#obi-wan swallowing his come or blood or anything

[sukugo]

obi-wan swallowing bodily fluid and anakin looking down at him with his dark eyes all big and innocent and earnest and going "master... do i taste good?"

[floffytofu]

The Padawan

next

The young woman humming while holding her baby, trying to stop their cries in her arms, even her head feels dizzy from blood loss. She is still trying to sing lullaby, ignoring the stare from a Jedi behind her.

"I can still heal you and bring you to coruscant" The Jedi knell beside her looked at her eyes with faint sorrow. "You know it will be too late for that Jedi master, I just need you to promise me one thing" The woman looked at the Jedi with pleading eyes and a single tear rolling down. "Please give my baby home to go back, don't let them be alone"

The jedi master swallowed hard, looking at the baby who is asleep peacefully now. He knew that Jedi couldn't form any attachment. He knew that he couldn't promise her anything. He knew that he had to ask all of the Jedi Council members permission first. But at the moment, he can't bring himself to say no to her. He can't bring himself to deny a desperate mother who just wants to save her child. And he can't deny the Force calling him to accept and promise to her.

"I promise"

-Time skip 10 years later-

"And what do you think you doing with that bird young one?"

You stop at your track, looking at Master Windu with a sheepish smile, holding a bird in your chest, afraid to drop it. "Oh, I uh- I found it at the outside Master, someone accidentally stepped on its leg. So I brought it to Healher Che"

Windu looked at you with skeptical eyes and sigh. He took the bird gently and looked at the leg who seemed already healed. He looked back at you "It looks fine now"

You nodded at him and released a breath who you didn't even realise you were holding "Can I keep it Master? Just to make sure it didn't get hurt"

Windu closed his eyes for a brief moment and kneeled in front of you. He held your shoulder gently "What do we learn about attachment young one?" you frown and sigh "I know attachment can lead to the dark side Master, but I promise I won't. I just want to take care of it"

Windu shook his head gently and stood up. He looked at you with a more serious gaze now or you called it with 'the council members gaze' "Young one, you need to control your emotions in check. You have already grown up now and soon you will be selected as a Padawan. If you can't control your emotions, it will be hard for you to be chosen as Padawan and we don't want that to happen"

You looked down at your feet and nodded "Yes Master, I understand" Looking at that, Windu's gaze softened, he took one of your hands and put the bird in your palm.

"Now let's set this little bird free together, shall we?"

You look up at the old Master and smile.

"With young Skywalker, how young Ahsoka did, hmm? Much potential the duo possessed" Master Yoda looked at Obi-Wan with a faint smile. Obi-Wan sat down on his chair and nodded at the old Grand Master "They indeed made a great duo Master, Ahsoka's presence really making a good influence on Anakin to teach him responsibility"

The Grandmaster nodded satisfied, "After young Skywalker, another Padawan, do you desire young Kenobi? perhaps hmm?" Obi-Wan rubs a hand over his beard, seems in deep thought "I don't think taking a Padawan is a really good choice in the middle of this war, but after looking at Ahsoka and Anakin. Perhaps I'll consider it Master"

"Good, it seems. Padawan for himself, Master Windu is already choosing hmm?" The old Master looking at Windu while holding his tomb. There’s a beat of silence before his reply comes "I do Master Yoda, but I still feel unsure considering their age is too young to become a Padawan"

The Grand Master shook his head gently and smiled. "Matter, age does not, to become a Padawan. Strong with the Force, they are, and guide them, it will. hmm" Windu nodded at this and seemed to agree with Master Yoda.

The Council continue the long discussion about taking young Padawan to the war zone. Some disagree. Some agree and the others simply remain silent. The idea of Jedi as a peacekeeper leading war is never to sit right in the first place, and now they had to bring the young Jedi to lead the Republic war? But they didn't have any other choice. It's what they believe so. Before the war there were more than thousands of them, and now because of this war there's a lot of them who had died to sacrifice themselves for the Republic victory. And now for the sake of peace, for the sake of their Jedi code lead them to this discussion.

"Heard enough, I have. Taking a vote, we will be. Consider the matter, we must. Collective decision, it shall be. Wisdom and insight, each member shall bring." Says Master Yoda, Before the council votes, the door swung open. Revealed the young Tholothian girl looks troubled "Ah- Apologize for the sudden interruption Masters" the young girl bow for a moment "Easy young one, what can we do for you?" says Master Plo koon gently, trying to ease the panic in her voice. The girl calmed her breath and answered

"There's a fight in the training ground"

Upon hearing the news, Master Yoda shook his head gently before swiftly making his way to the training ground, the rest of the council trailing closely behind. As they arrived at the training ground, they met with a disheartening sight. A pair of young Jedis, visibly battered and bruised, stood before them. Looking at their arrival, the boy quickly ran to them, leaving you behind with broken saber training in your hand.

"Masters please help me, they keep attacking me. It hurts Masters please"

Fury surged within you as the false accusations reached your ears, igniting a burning anger that consumed your thoughts and clouded your vision. You quickly tried to calm your anger, as you composed your thoughts and began to explain in desperate "No I didn't do it! He attacked me first, Masters please"

Your gaze darted anxiously from one council member to another, your eyes filled with a plea for belief. As your gaze meets with Windu's, you only look at the disappointment in his eyes, breaking your heart more. You drop the broken saber training in your hand and run away.

-a few hours ago, before the incident-

The training room crackled with energy as your lightsaber met with your sparing partner. Your blades whirled through the air. Trying to find the opening in your opponent's attack, sweat trickled down your forehead remaining focus. The air crackled with the hum of blades, each strike resonating with an intensity that sent vibrations through your very core. In a moment, you seized an opening in your opponent's defense. Purple and blue blade clash together as you swing, breaking his defense and disarming him.

Holding two training lightsabers in your hand, you point at his neck as your gaze meets his hard one. You lower your lightsaber and offering his weapon back, he snatched it from your grasp with a sudden, harsh motion as his gaze remained hard "You just lucky this time"

You scoff at that as you rolled your eyes, "Yeah, say that after I beat you like 3 times today Ian" He gritted his teeth, his jaw clenching tightly as a visible sign of his seething frustration, you sigh. "Seriously? I never understand why you seem to hate me that much. You know hatred can lead to the darkside" Without warning, he launched himself forward, his attack swift and ferocious as you block his blue lightsaber.

"Say that to someone who weild a purple lightsaber like you" He taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. As he kept lunged forward attacking you with furious swings, "You forget that Master Windu had the same saber as mine" you spat back as you raised your lightsaber to block the oncoming attack, the two blades colliding in a shower of sparks.

Your movements aimed at deflecting the blows rather than launching counterattacks. Despite your best efforts to block and avoid the attacks, Ian continued to press on relentlessly until he broke your defense as a strike landed solidly in your arm sending a jolt of pain towards your body "Stop, I don't want to hurt you" you strained, your voice laced with determination. But Ian seemed undeterred, he attacked unabated. As his face contorted with anger, he scoffed dismissively.

"Fight back your coward! No one chooses me as a Padawan because of you!" He lunge his lightsaber towards you as you block his attack again, "Maybe because you are not ready" you reply, making him shake his head, a mix of anger and frustration as he unleashed a powerful Force push, Your feet lost their footing, and your body collided with the ground as your head impacting with a jolt. Making your forehead begin to bleed profusely, leaving you momentarily stunned and breathless "I am always ready, more than anyone! until you come and try to get all the Masters attention!"

Gasping for a breath, you slowly rose to your feet as anger slowly began to consume you. You scoff at him as you wipe blood from your forehead "Then it's not my fault that I am more talented than you" you launched yourself towards your opponent. The clash of lightsabers echoed through the air as you unleashed a flurry of strikes, your movement fueled with a mix of adrenaline and anger. Ian seems taken aback by your sudden burst of energy, making you strike his arm and push him with force as the impact made him slam against the wall. You crash your lightsaber training on the wall beside his head as you try to gather your breath "I told you before, I don't want to hurt you"

After Master Yoda tells the boy to meet Healher Che at Medbay, he looks back at Obi-Wan gaze who remains still looking in the direction where your little figure ran away a minute ago. He furrowed his eyebrows and looked at the Grand Master, "Remind you of yourself, do they, young Kenobi? hmm" Master Yoda's voice carried a touch of curiosity and insight, his eyes gazing deeply into the young Jedi Master.

The question making Obi-Wan Kenobi pause, as a brief of flashback memories when he remembers he also got himself in the same position as you now. "Yes, Master Yoda," Obi-Wan responded, his voice steady yet tinged with a touch of introspection. "I didn't sense any lie in their words, they were telling the truth. I believe that the boy provokes them first"

But you can also sense anger from them" answer Windu as he sighing softly. There's a brief moment before he continues "I can't train them Master Yoda" Yoda nodded at this and looked back at Obi-Wan who seemed troubled. "But, Master Windu," Obi-Wan began, his tone measured yet earnest, "Surely you can train them to ease their anger"

Master Windu's expression remained stoic, his features unmoved by Obi-Wan's words. "My saber fighting form is not suitable for them" Master Windu paused, allowing a moment of silence to settle in the air. "You know well that Vapaad was explained as being a state of mind rather than just a fighting style. With their unstable emotions. It would lead them to the dark side, and I don't want to take that risk"

Obi-Wan's fingers instinctively reached up and grazed his beard, a troubled expression crossing his face. In his eyes, he saw reflection of his own past. He can feel how scared and lost you are. He can feel your desperation, the anger you feel when not being heard or understood. The look in your eyes broke his heart and he knew that he shouldn't feel this way as a Jedi, but he was willing to take the risk. He won't let you feel just like he did in his past, he won't let you feel alone.

"I'll take them as my Padawan"

A mischievous twinkle danced in Yoda's ancient eyes as a knowing smile spread across his face. It feels like he had foreseen this very moment unfold before him, "Train them, you will, hmm. The willingness of the Force, it seems."

You keep runaway ignoring the blood still dripping from your forehead and the pain as your head feels dizzy, until you reach the room of a thousand fountains. You hide behind the bush as you leaning against a sturdy rock, you huddled close, your arms wrapped tightly around your knees. Tears welled up in your eyes, shimmering with a mixture of sorrow, sadness, and anger. You don't understand how Ian could be that cruel. He is always bothering you since Ahsoka and Caleb are chosen as Padawans and shortly after that, Cal is also chosen and leave you behind alone.

You know you haven't been chosen because of your age, and now after the fight it will become worse. There's no Jedi Master who wants a Padawan like you, the one who can't control their anger. You hate this, being alone. You missed Ahsoka, she always comes to find you when you feel alone, and now she's not here. You are truly alone now, you think, until you sense someone coming. You look up as you see Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi smiling softly at you. When he sees you didn't say anything, he sat down beside you.

"Master Windu told me this is your favorite place"

You look down and refuse to meet his eyes, "What do you want Master Kenobi?" Your voice slightly trembles, making Obi-Wan's heart clench, he sighs "I don't come here to punish you young one, don't worry. I know how you feel" you scoff at this and the realization washed over you, that you had scoffed Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi. You quickly muttered an apology, but to your surprise he just laughed softly "I know it sounds unbelievable to you, but I can tell you a story about myself before I get chosen as a Padawan. How does that sound?"

You blinked up at him and nodded, he smiled at this. Obi-Wan's fingers reached up and grazed his beard as he couldn't help but wear a mischievous smile, a glint of playfulness dancing in his eyes. "But I don't think I have much time for that, since I need to go back to my batallion" He can sense disappointment in you as you nodded in understanding.

"But" he paused, as his smile widened. "I can tell you more story if you come with me as my Padawan" As the words left Obi-Wan's lips, a surge of surprise washed over you, your eyes widen. The surprise painted your face with a mixture of awe and gratitude. You shook your head gently still can't believe what just happened "But why?" you whisper, Obi-Wan's gaze soften. He raised his hand and reached out towards your cheek, he brushed away the tears.

"Because you remind me of myself. You are strong in force and talented young jedi, and I won't let you be alone"

[dracowars]

hello! i have had this scenario in my head for obi wan forever! little bit of background: reader and obi have been together for a while and the reader struggles a bit with her dark side. so the whole thing starts with obi and reader sleeping in bed when he has this kinda spicy dream about reader. she’s dressed up in a HAWT sith get up and is trying to get obi wan to join the dark side for her asking him if he loves her and please for me? in the dream he caves and nods not being able to say anything. when he wakes up he’s sweating and freaking out and is realizing he really would do it for her and it scares him but he’s more scared of losing her. sorry if that’s so long but i’ve spent so much time thinking about this🙃

her shadowed heart | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x sith!reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: where obi-wan gets seduced by the dark side

a/n: i love the dark side and i hope you enjoy this <3 feedback in any form is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, a bit creepy, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Obi-Wan hears a quiet voice. He listens in more closely and finally realizes that the soft voice is saying his name. So soft, so tender, almost fragile. He listens to the whisper and opens his eyes, only to find that everything around him is black, complete and utter darkness surrounds him.

Turning in all directions, he tries to follow the warmth of the voice, but he can't see anything. His senses betray him. In fact, he does not feel anything.

"Obi-Wan", the voice says again, his name echoing around the darkness. "Come here, Obi-Wan."

As he turns in the direction of the voice again, he finally spots something in the distance, a faint light flickering. Carefully, he puts one foot in front of the other and the closer he gets to the light, the more he can make out the outline of something - of someone. The closer he gets, the darker the light becomes.

"Don't be afraid, Obi-Wan," he hears the gentle voice whispering inside his head, his focus on whatever lies in front of him now. I'm not afraid, he thinks.

He is now so close that he can see some kind of throne in front of him, a huge throne made of black stone, standing there like a fortress, completely indestructible. Taking one more step forward, he halts as he hears a silent splash. Looking down, he finds the throne being surrounded by a puddle of water.

"There you are at last, Obi-Wan. I've been waiting for you this whole time."

When he raises his eyes to look at the person sitting on the throne, his breath gets caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. With one leg thrown over the armrest, you look at him from elevated position, a gentle smile on your lips. Obi-Wan has to blink several times, reminding himself to breathe as his eyes focus on you. You look the same as always, somehow. But there is also something different about you. Your body is wrapped in a long black dress, with large slits on the sides that reveal the radiant skin of your thighs. The neckline of the dress is quite revealing, giving way to your cleavage, your collarbone. At your waist, the dress is held together by a corset with buckles and laces. The high heel boots peeking out from under your dress reflect the light. On your head sits a crown, jet black, with a shining ruby ​​in the middle.

"Y/N?", Obi-Wan hears himself ask in the distance, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What is going on? Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter now that you are finally here", you smile at him, your eyes sparkling. Obi-Wan watches as you get up, walking down the few steps from the throne until you stand in front of him. He looks into your eyes, mesmerized, but for some reason he does not find the warmth in them that he usually does. A cold shiver runs down his spine when your long, pointed nails stroke up his arm.

"You love me, don't you, Obi-Wan?", you suddenly ask in a whisper, leaning into his ear as you start circling him, your palm sliding over his back.

"Of course I do, you know I do", he answers, standing rigidly in one place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move. It is as if you had trapped him, and yet he doesn't feel helpless, he's not afraid. After all, you are with him.

"I know, but I don't know how much", you giggle behind his back and step out on the other side, your hand now reaching for his face. Once there, you place your ice-cold hand on his cheek and where your skin meets, Obi-Wan suddenly feels a burning warmth. "Tell me how much you love me, Obi-Wan."

"My love for you is so much bigger than the entire galaxy", he tells you vehemently, leaning into your pleasant touch as he looks at you. "Words can't describe how much I love you. I would do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Your face is right in front of him and upon his answer, your beautiful eyes are suddenly glowing in an eerie red. One corner of your mouth lifts, as if he gave you exactly the answer you have been hoping and waiting for.

"Oh Obi-Wan," you say softly, sliding your hand down his neck. Obi-Wan places his hand on top of yours, your eyes locking. "Will you join me?"

"Join you?", he asks, frowning but with a smile on his lips. You shake your head, smiling to yourself, and run your other hand through his soft hair, loosening a strand that then hangs in front of his face.

"On the dark side", you whisper and Obi-Wan's heart suddenly starts racing. Frightened, he looks in your eyes, searching for any sign that you aren't serious, but all he finds is darkness.

"Please. You said you would do anything for me", you remind him, intertwining your hands. "Please do it for me, Obi-Wan."

His head is screaming at him, that this goes against everything he stands for, what he fights for, and he can't keep a straight thought. But his heart, his goddamn heart, is louder, drawing him to you and he knows he can't say no to you. So he caves.

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he places a kiss on the back of your hand, as befits a queen.

"I will join you."

