#obitine fanfic

[mercysong-tardis]

Just a lil meme for @impossibleprincess35 Obitine Fic “Asphodel”

[cinciri]

SATINE KRYZE WEEK: DAY 2

Tagging: @satinekryzeweek

As the three of them approach, the guardsmen disperse, forming a protective circle, and although Korkie is clearly not happy about their separation and makes no attempt to hide his displeasure, he doesn't resist when she hugs him.

“You don't have to send me away for so long,” he mutters when they break apart their hug. “If you'd told me straight out to don't interfere, I'd just do it.”

“I know, darling, I know,” Satine smiles, squeezing his shoulder gently, resisting the urge to stroke his cheek, but he's old enough to find this gesture too saccharine. “But if you're go away, I'll be able to worry a little less about how my actions might affect you.”

“And whether I'm being used against you."

“Yes,” she nods, unsurprised by his intelligence. “And whether you're being used against me.”

Korkie purses his lips, frowning as he glances at the guardsmen surrounding them.

“Captain,” he says to Kiar’s back, and he turns around, Mari, Klay and Rayton looking into the circle with him now, while Simon and Henk, and Matis twins, standing between them, looking out the circle, taking control of the perimeter. “If anything happens to my aunt, you will answer to me personally.”

“The order is clear,” there is no mockery in the way Kiar bows his head, only respect.

Korkie nods quickly in response, looking back at her.

“Please be careful.”

“You too.”

<... >

She takes a small sip, sitting into the sofa, then sets her cup down on the coffee table, elegantly bringing her legs together, knees slightly tilted to the side, and looks at Bo-Katan, still standing in the middle of the room.

“My hospitality is clearly not what you came for. Then why?”

Bo-Katan stay silent, and Satine, taking advantage of the moment of silence, looks at her in response.

In their youth, her sister seemed to always be held in much higher esteem by the clan elders: not only a steadfast and a physically strong, but also a straightforward, preferring to move only forward instead of, like Satine, stopping for a moment and looking around in search of a secret loophole. Satine don't envy this favor, on the contrary, she was happy for her older sister and, although over the years their worldviews and ideas about the future of Madalore increasingly distanced themselves from each other, she continued to look up to her, involuntarily trying to change herself in her sister's manner. It took a years to understand that her hesitation, which was so much talked about in the clan, in fact was more of a thoughtful caution, a foresight, a florid, dodgy cunning, originating from a feigned weakness that was so obvious to those who considered the first glance and the conclusions drawn from it to be the only correct ones. And the gap between them, which previously felt like a blunder, with this new, experienced look changes the difference in their heights.

They are no longer the formidable favorite of the clan and its quiet, frail shadow. Now they are not just the older and younger sisters, not just the one who is praised and the one who must follow in the footsteps of the other. They are equal now. Moreover, now they are on a different territory, such distinguished from their usual youthful clashes in which one of them was always the obvious winner, and the other - the loser. And this knowledge gives Satine a strength.

Continue read on ao3

[impossibleprincess35]

Much Ado About Christmas | on Ao3

Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, and Korkie Kenobi engage in making a Christmas miracle happen: Creating 3 weeks worth of "meet cutes" for the overworked Obi-Wan Kenobi and stressed out Satine Kryze to spend time together before her annual Christmas party, in the hopes that the stubborn couple will crave some time away together and disappear to Plo Koon's vacation cabin in the mountains for a couple days.

Will they get their Christmas wish? Will Satine and Obi-Wan get theirs?

--

Read this pure, unadulterated holiday fluff on Ao3 here, and submit your dental bills for reimbursement here. <3

[bunysliper]

This Is Where We Start Again Chapter 2/3

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Leia Organa Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

Obi-Wan and Leia are rescued on Mapuzo by a - miraculously - familiar face, upending Obi-Wan's carefully cloistered existence for the third time in a short period.

[kryzobi-wan]

The Sound of Mandalore

Chapter 1/20: "How do you solve a problem like Kenobi?"

Summary: Uncertain what to do with a Jedi Master who is overly attached to his former Padawan, the Jedi Council decides to send Obi-Wan Kenobi to tutor Force-sensitive Mandalorian foundlings on Mandalore in the early days of the Clone Wars.

(Essentially, I threw Obi-Wan Kenobi and friends into a blender with the entire plot of The Sound of Music, and this was the result. Quite possibly my magnum opus.)

This has been a long time coming. It has been ages since I started working on it, but I'm close to being done and ready to start posting, with Obitine Week coming up next month. To everyone who sent me a "Where's the fic, OP?" This one's for you.

Read on AO3

Behind closed eyes, he saw it. A rolling hillside. Soft green blades of grass bowing to the wind. Wildflowers and lilies dotting the landscape, and there on the horizon, a distant storm cloud he knew would soon bring rain to feed the life here in this paradise. For thousands and thousands of generations, from the blue sky to the babbling brook, within every rock and leaf and drop of water, it was there. The Force.

It sang a song as ancient as life itself. And inside Obi-Wan Kenobi, that same song.

Sitting inside the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, a planet whose surface was one large cityscape, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could not be further from the verdant grasslands that he envisioned in meditation. Inside the Room of a Thousand Fountains, however, waterfalls and various imported flora recreated the majesty of nature as well as could be expected, creating a sort of greenhouse retreat for the meditative benefit of Jedi Masters and Padawans alike. Certainly, it was a large room, and no expense had been spared in its creation. It had been tended carefully for a thousand generations, allowed to grow and flourish until it was hardly distinguishable from the outdoors, serving the temple’s inhabitants well.

