coax her into picking a side, and the Death Watch gaining momentum within her system.

She finally let herself breathe a little. She wonders if Anakin has the same effect on Obi-Wan. The Jedi Master sometimes forgot to look after his own well-being. He had made a habit of it long ago. Maybe he had been born with it.

She shakes off these thoughts as they enter the banquet hall that is full of Senators and Generals and anyone of import. She knows better than to let her mind linger on Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Anakin and Satine had made straight for the ball once they landed, having prepared themselves for their appearance upon the Twilight.

“Duchess Satine!” Bail Organa comes rushing to the pair of them, taking Satine’s hand into his and pressing a light kiss on it. She smiles.

“Senator Organa. It is truly a beautiful event that you have organized and for a very noble cause.”

“We do what we can, Duchess.” He says modestly. He turns his attention to Anakin. “Master Skywalker. We are glad that you could make it.”

Anakin nods his head. “As the Duchess said, it is for a noble cause.”

Satine and Bail continue to exchange pleasantries as Anakin stays quiet beside her - his eyes seem to be scanning the crowd. They continue to do so after Bail leaves and Satine and Anakin venture further into the gathering.

However, they do stop when the Senator Amidala joins them.

“Satine. You made it.” She says as she embraces her tightly. Satine does not often show such affection in public, but she has a soft spot for the Senator. She is a good friend.

“Of course, I did.”

Padmé turns to Anakin, and Satine sees the way her eyes soften - how they seem to glean with something Satine knows better than to name.

“General Skywalker. It is always good to see you.”

He bows. His eyes are as soft as Padmé’s. “And to see you, milady.”

Satine has to suppress a snort. Who does Anakin think he is fooling?

They fall into conversation after that. She does not miss how the eyes of the Senator and Jedi keep seeking each other out.

Satine grabs a glass of champagne from a serving droid. “Oh, and Padmé, do tell me when you are free. I would love to test your skills in Sabaac.”

She sees Anakin stiffen beside her. Padmé regards Satine in confusion. “Satine. I must disappoint you, but I do not even know how to play Sabaac.”

Satine has to hide her sly smile behind her glass as her eyes dart towards Skywalker who has an expression of a child caught doing something he should not be doing.

“Is that so?”

Before Anakin can fumble for an explanation, Senator Chuchi drops by and pulls Satine away. Once she is free, she finds Anakin and Padmé standing a few feet away from her, whispering to each other without looking suspicious as much as possible.

Padmé has an expression of amusement and exasperation and worry.

Satine wonders what Padmé expected. Anakin is the last thing from subtle from what she has seen. She had noticed the way Anakin blushed and fumbled for words when she mentioned Padmé on the Twilight. And she saw the way he was grappling for an explanation when his eyes fell on the Sabaac cards under the table.

Satine is not a politician for nothing. She has not survived this long for nothing.

She continues to study them from afar. She wonders if that was what she and Obi-Wan looked like when they were young and in love.

As if her thoughts conjured the very being, her eyes fall onto Kenobi who is speaking to Senator Mothma.

As if sensing her gaze, he whips his head to her direction. His eyes softened at the sight of her. She is sure hers did the same. She raises her glass in acknowledgment and he smiles at her.

She hesitates before she makes up her mind. After seeing Anakin and Padmé look so content with each other by their side, she decides that she can let herself have that for a short moment or two.

She walks towards Obi-Wan. He notices and excuses himself from the Senator of Chandrilla and makes his own way to her.

“Duchess.” He says, bending to press a kiss on her hand, letting his lips linger a second too long.

“Master Kenobi.” She says, her lips settling into a smile.

“I hope Anakin did not trouble you on your trip here.”

She chuckles. “Of course not.” She pauses before adding. “It is a fine young man that you have raised, Obi-Wan.” She isn’t lying either.

Obi-Wan’s eyes gleam with pride. She knows he is trying hard to hide it, but she knows that Obi-Wan is proud of the man that Anakin Skywalker has become.

“I try.” He simply answers.

Her eyes travel back to Anakin and Padmé. Skywalker has seemed to drag Amidala onto the dance floor - holding her a little too close to be deemed innocent.

“I think that Senator Amidala would agree with me.” She doesn’t hide her smile this time. She sneaks a glance at Obi-Wan. He has his eyes on the pair too.

“A little too much of you ask me.” He is trying to restrain his own smile.

She wonders if Obi-Wan sees them in the young pair.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, Obi-Wan nervously wipes his palms on his robes before offering her his own hand.

“Can I interest the Duchess with a dance?”

Satine looks at his hand for a few moments.

She and Obi-Wan made their choices years ago. However, who could blame them for letting themselves have these little moments?

She puts her hand in his.

And then Anakin proceeds to adopt Satine into his list of favorite people and so he joins Obi-Wan on his mission to Mandalore. Both of them save Satine and Anakin proceeds to beat the shit out of Maul for going after her and Obi-Wan. Maul lets it slip that Palpatine is a Sith Lord in hops of saving his life. And thus, Anakin and Obi-Wan and Satine and Padmé and Ahsoka and the 501st and 212th proceed to kick Palpatine’s ass out of existence.

#anakin skywalker #Satine Kryzé #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #obi-wan kenobi #Padmé amidala #ahsoka tano #Palpatine #bail Organa #asks #Duchess of mandalore #darth vader #OBITINE #Anidala

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kalesera · 5 years ago

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tag dump!

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underworldobsessed · 4 years ago

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Lose Control ll An Obitine Fic

Title: Lose Control Rating: T Ship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Padme Amidala Series: ABO Obitine (Part 6 out of ???), TAS Week (Omegaverse week) (Part 3 out of 7) Summary: When Satine is shot in front of Obi-Wan, he learns about a darker part of his nature as he makes the decision to hunt for Satine's attacker. Satine, far before she recovers, decides she needs to find him before he does something she knows he'll regret. ll Temples and Sabers Day 3: Feral Omegas Author’s Note: I always have fun writing characters going feral. Typically it's not in this sense, but it was absolutely fun to write.I hope you guys enjoy!!