Laughter rings out around you, disgusting, spiteful laughter that painfully rings in his ears. Staggering back, he finds it difficult to breathe and you let go of his hand, your eyes red and the veins beneath them bloodshot. The veins on your neck stand out, your face turns pale and your skin turns black from your neck down. A tear escapes your eye, but it is made of blood. Before Obi-Wan knows what is happening, your hand gently rests on his chest.

For a moment he feels hope. He feels safe. But then you push him back forcefully, so that he falls backwards, into the water. Only it is not water, but blood.

The last thing he sees is his outstretched hand, trying to reach for you. In vain.

Gasping for air loudly, Obi-Wan sits up, breathing heavily as he finally feels air filling his lungs again. He is sweating, his hair disheveled and he can't think clearly. All he sees is you. Helplessly, he presses his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the images from his head while he slightly rocks back and forth.

A quiet sob escapes him as he hears your quiet breathing next to him. Freeing himself from the blanket that is trapping him, he bends over to your sleeping figure, slumbering away peacefully. Obi-Wan reaches out his hand, wanting to touch you immediately to reassure himself that you are there, that you are you. But just before his fingertips can reach your skin, he stops. He doesn't dare touch you.

What if he had a vision? A vision of what the future could look like. And he didn't even bat an eyelid when you asked him to join him on the dark side.

He wasn't lying when he said he would do anything for you, and that newly found certainty scares him to death. He knows how much you have been struggeling with the dark side. And in his dream, he allowed it to corrupt you. Corrupt him.

Finally he forces himself to shut off his mind and touches you gently, not too much since he does not want to wake you up. But your warm skin is a welcome contrast to the cold he feels, and he strokes your arm gently. He takes a closer look at you and can't find anything unusual. He just finds what he always finds: warmth.

And although this visibly calms him down, he can't shake the fear that he might lose you one day. That you will step out of the light and into the darkness.

In that moment, Obi-Wan makes a promise to himself.

If you enter the darkness, he will follow.

[fishnamedsushi]

Baby Vampkin + Human Daddy-Wan, short ficlet, Part 2

Had this randomly pop into my head today and thought I'd write a short continuation of my previous snippet

NSFW, obviously 👀

Anakin clamped his fangs into Obi-Wan's pulse point, and Obi-Wan let out a groan of pleasure that Anakin felt straight to his (long gone) soul. The taste of Obi-Wan spread through his mouth, coating his tongue. It was sweet and bitter and strong, a flavor unlike anything Anakin had ever tasted, and he drank it down in hard, urgent gulps. He was eager, too much in a rush. Obi-Wan often scolded him for impatient he was.

And soon enough, Anakin paused, whining, as the hand in his hair gripped in a tight fist.

"Don't swallow," Obi-Wan ordered, abruptly.

Anakin pulled away immediately, fangs coming free with an obscene squelch that made both of them shudder. Obi-Wan hadn't even started to heal over, and a trickle of blood flowed freely from the wound, traveling slowly down his pale throat.

Oh. Oh, yes.

Anakin was very, very lucky.

With a deep moan, he let himself fall forward, Obi-Wan dragging him down for a messy, open mouthed kiss that sent that hot liquid spilling into both their mouths. Their tongues battled each other, Anakin fighting to catch any drop, swallowing every time Obi-Wan let his lips part, bringing them back together again as soon as he got his chance.

Finally, finally, Obi-Wan was done toying with him. His nails raked through Anakin's hair, gripping and yanking to expose Anakin's throat.

“My sweet boy, you always make such a mess, don’t you? You know just how to get what you want. Always so clever, and yet so selfish. My dear, dear Anakin...”

Each word was accompanied by a soft nip, Obi-Wan's blunt human canines gently scoring into his skin, not even leaving the faintest of marks. They still stung wonderfully, making Anakin keen quietly under his touch.

(Because Anakin was very, very fortunate, and Obi-Wan trusted him enough to indulge his strange, dangerous urges.)

When he reached Anakin's ear, Obi-Wan gripped the lobe with his teeth, biting down hard, tearing a moan from his chest. Anakin was panting - a habit of movement, when they were doing this - a feral, red-tinged sort of heat within him burning even more brightly as Obi-Wan grabbed him, drawing him closer, until Anakin was straddling him on the couch.

“What do you want?” Obi-Wan asked. In the light of the fire, his eyes glinted like diamonds.

The taste of Obi-Wan on Anakin's tongue, the feel of him on his lips, was a powerful, drugging thing. It took a long moment to unstick his voice.

"Please," he breathed. "I want to..."

Obi-Wan smiled, soft and fond. He tipped his head, exposing his throat, the twin bite wounds in the side of his neck standing out dark and proud. The blood that Anakin hadn’t swallowed had spilled down his chin, matting into his beard. He looked wild, dangerous. He looked like everything Anakin loved.

Obi-Wan always looked most alive, most beautiful, when he was in the process of dying.

“Use your words, baby.”

Would he let him have it? Obi-Wan could be mercurial - it was part of what Anakin loved about him. But Anakin had been good. Obi-Wan had even said so.

He whined. “I want to taste you.”

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, “You already have, darling.”

“No, no, not like that. Like…”

He nudged his hand, the one not resting lightly (possessively) on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, down to the bulge in Obi-Wan’s pants. Anakin himself was entirely flaccid - it would have taken a lot more blood, a lot more hunger, for Anakin to get fully hard. But he could sense Obi-Wan’s desire, and he smiled when Obi-Wan gasped as he palmed his cock.

Obi-Wan looked at Anakin for a long while, considering. And then, slowly, his face lit with a wicked, wicked grin.

"I’d like to hear you say it," he purred, reaching between their bodies, teasing his fingertips along the back of Anakin’s hand where he still held him, cradled. Obi-Wan never looked afraid of Anakin, though he was sure he looked positively monstrous, with his glowing eyes and his fangs bared, venom and blood dripping from his mouth.

Anakin knew the words Obi-Wan wanted. He had been taught how to play Obi-Wan's games. How to ask the right questions, and when to use the magic, irresistible phrase: "Please may I taste your come?"

[snowywinterevenings]

Last Line Challenge

I was tagged like two weeks ago by @meebles, but I barely wrote anything in that time period because holiday work life is rude like that. I come bearing a bit from one of what is now two mage/magic/supernatural creature type AUs. In this one Obi-Wan is half human and half not so human and sharing a first kiss with Cody.

Knuckles brushed against his cheek, and Obi-Wan’s lip twitched up a little at the scratch of faint stubble against his skin. When he twisted his hand and let sharp nails ghost along Cody’s jaw and then trace along his neck, it was Cody’s turn to swallow roughly, the featherlight touch making fire burn through his blood. He had never in his life wanted to kiss anyone as badly as he wanted to kiss Obi-Wan in that moment, but it was Obi-Wan’s choice. He knew his abilities made it difficult to stand physical contact with others, and he waited as Obi-Wan considered him, his gaze assessing.

“You always feel like sunlight in the Force. The rest is there just as it is for everyone, but it’s different, muted and more tolerable.”

Cody couldn’t manage to respond as Obi-Wan’s thumb slid over his lip, claw catching on the delicate skin and tugging, making him draw in a sharp breath. Obi-Wan leaned in to kiss him after that, the first brush of their lips soft and gentle and the kisses that followed nothing at all like the first. Cody was breathless when they broke apart, but when he caught sight of the flush on Obi-Wan’s cheeks, he could not help but go back for another round, wincing away only when Obi-Wan’s teeth found his lip as the exchange grew more heated.

“Cody I—”

Cody swiped his tongue over his lip, and silenced Obi-Wan’s apology with a kiss that tasted of copper, not at all worried about too sharp teeth or the points of claws digging into the muscle at the juncture of his shoulder and neck to keep him in place.

Sorry not sorry for ignoring the number of lines rule as always. Open tags to whoever wants to join in the fun! Show us what you’re working on!

[ladyphlogiston]

Turning Hearts

Star Wars fanfic, set at the end of Empire Strikes Back (picks up in the middle of Luke's fight with Vader). Gen, canon-typical violence.

This is the unedited version. Someday I will finish it and then my husband will edit it for me and it will be much better. You have been warned.

-----

"Luke.  You can destroy the Emperor. He has foreseen this.  It is your destiny.  Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy as father and son.  Come with me.  It is the only way."

Luke grimaced. In the Force, he could feel the truth: this was his father. His offer was not a trick. The pain and longing he felt were real.

But overwhelming the sadness, eclipsing it and blocking it out, was the sticky black anger of the Dark Side, waiting to rend him apart. Luke tightened his grip on the gantry, his hand sticky with blood. Surely anything would be better than that.

The wind picked up, causing the gantry to sway and creak, as if all of Cloud City was falling apart. Luke had come to rescue his friends, and walked straight into a trap. The city would be destroyed, and it was his fault.

It was probably too late for Luke, but perhaps he could still rescue his friends. He swallowed. 

"If I come with you, will you let my friends go?" he asked. 

Darth Vader lowered his hand. "I will." 

"And Han. Will you get him away from that bounty hunter?" 

"I will." 

"And..." Luke swallowed again, trying to think clearly, to sense the Force above the pain. "And will I be required to use the Dark Side?" 

Darth Vader stared down at him, motionless. The mask gave nothing away. "We will discuss the matter," he finally said.

Luke shut his eyes, then opened them again. Later. He could face his father's ways later. 

"Okay," he said. "Okay, I'll come with you."

The trip to Vader's ship was a blur. Luke was dizzy and in pain, and he focused on staying upright, putting one foot in front of the other. His father's arm came behind him, providing support and protection. It wasn't a real arm, and Luke was vividly aware of the steel and plastic pressed against his back, but he was grateful for the help. 

"Call off the pursuit," Luke heard his father say, "and withdraw from Cloud City. Send a squadron after the bounty hunter. I want Captain Solo brought to me, alive and unharmed."

"Should we compensate the bounty hunter?" asked a voice. 

"If necessary." 

"Yes, my Lord." 

"There is no one with me. I brought no one aboard," Vader added, and Luke heard or felt the resonance in the Force. It felt wrong, worse than when Obi-Wan had tricked the guards, but he was too dizzy to care.

"There is no one with you," the voice repeated.

Vader moved on, and Luke leaned on his arm and walked with him. His father was very tall. Uncle Owen had been taller than Luke too.

The lights changed, and Luke was settled onto a smooth bed. A medical droid whirred over him, and Luke shut his eyes and allowed the darkness to come.

---

When Luke woke up, a robotic hand had been attached to his arm. His arm ached, deeply, and the foreign weight seemed to pin his whole body to the bed.

Luke stared in horror at the machine attached to his arm. He tried to close his fingers into a fist, and the machine responded stiffly, as if it were copying him. He opened his fingers, and the fingers opened. Their reluctant mimicry seemed to mock him.

"We will have to look for a better one," said his father's voice.

Luke looked up and discovered that he was on a bed at one end of a large room. The shiny black walls seemed oppressive in their austerity, and the Force breathed black smoke around the bed. Darth Vader was sitting at a white table, a pile of datapads in front of him.

"A better one?" Luke echoed, puzzled.

"This is my personal medical droid. It is programmed to provide care only within certain parameters," Vader explained.

Luke sat up carefully. The room swam for a moment, but then righted itself. He shifted his aching arm and dropped the prosthetic hand into his lap. "I thought the Imperial Navy always had the best of everything," he objected.

"The Navy does have excellent medical droids, which we cannot use without betraying your presence on board. I do not wish to engage the Emperor any sooner than I must."

Luke furrowed his brow. Something wasn't adding up, but the pain in his arm made it hard to focus. "Won't the crew be loyal to you, Father?" he asked.

There was a long silence, broken only by the click and gasp of Vader's respirator.

"Why would anyone be loyal to the master's dog?" Vader asked. His voice sounded heavier than ever.

"But, you're...." Like trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words. He waved good hand vaguely, attempting to indicate Vader's power and strength.

This time the silence was even longer. "There are a thousand ways to be a slave," Vader finally said. His voice was almost soft. "Remember that, son."

Luke stared at him.

Vader clenched his fist and the table scraped against the floor. "Remember that!" he thundered.

"Okay, I'll remember," Luke snapped, frightened and confused.

Vader seemed satisfied, and Luke took a breath. His arm hurt. He looked again at the metal hand attached to it. The wiring was badly soldered in places, and he could see burrs and misalignments on the struts.

"I bet I can build a better hand than this one," he said aloud. "Or upgrade it. Do you have any tools on hand?"

---

"They've stopped shooting. Why would they stop shooting?" Lando asked, peering out the viewport.

"I don't know, but I'm not sticking around to find out!" Leia replied.

Chewie growled his assent, and a few moments later, the stars streaked into hyperspace. They all stayed alert, peering around for followers or more trouble, but none came. Slowly they began to relax.

"Where are we headed?" Lando asked.

Chewie indicated the control panel, and Leia leaned over to read it. "Kafrene," she reported. "It's a good place to lose any tails and pick up more information."

Lando nodded. "Good thinking, Chewie."

Leia folded her arms across her chest and leaned back against the console. "It's a good place to find transportation, too. What are your plans?"

Lando shrugged. "Might as well visit the Banking Guild while I'm there; see if I can withdraw anything from my Imperial accounts before they're frozen. After that, I'm with you. We have to get Han back, and I don't believe in backing down from a fight."

"Well, don't hold your breath about your accounts," Leia replied, "But we would appreciate your help."

Lando smiled and bowed. "Glad to be of service."

They settled in. Chewie went to his bunk, and Leia sat down with a cup of caf. Lando had been winged in the firefight, so he got out the med kit and sat down at the table.

"So who was the kid?" Lando asked, examining the burn on his arm.

"Hmm?" Leia asked.

"The kid at the end. You called him Luke."

Leia nodded. "Luke is - was - a pilot with the Rebellion. He and Han were good friends. We weren't sure if he was alive, actually; we haven't heard from him for a couple of months."

Lando applied a bacta patch to his arm. "Well, seems likely he's dead now. Vader wanted him specially, didn't he?"

Leia hesitated, then sighed and nodded. "Yes. Have you heard of the Jedi?"

Lando looked up, puzzled. "Sure, I've heard some crazy stories. Not so many lately, of course."

"Well, apparently Luke had the potential to be a Jedi. I don't understand how it works, but I've seen him do some things....well, maybe it was true."

"Too bad he's gone. Sounds like he would have come in handy."

Leia smiled wanly. "He already had. And he had a good heart. I'll miss him."

Lando rolled down his sleeve and stood up to pour a cup of caf for himself. "Do you know where he's been? The past month or so, I mean. He must have heard about Han being captured somehow."

Leia looked puzzled. "I don't know. The other pilots said he had a personal stop, but we hadn't heard from him since. Maybe Lord Vader broadcast a message somehow?"

Lando frowned, leaning against the galley counter. "Not on any frequency I was monitoring, he didn't."

Leia got up and crossed to call into the cargo hold. "R2? Could you come up here?" she asked.

A few minutes later, R2-D2 entered, followed by C-3PO.

"Good evening, Your Highness, Your Lordship. I thought I had better come too, in case you needed me," he explained.

Leia smiled at him. "We may. We wanted to know where Luke has been, the last month or so. R2? You were with him."

R2-D2 whistled, and C-3PO said, "He says they were in the Dagobah system. How very curious."

"What was Luke doing in the Dagobah system?" Leia asked.

R2-D2 replied, and this time C-3PO turned to look sternly at the little droid. "What do you mean, floating rocks? Rocks don't float."

R2-D2 blatted back, and Leia intervened. "What did he say, 3PO?"

C-3PO turned back to her. "He says Master Luke was getting muddy and floating rocks, Your Highness. I'm afraid I don't understand what he's getting at."

"R2, was Luke's visit to Dagobah related to becoming a Jedi?" Leia tried.

R2-D2 beeped disparagingly, and C-3PO replied, "Always throwing themselves off things? Why would they do that? And when have you ever known a Jedi? Other than Master Obi-Wan, of course, and you know perfectly well he—"

R2-D2 blatted at C-3PO and rolled away. C-3PO followed him, still demanding that he explain himself.

Leia sighed. "Well, you know as much as I do. Once we get Han back, I might go to Dagobah myself and see if I can find out what Luke was up to."

---

Luke shakily exited the fresher, leaning heavily on the doorframe as he passed. His arm was throbbing with pain, and his whole body seemed to be throbbing in time with it. 

"Let me teach you the power of the Dark Side," his father suggested. "The Dark Side can take your pain from you, and turn it into power." 

"I don't want to use the Dark Side, Father," Luke replied firmly. 

Darth Vader was silent, except for the constant rhythm of his respirator. Eventually he admitted, "There is also a Light Side discipline which does much the same thing." 