Here, Obi-Wan found solace, if only for a moment. With the onset of a massive galactic war several months ago, nothing had been as peaceful as it should have been. He was finding it harder and harder to meditate within his own chambers, even though he no longer had to worry about his Padawan barging in with some ridiculous request at any given moment. Anakin had grown beyond the need for a Master. With the sudden demand for more Jedi Knights out on the battlefront, he had been knighted just a few months back, to Obi-Wan’s great pride (and anxiety). He had done it, had fulfilled Qui-Gon Jinn’s dying request and trained the boy he had believed in so wholeheartedly. Along the way, he had gained a brother, filling a gap in his life he hadn’t realized was there.

The life of a Jedi could be a very lonely one. It often still was, even surrounded by hundreds of Jedi in the temple on a daily basis. Anakin frequently disappeared off to who-knows-where in the rare moments when they were planetside, leaving his old Master to his business with the Council. When that loneliness began to seep into his heart once again, when he struggled to keep it at bay, Obi-Wan came here, to this serene mindscape of his own imagination, and allowed the twittering birds and rustling bushes to keep him company.

Breathing in one last deep breath, Obi-Wan pulled himself out of meditation, floating back up to the surface level of the Force where the Jedi spent most of their time. As he brought himself to his feet, he realized he didn’t know just how long he had been sitting there, on this rock beside a small waterfall. His joints protested only for a moment before loosening up. Obi-Wan was certainly older than he had been, but the war kept him active and fit, and he was as capable as ever in battle. The Jedi Master unclipped his lightsaber from his belt and thumbed the switch, twirling the bright blue blade a couple times before settling into a training stance.

With the peace brought by the muted sound of thousands of rushing waterfalls, Obi-Wan practiced his katas, moving from one form to the next with ease. With the Force, it was as easy as breathing, his movements coordinated to perfection so that his senses could be in tune with everything around him even as his focus was on the blade in his hands. As he often did, he imagined Anakin there with him, his forms representing the opposite, the counter to those that Obi-Wan displayed. So many hours had been spent training the boy in lightsaber combat, instilling the defensive movements in his very bones, that his Padawan often knew his next move before he did. And on the battlefield? It was as if they were two parts to the same soldier, a lethal force against any enemy that dared to cross the path of Skywalker and Kenobi.

Like all Masters and Padawans, they had a training bond, a connection between their minds that helped them communicate and sense the other’s thoughts. Such a bond was immensely helpful in battle, and it had saved one or both of their necks more than once.

And that bond persisted.

No longer was Anakin Skywalker Obi-Wan’s Padawan, but a bond as deep as theirs was hard to let go of. Even now, when Obi-Wan’s mind should have been empty, enveloped by the Force, his thoughts drifted to his old Padawan and the brotherhood they shared.

The Force hummed with the rightness of it all. Though the Jedi Council warned of such persistent attachments as theirs, the Force seemed to relish in it, and it puzzled Obi-Wan endlessly. So, he shook his head and—like always—elected to ignore this strand of thoughts and refocus himself on the task at hand.

That was, until said Padawan came rushing in, always a great big ball of energy that seemed intent on shattering whatever semblance of peace Obi-Wan was able to construct.

Obi-Wan sighed and clipped his saber back onto his belt, turning to look at his friend (now his equal). “What is it, Anakin?” he spoke in the usual tired monotone he adopted whenever Anakin was up to something. He may try to hide it, but the young man greatly amused him. Even when he drove him crazy, Obi-Wan had to fight to restrain the smirk that constantly pulled at his cheeks.

Leaning against his knees to catch his breath, Anakin huffed out, “I need—your help.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow.

“My lightsaber—in the archives—restricted section—forgot it.”

Now the Master Jedi rolled his eyes. Such eloquent language from the boy he raised. Good to see that his careful training in the art of diplomacy and negotiation hadn’t gone to waste.

“You were in the restricted section of the archives and left your lightsaber, is that it?” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head at Anakin’s constant proclivity for trouble unlike anything he had ever seen. His old Padawan nodded. “And what would you like me to do about it?”

“Help me get it back?” Anakin said hopefully.

Obi-Wan sighed. “You know perfectly well that I have been temporarily banned from the restricted section because of the last time I let you in there, Anakin.”

The younger Jedi had the presence of mind to look sheepish. “Could we find another way in?”

“Oh, Anakin…” Obi-Wan considered the boy—the man—some more. “Fine, but we’d better make it quick. I’m supposed to be at the Council meeting in 15 minutes. How did you get in in the first place?”

With that, the two set off, leaving the serenity of the Room of a Thousand Fountains for the hustle and bustle of the largest Jedi temple in the galaxy.

-.-.-

“Master Yoda, I simply cannot find him!” Shaak Ti called as she ran inside the Jedi Council chamber. The red Togruta Master looked distinctly put out, looking to Yoda for guidance.

“Obi-Wan?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Off with young Skywalker, he probably is.”

Mace Windu scoffed. “That’s a safe bet.”

“Have you tried the Room of a Thousand Fountains?” Master Plo Koon suggested, “You know how he loves to meditate there.”

“He was seen there earlier, Master Koon, but left with Skywalker about 30 minutes ago.”

Mace Windu and the Grand Master shared a knowing look.

Shaak Ti spoke up again. “We’ve checked all the usual places, even Skywalker’s quarters, but he’s simply not there.”

“Considering that Skywalker and Kenobi it is, suggest you look in the unusual places I do,” the small green Jedi said with a level of amusement that irked some of the other Masters.

Mace Windu was one of those Masters. “I hate to say it, Master Yoda, but I’m just not sure that Obi-Wan is suited for a seat on this Council.” His statement was met with stares of varied intensity.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had been temporarily placed on the Jedi High Council as part of a trial period, a rotation of potential candidates to fill a vacant seat until the Force indicated who it should be. Although he had plenty of valuable insight to offer, too often there were moments like this where they had to be painfully reminded of just how young Obi-Wan still was.

And how attached he remained to his old Padawan, despite the boy’s elevation to the rank of Jedi Knight.