Read here or under the cut

Obi-Wan should have sensed the attacker in the force but he had been distracted. The dress Satine had been wearing was tantalizing, her mating mark was for once on full display. He could hear the whispers of those around him, asking questions on who her mysterious mate was. Everyone had known Satine as the ever elusive duchess, never taking a mate, but now, she had been displaying her mark proudly. He just wished he could do the same…

He thought that maybe it would be soon, until the shot had come through the window, and Satine fell.

He was torn between being the loyal Omega and her jedi knight in shining armor. He knew what he had to do, though, and chased after the attacker. Of course, they had vanished into the darkness of the night. He looked, trying to reach out into the force to sense where they had gone. But he could sense nothing. Perhaps it was his warring emotions that left him unable to find the source.

He had to get back to Satine.

Running back into the building, he saw that a small crowd had surrounded his mate, and he fell by her side. He moved to put pressure on her wound, hearing her hiss in pain. Thank the force, she was alive.

“Satine, I lost your attacker, I’m sorry.” He moved to brush the hair from her face, and knew now that the others around them were staring at the caring gesture. Of course, he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when Satine was this severely injured and he had failed her in trying to protect her.

“It’s alright, my dear Obi-Wan.” She flinched as she shifted, the wound bleeding more.

“Make room,” He heard the medics call, and he shifted, going to hold her hand rather than stand over her and the medical staff and droids started to put bacta on the wound so they could move her. “Sir, you need to move, we need to get the Duchess to the medical ward, now!”

One of the medics pushed him out of the way as they lifted her up and carried her out of the ballroom.

“Satine!” He called, but his voice got lost in the crowd. He wanted to be there behind her, stand next to her as they worked on her, but there was a voice in his head. There was anger and a desire for revenge that he had never felt before. This wasn’t the dark side either, no… this was something more primal. Something linked to a part of him that was long denied, one of the reasons that the Jedi Order didn’t allow for mated pairs.

Darkness clouded his mind, and he knew that he needed to go. He had someone to track down and make sure they suffered like Satine did….

Satine had lost consciousness in the time that it took to get her to the medcenter, and she didn’t wake for hours. When she did eventually wake up, the first thing she saw was the blinding lights of the medcenter and her friend Padmé by her side. She tried to recall what happened. She was at a ball on Mandalore, talking with some of her trusted officials when… that was right, a blaster shot hit her. She looked around, behind Padmé, to try and see if Obi-Wan was there. He was her mate, he should be by her side.

“Looking for Master Kenobi?” Padmé’s voice tried to tease, but in truth, the relief of seeing her friend open her eyes after some time caused her voice to crack.

“No I…” She sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and lie to Padmé. “I was. Where is he?” She tried to make her desire to see him not appear in the light she knew it would appear, but in truth, she hurt and all she wanted was the comfort of her omega by her side.

“Nobody’s seen him since you were taken to the medcenter. I tried to reach out to Ani… I mean, General Skywalker, but he hasn’t seen him either.” She frowned, the concern from all of this now coming through a little bit more. “I know he’s worried about him, but also knew that if Master Kenobi knew you had been left alone after all of this, he would be upset. So I volunteered to stay by your side while you healed.” Her eyes were kind, and Satine felt blessed to have a friend like Padmé in her life.

“I’m fine,” A lie, but she knew she couldn’t sit around while her Omega was missing. “What I need to be concerned with is the fact that a Jedi master has gone missing while on Mandalore. The Jedi Council will start to assume I did something to him, held him for ransom, and use it as an excuse to invade.” A flimsy excuse at best, but she also knew that there was nothing else she could say that would make it seem less suspicious. She needed to find Obi-Wan. She didn’t want him blaming himself for this for too long. Having him lost in his mind would be a bad thing for sure.

“I had a feeling you might, and while I should be encouraging you to stay in bed and allow yourself to heal, I know the desire to make sure your omega is okay.” Padmé gave her a knowing grin, and Satine couldn’t bring herself to care that Padmé knew her secret. “We’re just going to take everything slowly, and you will not overdo it, because I don’t want him turning on me because I let you get out of your hospital bed while you need to heal.”

Satine nodded and Padmé helped her get out of bed, keeping her upright as the pain caused spots in her vision, and she almost fell over. She allowed for Padmé to help her, and then they started to slip out from the medical center.

It was a miracle they got out without being spotted. Her guards were likely out searching for the one who did this, and trusted that Padmé would watch over her. Of course, none of them really knew the two of them. They wouldn’t stay in one spot for too long, and when Obi-Wan was truly at risk like this, Satine wouldn’t just sit and let others look for him. She needed to be part of that search too.

If something happened to Obi-Wan because of her, because she wasn’t there to talk him down, she would never forgive herself.

The search for Obi-Wan took two days. In that time, her guard did discover her absence and tried to get her to stop, but she refused. Her guards were the only ones who were in the know of her relationship with Obi-Wan and they knew better to stop an alpha that was trying to protect her mate. She may be a pacifist, but if she was honest, she would tear this world apart to keep Obi-Wan safe.

The thought terrified her.

She found him, finally, two days after her injury. He had been hiding out in the worse parts of town, in the shadows and away from most others. She almost didn’t recognize him at first. His gaze was not the usual loving one that she had grown to associate with her beloved. It was hard, and cruel, a tint of gold in the glimmering blue she had fallen in love with. His nails were longer, like claws and his teeth almost seemed sharper, but she thought that it might be a trick of the light.

“Everyone stand down.” She commanded as her guard lifted their weapons to aim at him. They did not come this far to end up putting his life at risk or their own because they were foolish enough to lift a weapon to a truly feral omega.

She had read about this in stories, but never thought it was real. If an Omega’s alpha becomes seriously hurt and the Omega couldn’t do anything, they would revert to a more feral state. They would not be able to be consoled or brought back to themselves, unless they were able to get revenge or if they were brought back down by their Alpha, but even that had to be done carefully.

“Leave us,” She commanded again, and there was absolutely hesitation there. “He’s not going to hurt me, please.”

“Satine,” Padmé spoke quietly, not wanting to leave her friend alone when she wouldn’t defend herself.

“I promise I’ll be fine, Padmé. You don’t have to worry about me. Obi would never lay a hand on me.” She gave her a smile, and finally Padmé relented. She led the royal guards out of the alleyway they had found themselves in. Finally, she and Obi-Wan were alone.

