#otp: obi wan/reader

[starwalkertales]

Fic Tag Game

Thanks for tagging me, @veloursdor!!! That is an interesting one! 😘

So, let's see...

How many works do you have on ao3?

9 at the moment, with one idea in a draft folder -- no idea, if and when I will post it.

2. What's your ao3 word count?

oh gosh, I need a calculator... 246.827, holy shit...

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars -- Obikin, definitely my OTP 😍😍😍 When I was younger, I wrote for Harry Potter (years ago!) and Sherlock

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1 Heal with 590 kudos... definitely my most popular work so far. Thank again to everyone reading it and leving kudos/comments. I love you guys. Oh, in this story, Obi-Wan can't leave Anakin behind after their duel in Episode 6 of Kenobi and gets to helping him out of that suit!

2 Missing with 397 kudos in which Anakin got amnesia and flirty heavily with Obi-Wan after Rako Hardeen incident.

3 What you wish for with 334 kudos in which Obi-Wan touches a Sith holocron and develops some (for Anakin, sexy) Sith-qualities 😉

4 There is passion with 306 kudos, some sex-spice makes Obi-Wan hot for Ani...

5 Krayt's son with 253 kudos, in which Anakin is raised a Sith and meets Jedi Obi-Wan

5. Do you respond to comments?

yes, yes, I always do! I love your comments and the chats that sometimes come with them!

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

My fics tend to have a happy ending... I want fluff and happy in my imagination. Life is shitty and hard enough some times...

7. What's the fic your write with the happiest ending?

Mh, all have a happy ending actually. But I think Building Dreams was really fluffy!

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Just for one fic; There is passion. One person once bitched about it being Obikin, accusing it of being incest.

Luckily, nearly all other replies are very nice. I love you all fic readers and comment-writers! 😍😍😍

9. Do you write smut? What kind?

I do, not in all fics, though. It's Obikin smut. Mostly not too kinky, but I feel I should venture into that field more often...

10. Do you write cross-overs?

No.🤗

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I am aware of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Also no. I could translate them on my own, though, but English is more common among readers than my mother tongue.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not with Star Wars. I've done that once, years ago with a Harry Potter fic.

14. What's your all time favourite ship?

Obikin 😍😍😍

15. What's your WIP you like to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Well, my longest WIP (and also oldest) is What you wish for, but I do hope I will finish it eventually!

16. What are your writing strength?

Oh, I don't know... maybe the readers could tell me, what they like the most? For me it's hard to find time to write, so whenever I am in the mood, I can write pretty much in one sitting, but often, it's hard and it takes hours to finish a page.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Write short sentences. I tend to make them too long and too complicated -- my mother tongue is to blame!

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Oh, difficult question. It makes it hard to follow and I find it not very elegant to have translations in the notes below. I find it cool though, if you have one part of the dialogue in, say, Huttese, and the other part in basic (English). That way, you can guess the meaning. So, yeah, for Huttese or Mando'a, I like that for half a dialogue. I don't like it much, when I have to scroll down all the way to see translation to know what's going on.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter -- many, many years ago

20. Favourite fic you've ever written?

Mh, I do love Heal, because I find it fascinating to explore Vader and the suit. But I also loved Tempestas -- in which Anakin (19) traveled back in time to meet Padawan Obi-Wan (25), lots of trouble!

21. What fic would you love to rewrite some day?

Thank you @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart for making up this great question and letting me use it, too ❤

Definetely There is Passion. I love the concept, the whole fic was born from the idea "if you ever had sex with a force sensitive, you simply cannot settle for any non sensitive person", which is really problematic for Ani to enjoy his time with Padmé after Obi... It was only my second fic and I got intimidated by criticism of it containing non-con elements. Now, I would be more confident with the whole topic and hope, I will come back to it some time and rewrite it.

Thank you so much for tagging me, I loved that!!!!

So, no idea: everyone who wants to do this and hasn't already, please be free. You are hereby tagged!

Aaaaaaaaand I am tagging people who liked this 😁 @grapenehifics @underacalicosky @wibzenadarksiderwithasoftheart @mischievouschan4

[elismor]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

@cacodaemonia tagged me for this one and I've never actually looked at my AO3 stats, so this should be interesting (for me, anyway)...

How many works do you have on ao3? 119, which is kind of...something when you consider that I only started writing fic again in 2022

What’s your total ao3 word count? 101, 481. Yeeps.

What fandoms do you write for? Most of those words are for The Clone Wars, but there are some other SW shows/movies in there too. I'm 100% Star Wars these days. But there are also works from Stargate, Firefly, Supernatural, and a couple of others.

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Pillow Talk

Forty Winks

Intensive Care

Whiskey Tango...Foxtrot?!

Crime and Punishment

The first four were all part of Codywan Sleep Bingo 2023, the last one was for 501st Bingo 2023

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? I do! I always respond to thank those who left me a comment at the very least and will try to answer questions or react to something specific if they have called it out. Fandom is about interaction.

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? I suppose that depends on how one defines angst. Intensive Care ends with both Cody and Obi-Wan gravely wounded in bacta tanks. But None of Us Perfect ends with an OFC giving Anakin advice that will ultimately fail because...you know...Vader. So one of them is what I would maybe call "modern angst" in that fandom seems to have more specific definitions of it now but the other seems like a somewhat happy ending when we all know it's really not and never could be.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Honestly? I have no idea. These days, I tend to only write happy/fluffy sort of stuff, so most of them end well. Strictly Ballroom is about Waxer and Boil's first kiss and it's pretty sweet and happy, I think.

Do you get hate on fics? To date? No. Will I eventually? Probably? I dunno. I'm pretty small potatoes in the fic world....I don't have the kind of spotlight that draws hate.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, I suppose that I do. 98% of it is clonesex, but there is a side of het in there with Thire and an OFC because when I started writing smut, I needed to do it with the kind of sex I am familiar with.

Do you write crossovers? I have written one crossover in my life. It is not on AO3.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I am aware of, no.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, but it was a million years ago in a fandom far, far away.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yes.

What’s your all-time favorite ship? This question gives ME angst. I am not a shipper by nature and I've never had an OTP. In TCW, I very much enjoy Rex/Cody and it probably edges out my fondness of Codywan a little.

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have about 15K written as a sequel to None of Us Perfect and I really would like to finish it because I started it when the Kenobi series aired as a sort of tribute to my friend Alex, who passed away before she could see it. I'm also just really fond of that OFC and would like to tell more of her story. But it's such a personal project that gets me deep in my feels, so it can be hard to work on.

What are your writing strengths? If the comments are to be believed, I'm somewhat funny? I do think I can turn a decent phrase from time to time, too.

What are your writing weaknesses? I used to write in past tense and, back then, I think I was pretty good at action, but now that I'm in present tense, I don't think that's true anymore. I struggle with it not reading staccato (he did this, then he did that, then this happened), so I actually tend to avoid it.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I tried it once with that crossover mentioned above, but did it phonetically because I wanted the readers to have a sense of how it sounded instead of just looking at words in a language they didn't speak. I don't think I would do it again aside from a word here or there as needed.

First fandom you wrote for? Highlander: The Series

Favorite fic you’ve written? I have a very soft spot for the second HL fic I wrote, which is probably still online somewhere, but I'm not going to try to link to it because it's under my real name (because that's how we rolled in 1997). Here and now, under the cover of usernames, it's probably A Brighter Star than You.

Thanks for the tag, caco! That was more fun than I thought it might be. I'm going to open tag this because I feel like I have been hitting the usual suspects pretty hard with the writing game tags lately. If you see it and want to play, please do so and tag me back so I can see your answers! And, because caco is a genius and did this first, here's a list of the questions for you to cut and paste:

How many works do you have on ao3?

What’s your total ao3 word count?

What fandoms do you write for?

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Do you get hate on fics?

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Do you write crossovers?

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

What’s a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

What are your writing strengths?

What are your writing weaknesses?

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

First fandom you wrote for?

Favorite fic you’ve written?

[bigfan-fanfic]

What ships do you currently have for the otp thing?

I've had Steve Rogers x Clark Kent, Obi-Wan x Senator!Reader, and I was planning on adding the winner of the Batdad ship poll

[korechthonia]

korechthonia ITPE2024 Dear Podficcer

Dear Podficcer,

I'm so glad you're maybe making me a thing! I'm really looking forward to seeing (hearing!) what you come up with! To help us both on this journey, here are a bunch of lists!

Here is a brief list of tropes I adore:

Soulmates (both played straight and subverted, of varieties romantic to cracktastic)

Background characters getting their day in the spotlight

Canon divergence AUs & fix-it fic (including time travel shenanigans)

Polyamory

Mutual pining

Identity porn

Enemies to lovers

Fake dating

Arranged marriages

World-building

Rarepairs

Politicing - laws and negotiations and diplomacy and all that jazz

Fusions - daemons, Pacific Rim, Temeraire, but also if i don't need to know too many details and the second universe is loved enough, I'm interested

Women being awesome and empowered to succeed in whatever their definition of succeed is

Here are things I very much Do Not Want:

Teacher/student or parent/child shipping, even in AUs where that isn't their relationship

Non-con (allusions to past occurrences excepted)

Reader-insert fic

Unhappy endings (bittersweet/ambiguously optimistic is okay, just not nothing but sad)

Highly explicit and/or lengthy sex scenes

Podfic preferences:

I appreciate and listen to all lengths, but definitely have a soft spot for the 1-2.5 hour range (for chores listening!)

Massive weakness for epistolary & non-traditional formats

Very happy for sound effects and/or music, except for general ambient sound effects under long stretches of reading, but also very fine to not have any!

Repods of things I've done are totally okay!

I have blanket permission to podfic, but there's definitely some of my older fic that I've written that I am not strictly proud of - feel free to podfic any of it! But not all of it would make a good gift for me.

Peruse my bookmarks and works created for an idea of what is making me happy/intrigued right now and over time, and feel free to take up any of them if they inspire you! (But things in the "podfic me maybe" collection may have ended up there for specific challenge reasons, it's not a perfect system)

Here are details about my biggest/always happy to return to fandoms that you should know:

Star Wars

The prequels are my general focus. Massive multi-shipper of Obi-Wan Kenobi, but particularly with Jango Fett, Cody, Fox, Jaster Mereel, and Jango/Obi-Wan/[a third] (eg. Jango/Obi-Wan/Satine, Jango/Obi-Wan/Myles etc).

I love the clones! I was about to start listing favourites and then was pretty sure I was just going to list every clone I could think of. Neutral-to-positive on cloneshipping.

Adore rarepairs with Jedi and clones or Jedi and Mandalorians

Rogue One-wise, Jyn/Cassian always and forever, everyone lives AUs preferred

Mandalorian-era, I like Boba/Din, Boba & Fennec & their Tatooine crime family thing, Din & Grogu family vibes, but not Din/Paz or Din/Omera or Armorer/Bo-Katan

Sequel-wise, Rey/Finn/Poe, Rey/Poe, and Rey/Jessica Pava are the preferred ships.

Mandalorian culture, jedi culture, Tatooine slave culture, any other space culture, I will be intrigued and delighted to hear. EXCEPT the First Order or the Empire - they are space!Nazis.

Absolutely NO master/apprentice ships or Kylo Ren related ships.

Tortall

Protector of the Small era is my preferred point in the timeline!

Keladry/Dom is in fact my OTP, but aroace Kel is also good.

Incidental Daine/Numair and Aly/Nawat is fine because they're canon, but not the focus. Any of those characters individually is great.

Never really got into the Bekah series

Les Miserables

Enjolras/Grantaire or Les Amis de l'ABC-centric (excluding Jehan/Montparnasse)

Canon era or AUs that are not high school or college AUs - either different historical eras, or with added magic or specific workplaces or *something*

Greek Mythology

It is all about the ladies, honestly. Particularly like Persephone stories!

A Song of Ice and Fire

Sansa/literally anyone where she gets to realise her own power and escape from being traumatized all the time is a MUST (Jon, Tyrion, Jaime, Oberyn, Willas, and Margaery have all been hits in the past but that is not an exclusive list).

Not a fan of Dany, but dislike genocidal maniac versions of her even more.

Don't particularly care for the Bran storyline or the Iron Islands ones.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (and the Heroes of Olympus)

Annabeth Chase, my beloved

Their later teenage years (Heroes of Olympus era) are more interesting to me than their first few years

Still haven't read the Trials of Apollo, so nothing based in that era

Pride and Prejudice

Elizabeth/Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth/Colonel Fitzwilliam are both acceptable!

Be nice to Mrs. Bennett, she's not wrong to be stressed

Goncharov

It is about Katya/Sofia and the vibes, not any relation to anything people have tried to reverse-engineer about what the plot is.

Star Trek: AOS

Jim/Bones, whole crew fic, anything with Joanna McCoy

Check Please!

Parse/Bitty/Jack is OT3, but I'm interested in any Kent ship except Jack/Kent exclusively, and as long as there's no Kent bashing I'm interested in Jack/Bitty as well

Crossover with hockey RPF is a-okay!