Yoda’s wise voice answered once more. “Qui-Gon’s padawan, he was. Surprised by his antics, we should not be.” A few other Masters nodded.

Adi Gallia also chimed in. “Besides, Kenobi is one of the greatest assets to the Order, even if he is easily distracted by Skywalker.”

“Those distractions could very well be a liability,” the Cerean Master Ki-Adi-Mundi spoke firmly. “You said it yourself, Master Yoda, he was trained by Qui-Gon Jinn, who’s thoughts many of you will remember did not exactly align with our ranks. And now Skywalker? It seems with each generation of learners they are straying further from the Code.”

“I find their hijinks quite amusing,” Master Luminara Unduli said. In Obi-Wan’s defense, it was very easy to get caught up in the charismatic force of nature that was Anakin Skywalker. Just being near him in the heat of battle left one out of focus and questioning every planned battle strategy that had ever been contrived, so easy it seemed for Skywalker to improvise his actions.

Master Yoda tapped his gimer stick on the ground. “Enough. What to do about Obi-Wan, we must decide. Too attached, he is, to his former Padawan. Perhaps split up, they should be.”

At that, a chorus of murmurs echoed through the chamber.

“With all due respect, Master, keeping Skywalker away from Kenobi and vice versa is like trying to keep a wave on the sand,” Master Windu said wearily.

“Like trying to grasp onto a moonbeam!” Depa Billaba analogized.

Master Oppo Rancicis called out above the clamor, “How do you propose we go about this?”

Just then, with only a creak and a thump as warning, two figures came crashing through the ceiling from the vent overhead, landing with a thud in the center of the Council chamber. The eyes of every Jedi Master on the Council blinked down at the two on the floor, Skywalker and Kenobi.

Laughing nervously and shaking the dust from the ceiling from his shaggy hair, Anakin broke the awkward silence. “Oops. This isn’t the archives…”

As if he hadn’t just come tumbling into one of the most high-security rooms in the Temple, Anakin stood and waltzed out of the chamber, not even bothering to acknowledge the Masters who regarded him with a range of reactions.

Obi-Wan, for his part, stood and looked around at his fellow Masters, cringing with embarrassment that painted his cheeks pink. With an apologetic bow, he followed Anakin quickly from the chamber, knowing nothing could be done to save face at the moment. His best hope was to distance himself until the incident could be forgotten. Or at least, he hoped it would be forgotten.

While still within earshot of the Council, Obi-Wan smacked Anakin in the upper arm, saying, “How did you get us that turned around up there?”

“I thought you knew where you were going,” Anakin responded accusingly.

In the uncomfortable silence left behind by the dynamic Skywalker and Kenobi duo, the Masters all shared a look, then sat down to discuss the issue further.

-.-.-

The door to the Jedi Council chamber opened abruptly, halting Obi-Wan’s pacing back and forth in the hallway. “You may go in now, Obi-Wan,” Master Billaba spoke gently, standing aside to allow the younger Jedi entrance. Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped nervously, and suddenly it seemed very difficult to swallow with how dry his mouth had become. Taking a shaky breath, Obi-Wan steadied himself in the Force and stepped inside, as ready as he ever would be to face whatever punishment Yoda saw fit for his stupid mistakes earlier that day.

He stood awkwardly in the center of the chamber for what felt like hours. Yoda simply looked at him with an unreadable expression and said nothing. Unable to stand the silence any longer, Obi-Wan decided a formal apology might be what the small green Grand Master was waiting for. “I’m terribly sorry I missed the meeting, Master, it won’t happen again.”

Yoda’s eyebrows—if he had them—raised, but otherwise no indication was given that he had heard him.

“And about the—the vents… Anakin—he said he needed… well, and since I couldn’t get access to the… uh… It was a stupid idea in the first place, and I shouldn’t have gone along with it…”

Yoda chuckled softly at Obi-Wan’s stammering. For a man known across the galaxy for his silver tongue, he sure did fall apart under any scrutiny from the Jedi Council. At least, when he knew he was in the wrong.

Obi-Wan’s heart was pounding, and he couldn’t believe Yoda was just laughing at him. For all he knew, he was about to be thrown out of the Jedi Order. Surely they wouldn’t do that. But he certainly wasn’t laughing.

“Attached you are to your former Padawan,” Master Yoda stated, staring intently at Obi-Wan, the ghost of a smile still on his face.

A heavy feeling sunk to the pit of Obi-Wan’s stomach. “I—no, Master. I just—”

Yoda stopped him by holding up his three-fingered hand.

“A question, it was not.”

Obi-Wan’s mouth closed tight and he bowed his head. He had to have known that this was coming sooner or later. If he had to guess, a similar scolding was in store for Anakin in the not-too-distant future.

“Difficult it is for some to transition from Master and Padawan to equals,” Yoda spoke.

Obi-Wan jumped in to explain himself, hoping Yoda’s faith in him was not lost. “His knighthood was just so sudden, Master, I am trying—”

“I know, young Kenobi.”

“I meditate daily, I focus on letting go of emotion, just as you and Master Qui-Gon taught me. I—I have nothing but respect for the Code, I do my best to remain steadfast in it…”

Even so, Yoda seemed to see beyond Obi-Wan’s explanations, to see something else entirely. Attachment had long been a struggle of Obi-Wan’s. It left him unbalanced in the Force, and Yoda—as one of the most powerful Force-users in the galaxy—could easily sense it.

But something was different about Obi-Wan’s unbalance. For most who struggled with attachment, the simple release of such connections into the Force would solve the issue, centering the Jedi as they should be to properly serve the Order. When exploring that potential solution through Kenobi’s Force signature, however, the air around him seemed to vibrate uneasily, as if there were something else he was supposed to do. Yoda couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he knew enough about the Force to know to listen when it tried to tell him something.

“Tell me, what lesson have you learned here, Obi-Wan, that most important you consider?”