"Can you teach me?" Luke asked, lowering himself carefully into the seat across the table from Vader. 

"I have not touched the Light Side in many years, my son." 

"I know that Father, but can't you tell me what to do?" Luke persisted.

The respirator cycled several times before Vader finally replied, "You focus on the Force, on its presence in you and around you. You breathe out your pain, and trust the Force to take it."

Luke closed his eyes, trying to meditate like Master Yoda had showed him. He hadn't been very good at it. Moving meditations were better, but the idea of moving his arm more than he had to made him feel sick.

The Force was dark and oppressive, feeding on his pain. Harsh laughter swirled through the mist, grating against his injury. 

Luke breathed out again. Focus on the presence of the Force. The Force was dark here. In acknowledging that, he realized he could also sense places the Force felt lighter. He focused on them, and tried to breathe out his pain as his father had instructed. 

It seemed to work for a moment, but then the mists came swirling back and he lost concentration. He opened his eyes. 

"It's too difficult," he complained. "The Force is too dark here." 

His father looked at him, then went back to his work.

Luke was still considering what to say next when the door chimed. Darth Vader raised a hand, and Luke found himself pushed across the room, and a partition wall slid down to hide him from view.

Luke heard the door open, and footsteps enter, then leave. His father's breathing was harsh in the silence, but there was another person breathing in the room. The Imperial officers had brought in a prisoner.

"Captain Solo," his father finally said, "I trust you are recovered from your ordeal?" 

"Fine," came Han's voice, full of spit and sarcasm, "I hear on Chandrila they charge hundreds of credits for that treatment."

"Indeed."

Heavy footsteps strode back and forth. 

"Have you any family, Captain Solo?" came Vader's voice. 

There were sounds of movement, as if Han were thrashing around, or maybe struggling to free himself. "If that's a threat, it won't work," he said scornfully. "If that's an attempt to question me....well, it still won't work."

"What can you tell me about Obi-Wan Kenobi?" Vader asked him. 

"Pretty sure that crazy old wizard let you kill him." 

Heavy footsteps paved again, faster this time.

"And what can you tell me about the Rebellion?" 

"They all do nothing but sit around and drink Bothan wine," Han shot back.

Footsteps strode to the door and opened it. "I have further use for Captain Solo," Vader said, "See that he is transported to the Ring of Kafrene and released there." 

"Yes, my Lord," came the Imperial officer's voice, and the footsteps returned and dragged Han out. 

The partition slid back into the wall, and Luke faced his father once more. "Thank you," he said.

---

Luke allowed his arm to drop, breathing hard. The droid insisted that exercising the new hand was important, but every movement made the pain in his arm spike through him, hot and fresh. It was leaving him light-headed.

He closed his eyes and once more tried to find the Force, to breathe out the pain. That wasn't getting any easier either. He was increasingly aware of the Dark Side, eager to take his pain, eager for him to use it. He ignored it. He was a Jedi.

A chime sounded, and a section of the wall parted and slid open, revealing a white pod around a steel seat. Darth Vader set aside his data pads and stood. The angle of his shoulders looked defeated for a moment, and then he straightened. 

Vader turned to regard Luke for a few minutes, then he called and lit his lightsaber and deliberately cut away a section of the wall bear the pod. He reached in and pulled out a large pouch, which he threw to Luke. 

"I am rarely given solid food," Vader explained. 

Luke clumsily caught the pouch and examined it. It turned out to be two pouches, linked together, each containing a liquid. He shrugged. "Can't be the worst thing I've ever eaten."

His father sat in the seat and allowed the pod to close around him. There was a series of mechanical hisses and clanks, and then the Force was filled with pain.

Luke winced. The Dark Side swept around him, stronger than ever, leaving impressions of his father's daily pain. His joints were sore from the heavy prosthetics. Raw places on his skin ached as ill-fitting couplings were withdrawn. His head was sore from the filtered light of the mask.

Shutting out the sensation as well as he could, Luke opened the first pouch. The clear liquid inside was sweet and salty, like the hydration fluids his Aunt Beru had mixed up before long trips into the desert. Luke drained the pouch dutifully.

The second pouch held a white liquid, and felt more filling in his stomach. Luke sipped it thoughtfully.

"This tastes a bit like blue milk," he commented. "It's not bad."

There was no answer, so Luke finished the white fluid quietly.

The lights dimmed shortly afterwards. There was no bed in his father's chambers, so Luke lay on the smooth surface of the operating table. The hand flopped awkwardly on the table next to him, and the pain shot up his arm.

Luke closed his eyes and tried to sleep. The pain in his arm was intolerable. He tried to breathe it out to the Force. It helped a little.

Luke wasn't sure how long he lay there, alternating between trying to sleep, trying to breathe out the pain, and perhaps dozing a little, before a hand touched his shoulder. He snapped awake, and saw his father standing next to him. The respirator seemed to echo in the darkness.

"What is it, Father?" he asked.

"Come. Be quiet," his father replied, and turned away, making for the door of the chambers.

Luke got up, using his good hand to support the prosthesis, and followed.

They walked through the hallways of the Star Destroyer. Many of the lights were dimmed for the night shift. Sometimes Darth Vader would pause before crossing a space or rounding a corner, and Luke felt shifts in the Force as he sent the guards away. No one saw them.

They arrived at a workshop. It was deserted, and the tools and supplies were neatly put away. Half-repaired droids sat in a row along one wall, and boxes of scrap and parts filled the shelves.

"Thanks," Luke whispered, grinning. He strode forward, tucked his prosthesis into his tunic for support, and began gathering the tools he would need.

Once he'd grabbed his tools, Luke sat down to take the prosthesis apart, and realized he couldn't do it with one hand. Almost before he'd realized it, his father's hands were there, helping him detach the hand and begin the disassembly.

Luke took a deep breath. This was nice. Being in a workshop was calming. The Force wasn't as oppressive here, and his father seemed a little calmer too.

"I figure we'll start by cleaning up the smaller rods, and maybe replacing the larger struts with a lighter material," Luke said. The hand was heavy, and reducing the weight would make it hurt less.

His father nodded. He raised his hand, calling grinding and burnishing tools to himself, and began methodically smoothing out each of the tiny bars. Luke used the Force to lift down a likely-looking box of scrap, and began rifling through it.

"What have you been working on, Father? On your datapads?" Luke asked quietly.

Vader took a moment to answer. "I have been considering our strategy," he said. "I do not yet see our way to victory. The Emperor is very powerful. He will be a formidable opponent."

Luke frowned. "Is there any way to get him to give you a better position? He thinks you're on his side, after all."

Vader's fingers tightened on a bar, and it bent out of shape. He threw it down and summoned a new one. "In the Dark Side, there is no loyalty and no sharing of power. There will be no peace until the Emperor is dead."

"Okay," Luke said. He picked up the deformed bar, tried and failed to straighten it, and placed it next to the other struts that needed replacement. He turned back to his scrap selection. "What about passing information to the Rebellion?" he asked, next time his father was between pieces. "I've run a few attacks with them. They could help. Maybe even kill him for us."

The next bar hit Vader's palm almost viciously. "I will kill him. I must," he replied.

Luke could sense his father's anger and frustration, so he left the topic. He took a deep breath and centered himself in the Force. It came easier now, after the last day of constant struggle to reach anything that wasn't the Dark Side. He breathed out his pain, trusting the Force to take it, and his arm stopped hurting. It was easier to think, here in the workshop.

He'd found replacement material for the struts, but it would need to be cut and shaped, and he still only had one hand. This was finer Force manipulation than he had done before, but there was lots of scrap. It wouldn't hurt to try.

He cut the first length of wire, and slowly worked on bending it to shape. The shape felt small and slippery in the Force, and it responded unpredictably. He cursed under his breath when it slipped from his grasp.

"Reach for the composition of the wire, not just for the shape. Look for the weaknesses," his father commented. Luke noticed his father was no longer putting off a maelstrom of dark emotions. The Force was fluttering around his father now, as if delighted to be back within touching distance.

Luke turned back to his scrap. He lifted it in his good hand, trying to focus on it. It still felt small and slippery in the Force. When he focused on the cut ends, he could sort of sense fluctuations around the shape, but reaching for the composition....it slipped out of his fingers and clattered on the table.

Luke pressed his lips together and tried again. He breathed out the pain in his arm, shunting it off to the Force and trusting the Force to heal and protect him. He focused on the metal in front of him, but it sat blank and inert in the Force. He could lift it, but not shape it.

This was pointless. Luke sat back and looked around, eager to think about something else. The parts of the prosthetic hand lay spread out on the table between them. "Once the linkages are clear, maybe we can find some more responsive servos to install," he commented.

His father indicated one of the broken droids sitting on the scrap shelf. "Try that MKX model. Their servos are consistently excellent."

Luke called the droid to himself and popped open the chassis. Much of the circuitry was fried or broken, but the servos and armature were largely intact. He began to pull it apart with his good hand and the Force.

"Have you done this to your arm?" Luke asked.

"No. There are chips in my prosthetics," his father replied.

Luke shook his head in commiseration. "Synthetic Rights Management is the bane of the galaxy."

Darth Vader's respirator hitched. "I think that's me."

Luke chuckled. "Well, okay, but SRM is up there. I could take a look, if you want, once I can work again. I'm pretty good at working around the SRM chips; I just have a good sense for what to do."

"Do you sense them with the Force?" Vader asked, surprised.

Luke hesitated. "Huh. Maybe? I didn't know about the Force when I started fixing droids, but it probably is the same."

"Indeed. Now try shaping that strut again; you must master fine Force manipulation. Clearly Obi-Wan did not teach you everything he should have."

---

The next day was a little easier. The Dark Side was still strong in Darth Vader's chambers, but the time spent in the workshop during the night seemed to have strengthened and steadied both of them. Luke even found that his arm was substantially less painful, and the smoother action of the prosthesis made his physical exercises easier.

Vader gave Luke a data pad, and he spent time on the holonet, catching up on the news he had missed during his time on Dagobah. He also spent time practicing fine manipulation with the Force, at his father's insistence.

His father had duties elsewhere in the ship, and when he returned to the room he was aching and tired. Luke encouraged him to eat and rest.

That night, they finished replacing the servos in Luke's hand, and Luke examined his father's prosthetics to see what he could do. The heavy, brutal construction left him frowning and worried, but he would have the next day to plan improvements.

---

Luke worked his way carefully through the linkages in his father's arm. The SRM chips were there, embedded in struts and circuitry. They smelled like death, and the Dark Side clung to them.

Luke reached for the Force around them, trying to direct the lighter Force in the workshop between himself and the toxic chips. He eased a wire away from the connecting module, and used the Force to lift an SRM chip free so the socket could be smoothed and polished.

The scarring on his father's shoulder was extensive, and the skin near the socket was raw and oozing. Luke wished they had some bacta.

"Father, could a proper hospital fix you?" he asked. "Even in the Rebellion, I've seen the medics do amazing things."

Darth Vader turned to look at Luke. "The Emperor does not allow me to be fully healed, my son. After he is dead, I will consider the matter."

"But why not try now? You shouldn't have to be in so much pain," Luke asked.

"Suffering is the power of the Dark Side," Vader intoned.

Luke rolled his eyes. "The Dark Side sucks."

The respirator cycled a few times before Vader added, "I cannot visit a hospital. There is nowhere I could go that would not turn me over to my Master, and he would punish me for my rebellion."

Luke grimaced. He didn't want to bring up the Rebellion at the moment, as the arm was at a rather delicate stage, and his father was right: there was nowhere else to go. He pushed his wish that his father could get better into the Force and kept working.

---

"Any luck with your accounts?" Leia asked, pouring herself a cup of caf.

"Not frozen, surprisingly," Lando responded. "I pulled out what I could without raising suspicion. I'll have to work on transferring the rest to some of my Outer Rim accounts - I'm sure the Empire will freeze them eventually."

"At least that's some good news," Leia responded.

"Yes." Lando took a sip of his caf. "So, Tatooine next?"

Leia nodded. "I'd like to stay here for another day or two - however long it takes to get a report from the Alliance High Command. We didn't have a secure comm connection while we flying, and I need to update them. But after that, Tatooine."

"Fine by me, Princess. I'll talk to a few people while we're here and see if I can get some fresh identities made up."

"Thank you."

Leia took a long drink of her own caf, aware of Lando's keen eyes on her. She wasn't really surprised when he finally spoke.

"So. You and Han?" he asked.

Leia blushed a little. "Yes. We - well, it's been a long time coming. And we were able to talk some, on the Falcon. I know it probably looks like it's just a fling..."

"Oh, it's not just a fling, I can tell you that," Lando interjected.

Leia looked up at him, puzzled.

Lando smiled a bit and leaned forward. "Do you know much about Wookie culture, Princess?"

Leia frowned. "A little, but mostly just from talking to Chewie on the Falcon. My Shriiwook isn't very good, but I'm learning."

"Wookie care very much about honor, Leia, and about fulfilling their debts," Lando explained. "Han saved Chewie's life, years ago, and in Chewie's mind, that's what he owes Han. When Han was threatened, his honor required that he fight to the death."

"But he didn't."

"He didn't, because Han told him to protect you. And Chewie accepted that. Because you are Han's life." Lando smirked at Leia's expression, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs. "So no, it doesn't look like a fling."

Leia took a sip of caf, hoping to cover her confusion. "I guess we'd better get him back then," she finally said.

Lando's smirk broadened into a grin. "We'll wait for you to make your report, and then I guess we'd better."

---

The cockpit comm chimed, and Lando slapped the pickup button. "Who's talking?" he asked.

"That you, Lando? Might have known you'd take the opportunity to steal my ship," said Han's tired voice.

Lando sat up straight. "Han? Old buddy? Where are you? What can you tell me?

"Are you okay?" Leia asked, coming into the cockpit to join the call. Chewie growled behind her.

"I'm on Kafrene. They...they let me go? The Empire. I don't know why. I'm in a hostel called the Golden Coaster."

Leia and Lando exchanged looks. "Hang tight, Han, and we'll come get you," Lando replied.

"I don't know why they let me go. It could be a trap. I should meet you somewhere," Han replied.

"You sound exhausted, Han. You're probably still recovering from the carbonite. Stay there. We'll be careful," Leia promised.

"Better bring clothes," Han replied. "These might be bugged."

"We'll do that, and we'll take you to a clinic to get scanned for chips. It'll be fine, Han, don't worry so much," Lando told him.

Chewie growled again, and Han chuckled. "You're right, Chewie. I'll see you soon."

---

"Jabba's announced the course for the Boonta Eve Classic," Luke said, scanning the holonet news on his datapad. "It's a little shorter than usual this year, but that cut through the canyon looks tricky."

"I flew in the Boonta Eve Classic once," his father commented.

Luke looked up, puzzled. "But humans don't—Wait. You're *that* Skywalker? The one who won the Boonta Eve Classic ages ago?"

"Yes. I was nine."

Luke jumped to his feet. "I can't believe it! Jag Darklighter - my friend Biggs' father - he was there. He still has his ticket from that race. I must have heard about it a thousand times!

Luke sat down again, leaning forward. "So what really happened to your coupler in the last lap? People have been arguing for years."

"I cannot be certain," Vader admitted. "My podracer was largely built from scrap, but I thought that coupling was secure. I believe Sebulba sabotaged it."

"Ha!" Luke said, slapping the table. "I knew he had a squinty look. Biggs thought you'd misjudged a cut and damaged it."

"I definitely did not."

Luke grinned and leaned back, shaking his head. "I can't believe you won the Boonta Eve Classic. Obi-Wan never told me anything *important*!"

---

"Tell Jabba the Hutt that Anakin Skywalker wants to make a deal with him. If he'll provide the medical care I need to be fit to fly again, I'll fly for him in the Boonta Eve Classic. He lost a lot of money when I won, thirty years ago, and now he'll have the chance to make it all back. I've transferred ten thousand credits to his holdings, as a sign of good faith."

Darth Vader ended the holo message. It would work or it wouldn't. But Luke wanted him to be well, and the Force was with him.

[bunnywritesjunk]

Ruusaan | Captain rex x Reader

Series summary: You missed your tropical planet, but coruscant had more to offer. You are a field medic in the 501st. you work closely with the captain in hopes of not losing your job. But how close is too close.

Chapter summary: Your first mission to Umbara is going as planned. That is until a certain General shakes things up. 

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Warnings: Canon level violence, brain injures, blood, broken bones, T for teen (for this chapter)

Word count: 2.1k

Genre: Fluff and angst

A/n: Hello! chapter 2 coming up. I'm following the timeline pretty closely just to establish plot. In my mind rex is actually a little shy and bashful so he might take a minute to open up.. anyways, enjoy!