Hockey RPF

the Canucks are my team

Quinn Hughes/Matthew Tkachuk, Elias Pettersson/Brock Boeser, Matthew Tkachuk/Leon Draisaitl, Ovi/Nicke are some favourite ships

will not read/record anything with any players involved in assault (alleged or otherwise) or who have been vocally racist/homophobic/etc

not interested in featuring Boston or Chicago, or players born after 2000

[jetii]

Aw I’m so glad you liked it!!! 💙💙 I was trying not to be too obvious about what arc this was so that’s great actually lmao

I’m glad we’re all on team Not Obi-Wan at this point 😭 I love Rex and Goldie together so much, more than any other reader x canon or oc x canon fic I’ve ever written about omg they are my forever otp

Oh man I have so many thoughts but I will abstain from spoilers. Just know I plan to touch on most of the major events in TCW/ROTS and a few of them significantly change the trajectory of the story.

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirteen: A Moment's Peace

Chapter WC: 7,041

A/N: screams in love triangle

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

Saleucami, 21 BBY

When you finally awake, it's nearly morning. You can see the first rays of sunlight creeping over the horizon, and the air is filled with the sounds of birdsong. You're lying on a cot, a blanket draped over your body, and your armor has been removed. You sit up with a groan, and you immediately regret it as a sharp pain shoots through your body.

A hand lands on your shoulder and pushes you back down. "Easy there, sir. Don't strain yourself." 

Echo's voice is calm and reassuring, and you let out a sigh as he eases you back onto the cot. You're sore all over, but you're still in one piece. And for that, you're grateful.

"How long have I been out?" you mumble, your voice hoarse, and you rub your eyes with the heels of your palms. The headache that's pounding in the back of your skull is a dull throb. You've had worse. You'll survive.

"Most of the night," Echo replies. He's sitting beside you, and he smiles when you look up at him. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been hit by a speeder," you chuckle. You shift on the cot and grimace. "Or twenty."

"I'm not surprised. You lost a lot of blood," Echo says. "Kix stitched you up good. You should be fine."

"Thanks," you reply. "And, thanks for, you know, looking after me."

Echo shrugs. "Just doing my job, sir."

"Still," you say, and you sit up, wincing as the pain flares through your shoulder. You reach out and squeeze his hand. "I appreciate it."

He nods, a faint blush on his cheeks, and he clears his throat. "Anytime, sir. It wasn't all me. Kix did most of the work."

"Where is he?" you ask. "Did he get some sleep?"

"A little," Echo replies. "He's outside. We all took shifts watching over you."

"Why?" you ask, confused. It's not like you're in any immediate danger. At least, not that you're aware of. "I was fine."

"We were worried about you, sir. After what happened with the transport, we just wanted to make sure," Echo says. "Kix said it was best if you stayed awake, but, well, he passed out pretty quick after the fight. He's a bit worn out."

"I'll bet," you murmur guiltily. "Sorry for worrying you. I was tired."

"That's one word for it," Echo chuckles. He stands up and walks over to a table, picking up a canteen and a pack of rations. He hands them both to you, his expression stern. "Now, eat. And drink. Please."

You take the items and smile. "Thank you."

"You're welcome, sir," he says.

You nod and turn your attention to the rations, tearing open the pack and taking a bite. The two of you sit quietly for a moment, listening to the sounds of the early morning. You look around the tent, taking note of the other cots. Hardcase and Fives are both fast asleep on the ones nearest to yours, their armor removed and neatly stacked on the ground. Most of the other beds are empty, and the tent is still. 

You're glad. It means the other men are recovering well, and there isn't a crowd of faces staring at you. You don't particularly enjoy being the center of attention, especially not in the form of concerned looks and quiet murmurs.

You finish your meal, and the food helps settle your stomach. You feel more alert now, the exhaustion fading, and the ache in your muscles lessens. You're still tired, and the pain in your shoulder is enough to make you wish you were still unconscious, but there's another sensation nagging at the back of your mind.

You turn back to Echo. "Have you seen一"

"He commed earlier to say he was on his way," Echo replies. There's a knowing look in his eye, and his mouth twists into a small smirk.

"Oh," you say, a little flustered. You hadn't realized the question was so obvious, but you can't stop the smile that creeps across your lips at the thought of seeing him again. "Good."

He nods, and the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence. The only sound is the chirping of birds, the voices of the camp, and the soft rustle of the breeze through the trees. You lean back and stare at the canvas ceiling, enjoying the warmth and quiet. It's a welcome change from the chaos of the past few days, and you can't help but relax a little.

The peace doesn't last, though.

"General," Echo starts, and he hesitates, his eyes flicking toward the others and back before leaning closer, his voice lowering, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," you reply slowly. You're not sure what's causing the sudden shift in his demeanor. He's usually so calm and professional. Now he seems...nervous. It's a little concerning, and you can feel yourself start to tense.

He doesn't say anything at first, his eyes searching yours as if looking for an answer. You force a smile, hoping it will help him feel more at ease, and, finally, he takes a deep breath and speaks.

"It's nothing. Well, maybe not nothing. I'm not sure. I guess..." He trails off, his expression pinched, and you can feel the unease radiating from him. "Ah, it's nothing. Never mind."

"No, really," you urge him, sitting up a little straighter, ignoring the flare of pain the movement causes. You place a hand on his shoulder, and his body is tense beneath your touch. "What's wrong? You can talk to me."

Echo bites his lip, and the look in his eyes is almost pleading. He looks like he's about to confess a murder, and you can't imagine what could have him so worked up. He's not usually one to hesitate when it comes to sharing his thoughts.

"I was just...wondering," he starts, and he takes a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. "Were you the Jedi Rex saved on Geonosis?" 

"I..."

Your mouth goes dry, and the words die on your lips. The surprise is enough to make you dizzy, and your heart hammers in your chest. You're not sure what you were expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. Your hand quickly drops from Echo's shoulder and clenches into a fist at your side.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked," he stammers. "It's none of my business. I just...when we were talking yesterday..."

"Yes," you finally answer, your voice little more than a whisper. "Yes, I was."

Echo blinks, and his mouth falls open. For a moment, he just stares at you, his eyes wide. You're not sure how long the two of you sit there, frozen in place, but it feels like an eternity.

Finally, Echo glances over his shoulder at the sleeping forms of Fives and Hardcase, and when he turns back, the look on his face is one of sheer delight.

"What?" you ask warily.

"I knew it," he laughs, the sound low and soft, and he leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I told Fives it had to be you. He didn't believe me, but I knew."

"What are you talking about?" you huff. The anxiety has faded now, replaced by irritation, and the scowl on your face only makes Echo laugh harder. "Is this a joke?"

"No," he chuckles. "Sorry. I just...it's funny. I mean, I suspected, but I wasn't sure."

"You suspected?" you repeat incredulously. You can feel the color draining from your face. You know you should just shut up, but you can't seem to stop the words from coming. "How did you figure it out?"

"Just a hunch," Echo replies. "Fives and I talked about it, and it just made sense. You're the only Jedi Rex ever talks about other than the General and Commander Tano. And he got kinda weird whenever anyone mentioned you."

"Weird?" you echo. You can feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and you're grateful the light is dim. This is not how you thought the conversation would go. "Weird how?"

"Just...well..." Echo trails off and glances at the others. They're both still sound asleep. "You know."

"No," you retort, the anger starting to bleed through into your voice. "I don't. Explain it to me."

"It's not like that," Echo insists. His expression is serious now, and he looks almost ashamed. "It's nothing, sir. Forget I said anything."

"Not a chance," you snap. "What did you mean?"

"Okay," he relents, his eyes flicking away from yours. He's clearly uncomfortable with the topic, but you're not backing down. You need answers. "Look, I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I think it's great, really. But, uh, well...he's...you know."

"What?"

“I don't want to offend you or anything, but he was always really...protective...of you," Echo mutters, his words rushed. "Even before we met you. I don't know. I just figured something must have happened."

"Oh," you murmur. You can’t seem to find anything more intelligent to say. The flush is spreading from your face down your neck, and you pick up the canteen, hoping the cool liquid will help. It doesn't. "Right."

You can't look at Echo right now. It's too much, too embarrassing. He's probably staring at you with a look of pity on his face, and you're sure he's wondering why the hell you're so upset about the whole thing. But you can't help it. This isn't something you ever expected him to bring up, and it's definitely not something you're prepared to talk about.

"I'm sorry," Echo says quickly. He pats your shoulder awkwardly. "I shouldn't have brought it up. I just—I didn't think it was true. But, clearly, I was wrong. It's...it's okay. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to."

"It's fine," you sigh. You can't even bring yourself to shrug his hand off. What's the point? He knows. And there's no hiding it now. "It's not a secret. Not really."

"Really?" he asks, surprised, and he withdraws his hand. "Then why didn't you tell us?"

"It's...complicated," you mutter as your hands twist in the blanket that covers you. You can't keep the bitterness from your voice. "That was a difficult day for both of us."

"I bet," Echo murmurs. He glances away, his expression thoughtful, and then back at you. "Rex doesn't talk about it much. We know the basics, but that's about it. I'm guessing you don't like to talk about it either."

"I don't," you admit. "It's...hard."

"I'm sure," he replies. He's quiet for a moment before continuing. "For what it's worth, I think you guys make a great team."

"Thanks," you mutter, though it's a half-hearted response.

"I'm not lying. Really," he says, and there's a note of sincerity in his voice. "And, between you and me, I think he's happier when you're around. It's nice. Makes him less uptight."

You snort at the comment. "Rex is never going to be less uptight."

"Nah, probably not," Echo chuckles. "But he is better when you're here. We all are."

"Well, thank you," you reply, and the tension leaves your shoulders as a faint smile spreads across your lips. "I appreciate that. Truly."

"Don't mention it," he says. "We've been through a lot together, and we're always glad to have you around."

"Thanks," you murmur. You're not sure what else to say. The awkwardness is still lingering in the air, and the conversation is a bit stilted. Still, you're grateful that Echo is trying to make things easier for you. He's a good person. And he's loyal to a fault. It's a quality you admire, even if it's a bit frustrating at times.

The two of you sit there for a moment, neither one willing to speak. The silence is growing heavier by the second, and you can feel the anxiety creeping back into your mind. It's getting harder and harder to stay calm, and the tension is starting to make your head ache. You rub your temples and sigh.

"I'm going to check in with Obi-Wan," you finally say, and you begin the laborious process of sitting up. "Make sure everything's okay."

"Of course," Echo replies. He stands, holding out a hand. "Can I help?"

"Please," you sigh, and you take his hand, using it to steady yourself. He keeps a firm grip on your arm, and together, the two of you stagger out of the tent. The fresh air is cool on your skin, and the sun is just starting to rise over the horizon. Once he's sure you're steady on your feet, Echo lets you go.

"Thank you for keeping me company," you say. "You didn't have to."

"No problem," Echo replies with a smile. "You know we've got your back, right, sir?"

"Right," you mutter. You're not entirely sure how you feel about that, but you manage to keep your frown to yourself. 

You give him a final wave and start walking over to where Obi-Wan's tent is pitched. The camp is already starting to come to life, and you can hear the sounds of the men moving about. You're relieved to see that most of them seem to be unharmed, though a few are sporting visible injuries.

Cody is standing outside the tent with him, and the two seem to be deep in conversation. You walk toward them, careful to stay out of earshot. You don't want to interrupt their discussion, but, as you approach, the voices carry to you.

"...not sure. She seemed fine," Cody is saying. "A little quiet, but I expected that. You know she doesn't like this."

"Are you sure?" Obi-Wan asks. He's pacing back and forth, his arms crossed over his chest. "She was acting strange."

"Maybe a little," Cody concedes. "But she's been under a lot of pressure lately. It's only natural for her to get stressed."

"I suppose," Obi-Wan says, though his tone is unconvinced. He sighs, rubbing his forehead. When his hand falls, his face is pinched, his brow furrowed in thought. You wait for him to continue, but he suddenly straightens and turns to face you, your eyes meeting across the distance.

You freeze, your mouth falling open in surprise, and the realization dawns on you. You had been so wrapped up in your own emotions, so consumed by the stress and guilt, that you had neglected to keep a tight grip on your connection to the Force. The energy swirls around you, a maelstrom of worry and concern, and the emotions are pouring off you in waves.

"Shit," you breathe, and you quickly pull back, drawing the energy into yourself, and the world grows quiet once more. Obi-Wan frowns, but his expression quickly shifts into something more neutral.

You know what's coming, and there's no stopping it now.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself for the inevitable lecture, and as you cross the final few feet between you, the two turn to face you. Cody nods a greeting while Obi-Wan just gives you a look. The concern on his face is unmistakable, and he opens his mouth to speak, but Cody beats him to it.

"Good morning, sir," he says. His gaze flickers to the bandage wrapped around your shoulder and back up to meet your eyes.

"Good morning," you say, forcing a smile. You can't seem to look Obi-Wan in the eye. "Sleep well?"

"As well as can be expected," Obi-Wan replies. He's giving you that look out of the corner of your eye, the one that says he's disappointed, but you ignore it just as you ignore the waves of frustration rolling off him. "Are you feeling better? I heard you gave the men a bit of a fright."