“Obi, it’s me.” She tried to get through to him, but saw that he was looking at her skeptically, like he didn’t really believe she was there. “It’s really me, come on. It’s okay. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Alpha?” The omega in him was what took over. This wasn’t truly Obi-Wan, not yet. He was under the influence of his inner Omega, which had grown feral knowing there was nothing he could do to help Satine. “Alpha safe?”

“Yes, my darling, I’m safe.” Her injury burned, and she was still struggling to keep herself standing at this time. But at the same time, she knew that she absolutely needed to stay upright. She needed him to see that she was safe and alright. She didn’t want him thinking that he had failed her. If he saw her okay, maybe he would return to normal. “I wasn’t that seriously hurt, Obi. The bacta did wonders and I’m good as new.”

His whimper rang in her ears and it broke her heart. He truly felt like he had failed her, and she could tell. She didn’t need to be a force user to sense that in him. She reached out and held her hand out for him. “Come on, Ben, it’s time to come home. Come back to me, my dear.”

She could see the war waging between the more rational side of Obi-Wan and his feral nature at that moment and she was afraid that he wasn’t going to come out of this. But she felt a hand take hers and she looked, seeing that the claws that were there moments ago were gone, and his eyes were fully back to that kind and loving gaze she knew all too well.

“Satine I,” His voice fell quiet, and she knew he was trying to apologize for everything that happened, but then his gaze fell down to where she knew that her injury was and his eyes widened. “Satine, you’re bleeding.”

If she didn’t know that the moment had passed, she would worry that he would return to that feral mindset he had just recovered from, but she also knew that it wasn’t possible. He was back to the man she loved, and the moment was long gone.

“Don’t worry about it, Obi. I’m alive.” She reassured him, pressing her palm to his cheek to try and keep his attention on her. “I’ll be okay. Come on, let’s go back to the palace.”

The two of them stood from where they were crouched, and she swayed briefly. The black dots returned to her vision and unlike last night, Obi-Wan was there to catch her. He slipped his arm under her legs and lifted her up so she didn’t have to walk. She wanted to fight him, but she rested her head against his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heartbeat in her ears. She felt safe now, knowing that he was back to his normal self and by her side once again. This was when she felt at her safest, not when he was feral but when he was at her side, protecting her like this.

#TASweek2021 #Obitine #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Satine Kryze #Jen writes

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marble-guts · 4 years ago

Note

Ahsoka and Padmé bonding for your prompts

hi, anon, I don’t even know if you’ll see this because it took me months to write this. but i hope that you do see it and i hope that you enjoy it because this was a lot of fun to write.

read on ao3

The realization that her husband was trying to keep his padawan a secret brought tears of laughter to Padmé’s eyes.

Few people were worse with secrets than Anakin Skywalker.

Their marriage had been one of those secrets that Padmé had worked far harder to keep. Anakin had been a stranger to secrecy until their marriage.

It had taken nights of creativity and bottles of wine, along with years of practice to develop a code. Small smiles only seen in the eyes had become soft caresses, real smiles were a whispered ‘I love you’. When he called her ‘Senator’, in that mock serious tone of his, Padmé couldn’t help but feel as though he had lifted her off of her feet. She hoped that he felt the same when she called him ‘Jedi Knight Skywalker.’

The code wasn’t established to be covert, but created with just enough of a gap where they could excuse their behavior as close friendship. Many senators had connections to the Jedi, their true feelings were just as masked as Padmé’s marriage. She supposed it was a superpower, being able to see through others’ facades, recognizing similar coded languages. When Satine blinked long and slow, it didn’t take long for Obi-Wan to leave the room, and moments later for her to excuse herself.

Anakin’s attempts at secrecy were nowhere near as well constructed without her help. Padmé had seen the girl in the holo transmission from Jabba’s Palace on Tatooine. Anakin had done nothing to hide her, he had been too awestruck by Padmé’s intervention into Jedi affairs to care, calling her ‘Senator Amidala’ and thanking her graciously for her actions.

She had panicked, however, and ended the transmission curtly, forgetting to give Anakin a goodbye.

It had only made things worse when Anakin missed several of their scheduled calls. She hadn’t received word from him, and the HoloNet News had gone silent about the movements of the Open Circle Fleet as well.

Padmé had busied herself with news articles, looking for any trickling of an update on the Outer Rim. There was no news of any of them, not Anakin, Obi-Wan, or this Togruta girl. The questions that had first arisen in her mind upon seeing Anakin’s padawan, other than how she came to be his, were quickly pushed down with questions of their general safety.

The Senate was usually kept quiet about current operations, especially when they were far from the Core worlds. It was a matter of security, being able to keep intelligence out of the hands of spies and revolutionaries. The HoloNews satisfied its readers with puff pieces about the newest worthwhile restaurants on Coruscant and reader polls about the hottest Jedi (in which her husband made the top three).

It had become a small distraction, one that kept her from biting her nails off of her fingertips. It hadn’t taken long for other distractions to take over her mind as well. Padmé had welcomed it, allowing her feelings of nostalgia to take over.

Thoughts about the Togruta girl had changed too. Along with worry about the girl’s safety, Padmé worried if she was old enough to be a Padawan, if she was okay seeing the war up close as a teenager. She thought of how it had changed Anakin’s relationship with Obi-Wan, how having Anakin at his side had matured Obi-Wan and brought out another side of him.

The HoloNews talked about Anakin and Obi-Wan as though they were the same force, the same weapon utilized by the Republic. Padmé walked past the posters every time she snuck into the lower levels, smothering her laughter behind her sleeve as Anakin’s silhouette told her to support the GAR.

She wondered how long it would take for the HoloNews to put Anakin’s padawan in the spotlight. The girl would wake up one day and find her face on a poster decorating every free wall of Coruscant’s underworld, her name in headlines with various senators, and photos of her at dinner with friends accompanied with rumors of affairs and other unsavory behavior.

The girl’s absence in the news was a blessing in disguise, Padmé decided, no matter how badly it worried her.

She put her energy into work again. The Senate had been in gridlock over additional proposals to the Republic’s budget. It had left little money to cover refugee relief, but she had assured Bail and others that any additional support was necessary. In return, they had promised their votes and efforts to garner more.

Nights were quickly filled with banquets, attendance to performances, dinners, and dramatic readings quickly followed up with discussions of politics and semantics. Her evenings were spent with Bail fighting over her word choice and falling asleep on the couch in her den, datapad dead by morning.