Chapter Two

In the hangar, You stood next to Na'wi and Fives. The briefing for your first mission was simple yet overwhelming. A holoprojection of the terrain appeared central to the generals.

“Master Krell and Tin will be supporting my troops in the south, while Anakin's battalion with come in from the north and takes out enemy reinforcements.” Obi-wan said.

“It is imperative that we capture the capital city as quickly as possible and hold it.” His hand made a fist as he finished.

Anakin stepped forward. “Our biggest problem is gonna be the local militia. The Umbarans have aligned themselves with the separatists, and are heavily armed”

“Arc trooper fives will be assisting my unit on special assignment.” Anakin said.

“Ready to do my part, General Skywalker” Fives responded.

“Nice to have you onboard” Captain rex addressed the Arc trooper.

“Just like old times Rex.” Fives said fondly.

“Medics, we're relying on you two for communication and recon. If you see anything suspicious let us and the captains know immediately.” Obi-wan said sternly to you and Na'wi.

“You both will have your ATV's but I want you to stay one click behind the battalion. Stay safe and if anything goes down get out of there quickly, got it?” Said Anakin.

“Sir yes sir.” You and Na'wi said in sync. Your tail whipped back and forth in anticipation.

“Remember Anakin, Cody, and I will be twelve clicks to your south, we're counting on you to take out those local fighters or I'm afraid the capital will never surrender.” Said Obi-wan.

Anakin sighs “Does my battalion have to do everything?”

“You seem to always volunteer” Obi-wan replies with a smirk.

The generals and soldiers loaded up into their respective warships. You and Na'wi were sharing one ship to carry you both to different landing points. Because of the hostile terrain of Umbara, they gave the field medics all-terrain vehicles equipped with a hover pad latched on the back. That was so you can transport the injured to a safe location. You and Na'wi loaded onto the ship, both of your vehicles were all white save for the medical emblem and the number of your respective battalions on it. You mounted your ATV followed by Na'wi. Your ship took off slowly out of the hangar and speed into the atmosphere of Umbara.

“I'm so excited!” Na'wi said while swinging her feet.

“How is this exciting? We could die” You responded rolling your eyes lightly.

“I enjoy the risk.” She said flashing you a bright smile.

“I guess I'll rely on my adrenaline.” You picked at your fingernails to pass the time.

It seemed like no time passed until the ramp opened up. You were dropping first. The ship did not seem to slow down much but you swallowed your fear and put your vehicle in neutral. Slowly you rolled out of the ship while waving to Na'wi.

“I love you!” She screamed over the wind.

You fell to the ground with a thud. You did not brace yourself enough the impact made you lurch forward and hit your head on the controls. You brushed it off and put the ATV in drive. You got placed somewhat adjacent to the active battle field. Your helmet had built-in goggles with heat vision, so you could see everything that is happening on the battlefield. As well as if someone is still alive or not. You could tell the 501st had made good headway already so you headed towards the area they left recently. Your orders are to stay one click behind them to keep you out of immediate danger. You were coming up on the remnants of the battlefield, you slowed down and kept your head low as you approached. Although you had a blaster you did not want to risk giving your position away. You scanned the field for any sign of life. Your thermal goggles picked up a heat signature about twenty feet away. You speed to the location and saw a trooper unconscious face down. Yout hopped off the ATV quickly and flipped him over.

You took his helmet off and felt for a pulse first, it was weak. You looked over him ad couldn't find any obvious injuries. You took out your holo pad and scanned him. He had a brain bleed. You debated on whether he would have enough life in him after you stopped the internal bleeding. Worth a try, but you had to act fast. You got some gloves on and undressed a Bacta needle. Flipping him over you inserted the needle carefully into the brain stem. It should stop the bleeding. You were glad he was asleep so he doesn't have to feel this. After the injection, you looked at his scan to see exactly where the bleed was spilling. You took out a small spring-locked drill. It stops drilling when it hits soft tissue. The perfect tool for drilling into a skull, which you happen to be doing. You positioned the drill behind his ear and slowly but firmly applied pressure. Soon, blood started dripping out of the small hole. The drill stopped and you removed it. Flipping him over on his back to let gravity drain the blood. The trooper started breathing heavily and his hand twitched. You decided to inject him with a painkiller so he's not in agony when he comes to.

“Hey there trooper, you're gonna be alright.” You said to him in a soft voice. He stirred and his eyes fluttered a bit. All good signs that he was gonna be ok, with minimal brain damage.

You left your ATV near him while you surveyed the rest of the battlefield. You found another trooper thankfully awake with a badly broken humerus and dislocated shoulder on his right side. You numbed his arm and shoulder to set his bones back in place and injected him with Bacta. Since he could walk you led him back to your ATV discreetly. You found no other troopers that were alive.

The battle seemed to get further and further away. You didn't want to get completely separated so you three had to move. You went to the unconscious trooper and hooked your arms under his to lift him onto your hover pad.

'Damn he's heavy' you thought.

The hover pad had barriers so that patients wouldn't fall off while you drove. As you got him settled he stirred and opened his eyes.

“Are you an Angel?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“I wish” You chuckled. You mounted your ride and motioned for the other trooper to sit behind you. He wrapped his good arm around your waist and rested his head on your back.

“Hey trooper, can't have you falling asleep ok?” You felt him nod. You sped off toward your battalion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The troops were moving fast, but the casualties were heavy. It's been nearly twenty minutes since you found the two injured clones, and you have not found anyone else alive. Your comm beeped it was Rex.

“We have stopped for rest, make it one click away from our location and hold your position.” Rex said.

“Sir yes sir”

You were about a click and a half away from them. You started to speed up but then stopped abruptly. There were Umbarans half a click away... Directly in front of you. The battalion advanced so the area should be clear...unless?

You commed Captain Rex.

“Captain, they're going to ambush”

“What do you see?” He spoke lowly.

“They are surrounding your position as we speak”

He didn't comm you back but you saw the distant blaster fire. You decided to back up and take cover in some bushes just in case any Umbarans saw you while retreating. After a few minutes you heard the whirring of ships, you looked up as the bombers can and laid waste to the Umbaran ambush.

Your comm beeped once again. It was Anakin

“General Krell is here with a ship, I am going back to Courasant and he is taking over. Bring any wounded to us immediately so I can get them back the Starship”

“Yes sir” you replied while speeding off in their direction.

Once you got there Anakin was already on the ship waiting. Two troopers helped unload the clone on your hover pad while you assisted the one on your ATV to the ship. Anakin nodded at you in acknowledgment. Once the injured were loaded onto the ship they took off.

Rex turns to general Krell “Your reputation precedes you general, It is an honor to be serving you”

“I find it very interesting captain that, you are able to recognize the value of honor. For a clone.” General Krell says smoothly. The captain gave him a puzzled look.

“Stand at attention when I address you” Krell barks.

“Your flattery is duly noted, but it will not be rewarded. There's a reason my command is so effective, and it's because I do things by the book. And that includes protocol” General Krell walks up to you.

“So you're the new field medic. Tell me, were those two clones the only ones you managed to rescue?” He asked.

You opened your mouth to speak but before you could get a word out he spoke.

“Because if those two were the only ones you could manage your experimental job will certainly be in jeopardy. Those clones will probably never see combat again, you are proving to be ineffective.” With that, he walked away.

“You will stay with us as we march the capital, maybe your talents will be of a better use when you can treat faster hmm?” General Krell said.

“Sir, my talents are best applied not under heavy fire and artillery. Kix is more suited for treating smaller injuries in the heat of batt-”

“What? What is a Kix? You mean a clone?” He interrupted you. Your tail whipped in annoyance.

“Um yes. I don't know his CT number, they are harder to remember.” You didn't meet his eyes as you spoke. Rex walked up beside you.

“Although our medic is combat trained, her top priority should be to save others' lives. Not her own, sir.” Rex said. General Krell didn't acknowledge Rex.

“Have the platoons ready to move out immediately,” The General turns to you.

“You were given orders, follow them. That is all” He said as he walked away from the group.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You followed closely behind the battalion on your ATV. There was a small run-in with some hostile flying animals. The general took care of that swiftly and yelled about it after. You had a bad feeling about this man. You wanted to talk to fives but he was up at the front. The farther away you could be from General Krell the better.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been twelve hours. You've started to fall asleep on your vehicle. You reached into the side pocket of your pack and pulled out a nutrient bar. Hopefully, that could give you a little bit of energy for now. You barely noticed when General Krell started yelling about how the other battalions are counting on the 501st so they can't afford rest. You heard him but it didn't stick in your head for very long. Eventually, you all made it the capital main road. The men started to get in position for the strike on capital. You being the medic, did not know where you should or shouldn't be. You felt a little awkward just sitting there.

You rode up to fives “Hey” You said sleepily.

Fives nodded at you “How are you holding up?” You responded with a sigh.

Then, you noticed Rex walking up to general Krell. You listened in.

“Sir, we're ready to bring our forward platoons in for a surgical strike on the city's defenses.” Rex said to the General.

“There won't be any need Captain” Rex looked confused at this response.

“All platoons will execute a forward assault along the main route to the city”

“But, sir. General skywalker's plan was to surprise them with multiple attacks. If we come in from the main route, they're likely to engage us in a full-frontal assault”

You turned to Fives “Is this guy trying to kill us?” You whispered. General Krell went on about using all the troops to attack the capital head-on.

“Seems like it.” Fives whispered back.

“Do I make myself clear CT-7567?!” Krell barked in the captain's face.

“Yes General” Rex said calmly.

Rex made his way to you.

“Listen, once blaster fire starts I want you behind me at all times. Got it?” You nodded yes. He turned to walk away.

“But um, Rex?” You asked. He faced you again.

“How exactly am I supposed to treat people if I have to stay near you?” He moved closer to you.

“You won't. This plan is crazy, you won't be able to do anything but protect yourself. Stick with me, I can't have you dying on your first mission civvie.” He gives you a reassuring look.

“Alright, I trust you.”

[piqu3d]

fervor of my guilty stars

summary:

The Council said that I can’t be a Jedi Knight,” Obi-Wan whispers.

“No,” Qui-Gon replies. “You cannot.”

OR: Obi-Wan has a stroke after Melidaan.

on ao3

on here:

If Qui-Gon had it his way, he would have left Obi-Wan alone. If he had it his way, he would have gone with the Agri-Corps to the Outer Rim and spent the rest of his life working his hands bloody, if only to experience a fraction of the callouses that Obi-Wan had to earn in that devastating war. If he had it his way, Obi-Wan would’ve long ago had a new Master, one who would be kinder and sharper than Qui-Gon ever could be.

It is Obi-Wan’s choice, though. It is only his request to remain Qui-Gon’s Padawan that keeps Qui-Gon’s feet on the ground in Coruscant. When Obi-Wan asks this of him, a few weeks after his return, Qui-Gon wants to cry. Obi-Wan asks him, as if it’s Qui-Gon who deserves a say in the matter after abandoning his one true mission on a war-torn planet.

It is unforgivable, to betray your child. It is the pinnacle of the Order’s culture: Younglings are little seeds planted in the dirt, and Padawans are a shy poke of green sprouting from the ground to seek the suns. It is a Master’s primary responsibility to protect them above their own life, no matter the written stipulations in their laws. Qui-Gon has ostracized himself from all he called family by leaving a boy whose gangly limbs were still growing into gentle power to the wolves, and he would expect no less.

Yet here he is, with his one light still relying on him, so his echoing steps through the Halls of Healing are hollow as he maneuvers a well-worn path to room 45HJ. When he knocks softly on the door, Obi-Wan’s “Come in,” is hoarse.

Qui-Gon opens the door, and Obi-Wan’s drawn face tells him that he already knows. The lamp on his side table illuminates the sunken features of his profile in a sickly yellow, and Qui-Gon makes a distant note to obtain purple lights to soften the room at night.

“So the Council said that I can’t be a Jedi Knight,” Obi-Wan whispers.

“No,” Qui-Gon replies. “You cannot.”

When Obi-Wan turns his gaze to the ceiling, Qui-Gon takes a seat in the well-worn chair next to his bed and folds his hands into his lap. This way, he will not reach out and cup his Padawan’s cheek or hold his hand. He has lost that right.

Instead, he allows his eyes to trace the thin edges of Obi-Wan’s cheekbones. His nose is crooked, as it has been since his return from Melidaan. There are dark bags under his eyes in an alarming shade of purple that makes him look decades older. The feeding tube in his nose is the third in as many weeks— the first he ripped out, and the second had a clog of some sort that ruined his ability to stomach anything for days. This one has Master Che crossing her fingers and lekku in hope. Obi-Wan’s ability to swallow should be getting better, but it inexplicably isn’t— just like his ability to walk or use the left side of his body at all. Che’s only explanation for it, after consulting with physicians across the galaxy, is that Obi-Wan’s already bad Force-exhaustion exacerbated the thinning of his blood vessels after he drained all of his energy to save the Young on Melidaan, and he paid the price with an irreversible stroke that stole his body while he slept. There’s no precedent for this kind of illness, and no prognosis for recovery. The Jedi Order prays with every dawn and every dusk that he makes it just twelve more hours. They are like a person walking on a rocky path, keeping their head faced down to the ground and addressing every obstacle as it comes, because if they look ahead, they will trip and fall.

“What else did they say?” Obi-Wan finally asks, toneless. There is a noticeable slur to his words that frustrates him, though he’s only had one speech therapist appointment so far.

“Not much. They hope for your ‘path to a new normal’ goes smoothly.” Qui-Gon pauses, and the heels of his palms rock against each other. “It’s alright to feel sad, you know.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head slowly, but hiccoughs almost silently— and then takes in a shuddering breath.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon says, helpless but to watch as Obi-Wan’s eyes spill over with tears.

“I’m not sad,” he moans limply, “’M just exhausted.”

“I know. It’s alright. It’s… it will be alright,” Qui-Gon says lamely. He is glaringly inadequate for his grieving Padawan, and he swallows back self-hatred as he listens to his Padawan’s devastating sobs.

Eventually the cries peter out, and Obi-Wan is dully sniffing rivulets of snot back up his open nostril.

“Don’t do that,” Qui-Gon chides gently, spurred into action with something he can do, and he retrieves a tissue from the bedside table. Quickly, he wipes away the worst of the mess with a habitual tut.

“It’s miserable,” Obi-Wan whines, wiping at his bleary eyes with the thin wrist of his right hand. “It’s— I’m a mess.”

“You’re a mess?” Qui-Gon asks, and then laughs, slight and low. “Padawan mine, even deathly sick, you’re far more composed than many of those blasted politicians I contend with, or many of the Master Jedi themselves. They may seem aloof and holier-than-thou, but I assure you— even Master Yoda loses it on occasion.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitch, but his face remains downcast. The crease in his forehead grows deeper, and Qui-Gon suppresses his urge to reach out and smooth it with his thumb, like he used to do to folds in Obi-Wan’s blanket. Another thought, then three, build up in his throat, but he says nothing. Using a tactic he’s known since Obi-Wan was below his hip, he will remain quiet and wait his Padawan out. The thoughts will peek out eventually; even since his stroke, Obi-Wan’s desire to form how he perceives the world into words will always trump his exhaustion.

The fruits of Qui-Gon’s silence bear quickly.

“Sometimes,” Obi-Wan murmurs thickly, “Since the stroke, but before it, too. I feel so… grey. Like a dustball underneath a dresser; as if all it would take is one good hit and I would… dissipate into infinitesimal bits. And it would, of course, be dark under that dresser. I’d disappear, but it wouldn’t matter, because I’m already so far under you can’t even see me. I…” he trails off. He’s lost his words, and his jaw works once or twice before he shuts his mouth for good.

It’s a strange metaphor, and Qui-Gon smothers his ripple of despair before it can seep beyond his shields and into the room. “There is no doubt,” he murmurs. “That a child— which you are— that is faced with so much would incline to feel this way— expected, maybe, though we would surely hope not.”

“‘M not a child,” Obi-Wan says, as he always does. “I fought in a war.”

The word war is trapped for a moment too long, like he’s gotten stuck on the vowel.

Qui-Gon has begged the stars for recompense to his Padawan and retribution towards himself. His prayers have clearly not been answered, and he shuts his eyes briefly before he replies. “You were a child,” he says evenly, as his nails dig marks into his palms. “You are a child who fought in a war.”

“Sure.” Obi-Wan looks up at him through narrowed, half-glazed eyes. The dull-yellow tape on his feeding tube is coming slightly loose, and Qui-Gon’s eyes instinctively watch it as it moves with Obi-Wan’s slow movements. The question that Obi-Wan asks, here, is missed by Qui-Gon until he repeats it, small: “What will I do now?”