"Yeah, sorry," you reply. "It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't," Obi-Wan admonishes. “How’s your arm?”

You rub the back of your neck sheepishly, and the movement sends a twinge of pain down your arm. You're definitely going to feel that for the next few days. "A little sore."

"Imagine that," he quips. He turns to Cody. "If you would excuse us for a moment."

"Of course," Cody replies. He smiles and nods his head before turning and heading towards Waxer and Boil. Obi-Wan watches him go for a moment before turning back towards you, sporting a stern look.

"You一"

You hold up a hand. 

"Before you say anything," you start, and you glance around to make sure nobody is within earshot. The last thing you need is an audience. "Can we just not right now? It's too early."

"Fine," he concedes. He crosses his arms and sighs. "How bad is it? Really. Don't lie, you know I’ll be able to tell.”

"It's not great," you admit. "But I've had worse. A lot worse. Honestly, it's fine. I'll survive."

"That's not reassuring."

"Neither is yelling at me."

"I don't yell," he grumbles, the irritation clear in his voice. "And if you'd just listened to me..."

"I'm fine," you say firmly. You know you're pushing your luck, but you can't stop yourself. "It's just a flesh wound."

"It's not just a flesh wound. Not with you. I don't need the Force to tell me that," he replies, and the sharpness of his tone is enough to make you flinch. "You know better. You can't risk一"

"Obi-Wan!"

The sharpness of your tone catches you both off guard. Your cheeks burn, and a wave of embarrassment washes over you. It's not like you to snap at him like that, and the way his eyes widen in shock is proof enough of that.

A few of the troopers look in your direction, their heads snapping up from the conversation they'd been engrossed in. You glare at them until they look away, and then you lower your voice and continue. "Not now. Please."

He opens his mouth and then closes it. There's a flicker of pain in his eyes, and he turns away. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"No, I'm sorry," you mumble. The fight leaves you in an instant, and the shame settles heavy on your shoulders. "I didn't mean to...I know you're worried, and I appreciate it, but I'm fine."

"I know," he says quietly. "I just can't help it."

"I know," you sigh.

The two of you stand there for a moment, neither one daring to speak. There's a lump in your throat, and the weight of the emotions is making it hard to breathe.

You want nothing more than to wrap him in a hug and apologize. You want to tell him everything will be okay, that it's going to be fine. That the war will end soon, and you'll have time to heal and figure things out.

But you can't. Because it's not going to end. It's only just begun.

"I'll be more careful next time," you say finally. You look up and meet his eyes, and the hurt and concern reflected there are enough to make your heart clench. "I promise."

"Okay," he says, and he gives you a weak smile. "And, please, try not to scare the men again."

"I'll do my best," you chuckle. The heaviness in the air has eased, and some of the tension has drained away.

"I know you will," he says, and his expression softens.

"So are we good?" you ask hesitantly. You're not sure what else there is to say.

"For now," he replies, and his smile turns sad. "I can't promise I won't say anything later."

Obi-Wan's eyes drift up to the sky, and the smile slips from his lips. He looks tired, and there's a hint of resignation in his gaze. You follow his line of sight, your eyes settling on a black dot among the clouds growing larger by the second.

A Republic transport is approaching with haste, making a beeline straight for you. It's flying low, and the dust and dirt kicked up by its landing sends a cloud billowing over the camp.

"We're headed to Dantooine," Obi-Wan announces, raising his voice as the ship starts its descent. "Master Windu is in need of our aid."

Your stomach churns at the idea of being thrown into another warzone, but you swallow and nod. "Okay, I'll be ready."

"Not you," Obi-Wan corrects, and he holds up a hand when you start to protest. "You need time to rest and heal. That's an order."

"But一"

"I mean it," he says firmly. "Go home. Take some time for yourself. If not for your sake, then for mine. I'll send word to Anakin and let him know to expect you."

The fight leaves you, and your shoulders sag. It's pointless to argue. You're exhausted, and you can barely walk. Even if you wanted to go, it's not like you'd make much of a difference. You're more likely to get in the way, and that's the last thing you need. You've already proven yourself useless once. You're not keen on repeating the experience.

“Fine,” you mutter as the ship touches down, sending another plume of dust swirling around the camp. "I'll go. But only because you asked so nicely."

"I appreciate that," he says with a wry smile. He reaches out and gives your uninjured shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Take care of yourself. I'll comm you as soon as I have news."

"Yeah," you reply. Your throat is tight, and you swallow, trying to push back the wave of sadness that threatens to overwhelm you. It's not fair. You hate being left behind, and, even worse, you know Obi-Wan will be worrying about you while he's gone.

"Hey," Obi-Wan says. His tone is soft, and his gaze is full of understanding. The hand on your shoulder drifts up to your neck, and his fingers curl gently against the side of your head. You can feel the worry in him, but there's something else, too, a feeling you can't quite place.

"What is it?" you ask, the question slipping from your lips before you can stop yourself.

"Don't forget that I love you," he murmurs. He pulls you close, his breath warm against your cheek, and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "And I'm proud of you."

"I—thanks," you mumble. The tears well up in your eyes, and you blink them away, swallowing past the lump in your throat. "I'll see you soon."

He holds you for a moment, studying your features, and the worry on his face is etched in every line and crease. He tilts your head up and leans in, and your heart clenches with a sudden wave of anxiety, inexplicably fearful that he may kiss you. It's irrational. He wouldn't do that. Not here, not with the men around.

Still, you're unable to stop the flutter of panic that runs through your chest, and you suck in a breath as his mouth draws close to yours.

And then he turns his head and kisses your cheek.

"May the Force be with you," he says quietly, and he lets go of you. He gives you a final smile before stepping back and turning towards the ship. "And stay out of trouble."

Obi-Wan doesn't give you a chance to respond, walking toward the ship without another word. You watch him go, your thoughts a jumbled mess of relief and disappointment, and you rub absently at your neck.

"And with you," you murmur, and you sigh as you watch him rejoin Cody. He says something to him, and the Commander nods, signaling for the 212th to prepare to board the transport. In the distance, you can see the 501st doing the same. The men are gathering their supplies and checking their gear, taking down tents and packing crates. Fives is chatting with Echo and Hardcase, while Jesse and Kix are arguing about something.

You stay back, observing the scene. It's strangely peaceful, and the calm is a stark contrast to the chaos that filled the day before. Despite the ache in your muscles and the lingering exhaustion and anxiety, you can't help but feel grateful. It's over. 

For now, at least.

Boarding the transports that arrive one by one is slow going, and it’s early afternoon by the time the 501st is ready to leave. You stand by as the men move into formation, and your eyes sweep over the ranks, searching for a familiar blue pauldron. 

You know you won’t find him. There hasn’t been any sign of Rex thus far, and while you can feel his unmistakable presence in the Force drawing nearer to your location, you know you won’t be satisfied until you see him with your own eyes.

Still, you can’t keep a whole battalion waiting for one man, no matter how important or missed he may be. So you take a deep breath and let the air out slowly before addressing the assembled troops. You don't have much of a speech prepared, and you're not the best public speaker, but the men seem happy enough to see you, even if you're not their general.

"Hey," you start, and the men fall silent. Their helmets turn towards you, and the weight of their gazes is a palpable thing. You shift your weight from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Thank you for everything you did yesterday. I know it was...difficult. But you kept your heads. You're all brave men, and I'm proud to serve alongside you."

There's a chorus of cheers and whistles from the crowd. A few of the men even stomp their feet and raise their blasters into the air. It's a bit excessive, but you appreciate the enthusiasm nonetheless.

"I'm gonna miss you guys," you say, and there's a tittering of laughter from the ranks. A few of the troopers call out their own sentiments, and the group grows louder. You can't help but grin, and the expression feels foreign on your face.

“We’ll be headed back to Coruscant for some R&R," you continue. "And then you’ll get the go-ahead for your next assignment. So take advantage of this downtime. Enjoy the peace. Relax. Spend time with each other. You've earned it."

Another cheer erupts from the crowd, and you glance around, hoping someone will step forward and take charge of the situation. No such luck.

"Okay, that's it," you announce lamely. "Get on the damn ship and go home."

More cheering and whooping follow the declaration, and the men shuffle into place. There's a line of them stretching up the ramp, and as the first group of soldiers disappears inside, the ones standing near you start moving towards the transport. You step back and watch them go, giving each one a quick nod and smile as they pass. It's a tight fit, and there are a lot of clones, but everyone seems happy enough. It's good. They deserve a break.

"General," a voice calls, and you look up to see Kix approaching as the first transport takes off, another moving to take its place. He's dressed in his full gear, helmet tucked under his arm, and his expression is a strange mix of amusement and exasperation. "Glad to see you up and about."

"Thanks," you say, and you offer him a smile. “How are you?”

"I'm fine," he says with a shrug. "Just trying to make sure everyone else is too."

"I'm glad," you reply. "Thank you for everything you've done. I'm sorry if I was...combative. I'm not the best patient."

"You weren't that bad," he chuckles. "Jesse is much worse. Always complaining and trying to skip out on his shots. And Hardcase has a habit of picking at his stitches."

You make a face, and he smirks at your discomfort.

"Sounds like fun,” you say wryly.

"Something like that," he snorts.

"I'll be sure to avoid that in the future," you laugh.

"Please do." He reaches into his pack, pulling out a bottle that rattles as he holds it out to you.

“Here,” he says, and you take it, glancing at the label. “For the pain.”

"I told you. I'm fine," you reply, and you try to give it back to him, but he pushes your hand away. "Really. You should save these for someone who needs them."

"You need them. I'm not taking no for an answer," Kix insists. "You've got a few long weeks ahead of you. Better to start taking them now."

"Fine," you concede with a sigh. You dump two pills into your hand and tip your head, swallowing them dry. They stick in your throat, and you wince. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic," he retorts, his tone droll. "Now, take it easy. And keep those pills on you. I want you to take one every six hours. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," you say with a mock salute, and Kix rolls his eyes.

"Very funny," he grumbles. He looks toward the ship landing behind him and sighs. "I have to go. Jesse and I are on this one. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Thank you," you murmur, touched by his concern. And the pills are already starting to work. You can feel the familiar warmth spreading through your veins, and your shoulders sag. "Take care of yourself. I'll see you soon."

His brows raise. “You’re not coming?” 

“I’ll catch the next one,” you say. "I need to check on some things. And I want to wait for Rex. Make sure he’s okay.”

Kix frowns and glances over his shoulder at the ship. It's fully loaded and ready to go. You can see Fives and Echo waving at him, beckoning him over. He turns back, his gaze sweeping over your face. "I can stay with you if you'd like."

"No," you reply quickly. You shake your head and give him a smile. "You go. I'll be alright. I can't keep you from your brothers."

"Sir, he's fine," he says, and he takes a step forward, his eyes searching your face. "We talked to him. He's doing well. He just needs to rest."

"I know," you sigh. Your hands twist in the front of your robe as you bite your lip. The ache in your chest has returned. It's a dull throb, and it makes your heart feel heavy. You hate it. You look away, your gaze fixed on the horizon. "I just need to see him, make sure for myself."

"Oh," he breathes. The word is barely a whisper, and you grimace at the tone. You can feel his eyes on you, studying you, and he nods slowly. "Okay. I understand."

You meet his gaze, and the corners of his lips curl upward. He's smiling at you, but the expression is tinged with sadness. It's a strange look, and it makes you nervous. You don't like the way he's staring at you, and you shift uncomfortably, crossing your arms.

“Get moving, trooper,” you say. Your voice is gruffer than intended, and the words come out harsh, but you don't apologize. "That's an order."

Kix blinks at the change in tone, but he recovers quickly, his face breaking into a wide grin. He salutes, his fist resting over his heart, and the gesture is followed by a deep bow. "Sir, yes, sir."

He turns and walks back towards the transport. You watch as he boards, pausing to say a few final words to Jesse, who’s leaning against the side of the ship. His expression is stern, and the other clone nods, standing upright and putting a hand over his heart. Kix returns the nod, and the two exchange a few more words before Jesse moves back inside the transport.

Kix looks back towards you, and he waves before the door slides shut, blocking him from view. The engines flare, and the ship lifts into the sky in a smooth ascent, and soon it's disappearing over the horizon.

Once it's out of sight, you turn and walk towards the outskirts of the clearing, your eyes on the forest. Rex should be here soon. You can feel his presence growing stronger with every passing moment. You close your eyes and reach out with the Force. The trees are whispering, telling you where to go, and you follow their lead.

In the aftermath of the dust and dirt kicked up by the departing ship, a figure begins to emerge from the treeline in front of you. You shield your eyes and squint, trying to see through the haze.

The air begins to clear, and you watch as an eopie lopes toward you, its rider bobbing slightly with its movement. The sun glints off the armor of the clone atop the creature. His hair is matted and dirty, and his face is covered in dust and soot, but the smile on his lips is unmistakable, and his eyes are bright and warm.

You feel your heart leap, and you rush towards him as fast as your legs will carry you. The eopie kneels, and Rex dismounts, grabbing his helmet from its back and moving toward you with a swiftness that's almost surprising.