The question caused the young Master to pause. What did Master Yoda want him to say? Was this some sort of test? If he answered wrong, would he be in more trouble than he already was? Fumbling for a response, he answered, “To find out what is the will of the Force and to do it steadfastly.” This, he knew, was the base teaching of the Jedi, one that was supposed to guide every part of their lives and help them to use their gifts for good.

Yoda seemed pleased, and Kenobi allowed himself to breathe for a moment.

“Obi-Wan,” the Grand Master said carefully, “The will of the Force, it seems to be, that you leave us.”

And now Obi-Wan’s breath left him once again. “What?” It felt like his whole world was crashing down around him. “Leave?! I—I know I missed the meeting today, but I didn’t think I would be expelled from the Order entirely for it!”

Yoda closed his eyes against the onslaught of Obi-Wan’s distress in the Force. “Leave us only for a little while you will, Obi-Wan,” he assured, reaching out to quiet the young Jedi’s concern.

“But—but, what about Anakin? I am needed here! Or in the war? I can’t leave! Where would I go?”

“Your Padawan, Skywalker is no more,” Yoda reminded. “Perhaps a special assignment you need, Master Kenobi, to discover whether your attachments you can overcome.”

A special assignment? Obi-Wan looked like he would try to protest some more, but before he could, Yoda tapped his stick on the ground and held up a hand to stop him once again.

Resigned to his fate, Obi-Wan instead bowed his head and replied, his voice quiet, “Yes, Master. It is the will of the Force.”

As Yoda silently considered him, Obi-Wan’s mind ran wild with questions. Where would he be sent? What would he be doing? Would he be sent to the AgriCorps again? What would happen to his Clone Troopers?

When could he come back?

At last, Yoda spoke again, halting his runaway train of thought. “A class of seven children on Mandalore there is. Need a tutor they do.”

Well, that sentence did nothing to stop the headache that was rapidly approaching.

“On Mandalore?!” Obi-Wan squeaked. “I don’t understand, Mandalore has an excellent school system, why do they require a tutor?” He and Mandalore had a history, one he tried not to think about if at all possible.

“Force sensitives from Mandalore and other neutral worlds, they are,” Yoda explained, “Too old they were to come to the Temple, and gracious Mandalore was to accept them. Allow them to fall into the hands of the Sith, we must not.”

Obi-Wan was at a loss for words. This day had started off perfectly normal, and now he had been thrown for a loop in the worst way possible. “I am not a teacher, Master, I am needed in the fight against the Separatists, alongside Anakin and the others!”

“Done well you have with young Skywalker. A great help you will be to the Mandalorian foundlings.” This praise was high coming from Master Yoda, but it did nothing to calm the disquiet in his heart. “Only rudimentary training will they need. Warrior Jedi, their world does not desire. Only to control their powers, you will teach them. And perhaps the ways of diplomacy,” Yoda finished with a smirk.

Obi-Wan was left well and truly speechless.

“Tell Duchess Satine Kryze to expect you tomorrow, I will,” Yoda resolved, standing from his chair and beginning to hobble to the chamber’s exit.

“The Duchess???” Obi-Wan shrieked, stopping Yoda in his tracks. The little green Jedi hummed in the affirmative.

“Familiar, I believe you are. In her care the foundlings are during their break from the Academy. Struggled, other tutors have, without knowledge of the living Force.”

Yoda again resumed his walk out the door, nodding to Master Billaba who was standing on the other side as went.

Obi-Wan sank into his seat—or the seat that he’d been temporarily given in the chamber—and fiddled with his beard as he often did when his thoughts were too much to bear inside his own head. This was all so sudden, and part of him wondered if this hadn’t been on the Council’s mind before the incident today had even happened. Emotion after emotion passed over him, despair, fear, resolve, confusion, hope, certainty, and resentment, all of which Obi-Wan allowed to pass into the Force.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

Whatever happened, it was the will of the Force, and Obi-Wan would follow it until he found where he was supposed to be.

-.-.-

Chapter 2 >>

-.-.-

This is gonna be a longer note because it's the first chapter and I want to make sure I cover everything!

I hope you enjoyed! I do have this mostly written out, so you can rest assured that the story will not be abandoned! It has, however, sat on my computer for over a year in a less-than-finished form, so if you’re reading this now, congrats! It has made it to the interwebs! I plan to release new chapters once or twice a week. I'm at about 14 chapters currently, and am in the final act of the story, so I feel pretty confident that by the time we get to posting those chapters, I'll have it completely (finally) finished.

And now I invite you all to imagine Yoda and the Council standing around singing “How Do You Solve a Problem Like Kenobi,” because I find it highly amusing. Tumblr user @mandojediblogger actually wrote out parody lyrics a while back to some Sound of Music songs including this one in the thread where this entire idea was born. They also posted it on Ao3 under the name Quinn73. Idk why, but the image of Yoda as the Reverend Mother absolutely cracks me up.

Also I’ve gotta shout out some folks who engaged with my thread of absolute madness and contributed ideas for how to develop this fic: @seleneisrising and @ask-the-almighty-google, you the real ones. They helped along the way when I hit a block or just needed to ramble about Obitine/Sound of Music parallels and totally kept me going. And to everyone that showed enthusiasm in the notes and tags on my post, just know I never would have written this without your interest in the idea, so I hope you have fun with this and come along for the ride! And I'm sorry this took so long to finally get off the ground!

I've been deep in the X-Files fic sauce for the last couple months, but with Obitine Week 2023 coming up in September I figured I needed to shift gears back into Obitine brainrot, so this is my attempt at doing so.

Tagging some folks who expressed interest in this concept wayyyy over a year ago and have probably forgotten about it: @sootspritesprinkles @itscaptainsir @called-kept @kraytwriter @mathmusic8 @penguinelf @dracaspina @thirteenmyspacegirl @accidental-spice @kanerallels @hellostarlight20

[notaghost3]

While on Coruscant, Satine makes some unexpected plans....