Qui-Gon, finally unable to bear the degrees of separation sitting between them, dares to reach out and envelop Obi-Wan’s pale hand in his two. His Padawan’s hand is painfully cold. Engulfed in Qui-Gon’s grip, his fingers curl desperately into the warmth. “You will remain my Padawan— should you so choose. I will be meeting with the Council and Master Che one more time to fully assess your options, but Master Yoda has already assured me of your wanted presence in the Order. We— I gave you up once before, and I will not be doing it ever again.” Qui-Gon takes a moment to breathe and make sure his child hasn’t zoned out. No, Obi-Wan’s eyes have been whittled sharp, and he is very, very still. “It's true, you cannot be a Jedi Knight, at least not in the fashion you were heading towards,” he says grimly. “Your negotiation tactics will be missed, I am very well aware, but we cannot in good conscience send you on missions when your relationship with the Force and your body is so unreliable. However. The Healers would be delighted to accept you into their ranks as an Apprentice— in fact, Che has been raving to me about your curiosity about the procedures you’ve been undergoing, and your kindness towards other patients in the halls. You can forge a new bond; you don’t have to let this one go. Or you can—”

“I have options,” Obi-Wan interrupts weakly. “I get it.” He huffs shortly, and his eyes glisten again. “It just— I— it doesn’t feel possible, yet. I barely can see myself making it to the next kriffing physical therapy session, much less… a future. I can’t use my left hand at all, Master. I am… simply exhausted, all the time, and my head hurts when I attempt to form real thoughts and words and sentences.”

“It will get better,” Qui-Gon says. “I… I swear it to you.”

“So does Master Che,” Obi-Wan replies, voice awfully small.

“Well, Master Che is always right, is she not?” Qui-Gon says, with a light air of offense.

“No, of course,” Obi-Wan mumbles, but the right side of his mouth curls up. Though it disappears swiftly, it still happened, and Qui-Gon pockets the image behind a tight weave of his mental shields to revisit when the darkness seems all-consuming.

“We will discuss more tomorrow. I just didn’t want to keep you waiting with the news, though you… knew, already.”

Obi-Wan’s half-shrug is jerky. “There was only one way this could’ve gone.”

“There are so many ways this can go,” Qui-Gon replies firmly. “Look at me, child.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze creeps over, half-lidded.

“You have friends, Che and myself, and the entire Order by your side, do you hear me?”

“My left side?” Obi-Wan snarks through thick consonants.

Qui-Gon nods. “Your left side,” he echoes. “And, I can tell you this much, your recovery will not be alone, and it will not be cold, or barren, or clinical. We will wrap you in as many sweaters as can fit on your frame, and the Yoda medical tape that you requested— wonderful choice, by the way— will be delivered by tomorrow’s dawn, and of course your crechemates have been biting at the opportunity to paint your walker all sorts of colors. Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon repeats, and he has never meant anything so truthfully as this, “you have as much time, and as much space, and as much love as you need to heal. And when that healing plateaus, you will live a happy and fulfilled life, because you have so much to offer this world and I am certain that this setback will not only fail to stifle it but will provide an opportunity for you to grow into an even kinder, stronger person than you’ve already had to be.” He pauses, to be sure that he’s said what he needs to say, then nods decisively.

A sniffle. “Who knew you were so sappy, Master.”

“Alright, you little snot, it’s bedtime.” Qui-Gon rises and, after a brief hesitation, rests his hand on Obi-Wan’s head.

Obi-Wan smiles up at him with his right eye bright. “Goodnight, Master,” he slurs, sleep already encroaching upon him.

“Goodnight, Padawan mine,” Qui-Gon murmurs, and shuts off the lamp.

He waits in the dark for an indeterminate time, just to be sure that Obi-Wan’s breaths are deep and even, before he can even think of leaving the room.

drop by the archive to comment or kudos!

[tennessoui]

Hello!! I may not be making much sense, but in my defence, i just woke up and had a very cool dream, which is what i'm here about!

I had the very good idea of going to sleep after watching a playthrough of Bloodborne bc Bloodborne is very sexy, and my brain cooked a weird dream about it! And obviously, bc i am obsessed with Obikin, it super was about Obikin. And i just wanna talk about it before i forget or something!

I hope im making sense, but anyways here we go:

So, Anakin is half Force, bc Child of the Force and all that, which means he's very normal (in Anakin way, so not normal by normal). But sometimes he looks very weird or feels very weird, but you can't place how, weirdly uncanny and all that. Anyways, weird. And when he is very angry or emotional, he becomes very scary, and its very hard to look at him, he doesn't change or anything, but he hurts your eyes, kind of like a very bright light might. And the strongest in the force you are, the easiest it is to see (like the insight mecanism in the game) him as he is, which i cant describe bc i couldn't see in my dream.

Obi-wan noticed the pattern obv, but cannot look at him too long and stuff idk i dont very remember that.

There was a part, it was during Mortis arc i think? idk. And so, there was the Father, the Daughter and the Son. And there spawned the Mother, which was the Force, as in the whole force, represented by the Mother, which looked like something i cannot even describe bc dream. And she went to get Anakin back, bc she always wanted a kid, and never could have one, but she found a way to make one by using a human woman (Anakin's mother) and now she wants him!

And Obi-wan very much doesn't want the Force to steal him away, bc that's his Padawan, and he very much wants him there, with him, until forever probably, so he kinda negociates with the weird ass eldritch-monster-thing about it. He said things, which were very sexy and that i forgot, but it was basically about how Anakin was gonna die someday anyways and she can have him then but not a second sooner, bc once he's dead he's gonna be hers for eternity but now he's definitely Obi-Wan's. It was all very sexy.

I also remember that the Mother laughed and hugged him (Obi-Wan) with her weird not-arms, made him swallow something (forcefully) and then released him, and when he stopped choking on the thing (it was liquid, looked carmine red but gold at the same time?? i think it was blood) he looked at the Mother again and could see her somehow (still can't describe her bc i wasnt him so my dream didnt let me see :") ) and he heard her say "you can have him as long as you're alive, but as soon as you die, ill come get him", so now he has to stay alive to keep Anakin.

Also i think the Mother's blood that she made Obi-Wan drink raised his midichlorian count, so now when Anakin does his weird shiny angry thing, he can look at him without bleeding from the eyes or something.

Also i think there was a part about how the brighest lights cast the darkest shadows, Palpa-thing trying to corrupt Anakin, and Obi-Wan being able to literally see the corruption, and do something about it.

Gods i hope it makes sense.

Anyways i love you, i hope you're having a good day!

ahhh i wish my dreams were half as vivid or descriptive!!

this feels like perfect eldritch anakin vibes + plus a somehow becomes immortal obi-wan just so no one can take his padawan from him because i think he'd do something like that through accidental spite

i mean if anyone could defy the force through sheer willpower, it may be obi-wan idk

[renlyslittlerose]

Do you have a favorite scene or passage or line from moonlight serenade? What has been the hardest part of the story to write?

Really enjoy reading it! Thank you for sharing your work 🙏 😊

I think the hardest part of the story to write was maintaining a sense of accuracy, but not letting accuracy get in the way of the story I wanted to tell. There are things I omitted from the story, just because I didn't want to get bogged down by historical accuracy, and also I felt ill-equipped to deal with it (for instance, Mace and Ahsoka would be facing way more discrimination if this was actually 1944). It was hard to tell my historian brain to turn off for a second, and let my creative brain take over.

I also try and be very careful with how I portray Anakin's trauma - both physical and mentally. I've never been to war, never lost an arm (though I am disabled), never suffered life-altering injuries that have changed my sense of self and who I am as a person, and never struggled with my mental health. So when I do write scenes that deal with these themes, I try very hard to be respectful and as realistic as possible.

As for favourite scenes! Of the ones I've posted thus far, I think my favourite's has to be when Padme first arrives to see Anakin, as he's sitting on the back porch of his house. It was one of the first scenes I thought of when I was planning the story out, and I think it worked rather well. Also, of course, Obi-Wan and Anakin meeting for the first time in the pub 💖

As for scenes that haven't come up yet, here is a sneak-peak of a scene many chapters down the line. Beware, SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT:

“Do you know the constellations?” Obi-Wan asked, voice quiet. Relaxed.

“Yeah. Learned them in the air force. Do you?”

“A little. I’m better with the mythology behind them.”

Anakin scanned the sky, finding a constellation. He traced it with his fingertip. “That’s Aquila.”

“The eagle,” Obi-Wan said. “Believed to be the type of bird that carried Zeus’ thunderbolts for him.”

Anakin found another and traced it as well. “Cetus.”

“The whale. A mythical sea monster that was slain by both Hercules and Perseus. Stubborn thing.”

“You can see Hercules, too,” Anakin said, finding it in the sky. “I know about him.”

“Oh?”

“I read the ‘Life of Alexander’.”

“So you have.”

Anakin scanned the sky for another, drawing it out for Obi-Wan. “Cepheus.”

“The king of Ethiopia, father of Andromeda. Do you see Cassiopeia anywhere?”

“There,” Anakin said, finding it easily enough. “Who was she?”

“The Queen of Ethiopia. She was married to Cepheus, and now they’re immortalized together forever in the night sky. Quite the love, no?”

Married.

The words sat heavy in the air. Anakin swallowed thickly, heart hammering. But no, it wasn’t the time for it yet. He didn’t even have anything to give Obi-Wan.

And yet…

“Just like us?” Anakin asked, blood rushing through his head. “Together forever?”

Obi-Wan quelled his worry with a soft laugh and a kiss to his cheek. “Yes, just like us.”

[glimmerglanger]

sucktember 7 (bite)

ALMOST too late for @suck-tember but I made it for “bite!”