Democracy was a whirlwind, exhausting and chaotic, but one that Padmé enjoyed wholeheartedly.

The Senate session came to a quick close as the Chancellor adjourned their unsuccessful meeting. He turned back and headed towards the doors that led to his office, a small gaggle of senators followed behind, as well as reporters, hoping for a headline.

Padmé shook her head, the bill up for discussion, still in her hand. She felt Bail’s hand come down onto her shoulder and give her a squeeze.

“I’m sure, if we just edit the beginning again, perhaps to rephrase it less about refugees, and more about… possible immigration to Coruscant, or something else more personal, they’ll change their minds,” Bail said with a heavy sigh.

Padmé took a deep breath to release her disappointment. “I know you’re right, but I don’t want to have to beg for basic empathy.”

“Such is the nature of politics,” Bail said with a small laugh. “If you’re not begging them for something, you’re not paying attention.”

She smiled a little, straightening. “I suppose that’s true as well.”

“I’ll contact your office in the morning, perhaps we can rewrite that preamble before the expansion bill moves forward,” the soft weight of his hand left her shoulder, “we did good work today, Padmé.” He turned to leave, joining the fray of senators as they all exited through the halls of the Senate Rotunda.

“We did, thank you, Bail.”

She turned back to gather her things, the other datapad she had brought with her to take notes, the simple coat she had worn in against the brisk morning chill.

“Oh, Padmé,” Bail said, nearly startling her.

She looked up from her belongings to find him there, still there near her repulsorpod, trapped against the movement of senators exiting the Chambers.

“I believe there’s someone here for you.”

Padmé moved to stand beside him, hoping to find this someone. Captain Typho usually remained near the ship, waiting for her to return. Occasionally, if she took too long, he would send a handmaid after her.

Instead, she had found her husband, leaning against the opposite wall and trapped in a conversation with Senator Orn Free Taa. He had met eyes with her halfway through the conversation, one where she could nearly sense his boredom. Anakin politely excused himself at the same time that Bail had left her side.

The two senators of the Loyalist Committee quickly fell into step with one another, continuing conversation. Anakin took the chance to cross the hall, instantly slipping his arm around her waist.

Padmé’s face warmed instantly, she took a step back, eyes wide. “Ani, public!” She said quickly, hushed under her breath.

“Senator Amidala, I’m sure you can forgive me,” he said, just as softly. “It’s been months since I’ve seen my wife, Senator.”

The heat of an embarrassed, but loving flush against her face only increased. “ Master Jedi, I'm sure I understand your… predicament, but we’ll have to discuss this matter somewhere else. Would you give me the pleasure of dining with me tonight?”

He looked almost startled by her question. Padmé wanted to pull him aside, out of the public eye, out of the emptying Senate Chambers and into a desolate hall. Instead, she brought her free hand down to his, linking her little finger with one of his.

He smiled, too much for them to just be friends, meeting after a long time apart. Padmé’s heart beat double at the danger of being found out. She wanted so badly to lean into him, to kiss him hello, welcome home, I love you, I missed you, remind me what it’s like to be yours--

Anakin’s fingers hooked around hers a little tighter. “Let’s get away from here.”

She led him through the Senate squabble with the precision only a female senator had. Padmé quickly crossed the hall towards another, where the auditorium rooms became small meeting rooms. Anakin laughed softly, following her as she opened one of the rooms towards the end with her key code.

The door slid open, the warm lights came to life as Anakin took the chance to bring his arms around her, picking her up into his arms and spinning her before meeting for a kiss. Padmé’s hands came up to his face, her fingers ran through his messy hair, longer and more bronze, now in the time they had been apart. His lips moved from hers to her cheek, then her chin, her neck, almost to the collar of her dress as his hands moved against the buttons holding the fabric in place.

“Ani, no,” she said with a giggle like a schoolgirl. “Let me just look at you,” she said, hoping that he could understand the need in her voice.

He pulled away just enough for their eyes to meet. “We only have a few more minutes before Typho sends in Karté.”

Padmé felt the same desperation, the need to pull at the belt of his robes, to slip the leather tabards off of his shoulders and discard layers of Jedi attire. The feeling of want and need in her chest were almost unbearable, fighting against her shaking fingers.

An exercise in restraint, she told herself. For the both of them.

Her hands moved from his hair to his face. Anakin closed his eyes, relaxing underneath her soft touch as she searched for new wounds.

The last time she had seen him, he had had a bandage over his eye, laughing about how he had nearly lost it and how it would’ve matched his arm. It hadn’t been very funny when she had started to cry, realizing again just how vulnerable her husband was. The wound had scarred over, soft and pink with new skin.

She traced over it carefully, mesmerized by the gentle precision of it. To think that it had happened in a duel with a woman he had described as unhinged. Padmé’s thoughts of Anakin rarely involved duels. The Jedi were peacekeepers, and although the war had put them into various military positions, she knew that her husband’s job was more focused on aggressive negotiations than dueling a witch in the rain.

Now, his duties had transformed. Anakin was more than just a Jedi, he was a Jedi Master . His responsibilities were more than the Republic, more than his battalion of men-- he had a child to consider. A young, small, no doubt fast, child with bright blue, inquisitive eyes. Padmé thought of the girl in the holo transmission, how she had looked between the two of them, unsure of how to act between her new master and a senator.

She opened her mouth to speak, to begin her barrage of questions that had built up over days and nights of constant worrying. Before she could make a sound, Anakin kissed her, passionately enough to make her knees weak.

Her fingers slipped from the smoothness of his scar back into his bronze curls. He smelled of the night air, crisp and sweet. His hands held her tight, allowing her to soak in his presence, to feel her entire body relax against him as though he was the only source of gravity in the galaxy.

It sent a body down her spine directly to her toes. Her husband, Anakin Skywalker, was here with her, and they were in a conference room.

She brought her hands closer to herself, hoping to break him apart just enough to undo the belt securing his robes. Padmé had quickly become an expert in the many layers of Jedi attire in their small stint on Naboo. She fought with the small metal clasp holding all of his layers of formality together. His hands moved lower down her back as he broke apart from their kiss, only for a second to snicker as she tried to unclasp it again, her fingers not cooperating under the realization that they had a few moments of privacy.