Yay! Got around to updating this one! Not as much Obitine action in this one, but more Satine centric! 

Also can we talk about getting to see Coruscant in Mando these past two weeks? LOVE 

[cloudydoesstuff]

I need codywan where there is one sided obitine (Satine not being over Obi), and Cody is jealous of Satine because Satine and Obi-Wan are being their very flirty selves, and then Satine sees two pining idiots and realizes that Obi-Wan has moved on and that Cody needs a push towards Obi-Wan— resulting in much lamenting about Obi-Wan’s incredibly attractive ridiculous tendencies

Satine (to Cody): I’ve seen the way you look at him you know

Cody (internally panicking): I have no clue what your talking about sir

Later:

Cody: and then after destroying an entire fucking missile with his mind, that little fringe fell into his face, and kriff it was so hot

Satine: Manda, I know exactly what you’re talking about

[mercysong-tardis]

Dawn of the Empire - Chapter 10

In all those remaining hours, she would regret saying something. She would wish that she’d not lit that spark so close to so much ready to explode, that she’d kept her mouth shut, and stayed asleep in their eyes. In the remaining fifty-two hours on this freighter, she would have to deal with the consequences. Maybe she shouldn't have said anything. Maybe she shouldn't have asked. Maybe it would have been better if she’d not flown upward to stare at Korkie in shock.

But of course, she had.

[cinciri]

SATINE KRYZE WEEK: DAY 1

Tagging: @satinekryzeweek

"Yes."

The gazes of all her ministers, silenced by this quiet word, are directed at her now, but Satine herself looks only at Pre Vizsla, standing opposite the throne. Her throne. Still her throne, from which she can and will dictate her own terms.

"I said yes," she repeats a little louder, keeping her back straight, her hands relaxed on the armrests. "I will your wife, Pre."

Vizsla smiles, no, he bares his teeth, like a beast, not doubting for a second in her capitulation. Raised to rely on military directness, despite his long and very successful experience in hide-and-seek on Concordia, it seems he to be insufficiently versed in the subtle game of politics and simply doesn't always – and not immediately – think about the fact that at a moment of vulnerability behind other people's words may still be a pitfalls. Satine stands up from the throne, and unconsciously he raises his head after her, which makes her smile: it's still she who is at the top, not he, and it's still he, not she, who is forced to look up.

"How about some tea, my darling groom?" slowly descending, she folds her hands on her corset, like an innocent, unblemished child. "You will not refuse your bride on her little wish, isn't you?"

It's a question. But she doesn't need his answer. Her own is enough for her, and, no longer looking at Pre Vizsla, she walks towards the exit of the hall. The ministers diverge before her, the guardsmen, flocking from all corners of the hall, on the contrary, come closer. Stopping at the arch, Satine looks back, half-turning, and the guardsmen - her faithful, devoted guardsmen - step back slightly, allowing Vizsla, still standing by the throne, to look at her again.

Framed by twisted columns and a archivolt, illuminated by rays of light coming through the stained glass windows, causing the scattering of stones in the necklace and diadem to sparkle, with a spiritual face and a pose full of humility… She must resemble one a saint sent by the ancestors now.

But she is not a saint. Certainly not for him.

And in her unholiness, in her bad delusion, unworthy for a mando, as whisper the clans obsessed with bloody feuds tirelessly, despite other people's prejudices she will not renounce her people, she will not give them up into a grinning maw, becoming a puppet in someone else's dirty game.

"Let me change," Satine smiles and bows her head slightly as if in recognition of his victory, but her gaze is sharp and regal as usual.

Continue read on ao3

[impossibleprincess35]

Pweeease? I would love to read it. This bit you posted is LOVELY!

(Also, as an MCU girlie, too, the red ledger bit just slaps so hard.)

From a piece I wrote about Satine attending Qui-Gon’s funeral. See @giotanner for the art piece I commissioned based on this moment. (Maybe I should post the whole fic? Idk.)

[impossibleprincess35]

It was way too long to include in the holiday event, so here it is.

Ridiculously silly holiday fluff.

I had to split it into 5 chapters, but they're nowhere near the length of my usual chapters.

God help me. :D

[bunysliper]

This Is Where We Start Again Chapter 3/3 (Final Chapter)

Relationship: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Satine Kryze, Leia Organa Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary:

Obi-Wan and Leia are rescued on Mapuzo by a - miraculously - familiar face, upending Obi-Wan's carefully cloistered existence for the third time in a short period.

[kryzobi-wan]

hope like the sun

Obitine Week 2023!

Day 1 (Korkie, triumph, sunrise)

Happy Obitine Week 2023! Much love to all content creators and readers <3

Tagging: @weekofobitine

Rating: G

Summary: Obi-Wan wakes in a world where Anakin Skywalker never became Darth Vader, where instead of everything going wrong, everything went right. Is that too much for him to ask for?

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“Hope is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you see it, you’ll never make it through the night.”

~Leia Organa

-.-.-

The air is still and silent. He lies in a cool abyss, surrounded by a peace that he isn’t sure he’s familiar with. But, oh, it feels like he is. Or he should be. It feels like an old friend.

Muffled sounds reach his ears. The comfortable coolness gives way to a growing warmth. Not burning, no, but the warmth of the first dredges of sunlight filtering through an open window. A beam of golden hued light dusts his eyelashes, causing them to flutter. The muffled noises become clearer.

Voices. Ones he doesn’t quite recognize. Children.

Squinting, he pries his eyes open, and is met with the sight of a sheer curtain billowing above him, the warm breeze blowing through the cracked window. Outside he hears faint notes of water rippling ashore, repeatedly washing over smooth stones before retreating the way it came. Birds take flight, rustling the leaves of the trees and chirping a happy morning tune.