This is a snippet tied to the sanguine series, which means Vampire!Obi-Wan and established relationship Codywan. SPICY. SPICY BITING!

~~~~~~~~~

Cody heard the strangled, desperate sound that tore out of his throat when Obi-Wan lifted his mouth away from the juncture of his hip and thigh. The air in their room - burning hot everywhere else - felt cool on the wetness left behind by Obi-Wan’s mouth and his blood. 

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asked, voice all rough and hoarse from what he’d done before he sank his fangs into Cody’s groin, finding one of the big, thick veins under the skin. 

“Oh, Force,” Cody panted out, feeling…floaty and so immensely good he couldn’t really think past it. It had been amazing, it was always amazing when Obi-Wan licked him, took him deep, swallowing around him.

Adding the bite after, feeling Obi-Wan settled between his legs, teeth sunk in, swallowing, letting Cody fill him up even more-- 

“It wasn’t too much?” Obi-Wan asked, pushing up onto an elbow, smears of blood and come on his beard, and Cody groaned again. 

“Come up here and kiss me,” he said, because he felt far too tired and sated to do anything like moving. Obi-Wan grinned at him, suddenly, and slid up his body, curling against him, warm and solid and present, kissing him open-mouthed, giving Cody a taste.

[swhurtcomfort]

Can you make a part two to "Obi-Wan rescues Anakin after months of torture and cleans him up and cares for him while they wait for a medevac" where Anakin recovers from the lasting effects?

(thanks, anon! sequel to [this])

Obi-Wan’s heart didn’t stop pounding until the evac landed behind the safehouse. Two medics and two ground troopers met Obi-Wan at the door.

It was much easier to rouse Anakin this time. Hopefully that meant the sedative was clearing out of his system. Anakin nodded in recognition at the soldiers, but didn’t make any other effort to communicate except to moan in pain as they loaded him onto a gurney.

Obi-Wan watched the medic buckle the safety straps across Anakin’s chest and just above his knees.

“He might prefer to lie on his side,” he said breathlessly, thinking of the awful wounds crisscrossing Anakin’s back. Anakin groaned in agreement.

“Once we jump to hyperspace, we can reposition him.” the medic promised, already moving towards the exit and not looking up from his work. “Vitals are okay for now, heart rate 126, normal rhythm, B.P. 190 over 110 and coming down, temp is 99.9,” he said to his partner.

Anakin started to calm down once they were in the air. Obi-Wan typed a short update to Cody, then a more informal one to Ahsoka.

A trooper took the seat next to Obi-Wan’s and quizzed him about everything that had happened in the eight hours they spent waiting at the safehouse. “You said you think he was drugged, sir?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “There are needle marks, and he was barely lucid when I found him. Sedated, I think.”

“Tox screen,” one of the medics mumbled to the other, who nodded and immediately started tying a tourniquet around Anakin’s flesh arm and searching for a vein there. “Just a quick pinch, General Skywalker,” he said. He drew blood, then used the same line to start a bag of IV fluids.

“Can I roll on my side now?”

“Yes, let us help, sir.”

Anakin couldn’t hold back the pained noises as the medics repositioned him.

“I’m sorry we can’t give you any relief, sir,” the medic explained. “Can’t go mixing painkillers with an unknown dose of mystery sedative.”

The trooper who was interviewing Obi-Wan continued, “And he tolerated a bit of food and water?”

“On the second attempt, yes,” Obi-Wan confirmed. “I’m afraid initially, I didn’t consider that a meal pack would be too much of a shock to his system, and it came back up. A while after that, he was able to keep some pureed fruit down.”

From behind the trooper, one of the medics piped up “I’m glad, General, but he really shouldn’t be taking anything by mouth until we have an electrolyte panel back. Skywalker was a healthy weight before this, so just going off the look of things I’d say he’s a refeeding risk.”

Anakin grimaced at the reference to his appearance, while Obi-Wan swallowed a pang of guilt. Anakin had been so desperate and so obviously starving, Obi-Wan had failed to consider that giving him food could be dangerous.

“Hear that, Patch?” the medic asked.

“Check electrolytes and serum glucose; on it, vod.”

Anakin remained stable and awake as they zipped through hyperspace. Obi-Wan sat beside him in silence, one hand resting on the side of the gurney. His commlink chirped.

“Anakin,” said Obi-Wan gently, waiting for Anakin to turn his head in response. “I let Ahsoka know that you’re alright. She asked if you could comm.”

Anakin’s face fell.

“I should,” he mumbled.

“You can say no,” Obi-Wan assured him. Anakin looked relieved. The separation and uncertainty had been grueling on Ahsoka, but certainly Anakin had suffered more. If he didn’t want to talk about it while tired and in pain, Obi-Wan couldn’t fault him.

“Would you mind if I stepped out to speak with her?” he asked. Anakin shook his head.

***

The clone medics turned over care to the Jedi Healers on Coruscant, and the whole process of examinations and tests started anew.

While Anakin was being transported straight to the Halls, Obi-Wan met Ahsoka in the hangar bay. She rocketed into his arms, gripping Obi-Wan tight.

“It’s alright, Padawan. He’s home. We’ve got him.”

Ahsoka squeezed Obi-Wan tighter. They made their way to the Halls and waited together, but when a healer appeared, she invited only Obi-Wan to follow her.

The healers’ recommendations were much as expected: short bacta soaks and oral antibiotics for the mess of wounds on his back, careful monitoring and bloodwork as they reintroduced small amounts of food, an evaluation by a mind-healer.

Anakin was looking much more relaxed now that he had completed his first round of bacta treatment and finally been administered some pain relief. Obi-Wan leaned over him to gently touch his cheek. Anakin smiled as he reached up for the hand, taking it into his own and resting both on his chest. He then promptly fell asleep.

Anakin was in lower spirits in the morning. He asked for a mirror, and then seemed even more upset when this request was granted.

Obi-Wan knew that Ahsoka was still waiting to see him, but he didn’t bring it up yet. First, he procured a basin and supplies and set to work easing the knots and tangles from Anakin’s woefully neglected hair. Anakin was uncharacteristically silent, only flinching when a few particularly stubborn mats had to be snipped away. Obi-Wan almost teased him, given that his former padawan had always been just a little bit vain about his hair, but he refrained. They were able to save most of it, which was impressive, all things considered.

After Anakin had a chance to use the shave kit as well, he was looking much less haggard.

Anakin cleared his throat. “You said Ahsoka helped find me?” he rasped.

Obi-Wan nodded. “She did. It was her idea to breach the facility through the fuel delivery bay. She wanted to be the one to extract you, but I thought it would be better if I went.”

Anakin nodded.

“She’s been waiting down the hall–”

“I’m not…I’m not ready,” Anakin stumbled, averting his gaze. “Not yet.”

Obi-Wan raised his eyebrows in concern, but did not comment.

Obi-Wan didn’t technically request leave from the Council, but it went without saying. Over the next several days, about half the times Obi-Wan arrived at the Halls of Healing, he was told that Anakin wasn’t feeling up to visitors. When he wasn’t turned away at the door, he would sit by Anakin’s bedside, but there wasn’t much conversation.

Obi-Wan had grown to expect a certain amount of griping from a recuperating Anakin – complaining about the healer’s demands, about wanting his own bed, or about dietitian-prescribed meals, but this time there was none. He didn’t speak much, except at night when he mumbled incoherently through restless dreams. And he still wouldn’t see any visitors other than Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan made excuses to Ahsoka. Anakin was tired, he was groggy or nauseous from the medication, he hadn’t slept well. Often, the excuses were true, but it didn’t make things less awkward.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke up one evening as he was getting ready to depart. “Perhaps–at least a conversation over holo would–”

The words died on his lips with the pleading look Anakin gave him.

***

The long-term plan the healers proposed was unsurprising too: weekly weigh-ins until Anakin was back to his previous weight, six more sessions with the mind-healer, gentle katas and exercise under a healer’s supervision until they were confident that the neither excess scar tissue nor weakened muscles were likely to cause further injury.

A droid removed Anakin’s IV and monitors. Obi-Wan helped him pack up the belongings that had accumulated in his room; Obi-Wan and Ahsoka’s attempts to make him feel more comfortable in the Halls surrounded by blankets, mugs, and other familiar items from home.

Seeing him dressed in full Jedi attire again calmed some of the feelings that sometimes felt like they were restricting Obi-Wan’s windpipe. It began to sink in that Anakin was truly safe. He no longer looked so malnourished, and several bacta treatments had closed his wounds and jumpstarted the physical healing process.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan tried again, but he faltered.

For a moment, Obi-Wan wondered whether he would ask to stay in Obi-Wan’s quarters rather than the suite he shared with Ahsoka, to continue hiding from the world.

Anakin cleared his throat.

“I want…I wanted to be better. Before she saw me.”

Obi-Wan put down the blankets and paused carefully before he said, “Anakin, you were a prisoner of war for several months. No one expects you to be alright just like that.”

“They’re not…they’re not all fresh scars, Master,” Anakin mumbled cryptically.

The long, thin scars across Anakin’s back were not all new. Obi-Wan knew that much. He hummed.

“I just keep thinking, round and round my head…she deserves better. It wasn’t fair, what this whole thing must have put her through.”

“All padawans who grow up in wartime deserve better,” said Obi-Wan. “Yourself included.”

After a pause, he added, “And she needs you. Your healing came first–she’s alright, and I’ve tried to be there as much as I can, especially while you were missing–but she needs her master.”

Without sharing the exact reason, Obi-Wan made sure that Anakin was discharged while Ahsoka was in class so that he would have a bit of time to settle before he had to confront her.

The outer door mechanism clicked, and Anakin suddenly shot Obi-Wan a look of panic.

“She doesn’t need you to be okay all of the time. She just needs you to be there,” said Obi-Wan quietly from where he stood in the corner of the living area.

Ahsoka was fidgeting with the shoulder strap of her school bag when she entered.

“Hey, Skyguy,” she said nervously.

“Hey,” Anakin choked.

“How about both of you sit down,” Obi-Wan suggested gently. It was only partially because Anakin had turned pale. He slipped into the kitchen to put on a kettle. From the doorway behind him, he heard muted conversation that eventually devolved into sniffling. When he heard two peals of nervous laughter, Obi-Wan set down the tea and allowed himself a sigh of relief.

[trixree]

For the KoFi - Anything Cody/Obi/Rex related!

*WARNINGS FOR ZYGERRIA; CANON-TYPICAL VIOLENCE; SLAVERY*

Rex knows how Cody feels about his General. That’s why, when it comes down to it, Rex volunteers for the mission to rescue the Zygerrian colonists. Because, at the end of the day, he feels the way Cody feels about his General about Cody.

“It’ll be alright,” Rex assures him. They’re loading up the transport now. Generals Obi-Wan and Skywalker are already on the ship, alongside Commander Tano, who really shouldn’t be going on this mission at all.

Cody swallows. He looks all of ten-seconds away from rushing the transport and bodily hauling his General off it. “You’ll watch his back?” he manages, looking at Rex like Rex is the last safety precaution stopping the whole galaxy from burning right to the ground.

“Of course,” Rex swears. “Now, promise me you’ll watch your own.”

Cody nods. They clasp hands, professional. So-very Mandalorian. Vode, only Rex wants to crawl inside Cody’s chest cavity and never leave. Only Rex wants him, wants him so desperately that the wanting is simply a part of him, has always been a part of him.

But that’s the thing about being a clone; clones don’t get what they want. Cody doesn’t get to keep his General safe, doesn’t get to keep his Jedi in all the ways Rex knows Cody wants to. And Rex doesn’t get to keep Cody.

“Koya’ci, vod.”

Rex forces a smile. “Koya’ci.”

…

Rex falls in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi in the mines.

He really shouldn’t—he knows he shouldn’t—and he really can’t afford to. But, Force help him, he does. And he hates himself for it like he’s never known hate before.

Obi-Wan, even in chains, stands like nothing could break him. Obi-Wan, even when he begs for mercy for another, never begs for it for himself. Obi-Wan, hungry and thirsty because he keeps giving his rations away even knowing that he’ll be punished—that someone else will be punished—when he does, but can’t stop, because he doesn’t know how to stop, how to not give and give and give until it kills him. Obi-Wan, covered in blood and sweat and grime, still having a smile to spare for Rex under back-breaking conditions, under spirit-crushing tortures designed especially to break a Jedi.

Objectively, Obi-Wan is a fucking mess. He’s a goddamn firey speeder-wreck, and Rex finally understands where Skywalker gets it from. He sleeps only in thirty-minute increments, jerking awake with a stifled gasp each time, telling Rex, it’s fine, I’m fine each time before rolling over to go back to the dozing-and-jerking-awake-again pattern that he calls rest. He is physically incapable of not goading their captors into beating him black and blue. He is physically incapable of protecting himself.

If they sit close enough together during the rest period—five hours to eat scraps and sleep on the floor, if they can even manage to sleep at all—the patrols cannot hear them whisper to each other.

“You are going to get yourself killed,” Rex tries to reason. Tries being the key-word. Tries for Cody. Tries for himself, because he has to, because no one else is going to.

“In the calculus of things, one could say that a Jedi’s life is worth that of many civilians, because a single Jedi can do so much good,” Obi-Wan says to him like he’s teaching a lesson in the Temple. “But that is fucking bantha-shit, Rex. Every single being is capable of innumerable acts of good. Jedi just have the unique privilege of being equally as capable of mass destruction.”

Not you, Rex thinks. Never you. I’ve seen you put yourself under the whip countless times, just so that it isn’t someone else.

But the guards come back around, and Rex can’t say anything at all.

…

It is impossible not to love him. Utterly fucking impossible.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, who wouldn’t kill an unarmed man even though that man has tortured him and countless others for the sheer joy of it.

Dear fucking god, Codes. You couldn’t have warned me?

“I’m no Jedi,” Rex says, with pride, and lets the electrostaff fly.

…

Rex tries to leave. He tries to give Cody and Obi-Wan their space—Force help him, he tries. As soon as Cody comes bursting into medbay like the full force of the Separatist army is on his heels, as soon as Cody has eyes on Obi-Wan, Rex makes to leave.

He’s fine, really. Nothing an IV and some bacta won’t fix and he’s had half the former and can find the latter himself.

As soon as he crosses the threshold out of the medbay, the machines attached to Obi-Wan begin to scream, wailing and shrieking alarms, and Rex runs back inside.

Obi-Wan is upright—and he really, really shouldn’t be—and Cody has half-caught him as though he meant to make a run for it when he can hardly even stand.

“Kark it, Sir, how much seds do I have to give you before you lay the fuck down,” Steady is hissing through clenched teeth as he fiddles with the machines and a syringe.

Evidently, they have Obi-Wan on the Good Stuff.

“Rex left,” Obi-Wan announces with the eloquence of the deeply disinhibited. His eyes are all blue, only the slightest pin-pricks of black visible. “Rex can’t leave. Rex, you must stay. Stay. Here, here, sit,” Obi-Wan shuffles clumsily and inadvisably over to the edge of the medbed, frantically patting at the small space he’s created.

“I shouldn’t—” “If you leave I am going to scream,” Obi-Wan declares. He looks at Cody. He is ninety-nine percent eyes at the moment, and even if he weren’t, Cody would still probably move the whole universe to his General’s liking if only Obi-Wan were to ask. And ask he does. “Cody, darling, tell Rex he must stay.”

“Rex,” Cody growls in a tone that gets hooks right into Rex’s soldier-brain. He snaps to attention and immediately regrets it, as it makes his already agonizingly sore back scream. “Tell me you were not about to leave this medbay.”

Rex swallows. “I was not about to leave this medbay, Sir.”

Feck, Rex is such a fucking terrible liar.

“Get in the fucking bed, Rex’ika,” Cody threatens.

Rex gets in the fucking bed.

Obi-Wan plasters himself to Rex’s side, buries his face in Rex’s neck, wiggles a leg between Rex’s, and goes boneless. Cody and Rex stare at each other, soundless and wide-eyed.

“Cody,” Obi-Wan says—says against Rex’s neck— “You are also required.”

“Oh, I’m required now, am I?”

Obi-Wan hums. Moves closer, somehow. He is nearly on top of Rex. With his body. His body on top of Rex's. There is a faint ringing in his ears.

“Highest priority, my dear,” Obi-Wan is saying, speech slow and slurred. “Steady, darling?”

“Yes, General?”

“Be a dear and fetch Rex whatever it is that I am on, please?”

A sting, right in Rex’s thigh, right through his blacks. A hypospray. Fucking monstrous! Rex is so grateful for Kix, even when Kix is not here. Kix would never stab him with mystery drugs and leave him to suffer in the embrace of the two men he loves most in this world.

Cody pulls up a chair. He places a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. This is the magic key to making Obi-Wan sleep—he’s unconscious near instantaneously. Perhaps Cody is secretly a Jedi. Perhaps Cody's love is really just that powerful.

The world is going floaty for Rex. His body doesn’t hurt anymore. Only his soul.

He looks at his vod. “Codes, I’m so sorry.”

Cody leans forward, concerned. “Hush, Rex’ika. You did good.”

“I didn’t,” Rex whispers. He thinks he might be crying. He’s sort of lost himself. Lost himself in loving Cody, lost himself more loving Obi-Wan. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t be this way. He can’t help it. He’s tried.

A gentle hand on his nape, an achingly tender keldabe. Rex hiccups with tears, uncontrollably, snotty and awful, into Cody’s face.

“I don’t want you any other way,” Cody tells him. “Rest, Rex’ika. Please. I’ve got the watch.”

Hysterical, utterly lost, Rex blurts, “You don’t want me at all.”

Cody tuts. “You should know better than to put words in my mouth,” he tells him, indulgent. Fond. Not like he hates Rex.

Not like he hates him at all.

[purelyfiction]

Light In The Dark (4)

Modern Obi-Wan Kenobi x (F) Reader | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Word Count: 3,637 Words

Summary: After discovering a fever you have yet to break, Dr. Kenobi is reassigned to your care to make sure your condition doesn’t decline any further than it has. Once you’re released from the hospital again, he’s carefully making sure you’re settled in at home again.

Content warning: medical stuff aplenty, some sickness which could be triggering, mentions of being naked but no nudity, brief pregnancy mention

Author notes: HELLLOOOOOOO I know this has been a long long time in the making but I really wanted to make sure I was happy with where this story was going, versus churning out a product I wasn’t proud of. Well, the muse match was sparked and the candle is burning brightly so here we have part FOUR of Light in The Dark! Enjoy my friends!

If you thought that you’d felt poorly yesterday, then you were sadly mistaken. There were parts of you shaking you didn’t even think could shake, the way you were starving but didn’t want to eat anything, the soreness radiating through you. You don’t think you’ve ever felt this ill.

It had come on suddenly and between naps, so maybe that’s why it had felt like it was worse every time you’d woken. No one had any concerns until early that morning when you’d still had a fever from the previous evening. Now, that fever is still rampant, and you generally didn’t feel right.

You’d not been too nervous about it, seeing your care team bringing proper medication, monitoring you… it wasn’t until Ben had taken over as your primary and started running further tests that you were feeling antsy. Every time you tried to grab a nurse’s attention to be told what was happening, they were gone. Your movements felt slower than you could possibly process, which was the opposite of encouraging.

Finally, blue eyes return to the room again, looking over you and when they do, they’re filled with concern. It was beyond the type of concern a doctor has for their patient. Closer to that of a friend worried about someone they care about. Which, in reality, was what Ben is.

You hated that. Friend. Your friend was concerned for you. Not that you could have done much to change it. He’d been so busy as of late and with you holed up in your apartment, you couldn’t actively track him down, move to see him more. You’re getting far more attention than you’d bargained for now. “Ben…” His head pokes up at your voice, causing him to come to your side.