“What are you trying to do?” He asked, after a few more moments of her struggling, a laugh hidden under his voice.

Padmé pulled back just enough to look up at him without bumping her head into his chin. “This is a new belt, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Anakin murmured, moving in closer. His blue eyes were almost hypnotic, coaxing her into another kiss so deep she melted in his arms. “Why are you trying to undress me, Senator? This could start a scandal,” he said quietly, his fingertips tickling at her sides.

She squirmed a little, smiling wide. “Maybe I want to start a scandal, Master Jedi.”

“Master Jedi?” He picked her up just enough to place her on the nearest table. “I like that.”

A knock at the door separated them as though they were the same side of two magnets.

Anakin’s eyes glanced at the door, his face turned bright red as Padmé hastily slid down from the table. She hoped that she didn’t look too much in disarray. She almost felt guilty for having nearly undressed her husband, messing up his beautiful hair, leaving the light pink smudge of her lips on the corner of his mouth. Padmé glanced to the door, finding Typho’s back to the door, guarding her already.

Her face flushed with embarrassment as she straightened Anakin’s robes. She smudged at the makeup she had left on him, enough to make him blush.

“Leaving your mark?”

“Removing it,” she said quietly. “You’ll still come to dinner tonight, won’t you?”

Anakin’s hand came to rest on hers, pressing his lips to her fingers. “Of course, angel.”

“It almost surprised me, you know, to see you standing there with a padawan learner,” Padmé said from the kitchenette, pouring two glasses of Alderaanian wine. Almost, she had said, emphasizing it. Anakin was unpredictable in some ways, yes; but in following through with what the Jedi expected of him, never. “I remember you saying that you would never take a learner,” she continued.

He stayed where he was behind her, putting his arm around her middle and resting his head on top of hers. “You’ve cut your hair since the last time I was home,” he said, hoping desperately to keep the girl a secret. Padmé could almost sense his discomfort, he already knew where the conversation was going.

She leaned her head back against him, “she looks too young, Ani.” Padmé placed the bottle down on the counter and reached for her own glass. She had poured less for Anakin, knowing he would barely touch it.

He exhaled softly, Padmé felt his breath stir a few stray pieces of her hair. “She’s thirteen.”

The glass would have slipped from her hand to the floor if Anakin hadn’t caught it. The wine splattered against the tile, sprinkling the skirt of her new nightgown. It was all instantly forgotten as Anakin let go of her, placing the glass on the counter and moving to find a towel.

Thirteen. It echoed in her mind as though he had said it into a cave.

“That’s too young.” Padmé said quickly, not moving from her spot. “Anakin, that’s too young.”

“You were queen at that age, love,” he said from around the corner. He returned with a towel and started to clean up the mess that she had created.

Padmé brought a hand to her face. “I was queen at fourteen,” she corrected, “and even then I felt like I was too young. I had advisors, extensive training--”

Anakin frowned, looking at the floor as he cleaned up the wine. “Ahsoka is mature for her age, the Council wouldn’t have let her become a padawan if she wasn’t ready.”

Ahsoka. Finally, Padmé had been given a name to put to the bright-eyed girl. Ahsoka, thirteen, and on several battlefields already. She thought of how many times Anakin had returned home, weary and broken from what he had seen, what he had done for the Republic. Her heart pounded in her chest, her stomach felt heavy, as though the single sip of wine had been to swallow down a stone.

“I’m not questioning her abilities, but Anakin, you know she’s still a child. The things you’ve seen, the things you’ve already lived through in this war… for a thirteen year old girl to live through that as well?”

He glanced up from the floor, his hands wet and sticky with wine. “I know, Padmé, but I can’t do anything about it.” He stood, wringing out the towel into the sink. “According to Obi-Wan, this is normal. Kids can become padawans as young as twelve.”

Padmé took the other glass of wine, the one she had poured for him, and swallowed down to get rid of the stone that had found its way into her throat. “Thirteen and already dealing with the Hutts,” she said softly.

Anakin smirked a little, pouring her another glass of wine. “It could be worse, she could be fourteen and leading a planet through a siege by the TechnoUnion, or--”

Her own accomplishments were of little matter in this conversation. Padmé stopped him with a look, meeting his blue eyes. “What else have you and Ahsoka done? What have your last few missions been?”

She could see him giving in already, sighing as he placed the cloth on the counter before rinsing off his hands. “Padmé,” he kept his voice soft and low, a chill traced down her arm, curling her fingers. “Are we really going to spend the night talking about Ahsoka?”

Oh, how he knew her and how dirty it was of him to even try to rekindle the conference room, and to do so in her kitchen. Padmé’s chill quickly turned hot with a slight flicker of anger and annoyance.

“Yes!” She said, taking the bottle of wine from the counter, as well as her glass. She walked out into the den, leaving Anakin in the kitchenette to deal with his thirst.

“She’s thirteen, Anakin!” Padmé flopped down onto the comfiest couch, pulling her legs up onto the cushions before placing down the bottle. “How many times have you nearly died? How many times has she? Will she?”

He remained still in the other room, his back to her. She could see him thinking, the way one hand rested against the back of the counter, supporting him, the other in his hair. She had caught him in a way he hadn’t expected. Padmé only felt a little guilty for stealing their night away, a night that was supposed to be spent in between the sheets.

“How is a thirteen year old girl supposed to deal with that? How is she supposed to learn how to be a Jedi, a peacekeeper, in the middle of a galactic war?”

Padmé could feel the senator inside of her beginning to take over. Her voice was loud, too loud, possibly loud enough to wake a handmaid or two. She took another long sip of wine and watched him.

Eventually, after many seconds that felt too long, his hand left his hair and he turned around to join her, empty wine glass in hand. She watched carefully as he stopped just short of her and poured his own glass. In any other situation, it would’ve been an amusing sight-- her husband, who hated anything that didn’t taste like sugar, pouring himself a glass of the driest wine in the galaxy.

He took a sip of it before sitting down beside her, leaving space for her legs in between them. Anakin kept the glass in his hand, holding it carefully, but well practiced. “I don’t have any way of answering those questions, Padmé.”