Your pace slows, and you stop a few feet from him, taking in the dents and scratches on his armor that weren’t there the day before. The most noticeable change is the large blaster hole on his chest piece, near dead center. It's singed and charred, and it makes your stomach churn. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, still focused on the damage to his armor.

"General," he greets, his voice hoarse and tired.

You don't respond. You're not sure what to say. You've missed him, and you're so relieved that he's alive, but all you can focus on is the hole in his chest.

"Hey."

The sound of his voice makes you jump, and you look up to see him staring at you. His gaze is piercing, and his brows are furrowed. He's worried. You can tell by the crease between his eyes and the way his jaw is set, and it's making the ache in your chest grow worse.

You open your mouth to speak, but the words die on your lips, and you swallow hard. You know you need to say something, anything, but your mind is blank.

"Are you alright?”

"Me?" you croak, and you gesture to the hole. "I'm fine. You—"

"Are fine," he finishes for you. He smiles, but there's a hint of sadness in the expression. He steps closer and reaches out, his hands hovering by your shoulders for a moment before he lets them drop, his eyes scanning the landscape behind you. "Are…we alone?”

"Yeah," you reply, and your brows furrow in confusion. "Why? Is something wrong?"

"No," he murmurs, his voice is soft and low. Rex takes another step closer, his boots crunching in the dirt, until you’re practically pressed against his chest. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

His eyes drift down to your shoulder, and his hand gently traces the bandages that wrap around your arm. "Kix told me you got hurt. I'm sorry I couldn't be there."

"Rex," you breathe, and you place a hand over his. "I'm fine. I'll live."

"Still," he sighs. "I hate seeing you like this."

"Like what?"

"In pain."

"Oh," you mutter.

You don't know how to respond to that. It's such a simple statement, but it carries a weight that makes your heart clench.

You swallow and look down, avoiding his gaze as your hand falls away. "Well, it's not your fault."

"I know.” He sighs again and rubs the back of his neck. "But I can't help it."

"Rex..."

"I know. It's not my place."

"No," you agree softly. “It’s not.”

Rex nods solemnly and steps away, his gaze dropping back to the ground. You watch as he turns and walks back toward the eopie. It's chewing on the leaves of a nearby tree, its tail flicking lazily, and he strokes the creature's flank and gives it a pat. The eopie snorts and lowers its head, nuzzling his hand before moving back towards the trees.

You’re both silent, and you stare after the animal as it disappears into the forest. Your thoughts are racing, and you're not sure how to articulate the turmoil in your mind. The words are on the tip of your tongue, but you can't bring yourself to speak.

Rex turns back to you and takes a deep breath. There’s an intensity to his gaze that’s disarming, and you feel yourself rooted in place. Your throat tightens, and you swallow, forcing down the lump in your throat.

“It is though."

The words are so quiet, you barely hear them.

"What?"

"It is my place," he says. His voice is strained, and his eyes are fixed on yours. You can't tell what he's thinking. You can't even guess, but the way his eyes are locked on yours is enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

"Rex," you begin, and you lick your lips, your mouth suddenly dry. "I can't—"

"I know," he interrupts, and the words come out rushed. He shakes his head and looks away, his brow furrowed in thought. He stares off into the distance, and his hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“I was afraid," Rex admits, his gaze moving back to you. "When I heard the news. That you'd been injured. I couldn't stop thinking about how much I'd...how much we'd lose. If anything happened to you."

"Rex," you sigh, and you cross your arms, hugging yourself tightly. The admission is both painful and exhilarating. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," he replies. He takes a shaky breath, and the corners of his mouth lift. "Just glad you're okay."

"Thank you," you whisper. You can't think of anything else to say. You just stand there, staring at him, unable to formulate a coherent thought. You know what you want to tell him, but you can't get the words out. Your brain is screaming at you, begging you to speak, but your mouth refuses to cooperate. And so the two of you remain motionless, frozen in the moment.

Rex is the first to break the silence. "We should head back."

"Yes," you murmur. You nod slowly and blink. "We should."

"Right," he sighs, and he moves past you. His arm brushes yours as he passes, and a shiver runs through you. He stops and turns back, his brows furrowed in concern. "Are you sure you're okay?”

“I…” 

You trail off and shake your head. You're not okay, not even a little bit. And the longer you stay here with him, staring into his eyes, the less okay you feel. But you can’t help yourself, can't pull yourself away.

It's not a good idea. It’s foolish, not when there's no telling who might be watching, but you're past caring. You're too exhausted to be afraid. Too tired to fight the impulse.

You take a deep breath and dart forward, your arms wrapping around his torso. You press your face into his chest plate and cling to him, your hands trembling, and you can feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes. You're being ridiculous, but you don’t care. You just need to be close to him, to feel him against you, to know that he's real and alive. 

Rex doesn't react immediately. He stands completely still, letting you hold him, but after a moment, his arms slowly circle your shoulders. His grip is light, almost tentative, as if he's afraid of hurting you. But when you squeeze him tighter, he hugs you back.

His helmet falls to the ground with a thud, and you can feel him burying his face in your hair. His breath is warm against the top of your head. One hand drifts down to the small of your back, while the other slides up to cradle the back of your neck, and his fingers curl into your hair. 

He pulls you closer, tighter as your breath hitches and a sob escapes your lips. You can feel the warmth spreading across your face as the tears start to fall, hard and fast. They trickle down your cheeks and onto his armor, and you press your face against him, the cold soothing against your skin.

“Rex," you choke out, and your voice cracks. The words are muffled by his chest, but you know he hears them all the same. "I thought...I was so scared..."

"I'm okay," he whispers, and his hand moves to stroke your hair. "I'm fine."

"I know," you hiccup. "But I couldn't help it."

"It's okay," he says gently, continuing to smooth the loose strands. It's a comforting sensation, and you let yourself relax into him, your hands sliding up his back. "I'm here."

"I know," you sigh. You lean against him, letting the full weight of your body rest on his chest. You can sense his heart pounding against his ribs, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me. I shouldn't一"

“Don’t,” he interrupts. He pulls back and looks down at you, his brows knitted together. He looks pained. "Please. Don't apologize. Not for this."

"But we一"

"Just...let me hold you," he pleads, his eyes searching your face. He looks almost desperate, and there's an urgency to his voice that makes your heart skip a beat. "Please. For a minute. That's all."

"Okay," you murmur, and you can feel yourself nodding. The movement is small, but it's enough, and Rex's lips curl upward.

You lean back into him, letting your cheek rest on him again as he lets out a deep exhale. Rex draws you close and rests his chin on the top of your head, and his hands return to their places on your back and neck. 

Your fingers curl into his chest plate, and you breathe deeply. He smells like smoke and sweat, but there's a hint of something else. Something clean, and crisp, and familiar. You're not sure what it is, but it reminds you of home. Of safety. Of comfort. 

He holds you tight, and the two of you stay like that for a long time, neither of you speaking, until your shoulder starts to ache. You wish you could stay here forever, but the last ship is waiting for you, and the last thing you want is for someone to come looking. 

Reluctantly, you pull away, and the moment is broken. The reality sets in, the weight of the consequences pressing down on you. You've taken too many risks already. If anyone sees...If they suspect anything...the thought sends a shiver of fear down your spine. You need to put some distance between the two of you.

"We should get going," you murmur. You avoid looking at him, but you can feel his gaze burning into the side of your face.

"Right," Rex sighs. "The ship."

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "I know this isn't一"

"I understand," he says softly. "And I'm sorry too. For scaring you."

"You didn't do anything wrong," you insist. “I need to learn how to deal with this stuff. I shouldn't freak out like that."

"Don't," he says firmly. He reaches out and puts his hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, and it's meant to be reassuring, but it makes you wince. 

He must notice, because his brows furrow and his expression turns concerned. “You're still in pain."

"I'll live," you grumble, and you shrug his hand off. "It's nothing."

“Did Kix give you any medicine?" he asks. He steps closer and peers down at your face. "Did he tell you what to do if it starts hurting again? You need to一"

"Rex," you interject, feeling a blush creeping up your neck. "I'm fine. I can handle it."

He frowns. "I don't think一"

"Rex," you interrupt. You take a deep breath and look up, your eyes searching his face. There's a bruise on his forehead, and a cut near his hairline, and he has a few days' worth of scruff on his cheeks. He looks rough. He needs a shower and a shave and a good night's sleep, but his eyes are warm, and his expression is earnest. "Just...take me home."

He's quiet for a moment. Something in your words makes him hesitate, and he looks away, his gaze focused on something behind you. The air feels heavy, and your chest tightens.

"Home," Rex repeats. There's an edge to his voice that makes you tense, and his eyes narrow. You wonder if you've gone too far, pushed too hard, but then he nods, and the moment is forgotten. "Of course. We should go."

You exhale and give him a grateful smile, and he returns it as he bends down to pick up his helmet. His arm brushes yours as he straightens, and he lingers close.

"You ready?" he asks, his voice low, barely more than a whisper.

“I think so," you murmur as you look down and stare at your feet. The boots are filthy, covered in mud and sand, and your robe is stained with blood. You look awful, but that's the least of your worries.

You feel a gentle touch on your hand, drawing you from your thoughts.

You barely stifle a gasp at the unexpected sensation, the barest brush of Rex’s hand against yours, so light and soft it could almost be mistaken for a breeze. It's a small gesture, but it's significant. It means something to you, and you can tell by the way his signature shifts and bends in the Force, glowing bright and warm, that it means something to him too.

Your breath catches, and your fingers curl, seeking his, but he steps away, putting a respectable distance between the two of you. You’re glad for it, despite the flare of disappointment that stabs at your chest. The rational part of you knows it's the right thing to do.

The two of you set off towards where the last transport is waiting without another word. You can see the clone manning the ramp watching you from the top of the incline, and your jaw clenches. You feel strangely exposed, like the trooper can read your thoughts, and you glance at Rex.

He seems unfazed, and his expression is calm, his face a mask of serenity. But there's a tension in his shoulders, and his signature is still aglow, pulsing and twisting, and it makes your palms sweat. You try to steady yourself, pushing the thoughts of his touch from your mind.

“Ready, sir?” the clone greets as the two of you approach. He salutes, and you return the gesture with a nod, your eyes sweeping over him. You’re almost certain this one is Mixer, and you make a note to check the roster later.

"Ready," Rex says, his tone light.

"Let's get out of here," you reply. You glance at Rex as he climbs the ramp ahead of you. "I'm ready for a hot meal and a shower."

"Me too," he grunts. He sounds exhausted. You wonder how much sleep he's gotten over the last two days. "And a shave.”

You bark out a laugh and follow him into the ship. “What a shame. I was starting to like the rugged look."

Rex freezes at the top of the ramp, his head whipping around to stare at you. He blinks, his brows raising in surprise before his lips curve into a wry smile, and he shakes his head. "Very funny, sir."

"I'm just saying. It was growing on me," you say with a shrug. "Suits you."

"Is that so?"

You bite the inside of your cheek to stop the grin threatening to spread across your face at the way his ears turn pink. "It's just an observation."

He chuckles, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He starts to reply, but the ramp is sliding closed behind you, and the words die in his throat.

The two of you are far from alone, and while the clones milling about the transport's interior are too distracted with their own affairs to notice the exchange, it's better not to chance it. Rex seems to realize this, and he settles for a pointed look as the ship rumbles to life, lifting off the ground.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the roar of the engines. You can’t hide your smile, and the corner of his mouth twitches too, his lips curving up into a matching grin. 

He nods and walks away, making his way towards a group of his brothers. You watch as they welcome him back, the clones slapping his pauldron and clasping his hand in a one-armed hug.

Your eyes stay on them for a moment longer before you look away, making your way to the back of the ship and settling down in a corner. It's not a wise idea. You shouldn't even be thinking about him like that, and there are a hundred reasons not to, but you can't help but feel a little hopeful. 

After all, you're both still alive. For now. 

And maybe that's enough.

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[lysmune]

90° N

Get a little higher, drown a little deeper.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi/F!Jedi)

Some more angst Obi-Wan. Inspired by a friend that says nothing forbids a Jedi from having one night stands.

     Between the nebulous spaces that their twining bodies can’t seem to close, the breaths on the tip of his tongue that he distinctly remembers as hers - saltwater and mint, underlined with an alkaline tang that burns his throats just enough - and the faint hum behind her teeth, he’s all but lost, a man in a universe too large.

     He etches the map that is her body into his memory as she shifts underneath him, fingers brushing across the coordinates inked into her bones and he watches, waits, to see how she changes. When the old architectures disappear, he kisses unmarked ground and when new ones are built, he blots the scroll of paper in his mind; he keeps them in record, whether or not they’ve withstood the ages irrelevant.

     She does not tally his injuries, but she’s so much more proficient in finding the cracks that mark him. She fills these with starlight so he glows instead of flickering, embedding a splintering of hers inside him that settles in his marrows and congeals. Other times, she is passive, lets them heal without her, makes him into him because she has some sort of twisted, gnarled faith in him.

     It’s an odd thing.