“Hello dear.” A comforting hand settles on your forearm, your hand laying on top of his. The most gentle of gazes falls over you. If you weren’t so sick and feeling weak - it would certainly make you feel that way. “What’s going on?” He seems to shrink at the question, eyes looking over your papers and avoiding your own. Hesitantly, he starts into something of an answer.

“I- Well, we’re working on it. I have my suspicions seeing that there is an increase-”

“Obi-Wan.” His attention turns back to you when you say his name. It’s almost like he forgot that you knew it. “Don’t drag it out.”

“All that matters is that you’re going to be alright.” He offers with a duck of his head in sincerity, paired with one of those meek smiles you’ve seen him offer when he’s unsure of himself. Your lips purse as a dry swallow passes in your throat. You can read him well, despite how little the two of you had been around one another as of lately.

“Don’t tell me everything’s alright. I don’t have to read your mind, you keep looking at me like I’m porcelain.” You spit it out a little harsher than intended, likely because your body is more focused on fighting whatever is causing the fever.

“I don’t know. We don't know. I have the lab rushing your blood tests, I’m hoping that we can find something there, but… right now there’s no cause to this fever of yours. All I can offer you is pain medication and more blankets.” The way his eyebrows furrow at the confession, you can tell this pains him more than he’s leading on. You’re okay with his answer, as it’s better than dancing around the delicate truth.

“It’s better than being in the dark.” You point out, clearing your throat, looking at him, fingers tracing over his skin. “You still owe me that date when I get out of here.” The reminder makes a smile flood over his lips.

“You’re making me work for it, aren’t you?” He teases, a light shake of his head. As you close your eyes, you nod, another difficult swallow moving through you. You can feel Ben’s hand move from your arm, a pointer finger pointing your chin upward. “Are you having difficulty swallowing right now?” He questions. You open your eyes to look at him, forming a response to him, but it doesn’t come. Instead a dizzying wave comes over you making your head droop, Ben holding your chin up, repeating your name, over and over - til you don’t hear anything.

When noise comes back to you, so does your vision as eyelids open again. Part of you feels refreshed, but the other part of you is still so cold, but you definitely have more strength. You notice that the TV is on, some form of a commercial for another dishwashing item. Your eyes are glued to the screen in a slight trance. Someone had to put this on, so curiosity leads you to wonder what was playing. A smile breaks out on your face, paired with a light giggle when Masterchef reruns start showing on the screen. The sentiment is definitely appreciated. Your eyes finally take a look around the room again to discover if anything changed since you were out. One change is the time, it’s around 2 in the afternoon, which means you slept for most of the morning. The next change is the weight of the IV tube in your hand. Looking at it, you can see there are at least three lines to separate liquids on the pole by your bed. You’re craning your neck to get a better look at what they are, but a nurse beats you to it, reciting them to you. “Saline, Acetaminophen and an antibiotic. Hydration, pain relief and medication. Dr. Kenobi got a little closer to what’s going on, as your labs came back with a higher white blood cell count, which means your body is fighting some form of infection. We drew another sample in order to determine what virus we’re looking at, but he’s running an antibiotic that should cover most of the ones he’s suspicious of.” They explain, giving you a nod. “How are we feeling?”

“Um, better, surprisingly. I’m still freezing but I don't think it’s from the fever this time.” You joke, laughing a little before they’re smiling and taking your temperature.

“It’s definitely going down, which could be from the pain medication. The antibiotics can take some time to do their thing, so I hope you’re comfy.” They offer before asking if there’s anything they can get you.

“Do you have any pudding?”

It takes almost six days for you to finally, finally feel like yourself again. Dr. Kenobi’s diagnosis had been correct, preliminary sepsis due to an infection from the procedure. A very low chance of occurring but as he’d said ‘you’re just incredibly lucky with that 1%’. In the week-long stay at the hospital, Ben had actually offered to go to your apartment to get some things to help you feel more comfortable - including some lounging clothes, snacks you liked far more than the hospital food (which you reminded him wasn’t as terrible as he thought it was. Breakfast food was actually wonderful) and your laptop so you could get some work done when you were feeling up to it. Not that you actually got any work done. You found yourself facetiming Ben over the dinner hour and watching movies on Netflix together. It took you some practice to get the timing just right, but it was far more comfortable than being alone.

He’d actually been the one to drive you home too. Seemed like he’d become your personal taxi service these days. “You should start Ubering. I feel like with how much you drive me around you’ve got the resume for it.” You’d teased, climbing out of the car - with his help. You were still crutch bound, but you’re beyond used to it at this point.

“Oh, the resume? The countless years of medical school and then ‘personal chauffeur’.”

“Obviously. You’re beyond skilled at it by now.” You hum, leading the way into the building, clicking the button to the lift. “But in all honesty, I really appreciate it. I owe you more than you know.” He enters the lobby with your bag over his shoulder, scrubs still on. He’d insisted on getting you home faster and changing would’ve taken forever. His words, not yours. Obi stands in front of you waiting for the elevator to get to the floor the two of you stand on.

“I would not worry about it, if I were you.” Obi-Wan shrugs before waving a hand in the air, gesturing to the open doors waiting for you. “But I am, between driving me, the cleaning of my apartment, the laundry-”

“Darling?” Suddenly his hand is gripping your chin with a delicate yet firm grip. Your eyes look into his, matching his gentle tone. Your stomach is doing so many flips you think you have to go back to the ER for nausea. “Don’t fret about it. Okay? I wanted to help, seeing you taken care of is enough reimbursement for me.” Kriff. You know he means well, but he certainly has a way of getting a point across.

“Okay.” You reassure him as the door opens to your floor. As you walk back to your apartment a thought pops in your head. “Oh my maker, how’s your roommate? I completely forgot to ask how he and his fiance are!” You speak the question and Ben’s face falters. You catch the brief glint of annoyance before it spins itself into a grin.

“They are well. They… are rather busy with all the plans they seem to have in place.” It seems like an uneasy topic, part of you is sorry you brought it up.

“Well that’s good.” With the door open to your place, you freeze when the lights come on. There’s balloons tied to chairs and lampposts, a cheap party banner strung across your TV with the words ‘Welcome Home’ in glittery font. Looking over your shoulder, you see the grin on his features.

“It was Padme’s idea. She picked out all the decorations, Anakin and I put them up.” He explains as he sets your bag in front of the door to your room. You give a pout while looking at him. “That was so sweet of you guys.” Ben chuckles as you outstretch your arms, waiting on a hug from him, which he’s happy to give you. Arms wrap around you tightly, giving you a moment of security before he lets go looking at you with a grin. “I’m sure you want to sleep in a bed that isn’t some flat piece of foam.” He offers up, looking at the balloons that sway in the air-conditioning. “You’re not entirely wrong.” You shrug, watching as he turns back to you with easy eyes. “You know since you’re home now, I think I owe you a date?” A blush fills your features at the reminder, followed by a small giggle as you mess with the gauze on your hand from the IV.

“I think you do too.” You grin as he moves to the doorway, watching him. “I take it that you are free tomorrow night?” He hums, leaning in the doorframe once the door is ajar. “Yeah let me check my calendar,” you point a thumb to your room jokingly, seeing his face fall you laugh. “I’m all yours tomorrow, Obi-Wan.”

“Wonderful. Expect me around 6:30 then.” He offers and you nod.

“It’s a date.”

Ben had warned you that your pain medication would cause drowsiness, but not that it would swiftly knock you out. You’d taken the first dose when you woke up in pain around 9 and were asleep until easily 2PM. A curse left you when you’d seen the time. You had no idea what you were going to wear, not to mention showering while performing a balancing act was not an easy feat.

As evidenced by the way you’d slipped and fallen in said shower. You’d most definitely bruised a few things, but luckily you were pretty okay. Aside from not being able to get back up. The tile was slick, and not being able to really move your leg much was hindering the process greatly. So, what had been your logical thought process? To call Ben.

It hadn’t been your first idea. However, getting to hour two of being in the shower meant the water was running cold and you were not waiting for him to come and pick you up to find you there. You kept reassuring yourself that he’d most definitely heard worse - or at least picked up worse people from their showers. Right? Plenty of old wrinkly people, gross, gross. You shook the vision from your head and were able to call Ben thanks to the voice command on your phone.

“Everything alright?” was the first question after greeting you. “Um.. I need some help.”

“With what? What’s that sound?” You squish your face tight as you confess. “My shower. I slipped and I can’t really get up…”

“I’ll be down in a minute. Where’s your spare key?”

You’d been astonished at how willing he’d been to come down. Part of you thought you’d have to bribe him with some form of reward. But then you’d remembered the elevator discussion from yesterday. So long as you were cared for.

The knock on the bathroom door doesn’t come long after he’s hung up. “Can I open the door a crack? I can’t really hear you through it.”

“Yeah, yeah that’s fine.” You see the door do just that - a small sliver of light coming from the hallway. “Okay, so Ben? There’s a robe in my room. It should be on the inside of the closet door.” With confirmation, he’s running off to locate it and back within moments. Soon, you’re instructing him with the layout of your bathroom so he could enter it with his eyes shut. His idea, not yours, and who are you to argue with a doctor?

Obi-Wan would then proceed to bruise his hip on your sink and smack his knee off the linen closet door you’d forgotten to shut. The small bathroom was filled with an echo of cold shower water and giggling and teasing between the two of you. Eventually, he gets the water off, you wrapped in the robe enough to open his eyes. “Damn, I had bet that this thing was neon pink.” He jokes, looking at the light yellow robe on your torso. “I give off hot pink vibes? Gross.” You’d responded as he’d helped you out the shower. One arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand gripping the wall for stability as he’d leant over. When you’re both back on your feet, your eyes meet. You’re dangerously close, both of you somewhat damp. Your hair is still dripping wet. “Ben.” You speak. He says your name in response. You reach up and push back damp strands of his hair that had gotten wet from your leaking shower faucet. “You’re a little wet.” The two of you laugh before he gets you to your room.

When you’re dressed again, you join him in the living room where he’s on the phone with someone. With one hand you’re drying your hair with a towel, the other gripping your crutch as he hangs up. “I hope you like jap-chae.” The blonde offers, your eyebrows furrowing.

“You ordered food? What happened to our date?” You question, tossing your towel to the bedroom and shutting the door as you come into the room further. Meanwhile he’s patting the couch beside him, letting you find a spot next to him, only for him to carefully guide your feet to his lap.

“I figured after all that you might want to stay in.” You smile at him, surprised that he’d been able to get that without you saying a word.

“You’re not entirely wrong.” You hum as he’s messing with the cast on your foot. “What’re you up to down there?”

“Checking for water damage.” When blue eyes glance up at you, you can tell he’s joking. “Here, hand me that jacket?” Turning your head, you see the article in question, on the back of the couch, pulling the denim over to him. He takes it, moving a hand to one pocket. Then to the other when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. Ben then retrieves a blue Sharpie marker from the pocket, taking the cap in his teeth and beginning to write on your cast.

“Hey!” You laugh, watching him as he speaks with the cap in his mouth.

“What? You’ve never seen people do this?” He quips, a pointed expression on his face. “You’re going to have this on for some time dear, it definitely needs a facelift.” Half the words he’s saying are lost in translation due to the plastic between his teeth. Though, eventually, he’s finished his work and is capping the pen again. You’re lifting it in an attempt to read it but eventually he reads it out. “I spent a week in the hospital and all I got was this cast.” He looks at you, clearly seeking approval and you simply laugh.

Around an hour later, the two of you sit with jap-chae in folding take out containers, still in the same position you’d been in earlier. But now, Ben is telling you stories of his residency years - all without disclosing names or anything that could reveal the patient - but certainly some wild ones. When the conversation begins to lull, you watch him for a while before setting down your now empty box on the coffee table. You cross your arms as he fills his mouth with another chopstick full of noodles. “When I asked about Anakin and Padme yesterday, you had a moment where you didn’t look… pleased.” Obi looks at you while sucking noodles through his lips, making you giggle. He shrugs, setting the carton in his lap.

“They.. It is really not fair to speak about it when they’re not here, but - “ he takes a sip from his water glass, setting it down again “they asked me to move out.” Your eyes shoot open wide.

“Wait, seriously?” Wracking your brain, you recall when Ben had told you about Anakin and the apartment. He can’t afford much more than what we currently pay, so I compromised. “I thought he couldn’t pay rent?” You aren’t afraid to ask the question. It was unfair of him to ask Obi-Wan to move out when the doctor was carrying most of the payment on the unit. You can see the way the topic is unsettling to him, but you know that if you don’t ask these types of questions, Ben would let the younger male walk all over him. He already was going out of his way for you, you couldn’t imagine how he treats someone he sees as a brother. Your guest shifts under your legs before he finally responds.

“Padme makes enough to cover the other half of the rent, and she was planning on moving in. They would need my room for the nursery.” The answer is curt, and you can already tell the emotions that have gone through him about the conversation. It was almost cruel.

“I see…” Your eyes start to linger to the door that sits across from your own bedroom door, before looking at him. “So are you going to do it?” Shifting again, he shrugs.

“I want the best for them. Especially if they’re starting a family and a new chapter of their lives.” The gaze you send him is one filled with compassion and amazement. He was truly such a gem to everyone he was around, you’re unsure if anyone had ever told him that. “So, I’m looking for places closer to the hospital, just to make the best out of a not stellar situation.” As he’s picking up his container again, you nudge him with your good foot, causing him to look at you.

“What if you didn’t have to leave the building?” You ask with a tilt to your head. Bushy brows furrow at you before you hum. “I just know someone who has a spare bedroom who could really use the roommate. Rent isn’t cheap and she keeps the place a pigsty half the time because she just had surgery…” You smirk as you hear the chuckle that leaves Ben as chopsticks play with his food some more.

“Oh yeah? She doesn’t happen to know a really handsome doctor I’m friends with, does she?” Blue eyes finally look back at you, only for you to throw your hands up in a shrug.

“No idea. We should get them in contact.” The two of you giggle and sit in the comfortable silence for a while before he gives you a straight answer. “I’ll think about it. Maybe when they’re closer to Padme’s due date and you’re closer to independence.” He mocks before bumping your cast.

“But Obi, I need the live-in nurse now, not later.” The grin on your face shows you’re joking. It was so kriffing easy to joke with him. Just being around him put you in such a great mood - what kind of benefits would it be if he’d moved in?

He tosses his empty carton to the table before looking at it with a sigh. “You know, despite how delicious this was, I do want to take you to an actual dinner at some point.” Smiling, you lean into your hand that’s propped on the back of the couch. “Yeah? I mean, I’m surprised, after basically seeing me naked, I would’ve thought you would’ve been long gone.” He shifts, taking one of your hands and looking up at you after kissing the back of it. “I’m not going anywhere, dear.”

—————————

@itsdameron @gamsbeans @bella-law @grapemartini @lellokitty @mrskenobi19 @princessxkenobi

[sameheart-sameblood]

Live While We’re Alive

(gif by @rex-is-best)

pairing: commander wolffe x f!reader

summary: you thought being a newly recruited civilian doctor to the GAR was hard enough until you developed a hopeless crush on Commander Wolffe

words: 2.8 k

warnings: mature, some suggestive talk, mutual pining, medical exams, co-workers to lovers, a doctor having inappropriate thoughts about their patient 

a/n: I started writing this awhile ago and then lost all creative motivation but I've been in a Wolffe mood the past few days and sad we didn't get to see him in The Bad Batch so here we are. I'd like to apologize to my doctor dad and all medical professionals everywhere lol. Also, I had intended for this to end in smut but then got lost in feelings so there mayyyy be a chapter 2. We'll see ;)

read on ao3!

You want to fuck him. It’s been decided. This realization couldn’t have come at a worse time, though. You’re surrounded by Jedi and Clone Officers in a very important meeting detailing your next mission. But you only have eyes for one of the men and he’s currently standing at the head of the room giving a briefing to the holo of Master Yoda. It’s a testament to Commander Wolffe’s presence that you barely notice the little green Jedi Master he’s conversing with. Well, his presence and his extreme handsomeness.

When you’d first met him, you’d been truly intimidated. The other women you worked with nodded in understanding, whispering they had been thrown off by his cybernetic eye and prominent scar. But that wasn’t it. You’d noticed those things, but that wasn’t what made you uneasy.

It was the fact that he took one look at you and seemed to see right into your soul. You couldn’t explain it but you felt like with just a glance, he could tell your deepest insecurities. And stars, did you have a lot of those.

You had worked your way up through the medical field and had started your residency at the biggest hospital in Coruscant. After your training ended, you had secured a permanent job there. It had been difficult, to say the least. Though you knew you were qualified, even more so than most of your male co-workers, you still doubted yourself often.

Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had come to visit you one nondescript Thursday afternoon, telling you of the need for doctors in the GAR. He said you came most highly recommended when he was searching for recruits but still, you thought a mistake had been made and that someone soon would realize and send you back to your normal life. It was a recurring nightmare you’d developed in the past few weeks that shook you from your sleep.

You had agreed to join the GAR, sympathetic to the cause and wanting to do your part. The next few weeks had consisted of you getting your bearings and meeting the rest of the staff at the base . Kix, the clone medic in charge, had helped you learn the ropes and had introduced you to all his brothers. At first, you had been overwhelmed by the sea of identical faces. As the weeks had gone on, you’d learned everyone’s names and they’d made you feel welcome, like one of their own.

The Commander and you had crossed paths several times. He was polite but distant. Not like you blamed him. He had more important things to do than exchange drawn out pleasantries. With each run-in, though, he seemed to be making more of an effort to be personable. Unfortunately, each conversation left you looking more and more like an idiot. Or a di’kut. The boys had been teaching you some Mando’a.

You were a medical professional, a well-respected doctor and yet Wolffe made you feel unsure of yourself. It had been so long since you’d had a crush that you didn’t realize this was what the beginning of one felt like.

*******

As you sit around the war room table, you feel even more like a school girl. Instead of paying attention to whatever Master Yoda is saying, you’re transfixed by Wolffe’s face. The hazy blue light from the holo reflects off his features, making him look ethereal. His scar looks even more prominent and you blush, remembering how often you’ve wondered what it would feel like to let your fingers trace it.   And his lips. They’re moving, responding to whatever the Jedi has said. They’re mesmerizing and now you’re thinking of what it would be like to kiss him. Or even better yet, to have those lips pressed against the plushier parts of your body.