She frowned, turning away. Anakin’s absences made sense now, thinking of young Ahsoka. Padmé imagined if Satine had the same problem with Obi-Wan when Anakin had become his padawan. Obi-Wan had been just a few years older than Anakin was now, raising a nine year old, because Qui-Gon Jinn had told him to in his dying breath.

Padmé was quick to blink away the images of Naboo, the heartbreak that Obi-Wan had felt for so long, still buried deep underneath his shell. She tried not to think of her husband and his padawan, Anakin giving Ahsoka to Obi-Wan with his last breath. To think of such things, to consider it, she swallowed down another few sips of wine.

“So, where were your missions?”

Anakin exhaled, “Christophsis.” He looked out into the empty space of the apartment, taking a sip of the wine and instantly recoiling at the taste. “ Teth, Tatooine.”

“Wasn’t Christophsis a war zone?” Padmé asked, taking the wine from him and placing it down on the small table in front of them.

“Yes, but it was nearly over by the time Ahsoka got there.”

“So, why Christophsis? Why then?”

Anakin sunk back against the cushions of the couch, looking at the empty hand that had just had a glass of wine in it. Somehow, it had found its way into Padmé’s hand, she stood with it, taking another sip as she paced the floor. Her thoughts flowed better in motion, when the den became her own Senate floor.

It was better for her to do so with a glass of wine than Anakin. She was no stranger to his habits. Padmé thought of the last time she had seen him drink wine, how quickly he had become tipsy, bordering on drunk. It had been her job to escort her security detail from the Senate party, his clumsy steps and laughs echoing in the empty hall. It warmed her face to think of it, to think of such innocence in a time of war.

Her attention fell to him when he took a deep breath, steadying himself. His hand rests against the couch cushions, near the spot she had left beside him. “Well, we had to ask for reinforcements,” he recounted, “we were being overrun, every time we tried to contact the Resolute, it was static on the other end. When our ship came in we thought it would be fresh troops, maybe Master Windu, but instead it was just her, just Ahsoka.”

The breath was nearly knocked out of her by the sudden realization, “you were going to die, and the Council sent a thirteen year old girl to help you.” The realization of her husband’s near death, of the pressure put on this padawan, on the absurdity of such a statement. Padmé couldn’t help but laugh, her hand coming up to rest against her wine warmed face. “Of course they did.”

“Padmé,” Anakin sighed again, suddenly looking exhausted. “It wasn’t like that. They didn’t know--”

“Didn’t know what? That she’s thirteen?”

“She’s almost fourteen.” He said, reaching for her wine bottle, taking as much of a swig as he could stomach. “You think she’s defenseless, she’s smart, she’s capable.” He gritted his teeth at the taste of the alcohol, but took another swallow anyway. “Ahsoka is… she’s just like you.” He said, placing the bottle back down and daring to meet her eyes.

Padmé remained where she was, standing across from him with her feet firmly planted.

If not for the girl being thirteen, there were still several things wrong with the matter at hand. Being a Jedi padawan at thirteen was dangerous, and being thrown into an active war was even more dangerous, but for this girl to have to deal with so much responsibility… Padmé had to sit down.

Slowly, she returned to her husband’s arms and turned so she could rest her head on his chest. He relaxed instantly under her touch, the warmth of the wine already making him hazy. Padmé tried not to fixate on the imperfection of her attempted perfection. Her nightgown was ruined with splashes of wine, her feet sticky from standing in a puddle of it.

This night had been meant for them. She had waited to show him her nightgown, prepared a small meal for them to share, and instead they had spent it getting drunk and bickering about his padawan learner. Padmé snuggled her face into his robes, hoping to wish for the time she had wasted back. No matter what she said, no matter what she did, or how she acted, she couldn’t preserve Ahsoka’s childhood. She hadn’t been able to do that with her own.

“What can I do to stop you from worrying so much?” He asked, brushing her hair off of her neck and out of her face. The timbre of his voice, the way he sounded so close to her ear. Padmé melted against him as though he were the warmth of the sun.

“Tell me about her,” she prodded. “Tell me everything about her.”

Anakin smiled a little, his hands traced down her back, up, then down again as he thought about what to say. “Well, she’s annoying,” he said softly, “and she knows when she’s right.”

Padmé couldn’t help the smile that spread across her lips. “I like her already.”

She hadn’t intended for any of this to happen.

Padmé sat in one of the chairs on the bridge of her husband’s flagship, watching as he spoke with the Admiral. The remains of the Separatist fleet were smoldering outside of the viewport. Her star skiff was among the flames, trapped in the hull of what had been Grievous’s ship.

The Chancellor himself had given her the coordinates, believing in their validity, she had left on a whim to discuss terms with the Banking Clan. Instead, she had quickly found herself and Threepio in the middle of a battle, blasts from each ship rocking her little star skiff as it attempted to cross into Republic lines from behind a dreadnought.

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked, startling her out of her thoughts.

Padmé looked up from the metal floor, taking his hand up. “I’m fine,” she said curtly, hoping to push her still lingering fear off for another time. Padmé looked at their hands, at how she had interlocked her fingers with his just by instinct.

“I’ll take you to my quarters, you can clean up and get some rest.” He said softly, walking her down the hall of the Resolute.

She had been in flagships before, but Anakin’s ship was different from the rest. Padmé had never seen so many clones, all of them stopping to acknowledge them on their walk. Anakin smiled at a few of them, all of them keeping their distance from them, as though they knew.

“We’re returning to Coruscant,” he said softly, leading her down another long, endless hallway. This one was far less populated, only the sounds of their footsteps and his voice so soft against her ear could calm the lingering adrenaline in her blood.

She nodded, unsure of what else she could do in such a situation. “You know, I appreciate the rescue mission, but I remember telling you not to stop attacking Grievous,” she said.

Anakin’s smile widened. He pulled her in closer to him, “I wasn’t about to let you have all the fun.”

Padmé could feel her own lips stretch into a smile. “Okay, I’ll admit, some of it was fun.” She released her grasp on his hand so she could link her arm with his, finding his fingers again. “It was… exhilarating to see you again.”

“Exhilarating?” He smirked, stopping in his tracks. “You didn’t do this just to see me again, right?”

“No, no, I--” she ran a hand through the stray hairs that kept falling in her face. “I followed some coordinates from the Chancellor, I suppose I must’ve transposed the numbers, or something like that.”

“And without security?”