     He dips, she rises, meeting his lips for a kiss as her arms drape across his back, bunching his flesh in between fingers while a moan falls into his mouth, his hand on the arch of her back pulling her closer to him. With each move, they’re an undulating wave that crashes against cliff sides, a pair of strangely stitched creatures whose clashing orbits rip at their seams, but gnaws them inside out a distance away.

     What are they?

     The nights they spend are cloyingly sweet, sickening, an intimacy that verges into an affection that intends to choke him dry, her fluttering touches leaving a trail from the column of his neck to the bone of his hip, tracing the remnants of their sex while he listens to the thrum of her heart in his ear, a hundred and eighty beats per second.

     Come the morn, she’s an arctic blue, not a warm gold. The love marks on their flesh are war wounds when they maintain a polite distance that cuts through their closeness too cleanly for him, as though they’ve never once converged, and it should bring him comfort, but it makes him bleed, instead. Even after each promise that this will stop, after all the times he’s snapped that string between them, it grows back, their absence pulling it taut as it turns from a skimming cut into a biting gnash over time. It’s a vicious cycle that they thrive on, one that he prays will end at some point because he cannot live like this, with her poison in his blood and he wants to laugh at how foolish he is for dwelling on such bygone ages because fate has made it simpler for him, yet he’s the one screaming, grinning, dying.

Her heart is a silent smile in his ear, long replaced by the whisperings that form his name, their syllables drenched in the mismatch of her voice, a white noise that statics and breaks, and snaps as he watches her glance at him, her eyes frigid, molten, withholding the sand dunes, the axises around their fragile pulses behind.

“I loved you.”

And he crushes the starlight inside his heart in his hands, wrenches the flower covered bones, retches the bitter ichor that’s settled between his ribs, drowning the staccatos with murmurs, pointed fingers, cold sheets.

Between the nebulous spaces that their twining bodies can’t seem to close, he’s all but lost in a universe too large, in a universe too desolate.

[kashimos-hajime]

darling, dearest, not quite dead | o.k.

summary: twenty years. you have loved obi-wan for twenty years and the minute he comes back from what seems to be the dead, he wants your help to kill the supreme chancellor. then again, it seems almost like him to ask you to do this with him.

WARNINGS: swearing, brief death, mentions of injuries, sexual tension, angst, fluff, obi-wan is being annoying and y/n is being annoying right back, matching energies for our otp ❤️, questioning morality, crying men, happy ending!!! pairing: sith!obi-wan x fem!jedi!reader word count: 15.5k

a/n: i have no excuses ndklnsf i love him :) crossposted on ao3!

contritus | latin: broken, crumbled, worn down, crushed

Master Windu always said that a single moment defines a battle.

The moment Obi-Wan sinks his lightsaber through you, you realize that this is that moment.  

It’d been a mistake—the marauder had thrown Obi-Wan forward and you’d been in his way. The Masters were too far, they were caught between giving up a Jedi holocron or their lives.

You had begged him not to give up the holocron. Your life was nothing—nothing—

It’d been a fatal mistake. You know it the moment he spears right through you.

“Obi—Obi-wan?” Your voice, soft as a whisper as you grab onto his wrist and his eyes, so very blue even in the light of his saber, widen as your fingers dig into his skin.

It’s a peculiar sensation, glowing, blinding, yet curiously numb as he chokes out your name and retracts the lightsaber. The hunter lets go of your shoulder and you fall forward, gasping at the shrivelled fabric melded to your skin as arms take you and you realize it is Obi-Wan who holds you tight just as the whomsh of another lightsaber swings overhead. Craning up, you see a decapitated hunter, Master Windu, and Master Qui-Gon.

The body falls and so do you. Your friend falls to his knees, cradling you close and you shiver as he keens over you.

The Masters look down upon their Padawans and Obi-Wan’s tear-stained face raises wretchedly to glower at them.

“Master, I—Do something—“

Oh, sweet Obi-Wan. Pleading as he holds onto you and you simply turn your head into his robes. You don’t feel any pain but you are shivering as he grabs onto your hand, holds it against the burns on your stomach. 

“Bring her to the ship, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m so sorry, darling,” He looks down at you, at his young face, and you smile. Maker, you love him. “I didn’t—“

“Oh, hush, Obi,” you breathe, reaching weakly for his face. Your fingers barely brush his smooth chin before the strength leaves your arm and it falls back again. He catches your hand, gently lowering it to the ground before twisting and scooping you up with an arm underneath your knees. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“If it takes my dramatics to keep you awake, I will do what I must,” he says as he follows their Masters back to the ship. Master Windu speaks into his comlink and Obi-Wan’s grip on you only intensifies when the Padawans catch him calling for medics to be waiting when they land back on Coruscant. 

They catch ‘critical condition’ and ‘uncertain odds.’

“You’re going to be alright, dearest” Obi-Wan whispers and you look up at him. Then, you smile again—he’ll be the last thing you see, won’t he?

His arms are so warm and you feel your eyelids growing heavier as the gentle sway of his steps begins to lull you to sleep.

You can hear him calling your name. 

You do not wake up until both Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon have both disappeared.

.

You wake up and everything changes.

They tell you that Obi-Wan left the Jedi Order and Master Qui-Gon had offered his life to save you. It’s an ancient Force skill with the ultimate price.

The guilt is what eats you alive, and without your other half—Obi-Wan was more than a friend and just shy of a lover—you want to leave the Order yourself and find him.

But you don’t.

You persevere. You had forgiven him. It is, you believe, what Obi-Wan would’ve done. 

What Obi-Wan would’ve wanted for you.

It is… the Jedi way.

You become a Jedi Knight in his and Master Qui-Gon’s memory. The Council trusts you, believes in your strength to return after what should have been your death. You become their top agent, true above all else. 

You escort the Queen of Naboo, you land on Tatooine, you find yourself a Padawan. You do everything you can to keep his memory alive in your heart.

You do not speak of the dreams.

In your sleep, you feel the lingering presence of Obi-Wan Kenobi, his terrified screams, the untamed rage in his swings. Instead of blue, everything flashes red, and when you reach for him, he pulls away.

He’s out there… somewhere. You wonder if he knows you’re alive or if he left before he could know.

You are on Coruscant in your rooms when you get your answer. The Clone Wars are beginning to wear on them all, you are a Jedi General with an old Padawan who’s found himself an apprentice of his own, and life seems… not easy, but not complicated. There is no time to think of much besides the war and although you barely sleep these days, it’s better being so exhausted you can barely even dream.

“So he was right.”

Every inch of you stiffens as you whip around, pulling out your saberstaff from your belt with a practiced flourish and activating it. The yellow plasma hums and you narrow your eyes at the intruder.

“Jedi Sentinel, one of the youngest-made Jedi Knights in the Order, yet, held in such high esteem,” he continues. His eyes, glowing yellow in the shadows, pin you down and your grip on your saberstaff only tightens as the Sith steps out into the light and your breath catches when you stare into the face of a man you thought you’d lost. “Master Windu must love you, dearest.”

Obi-Wan, older, with his strong jaw covered in a beard and long hair raked back, stands in front of you with a smirk. A scar fractures his face, crossing his nose and digging into his cheek, but it only serves to amplify his looks. He’s handsome, still. Handsomer, even. 

Mature, civil, cold.

You remember Master Windu once said he could’ve been the greatest negotiator the Jedi Council had ever seen and you, the greatest fighter.

He, the calming hand. You, the fist.

Now, it seems, that they each are both.

In black armour and a hood tugged over his head, he regards you as he descends down the small flight of steps into your sitting area and you swallow, twirling your staff so it points down along the length of your arm—a show of peace, for now.

He hasn’t pulled out his own lightsaber you see hanging at his hip. It makes you uneasy.

Is it still blue? Red, now? 

All you know is that he is everything you swore to fight against.

“Sit.” You don’t even recognize your own voice when you speak, quiet and rasping as you deactivate your saberstaff and join him at the couches. Sitting across from him, you watch as he smoothes his hand over his robes and does so, pulling the hood off his head. “Is there any name by which you be called, or are you still Obi-Wan?”

His eyes snap to yours at the name and you meet him head on, your chest swelling in pain. How desperately you want to touch him, make sure this is all real, you cannot even begin to describe. 

Obi-Wan, a man you had loved since they were mere children in the Jedi Temple—childish love that had matured in something wretched, something forlorn—lives in his eyes. You see it then, for a split-second, when you had said his name.

But then, it had been swallowed up by whatever sits before you now.

“Darth Contritus.”

“Catchy.”

“Hm.”

“I won’t use it.”

Silence. You look out at the balcony and note that the door is cracked open before glancing at Obi-Wan before you again. He looks at you intently, as if he’s trying to figure out a puzzle, and you sense something stirring with him—it’s powerful, negative—and you clench your jaw, hands folded in your lap.

“What’s true, then?” you prompt after a while of his glaring. You feel bare before him after all this time and your stomach flips as he blinks, looking up from where he’d been trailing his gaze down your body, to your scarred hands, you know. 

You can feel him everywhere.

“That you live,” says Obi-Wan—Darth Contritus, you should say, but you refuse. 

“I do,” you agree. “And you would’ve known that had you stayed on Coruscant.” With me, you want to add but he hears it anyway. You know he does. “It’s been a long time, Obi-Wan. What is it, twenty years? More?”

“Obi-Wan,” he echoes wryly. “It’s been just as long since I heard that name. You should watch yourself lest you say that in front of the wrong people.”

“Well, you’ll always be Obi-Wan to people who loved you, hm?” Your chest tightens and you find his eyes again. His eyebrows furrow inquisitively as his hand brushes over his chin. You want to scream.

You want Anakin to barge in here, ask for advice from his former Master. Or, maybe, have the Senator of Naboo herself summon you. Have anyone demand your presence as they have for what feels like the past year with late night meetings and delegations. 

But there won’t be. You know this.

On this nights of all nights, Obi-Wan Kenobi finds you alone and your heart wilts in your chest.

Love. It weighs like a bantha between your shoulders. You once felt like you could fight a dragon with love, and now, it tears you apart slowly, limb from limb.

Loved.

You cannot linger. “Why are you here? If you were here to kill me, you would’ve tried already.”

“Only tried?” he mocks, leaning back into the sofa. Your arms stiffen and he smirks. “Dearest, I would’ve succeeded.”

“And there’s that signature Kenobi smugness. It’s a relief to see that some things don’t change,” you shoot back. “I’m not the same girl and you…” You laugh weakly. “You are not the same boy.” His hands shift on his knees and your eyes dart to the movement. Long, agile fingers dig into his knees and when you look at him, your gut clenches. “What do you want from me, Obi-Wan?”

“I need your help.”

That surprises you. Your chin jerks up to meet his eyes and he has that arrogant smile, that faint smirk that makes your stomach flutter even now.

You can’t remember the last time you felt this way—

Stop. You can’t think of that, you chastise to yourself. He is everything you are fighting against—everything that a Jedi cannot be. He isn’t the Obi-Wan you love anymore.

Except he is. 

He always will be.

“With what?”

The fact that you do not outright deny him is proof enough.

“If I told you I know who the Sith Lord orchestrating this whole debacle was and wanted to destroy him with your help, what would you say?”

“I would say that you want something in return for my help. I would say it’s been years since we’ve last seen each other and the first time we discover the other is alive”—your voice is dangerously bitter—“all you want to ask is a favour.”

He chuckles. There is a trickling trail of cold dread in your stomach. “Oh, dearest, you haven’t lost your wit.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Call you what, darling?” He’s playing coy, but the predator in his eyes does not falter as he rests an arm along the back of the couch. 

“You know what.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Obi-Wan—“

“Darth,” he cuts you off coldly, “Contritus. Obi-Wan is dead and I am finished entertaining the thought that he is anything otherwise.”

“I refuse to believe it.” You stand, smoothing a hand over your overtunic and turning your back to him. It’s foolish, you know, but you want to know if he will attempt to strike you down for refusing him—if there is a list of people he wants to turn, wants to help him achieve more and more power. Walking around the couch, you step up out of the small pit. “Find someone else.”

You take not one more step before you feel the faintest rush and your hand shoots to your saberstaff, activating it. Whipping around, you block his swing, their blades clashing in blinding white. Red meets yellow and you feel the hum of plasma in your bones as you stare up at Obi-Wan. He pushes down on you and you grit your teeth, digging your feet into the ground and shoving him back, your boots sliding along the floor with the force of his own strike. Energy fizzes in your bones and you’re breathless.

Just his presence so close to yourself again makes your nerves burn. Your senses are overloaded, memories flooding your brain and you stiffen when he lets out a soft laugh.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

His lightsaber is burning so brightly you feel tears spring to your eyes and there is a swelling in your throat as you snap apart your lightsaber into dual blades, reversing the grip with a twist of your wrists. Obi-Wan’s eyes widen nearly imperceptibly and you raise a blade up in a defensive position. 

You had spent years training in Niman and the Shien variant, convincing Master Windu to train you in Vaapad despite the temptation of the dark side, mastering them to fill the void inside you. 

You’re not about to let the man who caused it to strike you down.

“A lot has changed. My answer is final.”