The sunlight is bright in his eyes, causing him to all but close them against the glare. He shields his sight with an outstretched hand, lifting himself into a half-upright position and glancing warily at his surroundings.

The couch he is laying on is unfamiliar. As is everything about this place. Well, everything except—

“Angel, do we have any honeyfruit?”

At the sound of his former padawan’s voice, Obi-Wan sits bolt upright, his eyes blown wide. He scrambles around in search of his weapon, but it is nowhere to be found. His breathing comes in gasps, and he clutches at his chest with a shaking hand, certain that the organ which is now beating wildly beneath his tunic had been painfully removed from his body years ago.

His eyes, wild and afraid, flit from one corner of the room to another in search of the source of the voice, and he finds it.

It's him.

Standing behind a stone countertop in a large kitchen is Anakin, just as he remembers him. He is staring at Obi-Wan from across the room, an amused—if not a little concerned—smile on his face.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” the apparition speaks. Or is it an apparition? How could it not be? “You alright there, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth to answer, but it may as well have been filled with ash. He chokes on whatever words would have escaped, choosing instead to slam his eyes and his mouth shut and stand abruptly from the sofa. He makes his way over to a window, glancing out at wherever it is he has found himself, working to regulate his breathing.

He hears Anakin chuckle and return to stirring something in a large bowl.

Before him lies a glittering lake, with verdant mountains rising up from it in the distance. The sun is just peeking up from above the horizon, casting a warm glow on the lush landscape and causing the early morning dew to sparkle.

Naboo?

All questions of “how? why? when?” are too much to bear, and he shakes them from his head. He feels dizzy. He feels sick.

“Did you say something, dear?” a woman’s voice calls out, and Obi-Wan turns. Just entering the room is Padmé Amidala, dressed in a flowing but relatively simple lavender dress, by her standards anyway. She fastens an earring to her ear as she approaches a beaming Anakin, leaning in to give him a light peck on the lips, her hand coming to a rest on his sternum.

Anakin drops the spoon he was holding and grabs her hand instead, lightly rubbing the back of it with his thumbs. He murmurs something in response, but Obi-Wan can’t hear it. The voices he heard earlier are back, shrilly increasing in volume as they make their approach from down the hall.

Before Obi-Wan can prepare himself, two tiny bodies throw themselves face first into his sides, nearly knocking him over.

“Uncle Obi-Wan! Uncle Obi-Wan!” they call out, the little blond one practically trying to climb him like a tree. Their chattering continues at speeds the old Jedi can’t keep up with, not in this state, and he finds himself being handed toys of various shapes and sizes, mostly from the little brunette who seems to be trying to tell him something.

“Sl—slow down,” he manages to stutter out, squinting as if that might make it easier to parse out what the tiny girl is trying to say. It doesn’t. His knuckles turn white gripping a toy ship in his hands.

“Luke! Leia!” Anakin says, his voice commanding yet kind, “Get off Uncle Obi-Wan, he just woke up.”

The children obediently bound into the kitchen, two fiery balls of endless energy. Padmé has taken up station at the stove, working on something Obi-Wan can’t see from his vantage point.

He’s just glad to finally be free of the unexpected onslaught of tiny limbs he’d found himself in.

The children are hopping up and down, tugging on Anakin’s hands and clothes and staring up at him with the purest look of adoration he’s ever seen. Anakin crouches down and ruffles their hair, and Obi-Wan can just make out the words, “How would you feel if I came in and jumped on you while you were still waking up?” which is met with squeals of delight instead of the appropriate abashed apologies.

Obi-Wan’s knees feel weak as everything that has occurred in the last few minutes catches up with him. He sits himself heavily on the couch, eyes glazing over in deep thought.

Luke. Leia. The last time he’d seen them this close, they were newborn babies, motherless and fatherless. But there’s Padmé, looking alive and well. And Anakin…

Anakin is wearing an apron and cooking him breakfast.

If this is a dream, it’s a strange dream. A very strange, and cruel, and heartbreaking dream.

Before him lies everything as it should have been. Anakin and his family, Padmé and the twins, living together in the brightness of day, unashamed of the forbidden nature of their relationship. Anakin is a father, in every sense of the word. It comes naturally to him, like this is what he was always meant to be. It’s comfortable in a way that makes Obi-Wan feel uneasy, because as lovely as this picture is, it can’t be right. It can’t be real.

“Hey, Obi-Wan,” Anakin calls as he stands to his full height once more, shifting his attention back to his former master. “When’s the missus get here? Food will be ready soon.”

Obi-Wan opens and closes his mouth, unsure what he could possibly mean by that, only to feel his heart stop at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

No. It can’t be. Absolutely not.

Padmé grins and says, “I’ll get it!” She makes her way to the door, Luke and Leia quick on her heels, and Obi-Wan holds his breath. He doesn’t dare hope.

The door opens, and he shoots to his feet as his suspicions are confirmed.

Satine. Looking… radiant as ever.

Oh, Satine.

Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with tears. It has been so long. So, so long. He wants to approach her, to reach out to see if she’s real, but his feet are glued to the floor, and he seems to be having difficulty swallowing. He presses his lips together tightly in an effort to still the trembling of his chin, but he’s met with little success.

Satine.

Anakin is watching him from his place in the kitchen, flashing a knowing smirk in his direction. He glances away for a moment, wiping his hands on a dish towel, before making his way over to Obi-Wan and clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“Come on, Master, I know it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, but there’s no need for that!” Obi-Wan tears his eyes away from Satine just long enough to meet his padawan’s eyes, and stubbornly wipes at the wetness forming on his cheeks. “Go say hello to your wife!” Anakin encourages further, pushing him toward her and barely concealing his amusement.

Obi-Wan mechanically puts one foot in front of the other, somehow managing to carry himself closer to her. The toy ship he still holds drops to the ground.