“I had Threepio,” she said defensively.

He smiled a little, leading her down the hall to a door. Anakin input the security key as the doors slid open, revealing a humble little living room with two sofas and a meager kitchen-- a caf maker, conservator, and nanowave. Off of the living room were two doors.

“It’s through there, if you want to--”

Padmé was quick to silence her husband with a kiss, her hands quick to find the space where his robes overlapped. She started to pull at the fabric, hoping to free it from his belt. Anakin’s hands moved to her hips, holding her steady, but still kissing her deeply.

“Padmé,” he whispered, his blue eyes wide and bright.

“Master, I can’t find the Artooie’s spare treads,” a voice called out from one of the rooms. The door opened as the girl, Ahsoka, stepped out with a box in her hands. “Oh.”

Padmé quickly untangled herself from her husband. She hoped that her face wouldn’t betray her with a blush, but it was certain that Anakin’s would. Her husband had never been able to avoid it.

“Um, I'm sorry,” Ahsoka said quickly, taking a step back. “I--”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Padmé said just as fast. “I’m sorry, I, we, didn’t realize.”

Anakin had turned to ice behind her. Padmé had carefully moved to reach for his hand behind her, but he had moved just out of touch. She let her hands rest at her sides, feeling foolish for being caught by a thirteen year old girl.

They were both smarter than this, to allow themselves to be so exposed. Padmé had gone to such care to construct a narrative of them being good friends, not mates or partners. Although they had been caught, Padmé hoped that in some weird way, Anakin would hold it against her.

He had nearly gotten them caught once in her star skiff, accidentally knocking into the homing beacon. Now, that star skiff was a smoldering piece of metal on Grievous’s destroyed Malevolence. She hadn’t considered negotiations on the Resolute, at least, not until now. It wasn’t the most pressing issue, though, Padmé brushed aside her urge to drag Anakin out of the room, and thought of all of the questions she had prepared for his padawan.

Later, he could tease her about almost undressing him in front of his thirteen year old student.

Ahsoka’s eyes quickly moved up to Anakin, who couldn’t meet her eyes as he took a step back from both of them, he had turned as red as a Sith saber. Padmé would’ve laughed had her heart not been caught in her throat.

“Um.” Ahsoka said mindlessly, looking back to Padmé, the box of parts still in her hands. It was just as mortifying for her, Padmé realized, watching her lekku darken as well as the markings on her cheeks.

“I'm Padmé Amidala, senator from Naboo, and you must be Anakin’s padawan,” she took a small step forward, offering the young girl her hand. “I want to thank you for rescuing me today.”

Ahsoka clumsily moved the box to rest against her hip to free up a hand. She offered her left, so Padmé quickly changed hands to accommodate the girl’s panicked lack of coordination.

"Ahsoka Tano," she said, feigning confidence.

Her hands were warm, covered in grease from working with Artoo. As soon as the girl realized, she pulled away quickly.

“I am so sorry, I forgot, I’m so sorry,” she wiped her hand on her skirt, too skimpy and small for her.

Padmé felt guilty instantly, she hadn’t done anything to react to the feeling of droid grease on her hands. It wasn’t as though it would hurt her, she was no stranger to grime. She had been covered in worse things.

“It’s fine,” she didn’t wipe her hands on her outfit. The last thing she wanted was for Anakin’s padawan to feel worse.

The tension in the room was enough to bankrupt her mind of any of the questions she had prepared. Padmé hadn’t gone into this expecting to meet Ahsoka, in fact, she had completely forgotten about Anakin’s padawan until hearing her voice. She supposed that Anakin had forgotten as well, too caught up in the moment.

“Um, well, I have to go fix Artoo.” She said, placing the box down on one of the couches and digging through it. “And, if you can’t help me find the treds, then I’m just going to have to rip them off of that old service droid, and Artoo is never going to let me near him again.”

Anakin blinked, suddenly coming to life. “I’ll find them.” He said, brushing a hand through his own hair. “It’s fine, I’ll find them.” He slipped past her into the room that Ahsoka had come from. Padmé figured it was probably his room, the droid parts were enough of a giveaway.

Ahsoka straightened, dropping something that looked like an air filter for a small starship back into the box. “So, um, I’m sorry again, for getting you all dirty like that.”

Padmé smiled a little, “it’s fine.”

They waited in silence, looking one another over while Anakin searched for whatever part it was. Padmé knew the feeling of being dressed down with someone’s eyes. Anakin’s padawan was good at it, taking her apart piece by piece. It was a good skill to have, Padmé knew, and perfecting it would be an even more valuable asset.

Her husband returned a moment later with two metal treads in hand, they looked like thick belts, both of them painted white. Ahsoka quickly took them and inspected the way that the pieces moved, running her fingers over some of the grooves.

“Um, thanks,” she took a few steps back.

“Wait,” Padmé said, stopping the girl in her tracks. “I’ll come with you.” She turned to face her husband, Anakin was frozen staring at the two of them, unsure of what to do or say. “I’m sure the Chancellor would like to hear from you more than he would from me.” She watched as his eyes narrowed, not exactly happy with her, but too caught up in the circumstances to say anything.

“You don't have to,” Ahsoka started.

“No, I want to,” Padmé turned away from her husband to look at the girl.

Ahsoka looked worried, she brought her hands down in front of herself, trying to look as small as possible. Padmé felt guilty for putting pressure on her, for subjecting her to questions like an interrogation.

She turned to look back at him, she could see in his eyes that his thoughts were still far too many and too fleeting. He wanted her to stay, that much was clear in how his hand still longed to reach for her. Padmé turned her head just a little, telling him no before giving him a small bow. “Thank you for coming to my rescue, Master Jedi.” She couldn’t help the smile on her face, or how quickly she had to leave because Ahsoka had already left out the door of their shared quarters.

Ahsoka led her wordlessly through the Resolute to the hangar where she could already hear Threepio. Padmé sighed, resigning herself already to the droid’s bickering. It was sweet that Anakin had programmed him all those years ago just to help his mother, but there were times where she felt Threepio was trying to become her mother.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Ahsoka said, stopping just short of the fabric laid out on the floor. Artoo sat in the middle of it, unable to move. He rocked a little, chirping ecstatically that she hadn’t abandoned him. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Padmé froze, “that’s not why I want to talk to you.” She moved closer to Ahsoka’s workspace, which had Anakin’s supervision written all over it. His starfighter, yellow, just like his podracer all those years ago, sat beside her, tool resting against its landing gear, a dirtied rag resting on top of it.