“You don’t even know what I want.” Curse him for being so relaxed, red saber burning and hissing and crackling yet loose in his experienced hand. “Dearest—“

“Stop it.”

“Darling, is finding the Sith Lord not the Council’s priority?”

“I won’t work with you.”

“Why?” The question is abrupt, and your eyebrows furrow together quizzically. It’s genuinely asked, you realize, and your grip laxes as he deactivates his lightsaber and clips it. “You can clearly match blows with me. I won’t get the jump on you as easily as some of the other fools in the Order.” You wonder if that’s difficult for him to admit. The Obi-Wan you’d known didn’t find it hard to admit, but…

But still. Still, everything’s changed.

“Is it, I wonder, because you care for me?”

Your stomach rolls and you don’t know if you should be ecstatic or terrified that he’s right.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Or because you still think of our time together?”

“There was no time. We were Jedi—“

“Temptation frightens you.”

“I’m not afraid.”

“Now, now,” he says, walking over to you smoothly and tilting his head. He offers a crooked smile and your lips part as you suck in a sharp breath. You drop your own guard unwillingly, lightsabers shutting off with a whomsh and he gently pushes your arms down. You let him—you do.

You can feel every molecule of his being coming closer, the smell of soap heavy in your nose as he stops before you. Maybe it’s because your heart is racing as he nears and you don’t even know if you’re breathing, or if it is because the love you once felt for him is roaring to life, consuming you until you are nothing more than starfire. Either way, you don’t want to know.

“We both know that the memories we share still… haunt you here…” His fingers brush over your temple and your eyes flutter shut. His touch is so soft, so tender, that you feel a part of you break. His hand trails down your jaw, down your neck, fluttering over your tunic and exposed collarbones and you know he feels you swallow. You know that he can feel every inch of you as intimately as if they were the same being. “And here…” He presses fingers to your sternum, right where your heart is. “Here is where your true desires lie.”

“I have no desires,” you grit out, pulling back but he grabs your arm before you can escape from his reach. Your head snaps up from his firm hand to his burning eyes and you are incinerating from inside out. “The Jedi—“

“—don’t give a damn about what you are or what you want. They only care about what you can do for them—“

“And that’s any different from the Sith?” You rip your arm free and immediately regret it for a flashing moment. “Get out of my sight.”

“Or what?”

“What do you mean ‘or what’?” you snap, holstering your lightsabers with twitching snarl at your lips. “You said it yourself, you are no longer Obi-Wan Kenobi, I don’t love you, and I am done with this game.” There is pleasure in the way his facade seems to crack then before attempting to repair itself and there is a surge in your bravery as you shove your face into his. He can’t quite fix the breaks you’ve smashed in his mask. “Go. Or this time, I’ll cut you down.”

“Hm.” His eyebrow quirks as he stares at you intently, curiously. Those eyes are nothing like the blue you had once known. “I’d like to see you try.”

Your eyes burn but you do not blink. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

“My, my. Such anger from the Council’s prized hound,” he murmurs mockingly into your ear as his fingers brush your jaw again and there is that cocky, sickening smile in the blonde of his beard. Your lips pull into a snarl and you jerk your head away, turning around. You detest this new man before you, yet you can’t even bare to see him go. You feel like everything inside you is peeling. “Anger suggests feeling, dearest. Temper that the next time you wish to convince me that you no longer care for me.”

“It’s a bold claim that I could care for someone who is everything I fight against.”

“One you didn’t deny,” he replies evenly. “Goodnight, Jedi.”

You wait until you’re sure he’s gone—when you can on longer sense his presence and your heart comes down from your throat.

You crawl into the bed and bury your face into the pillow before screaming out against every injustice in the world.

If Anakin notices anything the morning after, he does not say it. Instead, he simply says “Master” in his cordial tone as he always does and you, for the first time in a very long time, since he was a boy even, look at him and your bruised heart is listless in your chest, a puppet with cut strings. You hold his face in your hand and look at the man you’ve trained, raised from the ground up, and truly feel the life that’s passed you by.

“Are you alright, Master?”

“Fine. Just tired,” you murmur quietly. “I’m just… I’m so proud of you, you know that?” Your old Padawan regards you and you know what he sees as he nods against your palm and you let him go. He sees a mother, a sister, family.

You can only hope that he knows you feel the same way. Your son, your brother, the one thing left you know you can rely on.

“I know. I promise, I won’t let you down.”

“You could never,” you assure with a gentle sigh and when he looks at you with that hope in his eyes, it reminds you torturously of Obi-Wan when they still had hopes for their own future. Together. Together. The word aches everywhere. “You know you could tell me anything, Anakin, and I would never care for you less.” Anakin’s expression flickers and your eyebrows twitch together before he gives you a tiny, boyish grin.

“Of course. And you, as well. I am here for you, Master.”

You give him a plastic facsimile of a smile before squeezing his elbow. “I know. Come on. The Council is waiting.”

.

They send you to a warm moon that reminds you of Naboo. Yavin 4, outer rim. 

At least it isn’t Hoth, or Maker forbid, Alzoc III.

There’s a Separatist chapter lodging in the jungles of the moon, causing enough trouble to warrant the Jedi’s attention.

You think your old Master notices your distracted disposition and sent you somewhere easy to work out whatever’s bothering you with a good droid slicing. Master Windu has always been attuned to your emotions, long before everything with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan happened. It’s why you were his Padawan.

He had sensed the darkness in you the moment he first saw you, or maybe he foresaw it. 

You don’t know.

You land your starfighter in the brush where it’ll stay hidden enough before jumping out and landing in the soft dirt quietly. You’ve shed Jedi robes for a sleeker outfit more fitted for the jungles. With tan sleeveless tunic tucked into darker brown pants, your boots shift in the soil as you skirt into the fronds and head in the direction of the fortress.

There is nothing complicated about this. 

It’s arduous, yes. Dangerous, monumentally. But it isn’t complicated. Training Anakin is more complicated than destroying a Separatist branch. Deciding between sleeping in Obi-Wan’s quarters or your own when they were just mere Padawans was a harder choice than deciding whether or not you swing left first or right. 

It’s all instinct, second-nature and nearly your first. Soon, the fortress stops screaming from blaster fire and droid whining. You slash the head off the last droid, let its head roll at your feet and whirl around when you sense another presence behind you.

And there he stands again, a ghost you can’t shake.

It disrupts you to your very core. There is the smell of smoking metal and something worse as he tilts his head, amused. You clip your saberstaff with a practiced twirl, kicking a droid’s head away with a swift swing of your boot. 

He’s leaning against the wall, all sleek and handsome, you’re sweating with oil smeared across your cheek.

How romantic.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

“And I knew you just couldn’t stay away,” he retorts. “I wasn’t aware you’d be here until I heard you destroying those poor droids.” His voice is dripping with scathing sarcasm. “My, my, Jedi, you’re a sight.”

Joining him by the wall, you tentatively lean back against it as he turns onto his shoulder, regards you with a keen interest.

“You’re infuriating,” you admit quietly, refusing to look at him. You instead stare at the black leather of his boots, the way he’s crossed his legs at the ankles as he did when he was still by your side. Just more proof Obi-Wan’s there, torturing you with those tiny glimpses. “Why were you here?”

“There’s a factory here, over in Massassi Valley. I arrived to check in on their progress before I was alerted of a gorgeous Jedi with a yellow saber. Hm.” Your eyes flutter to his face and he smiles faintly. “Three forms.”

“You noticed.”

“How could I not, dearest?” He pushes off the wall with a smirk and, against your own will, a smile begins to pull at your lips insistently. “You’re just oh, so talented.”

Stubbornly ignoring the twitch, you follow him. “I told you not to call me that.”

“Oh, I apologize. Sentinel, then. Formalities, and such.”

“And I know you didn’t mean that apology.” They step over a droid body and make their way through the fortress, following the trail of droid bodies. You’ve rigged the place to explode and you know you could leave him to rot if you wanted but…

But he wants something from you, and if you can convince him to give you the Sith Lord without something in exchange—

“And I still wish to talk to you about our negotiation. We never finished before someone lost her temper.”

“Don’t test me, Obi-Wan. I don’t need to remind you the importance of warming up before a battle,” you warn and he lets out a sharp exhale, a hint of a laugh, and your smile grows as you lower your head, trying to hide it away from him. “And I think losing my temper is fair when I’m around such atrocious company.”

“Oh, now I know you aim to wound me.”

“Am I hitting my mark?”

“Not even close.”

Jumping over the railing of the building, they traverse in silence up a short hill before you turn around and pull out the detonator. With a simple press of a button, it goes up in flames and debris, caving in from the inside out and destroying any droid not alerted already by your little dance with your saber. 

Job done. And there’ll be a million more like it in differing sizes and magnitudes. Dropping the detonator to your feet, you smash it to bits with a sharp stomp.

How many more factories can they blow up? How many droids can they kill?

All of it means nothing if you don’t kill the mastermind behind it all.

Eyes closing, you curse whatever deity pulls the strings and tell yourself that it’s just what you have to do. There are no clean hands in war. Just dirty ones and dirtier ones.

So be it.

Turning to Obi-Wan, your eyes flutter from his dark robes to his face.

“You wanted my attention, you have it.” His eyes squint a bit at your choice of words and you lift your chin up, refusing to back down in his overwhelming confidence. “Talk.”

“Now you want to listen to me?”

“Don’t waste my time.” Your boots shift in the soft dirt, leaves bending beneath the ball of your feet and you look at Obi-Wan, really get a good look at him for the first time since he’s thrusted himself back into his life. You wonder if you look at him the same way he looks at you. Then, you ponder if he notices that he stares at you like he’s seen a ghost or if he believes that no one can read him anymore.

But you still can.

You can rip the pages out of a book, but it does no good for someone who has memorized every single page and simply flips through for the memories.

“The Sith Lord, his name is Darth Sidious,” he says, tucking his hands into his sleeves. “He rules the Republic secretly, taking senators under his control with a simple word. The apprentice, on the other hand, was Count Dooku.”

“Count Dooku? The Jedi who retired.”

He nods. “The same. That is, before I killed him and took his place.”

“Killed him,” you repeat. “You killed a Jedi.”

“A Sith Lord,” he corrects.” It was of no consequence. He would’ve caused you more trouble sooner or later.” It’s the flippant way in which he speaks that sets you back as he turns to head deeper into the forest and you follow him for lack of nowhere else to go. This is the way to your starfighter, something he seems to realize.

“Obi-Wan, you can’t just say that.“

“How many times do I need to remind you that—“

“Well, I refuse to use that name.” You plant yourself right in front of him and his eyes widen, eyebrows rising as he looks up at you. Clenching your jaw, you wish you could somehow reach into him, pull the Obi-Wan you know out so you could just hold him again— “It’s cursed, and wretched, and wrong.”

“This again?” He tries to walk around you but you grab his arm. He freezes, rigid, under your grip and you try to pull him back.

“You know I’m right. You only correct me when I start questioning your morality—something I thought Sith don’t exactly doubt.” Your eyes narrow. “I thought you all believed you were evil and relished in it.”

When he rips his arm out of your grip, he tears a piece of you with him. “Don’t make me regret my decision to come to you.”

“Regret it, then. See if I care.” You start to walk back down to the wreckage of the building and you hear a loud sigh.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere where the air isn’t tainted with your presence. I’m not wasting my time when there is a war going on.”

“Tainted?” His voice rises as he walks down the hill after you. “If I was aware that the Jedi have made you so marvellously childish, I wouldn’t have come at all.” Stopping in your tracks, your eyebrows shoot up your forehead and you whip around, pinning him with a glare.

“What do you mean come? You said you were here already.” Before you know it, his mouth opens to argue but no words come out and you know you’ve caught him.

So you get under his skin as much as he gets under yours.

Good.

“You were following me.”

Dryly: “An astute observation. Now, will you help me kill a Sith Lord or not?” He stops in front of you and you tilt your head. His lips are twisted in an impatient scowl as you look over your shoulder at the ruins of the Separatist chapter.

Then, you cross your arms and sit down on the hill. You glance up at him, cock your head as a silent invitation for him to sit next to you. The sun is just beginning to set on the horizon, painting the sky a wondrous purple-orange. When you look at Obi-Wan, the orange ignites the gold in his eyes and sets his hair aflame. He stares out at the sky, legs crossed and hands on his lap. The perfect meditation posture.

“You haven’t succumbed to the dark side, have you?” you ask quietly, voice cracking, and he blinks, looking at you.

“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” Then, his eyes are on the sky again.

You search his side profile. He seems so normal. So… like himself. It scares you yet brings you relief.

“Never mind.” You draw your legs up to your chest, rest your arms atop your kneecaps. “The Sith Lord, Darth Sidious. He taught you… whatever it is that’s so enticing about the dark side.”

“Oh, if only you knew, dearest,” he sighs. “But yes. I’ve no interest in seeing his reign continue.”

“But… shouldn’t your goals align?” you ask, confused. “It is the goal of the Sith to destroy the Jedi.”