Ghosts, all of them. He’s surrounded by ghosts.

As he approaches her, Satine turns from her conversation with Padmé and grins, opening her arms to him. Words fail him. His tongue is as silent as the grave she is supposed to be in. But there she stands, welcoming him into her embrace. He takes one last disbelieving look at her and collapses into her, burying his face in her hair and holding her tightly.

She’s solid, real. He nuzzles further into her neck and holds back a sob, straining to keep silent.

His intensity catches her off guard, but she recovers quickly, smiling bemusedly and rubbing circles on his back.

“Satine,” he whispers into her shoulder. The word sounds like a prayer spoken directly into her skin, where he hopes it, and all he means to convey, will make its way to her soul. He marvels at the way her name feels on his lips after so long of it being unspoken. Thinks of the time he spent trying to forget what had happened to her.

“Goodness, someone’s extra clingy today,” she says with a laugh. “Miss me?”

Obi-Wan can do nothing but nod numbly into the crook of her neck, never letting go.

Anakin slides an arm around Padmé, watching his friend with a contented look on his face. “Obi-Wan is a lifesaver,” he speaks, “I don’t know what I would have done with these two rascals while Padmé was at the Senate if he weren’t here to help.”

Luke and Leia giggle, ducking their heads to evade Anakin’s hands ruffling their hair again.

Obi-Wan feels Satine hum a laugh of her own and she rocks him gently, her fingers running through the hair at the base of his neck in a comforting swirl. “What did I tell you? He’s the best co-parent in the galaxy.”

At that, Anakin lets out a burst of laughter, glancing at Padmé. “I think I’m obligated to object to that on principle, but I’ll put him down as a close second.”

Obi-Wan is intoxicated. She smells just as he remembered. Like lilies and warm spices. All the cares he’s collected over the years are slipping away by the minute and he can barely keep up with the conversation. What is this about co-parenting?

And then another voice sounds, this one younger, but on the verge of becoming a man.

“Father, you’re blocking the doorway.”

Obi-Wan stiffens. Satine chuckles and lets go of Obi-Wan, only to find herself still trapped in his embrace. “My dear,” she jokingly grumbles, “As much as I’d love to stand here for the rest of eternity, it has been a long trip and I’d like to eat sooner rather than later.”

Slowly, Obi-Wan lets his grip around her waist loosen and he steps back, afraid to even look to see who had spoken. The moment sufficient space becomes available, a boy, just a few years shy of approaching Obi-Wan’s height, rushes through the gap created between him and Satine, carrying a tray of some Mandalorian breakfast dish he couldn’t even name anymore. The boy busies himself with placing it on the table, oblivious to how Obi-Wan stares after him, his heart breaking repeatedly in waves.

What is this? Some cruel dream? His deepest hopes and desires laid out before him? What entity would subject him to this?

Obi-Wan sways on his feet, overwhelmed and ill-prepared to face these spectres of his past after so many years separated from the living Force.

“Darling, are you alright?” Satine asks, placing a hand on his forehead. The boy is seated next to Anakin, chattering away about getting to fly the ship to Naboo, and Obi-Wan shakes his head, uncertain if anything he has heard since he woke up this morning is true. Satine glances in the boy’s direction, following Obi-Wan’s gaze.

“Korkie, come say hello to your father.”

The boy, Korkie, turns his head back to them, ceasing his conversation with Anakin. Before he can get up, though, Obi-Wan steps forward, kneeling to the ground at his feet and searching his eyes for some unknown truth.

He finds it.

His son… his son, smiles at him, and it’s like looking in a mirror. The perfect mixture of himself and Satine’s features on display for all to see. Tears well in his eyes as he slowly brings a hand up to trace the boy’s cheek, his chest swirling with awe and longing, joy and heartbreak.

“Did you hear I flew the ship?” Korkie asks eagerly, oblivious to his father’s roiling emotions.

It takes Obi-Wan a moment to summon his voice back from wherever it had gone, but eventually he chokes out, “Yes, I am very proud of you.” Tears shine in his eyes, and to prevent any more embarrassment than necessary, he pulls the boy into a fierce hug, his face coming to rest against Korkie’s chest. He can feel a heartbeat there telling him this is real, but he still doesn’t believe it. Giggling, Korkie wraps his arms around his father’s shoulders for a moment, just a moment, before squirming to get away.

His impatience reminds him of another young boy Obi-Wan had once known.

“Is this real?” Obi-Wan asks. He doesn’t want to question it, doesn’t want to break the spell, but the words leave his lips anyway. He’s been hurt far too many times in the past to accept a gift such as this without hesitation. He knows it’s too good to be true, and yet, he hopes. He hopes and hopes and hopes, and knows before he sees her face what the answer is.

He turns back to look at Satine, and her face is sad. Around them, the house and people fade away, until all that is left is him and her and an impossible sunrise, surrounding them from all sides. He kneels in sparkling water a few inches deep that reflects the reds and oranges and yellows of the sky above and around them. They are floating in this imagined space, and he drops his head to his chest, feeling once more as if his heart has been torn from his body.

“Why?” he asks aloud. It is silent for long enough that he suspects he is alone again, but when he looks up, he sees that she has moved closer. Her hand finds its way to his cheekbone, brushing across it in a sad but loving gesture. Her eyes lock onto his as she kneels in front of him, the water soaking through the garment she wears.

“What was that?” Obi-Wan asks, his voice breaking along with the rest of him. “Why would you show me that? Why would you—”

Tears spill from his eyes. His capacity for speech has left him.

“What I have shown you was the will of the Force,” Satine answers, confirming what Obi-Wan had begun to suspect.

It had shown him everything he wanted. The way he wishes things had gone.

“Was it—” he takes a breath, then another, “Was it my fault? Could I have stopped him?”

That was the question he’d been asking himself for more than half a decade.