She glanced up to her, resting the treads on the floor. “Why, then?”

“Well, I--” she stopped herself, unable to find the courage to say ‘I want to know more about you, I want to feel better about you being in the middle of a battlefield.’ “I’ve known Anakin for a very long time, and he always said he would never take a padawan learner, so when I saw you in that holo transmission, I knew I had to meet you.”

Ahsoka’s eye markings raised in interest and curiosity. “Oh,” she said, her hands buried in the tool bag. “I guess that makes sense.”

“He’s told me some about you, but I still have questions, if that’s… okay.” Padmé knelt down onto the dirtied fabric, careful of where she was putting her hands. She wiped the dried grease off on it, hoping not to catch the girl’s attention.

She took a wrench from the bag and started to work on Artoo’s bolts, tipping him over onto his side with great care before placing the bag against him, to keep him from rolling. The droid made a noise, one that Padmé recognized as annoyance.

Ahsoka murmured her apologies to him before looking back up to Padmé, “um, okay, I guess I have questions for you, too.”

The way she said it sent a small spark of panic into Padmé’s heart. It was only natural for her to have questions after catching them like that. She bit down on the inside of her lip before recovering her facade.

“Do you want to go first?” Padmé asked, lowering her eyes to Artoo.

The girl reached up and grabbed the rag from Anakin’s starfighter, folding it carefully and using it to clean the grease from Artoo’s servos. “Um, how long have you known Master Skywalker?”

Padmé relaxed almost instantly at such a question. “A very long time,” she answered. “When he lived on Tatooine with his mother.”

Ahsoka blinked, as though she had made some grander realization. “His mother?”

“She died not long ago,” Padmé answered, hoping to cut the topic short. She knew that Anakin would never say a word to the girl about his mother, that if she questioned him, it would break his trust.

“Your turn to ask a question,” Ahsoka said, rolling Artoo over to get at his other side. The droid chirped almost like a giggle as she did so. “Sorry, Artoo.”

Padmé didn’t even have to think before the words slipped out. “How old are you?”

Ahsoka’s body tensed as though Padmé had touched her. “Thirteen, almost fourteen.”

“Do you like being a padawan?”

She relaxed, Padmé knew that she had taken a right step in the direction. She had dealt with enough adults when she was Ahsoka’s age, all of them asking for her qualifications, credentials, asking to speak to her advisors instead of her. Ahsoka dropped the cloth onto the fabric they sat on.

“Yeah, I do.” She answered, glancing up from her work to meet Padmé’s eyes. “It’s hard sometimes, but I'm learning a lot.”

“I’m sure you’ve found yourself in a lot of dangerous situations already.”

Ahsoka shrugged, “not really.” She picked up one of the treads and started to work it onto Artoo’s bare wheels. “When you speak in the Senate, and your hair is done up, is it your real hair or just a wig?”

Padmé’s breath caught in her chest. She exhaled a small laugh, unable to hide her smile. “It depends, most of the time it’s just a hairpiece, like a wig, but heavier.”

The girl smiled, too. “Artoo, can you spin your treads?”

The droid did so, Padmé watched as the treads aligned themselves with Ahsoka’s guidance. She was certainly perfect for Anakin, the smile on her face, the joy in solving something so simple to make a droid more comfortable. She turned him again, fixing the other tread before moving Artoo upright.

He chirped a thank you to her, moving off of the fabric and onto the floor of the hangar in the direction of Threepio, who had found some clones to annoy in the meantime.

Ahsoka stood and wiped her hands off on her skirt again. Padmé prayed that Anakin had somehow learned how to do laundry and how to remove grease stains for once in his life.

“Can I ask something that might be intrusive?”

Ahsoka placed Anakin’s tools back underneath his starfighter, then the rag on top. “Um, sure.”

“Can you really fight in those clothes?”

Ahsoka blinked, “um, yes.”

“It doesn’t seem safe.” Padmé stood from the fabric on the floor, hoping that her question hadn’t offended Anakin’s padawan. That was the last thing she had wanted to do.

“How?” Ahsoka asked, taking a small step back to look over herself. “I mean, it’s not… jedi robes, but Togruta are allowed to wear non-traditional clothing.”

Padmé straightened a little, hoping to relax herself, so that maybe Ahsoka could relax as well. “It’s not that it doesn't suit you, or look nice, because it does. I just know how easy it is to get scraped and cut on missions, and I’m sure you would feel safer in something with more... coverage.”

Ahsoka’s defensive demeanor shifted. “Oh.”

“Especially because you’re growing. It’ll be much more comfortable to fight in something that supports you.” Padmé put her emphasis on support, hoping that the girl would understand what she meant.

Her blue eyes went wide, “oh!”

Padmé smiled, giving Anakin’s padawan a small nod. “I’d be more than happy to take you shopping in Coruscant. I’m sure my seamstress would love to create something other than gowns for once.”

The girl’s face turned dark with blush, a smile on her face. “I would really appreciate that, Senator.”

Padmé smiled, “you can call me Padmé, I mean, if I can call you Ahsoka, instead of Padawan Tano.”

“Yes! Please, I’d prefer that,” Ahsoka said, doing little to hide her joy. It was almost as though the dropping of formalities had changed her. “So, have you ever tried an awesome sour jawbreaker? Our rations were mixed up with a candy seller’s goods on Coruscant, and they’re so sour they make almost everyone cry.”

She laughed, “I don’t think that I have.” Padmé allowed the girl to take her by the hand, leading her back through the endless halls of the Resolute.

It was strange feeling better about things now that she had met Ahsoka. She trusted the girl entirely, though her feelings of concern for putting Ahsoka in a warzone hadn’t fully been squashed. Padmé embraced the strange feeling inside of her, a need to protect the girl from losing a childhood that she could never have. If Ahsoka couldn’t be a kid at Anakin’s side, she could be one at her side, finding peace in the quiet laughter and shared tears of sour candy.

#star wars #sw:tcw #ahsoka tano #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #anidala #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #my writing #shoutout to me for doing something since this pandemic started #Anonymous

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