“Not all Jedi,” he corrects. “Perhaps some exceptions can be made.” Again, his eyes flicker to yours and your eyebrows knit together. A delicate frown mars your face. “You. Your old Padawan. You join me and together we can rule the galaxy ourselves. We could keep him because I know how much he means to you. Personally, I find him endearing.”

Shock shoots through you like cold fire. “What? No. No, that’s not how this works. We do this for the Republic. Not to replace one dictator with another.”

“Why not?” he laughs. “We’d have no rules, or, perhaps, it’d be by our own design. We could have the power to shape the galaxy however we wish.” He leans over. “I know you want that as much as I do. I don’t see why we shouldn’t take the Senate for ourselves.”

“Because that’s wrong! Because democracy—“

“—has worked so well?” he asks dryly. “Look at the Trade Federation. The Separatists. Your democracy has failed you twice in the past ten years on a scale tantamount to the largest volcano on Mustafar erupting.”

“Then we amend what goes wrong. That’s how this works. We try and try. We do it until we get it right, even if we never do.”

“That is a fool’s play.”

“I’d rather us be the fools than the king,” you snap. “At least fools know where they stand.” You get up, turn to ascend up the hill again and you dust off your pants, dirt flecking off the fabric. “As for us…” You scoff, shaking your head and you can hear him getting to his feet as well. “I can’t believe I ever humoured the idea that there could ever be an ‘us’ again.”

“That idea could become reality if you would just join me.” His voice is harsher than a serrated vibroblade as he falls into step beside you. You hate how easily he catches up but you refuse to acknowledge him as you stride back to your ship. “Think of it. There wouldn’t be a single thing separating us again. Not death, not the Sith, not the Code. We could finally be together. I’ve thought of nothing else since I learned that you were alive.” You bite your lip, eyes resolutely staying forward despite his words seeping into your conscious. “I know that’s what you want. Without the Code, we could flaunt our love. I could cherish you as you deserve, darling. Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to be with me, too?”

And something—something about how brutally honest those words are just hits you like a speederbike and you stop in your tracks for the second time that day. Obi-Wan stops a few paces ahead and you pin him with a sorrowful stare. 

“So. That’s what this is about.” You let out a short, incredulous breath. “Not… not power. Not even some delusion that you can rule the galaxy better than the Senate. You just want me.”

His eyes widen before they narrow into a glare and he storms down the hill, shoves his face into your space and you swallow the rock in your throat.

“Yes,” he growls, nose-to-nose. “Is it so wretchedly inhumane of me to desire you?”

Your heart stops in your chest and you cannot answer right away. 

Can’t. Won’t.

There doesn’t seem to be a difference. All you know is that you can’t breathe.

And when you remember how, all you can smell is him, feel him so close to you that you can’t imagine ever forgetting him.

“No.” The word, so fragile, so short, flutters past your lips and Obi-Wan reels back like you had punched him. “No, I don’t think it’s inhumane at all to love.”

“It is all I do this for,” he whispers furiously as if you hadn’t spoken, eyes searching your own. You reach to touch his tunic but he grabs your wrist so tightly that you can’t break out of it. “Let me make that very clear that it is because of you that I am like this.” His lips twist into a snarl. “You haunt me and I let you because I take a sadistic pleasure in wanting what I cannot have. Do with that what you wish.”

Your heart drops into your gut as you wrench your wrist out of his grip and their eyes meet in dark, ferocious anger as they linger in the heat of it. 

Then, before you can question what he means, he draws back and all that anger, rage, grief, melts to a mask of diplomacy. No tension in his face, no feeling. He’s a blank slate as he clears his throat, regards you with an impassive gaze that somehow hurts more than his ire.

“If you do intend to help me,” he finally says icily, “join me on Coruscant. You will receive specific details on your terminal.” 

Shaken, you watch him disappear into the jungle. Your legs give in before you can follow and as you fall to your hands and knees, you wonder if you cry for him and the fate you’ve tied him to or cry for yourself and the guilt that begins to eat you alive.

.

“I’m so glad you made it back safely. As for the Council hearing, that couldn’t have been easy.”

“Thank you, Padmé, and it wasn’t, but… we made it through. What’s done is done when you’re dealing with the Sith. Now that we found the name of the Sith Lord, maybe we can narrow down our serach.”

“Master Windu must be pleased with your work.”

“Have you met him? Nothing pleases him. Ever.” You sip on your tea politely but it tastes like nothing on your tongue. Padmé frowns faintly at your tone, not besmirching her beauty in the slightest as Anakin walks in. Looking up, you set down your cup. “Anakin.”

“Ahsoka told me I could find you both here. What are you doing on the terrace?” he asks with a glance at you, then a softer one at the Senator. Concern masks his features. “It’s cold at night.”

“You know, sometimes ladies need moments to ourselves,” Padmé teases, standing. You lean back into your chair, watching in amusement at the way Anakin’s expression completely melts when she walks past him. If he couldn’t be any more obvious. “How’d the research go?”

“Fine. Ahsoka asked me something that I couldn’t answer so I just wanted to ask you about it, Master.”

“Me?” You sit up. “What could I possibly know that you don’t?”

“Well, she heard of a name and it was before my time, so I thought you could help.”

“Calling her old when you want something, Ani?” Padmé calls from inside as she sets something down on the table. You get up yourself, letting the droids take care of their dishes as you join your friend inside. “Now, that’s classy.”

Stifling a laugh, you enter the apartment and glance over your shoulder at your old Padawan learner. “Ask.”

“Well, she was looking through the libraries and came upon a name. It’s popped up in our database now that we know the name of the Sith Lord. The Rule of Two demands an apprentice, and if we’re right, it could be him.” Your heart drops in your throat as you sit down and Anakin clasps his hands behind his back. His eyes are solemn, his lips set in a frown. Padmé’s eyes rest on you in concern and you know that your silence is just as troubling as anything.

“What name?” you ask, so quietly you’re not sure you’re audible. 

“He was a Padawan at the same time as you, Master.” Your throat tightens and you pray to the Maker he doesn’t say what you think he will— “Obi-Wan Kenobi. He simply… disappeared. Not even the Council could trace him.”

“Anakin…”

“Did you know him?” Padmé asks curiously and your eyes dart to her.

“I did. He was… he was my best friend. His disappearance…” Broke me. Killed me. What else is there to say? “It was a great loss to the Order. He was the best of us. I wasn’t even aware that he was alive.” The silence that follows nearly chokes you and you sweep your gaze from Anakin to Padmé until you realize you can no longer bare their interrogating stares. Standing, you bow to the Senator and excuse yourself. “Goodnight, Senator. Forgive me but the war means little sleep for me. I must meditate on this.”

“Goodnight,” Padmé calls, the frown evident in her voice as you turn, leaving the apartment as quickly as you can.

You reach the elevator and step on just as Anakin catches up to you and you flash him a false smile, stepping aside to make room for him beside you. He lets out a breath, glancing at you. The doors close and he looks at the buttons, clasping his hands in front of himself before pressing the ground floor just as you did with a decisiveness one can’t fake.

That Skywalker swagger. Must be.

He steps back into line beside you. “Are you alright?” 

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“In all my years under your tutelage, I’ve never seen you so affected. You’re steadfast, Master.”

“Did I miss ‘Compliment Your Elders Day’ in the calendar?”

A scowl. “And you deflect with sarcasm.”

“As all the best do.”

“Master.”

“Anakin,” you censure. “I’ll be fine. It is you who can confide in me, not the other way around.”

“Well, I don’t think that’s fair,” he replies stubbornly. “I hardly know anything about you and I’ve known you far longer than I haven’t.”

“Oh, that makes me feel great about myself.” The sarcasm drips through your words. “We work well together, Anakin. That’s all that’s mattered.”

“Whether we work well together or not isn’t the point. I’ve know you for years and you’ve never told me anything about yourself.”

“Well, you know I was born on Corellia. I like flying. You know how I fight, which is far more intimate than most people know me,” you list off the top of my head. “You know how I take my caff, that I drink often, even though unofficially, the Jedi don’t condone excess consumption of alcohol.” At Anakin’s skeptical gaze, you sigh. “Look, it’s not just you I refuse to speak of it to. No one except the Council knows about Obi-Wan. He’s… he’s not supposed to exist, in a figurative sense. He was supposed to be wiped from the databases.” Anakin’s expression scrunches up in confusion and you drop your gaze. “There was a situation. It was handled, but there was a whole mess that came along with it. A Jedi died—“

“I saw. Ahsoka showed me the death certificate of a Master Qui-Gon Jinn a few days after Obi-Wan Kenobi’s recorded documentation regarding him leaving the order. The reports speak of a mission with you and Master Windu, as well as Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon.” Hearing the Jedi’s name makes your guts twist and you look up at the elevator lights signifying their level. They still have so far to go. “What happened that day?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Master, trust me. You know me better than anyone. If Obi-Wan Kenobi is the Sith Apprentice we’re searching for—“

“Anakin, I am warning you. Do not mention Obi-Wan’s name again.” Your cold tone knocks him off and you know it’s because you never use that tone against him. You instantly regret your words and you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. Chewing your lip, an apology already works its way into your mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

The doors open at last and you begin to leave.

“I’m starting to sense he was more than your friend, Master,” Anakin murmurs, grabbing your forearm, stalling you, and you look at him wretchedly. A mirthless smile works its way onto your face and your heart wilts in your chest as you gently pull out of his grip. Anakin’s eyes widen and you can only look at him in apology.

“Anakin… what lies between you and the Senator?” you ask and he jerks back as if you’ve slapped him. 

You might as well have as he stammers, “Nothing more than friends.”

 Your smile only grows unhappily. “Then apply that ‘friendship’ to what was between Obi-Wan and I, Ani, and you have your answer.”

.

You sit on top of the building, knee jiggling as you wait. You could meditate, eat, pass the time any other way besides watching the speeders, but you don’t. You feel nauseous, cold. 

You hadn’t told anyone of your meeting here, as Obi-Wan requested and yet, you fear Master Windu might’ve caught on to your lies.

The Jedi Council actively search for the very man you’re meeting and you can’t help but feel like sniper sights are aimed at your back every time you leave your apartment.

“Hello there.”

You whip around to see a cloaked figure emerge from the shadows. Obi-Wan stands there, dressed in black and a dark bloody maroon. His hood off and his hands in open display, he stands there until you face forward again, taking that as an invitation to come closer.

“I trust you’re well?”

“Let’s skip the pleasantries,” you utter quietly, clasping your hands. He climbs over the railing, sits beside you on the balustrade with a quiet sigh. Their feet dangerously close to the edge of the roof, he glances at the traffic and you stare at your boots. “Let me make something very clear: I want to help, no matter your own motives. I swore to keep the peace and that is what I’ll do, but after this, our arrangement is done.” Your eyes find his and you hope the coldness in your tone is mirrored in your gaze. “I never want to see you again. Let me be a ghost and you can be mine.”

Obi-Wan’s lips curved into a handsome frown. You look back out at the skylanes.

Quiet.

He must know you mean it this time. That there is no coyness, no game—you aren’t out to play hard to get. You aren’t acting like you don’t know what you’re saying. No, you’re well, and truly, done. Sick of it. Finished. Whatever synonym that can be concocted, it is what you are. Even if you do love Obi-Wan, you wish you had died that day. It would’ve been much better than this.

An odd twenty years later, and sometimes, your stomach still aches from old scars.

“Am I understood?” you finally inquire softly.

“Yes.”

“Good. Now, let’s get to work.” You draw your hands up your thighs, set your spine straight and look at your new partner-in-crime. “What’s our first move?” He stares at you for a moment, pale yellow eyes searching your face, but when you merely arch an eyebrow in prompting, he blinks and pulls something out of his pocket.

“Well, considering my Master hasn’t recognized that I intend to murder him in cold blood yet, we must move quickly. Have you deduced who Darth Sidious is?” You look at him and he sighs. “Who has always rubbed you the wrong way, no matter what everyone else said?”

You roll that question over in your head for a moment. “I’ve never liked how Chancellor Palpatine has attached himself to Anakin,” you confess. “If anyone, he’s painted himself the saviour of the Republic and the Council don’t trust him.”

“For once, the Council is right.” You frown at his bitter tone. “And your intuition never fails.”

“So the Sith Lord is Chancellor Palpatine, the most well-guarded man in the galaxy.”

“Yes.”

“And you do realize that a Jedi killing him portrays a certain… image, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know. I’ll do it. What I need is for you to get me access to his rooms.” Eyebrows shooting up, you rest your chin on your clasped hands, your elbows digging into your knees. “You said it yourself: your old Padawan learner is off mingling with the Supreme Chancellor himself. I assume you’re close with the Skywalker boy.”

“I am.”

“He’s powerful in the Force, that one,” he comments.

Quietly: “I know.” Sighing, your eyes find Obi-Wan’s. “So you want me to manipulate Anakin to let us in.”

“Manipulate is a strong word.”

“Didn’t realize you had such an aversion to using people to your own means.” The light of the city reflects off his eyes, cloaking his face in half light, half shadow. It only amplifies the arrogance of his smirk, the arrogant cock of his eyebrow. Your gut clenches and your thighs press together as he leans over.

“I have a strong, strong inclination for the consensual, darling.”