You continue to stare until you realize his face has turned to you. It probably only takes you a second to come back to reality but it feels like an eternity. Somehow you’re able to respond to the question.

“Yes, Commander. All medical personnel are prepared for an 0800 liftoff. Kix will take his team with the 501st and I’ll have my staff along with the 104th. We’ll reconnoiter once we’ve landed on Hisseen.” The rest of the table nods, moving the conversation along. Wolffe stares at you for a moment, a hint of a smirk on his lips. You avert your gaze, finding the table a much safer object of your attention.

The discussion wraps up and Wolffe stands at attention, puffing his chest out, before Master Yoda disappears. Once again, your eyes are drawn to him. You’re not sure how but he makes something so mundane look indescribably attractive. Wolffe’s head turns in your direction but you’ve already bolted from your seat, hoping to cool down in the hallway.

Kix pushes through the crowd to get to you. “Hey, Doc. How’d the meeting go?” You shrug. “Nothing new to report. Just making sure we’re all set for our campaign.” He’s shifting back and forth, a sort of glazed look in his eyes. You realize he’s not paying particularly close attention. It’s the look of someone asking you something just so they can request a favor in return.

“Hmm oh yeah, that’s nice. Say, Doc, do you think you could cover for me for a few hours? I have some urgent business to attend to.”

“Since when is playing Sabacc with Fives and the boys urgent?”

“Since I remembered how terrible they are at it. I can make a real killing playing against them.”

You laugh. It’s true. You’ve come to love those men but a lot of them are really horrible at the game. You’ll need to give them a remedial course if you have any downtime on Hisseen. “Of course. What do you need me to do?” He rewards you with a huge grin. “Nothing hard! A few higher ups coming in for their physicals. Just the usual. Make sure they’re in tip top shape to get shot at by some tinnies.”

He gives you the list. It’s only a handful of men but the last one on it makes your blood go cold. “Commander Wolffe needs a physical?” Kix is oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Oh yeah, but he knows the drill. Honestly everyone can do it themselves at this point. We’re basically there to oversee it as a formality.”

You swallow down your apprehension and nod. “Sounds easy enough. Go have fun. And take it easy on them, will ya? Let them keep a little of their dignity intact” Kix just grins and shoots you a wave as he runs off.

*******

Your first few appointments go just fine. The officers are professionals and Kix was right, they could do these routine physicals with their eyes closed. You give them all your seal of approval and settle in to do your paperwork before your last, most anticipated patient arrives. The forms in front of you hold no interest and you find yourself checking the chrono every few seconds.

It’s not easy but you manage to finish your work. You set it aside and take steadying breath. Five more minutes and he’ll be here. You scold yourself. The Commander has never been anything but professional. You’re the one thinking these very unprofessional thoughts.

And you’re a doctor, for kriff’s sake. Your patients should be able to come to you without worrying you may be fantasizing about what they look like naked. But these are uncharted waters. It’s your first time having to deal with a patient you’re this attracted to. They really should take your medical license away.

Just as you’re thinking of packing it all up and handing in your resignation to the Jedi Council, a knock at the door snaps you to attention. Well, here goes nothing. You scold yourself once again for checking your reflection in the mirror before answering the door.

You had tried to adopt a passive, professional look to your face before greeting Wolffe but it must not have worked. “Everything alright, Doc? I’m not early, am I?” You shake your head.“Not at all. Punctual as always, Commander.” You beckon for him to come in and take a seat. You close the door, then sit across from him at your desk.

Your datapad hums to life and you busy yourself opening the appropriate forms you need to fill out. The weight of his eyes is heavy on you and your cheeks heat up in spite of yourself. You push on through as best you can.

“Well, Commander, how are you feeling today?” There’s that ghost of a smirk again but it vanishes so quickly you're not sure if you imagined it. “I feel like a million credits.” You giggle despite it not even being that funny. You’ve got it bad. “Glad to hear it. This should be quick then.” You gather your equipment and get to work.

First, you take his weight. Then, you listen to his heart. You press the stethoscope to his sternum, thankful you can do this over his blacks. He observes you the whole time. “And what about you? How are you today, Doc?” You risk a glance and meet his eyes. That was a mistake.

“Me? Oh-um just fine. Maybe not like a million credits but a few hundred at least.” You trail off dumbly but he humors you with a chuckle. You’re not sure you’ve ever heard that sound from him before. It’s like music to your ears. “Anything I can do to help? You do look a little flushed. Are you sure you don’t have a fever?” You avert your eyes again.

“No. I’m alright. It’s just, uh, hot in these uniforms. The coarseweave doesn’t breathe.”

“You sure? Maybe I should be the one giving you a check-up.”

You realize he’s toying with you now.

“That won’t be necessary, Commander.”

You move on to check his lungs. “Breathe in for me.” You move the stethoscope to his chest, then move it around a few different spots on his back. “You can call me, Wolffe. If you’d like.” He breathes in every time, not even needing prompting, ever the dutiful soldier, even when he’s teasing you.

“I would like that. Thank you, Wolffe.”

Next, you measure his blood pressure. You’re shocked that it’s so low. He sees the look of surprise on your face. “Something wrong?”

“Not at all. The opposite, in fact. Your pressures are great. I just thought with your lifestyle they might, understandably, be a bit higher.”

“What kind of lifestyle do you think I have?”

You’re backtracking as quickly as you can. “I just meant, your life as a soldier, it must be extremely stressful.”

There’s that smirk again. “It is. But you don’t get to be a Commander by not being able to handle the pressure.”

“Of course. But even so, if you’d like some stress relief techniques I can suggest some.” He hums as if really thinking it over. Thankfully there’s only one part of your exam left. Which is good because you’re not sure how much resolve you have remaining.

“Everything looks great. I’ll just do a head and neck exam and then I can send you on your way.”

You need to touch him for this part but you stop yourself, hands hovering but not quite meeting their destination. You feel like once you touch him, really feel his skin under your fingers, there may be no going back.

Wolffe sees your hesitation, then slowly reaches out to take your hands. You watch with wide eyes as he guides them to his neck. He looks up at you innocently enough but you can tell he’s laughing internally. You try to reign in control of the situation.

“Sorry, I just got distracted.” The Commander studies you but this time it’s in earnest. “Are you nervous? This’ll be your first time in an active war zone, right?” You had been anxious but not about that. But now that he mentions it, yeah, you honestly don’t know what you’ve gotten yourself into.

“Yes, I’m not sure what to expect. I guess you could say I’m a little scared.” Wolffe gently holds your chin, directing you to look back at him. “I won’t lie. It’ll be overwhelming and frightening. Battles can seem never-ending. But I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You’re staring into each other’s eyes and you don’t want to stop. But then he’s clearing his throat and gently removing his hand from your skin. You realize you’ve been resting your own hands on his shoulders this whole time. “Thank you, Wolffe. I do feel much better knowing you’ll be there.” You offer him a smile, hoping it conveys just how much you appreciate him looking out for you.

You begin your exam, gently kneading where his neck meets his shoulders, checking for any anomalies. Then you move to his throat. The throat you’ve so often been distracted by. It’s featured prominently in your daydreams. You move your hands along it, under his jawline. Having a man this powerful baring one of the most vulnerable parts of his body to you is intoxicating. Focus, di’kut.

Everything feels normal except for some knots you find resting right below the surface of his smooth skin. “Lymph nodes feel good. You’re a little tense, though. But I bet it’s from that bucket you have to wear most of the day.” He hums in thought. “True. But even so. Maybe you could give me some of those ideas for stress management?” He looks up at you with big eyes. There’s mischief in them but something else. Vulnerability?

You gulp audibly. “Of course. There are a few that work particularly well, um, like deep breathing techniques, going on walks, talking with friends, meditation, journaling, physical activity…” You’re rambling, fighting a losing game against your resolve. Wolffe thinks on it. “Physical activity seems like a good place to start.” His hands come up to gently cover yours that are still resting on his neck.

The sensation of his calloused fingers on your skin sends shivers down your body. You close your eyes, feeling the last of your self-control topple over. “Wolffe,” you whine “We shouldn’t…” He immediately drops his hands, worry etched on his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s just- I thought you wanted-.” He cuts himself off, snapping up to his feet and to attention. “Doctor, you should report me to General Plo Koon for immediate disciplinary action.”

Dank Farrik, you’ve just ruined everything.“Wolffe! No, I’m not reporting you to anyone. If anything you should report me for being so unprofessional.” His shoulders relax a bit but he still eyes you as if you’re a live grenade that might explode at any second. “What do you mean?” You sigh in frustration. This isn’t how you wanted to confess your feelings to him.

“I…want you, Wolffe. The second I realized that I should have asked to be re-assigned to a different battalion. Instead I thought I could push those feelings down and continue to do my job. Looks like that was a mistake.” You hang your head, avoiding his piercing gaze. He’s silent for just a moment but it feels like an eternity.

“So, you want me and I want you?” You nod your head, ashamed, as he continues. “Then what’s the problem, Doc?” Your eyes snap to his, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Isn’t it wrong of us?”

Wolffe sits down on the exam table again, genuinely thinking on it. “I don’t see why. We’re both consenting adults. We don’t work directly with each other- I report to General Koon, you report to General Kenobi- so there’s no real conflict of interest. The worst we’ll face is a little ribbing from the boys if they find out.”

You raise your head to look him in the eyes, needing to make sure he’s serious and that this isn’t some twisted joke. What you find staring back at you is hope and promise. He senses your trepidation and gently takes your hands in his. “I’m sorry if I came on strong. But the thing about this life is that there are no guarantees. Tomorrow isn’t promised and so I figured I’d rather go for something, someone, that I want and have my heart broken rather than regretting my inaction.”

Your eyes roam the scars on his face, evidence of just how true his words are. You’re heading into active battle tomorrow. One or both of you could be injured, or worse. You step towards him. He spreads his legs so you have room to get closer. You rest your forehead on his, breathing him in.

His hands come up to caress your sides. You take a shaky breath. He questions you softly. “Cyar’ika?” Ah, now that’s one of the new words you definitely remember. His vulnerability makes you ache and the decision to hand your heart over is an easy one. “You’re right, Wolffe. Might as well do some living while we can.”

*******

[the-last-kenobi]

Hurt Obi-Wan and this prompt, if possible!! Still new to requests haha. 10. “Don’t worry about that right now, just hold on.”

Ahh, one Obi-whump fic coming right up. Had to beat up the whole Team this time though, you can’t have one without the other!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

Anakin saw the flash of an explosion in the corner of his eye.

His head snapped around to look through the side window of his fighter as he felt a horrible shock of no, it couldn’t be —

— but it was, and he felt all the air leave his lungs as if sucked into the vacuum of space.

“No!” Anakin screamed.

He could hear voices clamoring over the comm lines, but although he could pick out Rex’s sharp tenor and Ahsoka’s higher, frightened tones, he couldn’t pick out any individual words.

The only thing in the universe that his mind cared about was the burning, smoking wreck that was plummeting to the planet below. The wreck that had, a moment before, been Obi-Wan’s starfighter.

“No!” Anakin screamed again, tilting full forward on the controls, and his own ship tilted into a dive so sharp it was almost a fall. The flaps rattled and the transperisteel vibrated in its lining as he pushed his fighter to its limits and then a little further, following the sparks and debris trailing in the wake of his Master’s ship.

“Obi-Wan! Obi-Wan, answer me!” Anakin demanded, his voice aggressive with terror.

There was no reply.

The damaged fighter began to tumble and spiral as it fell, pieces snapping off and flying all around Anakin’s own. Flames licked along the familiar red paint, consuming the alloy that had survived a hundred battles, eating away at the symbol of the Open Circle Fleet, their fleet. Obi-Wan’s command.

In his mind’s eye Anakin could see a nauseating image of his friend already consumed just like his fighter, already ablaze inside his cockpit, swallowed by the inferno.

He shoved the nightmare aside and kept going.

Rex, Ahsoka, and others were still online, screaming at him to stop, but Anakin tuned them out.

He had to reach that fighter.

Obi-Wan was alive, he knew it. But he couldn’t survive the inevitable crash, no one could, Anakin had to pull him out of there, he must succeed.

Anakin yelled as he ripped off his comm and then reached down and tore at part of the console with his mechanized hand, ripping open a panel. Blindly, still focused on the burning ship and on steering with his free hand, Anakin reached inside, brushing past wires and sensors, and found what he was looking for.

The regulator.

He ripped it out.

The ship screamed with alarms and shook violently as the safety features disengaged. The flaps were destroyed as the ship accelerated into an engine-fueled straight dive, a free fall but with acceleration behind it.

The burning ship began to fall apart in earnest.

Anakin held tight to his controls and gave it all that he had, barreling downwards, the air screaming around his ship, getting closer and closer.

He kept one hand on the controls, both eyes on Obi-Wan’s ship, and with his other hand he reached downwards and detached his seat straps. Then he reached up and disengaged the hood safety.

Three…

His ship rattled and bounced; smoke began to plume from the engine as he hurtled towards impact.

Two…

He was so close. His timing had to be good, so good, perfect. Flames were eating the crimson starfighter. He was almost on a level with it.

One.

Anakin engaged the autopilot, flung open the hood with the Force, and launched himself upwards and out with all his strength, using the Force to augment his leap.

His palms slammed against burning metal and his boots thudded against the flaming wing of Obi-Wan’s starfighter. Below him, his own ship was slowing down, pulling off in a wide arc, the autopilot saving itself.

But Anakin honestly was not paying attention to anything other than the burning starfighter that he was balanced on, clinging to its side like a fly as it plummeted to its death.

To Obi-Wan’s death.

Not on his watch.

Anakin hugged the side of the ship and closed his eyes, feeling metal rattling and groaning beneath his skin, and concentrated, searching for an opening, for something.

He found it. With a flick of his hand the hood of Obi-Wan’s ship blew off, breaking into pieces as it fell, and between the smoke and the shaking and the screaming alarms, Anakin caught a glimpse of a pale figure slumped in the pilot’s seat, the straps the only thing keeping him from being yanked out into the open.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin screamed. Obi-Wan did not wake even as the ship gave a violent shudder and his Master’s head whipped sideways and struck a loose panel. Anakin cursed and glanced down past the wing to see the ground growing closer and closer, and grit his teeth.

There was so little time.

Anakin took a deep breath, tasting smoke and fuel and thin air.

Three.

He lunged forwards and grabbed onto the pilot’s seat, locking one leg around it and reaching out with his body to take hold of Obi-Wan, forcing the man back into his seat as securely as possible. Obi-Wan’s head lolled against his shoulder, and there was blood seeping from below the reddish-blonde hair.

Two.

Anakin covered his Master with his body, reaching down behind the chair for a control switch that he knew was there, painted bright red. He murmured a swift plea to the Force, almost a prayer, and held onto the chair and to Obi-Wan as tightly as he could. The ship tumbled slowly, first one way up and then the other.

One.

Anakin flipped the switch as the ship turned upright again, and there was a loud snapping noise as the entire pilot’s seat was ejected straight upwards through the open roof and into space. Debris smacked into them and Anakin knew they were in danger of being cut to pieces long before they would land, and so he buried his head next to Obi-Wan’s and concentrated, deflecting the debris with the Force. Not quite all of it. Something grazed his leg and he felt hot blood immediately soaking his clothes, but Anakin did not dare raise his head to look.

Obi-Wan’s head shifted next to his.

The air around them roared in their ears, but he could still hear the faint sound of Obi-Wan saying, “An…‘nakin?”

“Hold on!” Anakin yelled back.

Obi-Wan’s voice was confused. “We’re… falling. It… Anakin.”

“Just hold on! I’ve got you!”

“‘nakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled, and he struggled in the straps, fighting them.

“No! Stay still!” Anakin barked. “Stay still, Master!”

“You’re hurt,” Obi-Wan said clearly. “Stay still Anakin.”

Anakin could have laughed if he weren’t so terrified. He couldn’t tell which way was up and couldn’t concentrate on the fall with his attention on the debris and on his injured friend. The air wailed around them, and still they were falling, even as not so far below them there was the sound of the ship impacting with a thunderous boom.

“I’ve got you,” Obi-Wan said. “Hold on, Padawan.”

And then they were slowing.

Anakin felt it, like a miracle, the ejected chair slowing from a free fall to a long glide to a gentle, oh so gentle landing, settling on the earth like a feather.

He opened his eyes.

Obi-Wan was awake beside him, blood streaming down his forehead and into his eyes, but he had one hand outstretched, his face peaceful as he brought them to a safe stop.

Anakin sat up at once and began working on the straps, his breathing speeding up as he took in the blood seeping between the pale tunics, the damage he could feel beneath Obi-Wan’s skin. Obi-Wan on the other hand seemed unconcerned, his attention settling on Anakin’s leg.

“You’re…hurt,” he said again. “‘nakin, what did you do?”

Anakin did laugh, now.

“Always so disapproving,” he said, chuckling, still yanking on the straps. “I saved your life, that’s what I did. You totally owe me, old man.”

“Your leg…is b-bleeding,” Obi-Wan said, ignoring him, trying to get a look at the wound over Anakin’s shoulder. “It needs a… a medic.”

“You need a medic!” Anakin shouted, still half-laughing. His hands shook, and he gave up trying to undo the straps and instead clung to them, his shoulders beginning to shake as well, and still he was half-laughing.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan mumbled. His voice was growing weaker by the moment, and Anakin could feel the broken ribs, sense the pain that was starting to attack his Master’s system as reality caught up with him. “Hey… Anakin… shhhh. Look at me. What’s wrong? Where does it hurt?”

Anakin felt hot tears building in his eyes but didn’t have the strength to brush them away. He looked at his friend’s worried blue eyes and laughed again through his tears, shaking his head.

“I thought you were dead!” Anakin burst out. “Your ship was hit and I thought you were dead! I almost didn’t get you out in time!”

“But you did,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “You did.”

“But I wasn’t able to slow us down!” Anakin said angrily, still clinging to Obi-Wan, as if he might fall again, as if he’d turn to smoke and ash, burned away by the flames. “What if I don’t make it next time?”

Obi-Wan shook his head, and he reached up clumsily and pulled Anakin a little closer, heedless of the burning pain it caused his injuries. “Don’t worry about that right now,” he murmured. “Just hold on, Padawan. The medics are coming for both of us.”

Anakin nodded, and let his forehead drop to Obi-Wan’s shoulder, slumped against the chair. Tears still slipped from beneath his eyelids and began to dampen his friend’s tunics, but Obi-Wan said nothing, just holding onto him, so tightly one might have thought it was Anakin that had just nearly been shot out of the sky.

Minutes passed in silence.

“If you tell anyone I cried I’ll tell them what happened on Cato Neimoidia,” Anakin mumbled.

Obi-Wan laughed.