Was that what triumph would have looked like? If Obi-Wan had been there to help him and hold him and comfort him in the face of great anger and suffering, would Palpatine have failed? If he had been encouraging instead of dismissive, would Anakin be alive? If he had allowed himself to love him, and assured him of his love no matter what shame and secrets he concealed, could that have been their life? Breakfast at Anakin and Padmé’s on a lazy weekend morning? Satine by his side and a son, a son he had never known was his own, proudly telling him of his accomplishments?

The possibilities and regrets are too much to bear.

He feels Satine’s hands wrap around his own, pulling them to her lap.

“My dear Obi-Wan,” she begins. “You must let go of this vision of victory. It was not to be.”

He ducks his head again, but she doesn’t let him. She tilts his head up to meet her serious gaze, ensuring that he receives this message.

“But there is a victory that can yet be won, my love. You must not let go of hope. The hope you carry is the last and only one we have.” She presses a kiss to his forehead, and he wraps his arms around her waist once more, clutching her tightly. “You have the strength to carry on. And I will see you again when it is finished.”

“Satine,” he gasps out, sensing that a final goodbye is imminent.

“Not a final goodbye,” she promises, speaking his thoughts aloud. “We will be together again, my brave Jedi.”

With a sense of urgency, Obi-Wan unwraps his arms from around her waist, grasping instead to her hand and drinking in the sight of her like a desperate man dying of thirst in the desert.

Maybe that’s a more apt description than he initially meant.

“I’ve always loved sunrises,” Satine speaks dreamily, glancing around at their surroundings with an easy smile on her face. “Has there ever been a darkness that hasn’t ended in a sunrise?”

Obi-Wan feels his lips curl in a watery smile, taking her words to heart. He shakes his head. No.

“Well then,” she grins, “I will see you in the dawn, my love.”

Before he loses the chance, Obi-Wan leans toward her and captures her lips with his own, his hand coming up to tangle in her hair behind her ear.

“I love you,” he whispers between kisses, “I love you,” repeating it over and over, and he cannot make himself let her go. She smiles against his lips, and he feels the years of grief and suffering release as tears down his cheeks.

“I’ll love you always,” Satine assures him, pulling away just slightly. “Till we meet again.”

He closes his eyes, memorizing the details of her face and the feel of her lips on his. And he feels the weight of her hand in his fade away until all he is left holding is air.

-.-.-

He wakes in a dark cave, the air stale but unfortunately familiar. It’s the closest thing to a home that he’s had in the years since the downfall of the Republic, a pitiful dwelling in the cracked ridges of Tatooine’s desert, but he’d never really call it home. Home was something he’d lost a long time ago. Speared through by a red lightsaber. Sliced to pieces by his own saber, which now lies dormant in the sands of this forsaken planet.

He drags himself up from his cot, rubbing a hand over his eyes and through his dirty, overgrown hair. The night’s sleep had not been restful, that wasn’t new, but never had a dream been so vivid and clear to him.

This, he ponders as he emerges from the cave entrance. The last glimmers of stars flicker out of the sky above, giving way to the first faint traces of sunlight on the edges of this vast and empty landscape.

He stands in the usual place, the speck in the distance being the Lars homestead. Just this once, though, he leaves his macrobinoculars in his bag. Today, he simply stands there, marveling at the beauty of the twin sunrise he had been taking for granted.

The nights on Tatooine were cold and harsh. Now, though, beams of light warmed his skin, and he closed his eyes to soak in the sensation.

There was hope, Satine had told him so. Dawn would come soon.

He only needed to make it through the night.

[weekofobitine]

Obitine Week, 2025 June 2nd - 8th, 2025!

We're back! Obitine Week is coming, and we can't wait to see all the beautiful things you create for our favorite couple!✨

Prompts will be announced soon!

[mercysong-tardis]

@satineweek Day 3: “TEARS”

For this prompt, I struggled with what to decide on drawing, but I settled with the Obitine goodbye (after the year on the run) which this fandom knows well, and I am proud to say we have developed so much fanon lore around. And don’t worry, I think he kisses her. (:

[cinciri]

SATINE KRYZE WEEK: DAY 3

Tagging: @satinekryzeweek

She shakes her head, hoping that it will help drive him away, but for some reason he doesn't disappear and continues to look at her. Oh, yes, she definitely should to sleep soon, but first she should throw these stupid images out of her head.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

“Why?” he whispers with incomprehension, matching her own.

“I'm getting married,” it is the stupidest thing she could answer, looking into the eyes of her dreams, pulled out of the hidden depths of her memory, but she has no other answer than the truth. “The invitations is done already. All that remains is to send it out.”

“I…” raising his hand, he slowly moves the hood back, so now she can see his face, his gaze filled with a strange embarrassment and almost disappeared, smoldering sparks of horror, which she didn't see either in their youth, when cities were burning around them, or now, when entire planets are burning around him. “I thought you are held captive. That you in custody. That Vizsla wants taking you as his wife… by force.”

Satine blinks, frowning - too many specifics for an image born of fatigue.

“How did you even know I was getting married?” she feels herself like a fool, arguing with her own subconscious, but the question slips out of her mouth before she can think it through. “The information hasn't been sent to the HoloNet yet.”

He winces, as if she's caught him doing something illegal, and this is so much like real him that it makes her shudder. He couldn't really be here right now, could he? Rushing to her from almost the other end of the Galaxy to rescue her from a supposed captivity that threatens her with a forced marriage?.. It is such an absurd idea, but at the same time so suitable for the overly selfless and reckless Padawan he once was, that in a burst of courage Satine comes closer and carefully touches his face, sure that she will not feel the warmth of his skin or his stiff beard.

But she does.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, who has rushed to rescue her from Vizsla's clutches, is real.

Eyes wide, Satine jerks her hand away, like it has been burned.

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