“So witty, as always,” you breathe. “As if the last time we spoke had no consequence.”

“Oh, it doesn’t. Not for me at least. For you, on the other hand…” He clicks his tongue. “I can feel the guilt inside you, twisting your every thought.” He chuckles. ”It’s funny, really.”

“My torture is your amusement?”

“Ah, no, never,” he corrects. “It’s a bitter delight that you never realized your hand in all of this. This situation, this war, this… conundrum of the heart. It’s… sick,” he acknowledges, “but after years of my own guilt consuming me, it’s almost… comforting to see you suffering like me.”

Your gut convulses at his words. “You think I didn’t suffer in your absence? That I didn’t dream of you every night for years?” His eyes study your face that begins to crumble underneath his stare. 

“I think we are alike in our agony.” He flips the device he pulled out earlier over in his hands, activating it with a simple press of a button. “Do you know why I want to kill the Chancellor?” A soft voice begins to emit for the device and he hands it over to you with a faint smile. “Take it.”

“What will you do? Spin your tragic tale?” you inquire without any bite. You mean it—tales are tragic when it comes to their lives so interwoven with one another and as they sit on the edge of the balcony, overlooking a city still alive despite the war raging, the night edging in on all sides, you hold the device to your ear and swallow when you hear Darth Sidious’ voice, vile and old. It sends a shiver up your spine.

“She hangs in the balance, young one. Join me, and I will ensure that she lives.”

“A tragic tale,” he echoes. “Yes, perhaps it is.”

The recording scratches, skips forward. “She’s dead, Obi-Wan. I’m sorry for your loss but you can avenge her. Use that lust for vengeance for more than grieving a girl dead before her time.”

You lower the device from your ear. You don’t want to hear any more of his manipulations. Those brief glimpses had been enough to make your stomach churn. “You don’t need to say any more.”

“He cloaked you from me. For years, I kept seeing your eyes,” he continues distantly. He leans forward on his knees, almost leaning into the wind and you clutch onto the cylindrical device tighter. “I remembered what it felt like, feeling your lifeforce ebb and disappear by my hand.”

“But you found me,” you try and he chuckles darkly, looking out at the skylanes. Two speeders nearly collide and his lips twitch into a mirthless grin.

“Indeed. When I was looking for the boy.”

“Anakin?”

“Hm.” He looks at you again. “The Chancellor wants to replace me with him now that he’s all grown.” Then, his eyes drift, rich in drive, zeal, the spirit of a warrior, the soul of a man who refuses to falter. “I suppose that’s another reason why it’s time to deposit the tyrant. I don’t intend to die so easily.”

In a moment of irrational, or perhaps even lack of, thought, you reach for his clasped hands and hold onto him. He doesn’t rip himself away immediately and in fact, his eyes seem to fixate onto yours deeply as you slip your hand between his.

“I’ll be there,” you promise him, not daring to look away, not wanting to for a second. It isn’t the most romantic thing in the world—you could’ve promised that you’d protect him, that he won’t die because you’re there, that he won’t ever be harmed again, that ‘it’ll be okay’—but you’ve always been practical, just as Obi-Wan was. Is. The only thing you can offer is the truth: “You won’t be alone.”

Then, he lifts one of his hands and rests his palm on your knuckles, and your heart, thudding like thunder in your chest, hitches. You suck in a cold, clear breath and squeeze his hand gently.

“Thank you.” His fingers brush over your skin and electricity dances up your arm as he watches you softly, gaze falling from your eyes to your lips. The gauzy glow of Coruscant softens his features and a shuddering sigh leaves your lungs as he leans forward.

It’s a moment where you think no, I shouldn’t, I can’t, I won’t, I won’t, I won’t before your heart, screaming to meet his, shuts up whatever rational voice echoes in your head and you close the distance. The instant their lips meet, a hand lifts from yours and shoots to your jaw, cupping your face and deepening the kiss. You set down the device blindly, holding onto his neck. Their hands spring apart and your other hand rakes through his hair, fingers twisting in auburn locks as he holds your face, burns himself into your mouth. 

You barely remember when your eyes closed. 

All you know is that the smell of him, the taste, it’s all so familiar yet there is the hint of something darker, smokier leading you deeper into his influence. One of his hands spreads across your neck, thumb brushing over the front of your throat and the underside of your jaw as you scoot closer towards him and he chuckles, nose wrinkling at your insistent kisses but submitting all the same.

Your mind is blank, razor-focused on one thing and you don’t even remember your own name before your lungs screech for air and you suck in a deep breath through your nose, tearing yourself away despite their lips nearly refusing to part. Your mouth opens and inhale sharply, hands pulling through his hair. His chin tilts up and you blink, looking at him through the fuzzy dots in your vision and the gleam of his golden eyes, arrogance and tenderness in its very definition, douses you in cold water. 

Jerking back, your hand flies to your lips, fingers brushing where he had claimed you moments before. Your thoughts are a scattered whirlwind and you swallow. Your breaths come rapid, your heart beating everywhere at once as you spin around, climbing over the balcony and back towards solid ground. Obi-Wan twists, confusion marring his face as he gets up and you whirl around. You feel like he’s set you on fire after a long winter left out to the elements and you’re incinerating. 

You’re burning from the inside out. You’re thirsty, yearning for something to feast on. Your fingers itch to rip off clothes, slash apart a droid, do anything to work out the energy that’s beginning to fizzle in your chest.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” you whisper, voice cracking, and you look up at him forlornly. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

“Why not?”

“Because—because—“ Yet with every second, you find your logic failing as you look at him. His hair is dishevelled—your doing—and he runs a hand through the golden strands as he waits for your answer but you’re starting to think you don’t have one.

After all, no one will ever know besides them.

That’s what you told yourself when they were Padawans. You fail to think of any difference now.

Obi-Wan stands there expectantly and your hands rake over your head, glancing around. There is no one but the sound of late-night traffic and the night.

Eyes sliding shut, you feel something inside you give like a fragile foundation finally slipping in the sand. 

His kiss is like a toxin, still scorching through you, and something inside you tightens as you open your eyes again and see him standing there, expression so much like the old Obi-Wan that your heart aches.

Your hand drops. You look at Obi-Wan in his dark robes, and decide.

You can’t take it anymore. You will love a ghost. You’d rather do that than die lonely.

Walking over to him with a decisiveness you feel like you’ve lost since he’s crashed into your life, you take Obi-Wan’s face in your hands and pull him into your kiss. 

He kisses back immediately, his hands finding your jaw and your eyes squeeze shut as your hands slide down his neck, find his shoulders and their lips meet again and again, drunk off the mere touch of their bodies. You find the buckle of his belt, undoing it with ease and the clank of his lightsaber hitting the ground along with the rest of the leather makes you grin against his persistent mouth. He kisses the corner of your mouth before nudging your chin up with his nose. His hands slide down your shoulders, hooking on your robes and sliding them down your arms with a slow, seductive intention that sends shivers up your spine. 

Letting your arms drop, you let him guide the robe to a pool around your feet before breaking the kiss to look down at your belt but he grabs your jaw, tilting your head up and their mouths slot together again. With his free hand, he undoes the buckle with practiced ease and your lightsaber joins his on the ground before they sink to the floor in unison, their knees against cold stone, their lips never parting. A fire scorches between their mouths and you know that you have never felt more at home than the moment Obi-Wan’s hands find your waist.

His hand slides to the small of your back, scooping you up and lying you flat against the pavement as you find the waist of his trousers, tugging down insistently. Their breaths mix in desperation as their foreheads press together. Their lips part just enough for you to look down and he kisses your brow, your cheeks, cranes his head to find your ear as you run your hands over the front of his pants, feel something warm and hard against your palm.

A quivering sigh against your neck makes your stomach flutter as the hand on your back slides to your hip, squeezing the flesh there. Boots sliding along the ground, you let out a tiny whimper when soft lips suck on the flesh of your throat, teasing you with tiny nips. His hand goes under your long tunic, finding the hem of your trousers and a warm index finger traces the rim, tip gently brushing along the sliver of bare skin there.

Your breath hitches in your throat. Your hands trail up his sides and wrap around his back. 

Their foreheads are still pressed together when his eyes flicker from your body to your face.

“Are you sure?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Yes. I’m—I’m sure.”

“Stop me. Don’t be afraid,” he whispers. Your fingers dig into his shoulders as his cold skin meets the warm flesh of your thighs.

“I’ve never been afraid of you, Obi-Wan,” you murmur achingly, eyes beginning to sting. His eyes flash to yours and you smile to yourself, slithering a hand to his face and cupping his jaw. Your thumb brushes over his lips. “Even after all this time, I’ve only loved you until I’ve hated you and… I have never stopped caring about you. I became a Jedi in your honour, you know? I did what I thought you would’ve done, because you are good, Obi. I know it.” You tilt his head against yours. Their noses clash and their lips brush, and you can’t help but close your eyes as your fingers card through his hair. “You’re still in there and I will never be afraid of you, but I am afraid for your future. For ours.”

“Ours?” he echoes and you nod against him.

“Ours.”

“What—what do you mean?”

There it is. That split-second of hopefulness in his voice, the sound of the first sun after the darkest winter. You’d give anything to pull the sun out of the shadows. Even the Jedi Order.

“Ours if we make it through this. Ours when I renounce the Code and join you.” Curling your fingers in his hair, you feel your heart splinter into two, wilt like a flower in the winter rain and when the first droplet lands against your nose, you know he’s struggling to hold his tears in. 

Your eyes open. Pressing a brief, soft kiss against his mouth, you gently brush his tears away. 

“I will leave the Order for you if you leave the Sith for me. When we kill the Chancellor, we will disappear and live the life we deserve. That’s what scares me.” His eyes search yours and you smile, his beard tickling at your palms. He raises his arms until his elbows are by your head and he props himself up, lacing his fingers atop your head and shielding you from the world. His body pressed against yours, you can’t help the tentative smile on your face.

“Why?”

“Because we’re so close to it,” you tell him. “Because, for the first time, it seems so real. We’re just within reach.” You sigh, studying his face, his scar, the shape of his eyebrows. All tiny things, yet they mean the world to you.

“What happened to never seeing me again?” he asks in a faux smug airiness and you wrinkle your nose, wrapping your arms around his neck as you sniff, trying to ignore the burning in your eyes but when you look at Obi-Wan, you swear you can see the first hint of blue in his eyes. The first hint of day breaking through the night.

“A kiss or two changed my mind.” You tilt your head to the night, letting the bracing wind take your tears away. You think nothing of this night has been romantic, from what’s been said to what’s happening now.

Yet, you wouldn’t change a thing from this.

You’d rather have this mess than a fantasy—have this broken man silently letting tears slip down his face than anything else.

Tears smeared all over his cheeks, Obi-Wan sniffs and tries to clear his throat but fails miserably as you draw your hand across his face. He cradles your face in one of his own hands, swiping a thumb beneath your eye and you smile.

“I love you,” he whispers hoarsely, quietly, and you lift your head up to kiss him softly, again, assuredly. “Please. Please don’t wake me up.”

“I’m alive, don’t worry. This isn’t a dream.” You tilt your chin up to kiss between his eyebrows and the delicate scrunch of his brow makes you warm. “And I love you, too.” His hands holding your face begin to tremble as if he’s afraid that one moment, you will disappear like a ghost but you let your hands drop, press palms against his knuckles so that he steadies and smile up at Obi-Wan. “I’m here.”

“So many of my nightmares end like this.” His voice breaks as he ducks his head into your chest, forehead to your heartbeat. “I don’t want to wake up. I never do.” You wonder if he hears the distinct shattering of your heart at his words.

Folding your fingers over the spaces between his, you draw his hands away from your face and press a long kiss to his fingers.

His grip only tightens as he lifts his head again and rests it on your shoulder. Their hands part only for you to wrap your arms around his chest and for his to bend around your head again, sheltering you from the world around them. 

The traffic is quieter now, nothing but your heart and his beating in tandem and the soft breaths that come only after tears are shed. His weight is suffocatingly warm and you bury your face into his neck, let his beard tickle at your eyes. 

“This is real, Obi-Wan.”

You never want to leave him again.

.

“Anakin, let me begin by saying that you cannot interrupt me in the middle of me talking.”

“Do you think I’m six?”

A levelling look. A loud sigh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t interrupt you.”

“You better not.” You slip your hands into your sleeves, perching on the balustrade of Padmé’s balcony. It’s the only place you can think of that you trust to be completely absent of eavesdroppers. “First: Obi-Wan’s alive.”

Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up and he frowns faintly. “I thought we established that.”

“And I know for certain he is the Sith apprentice we’re searching for.” Guiltily, you lower your eyes to the ground as Anakin approaches, the frown ever growing. ”I met with him. Multiple times, actually.”

“Master—“

“He came to me first,” you say, holding up a hand. “I didn’t know until he came to me and I met him again on Yavin 4. Again, he followed me there.”

“Sounds like you have a fan.”

Sending him a wry look, you sit upright. “Funny. But I met him two nights ago.” Because all of yesterday was spent in my own apartment, trying to reconcile the possibility of a future with the man I’ve been in love with since I was sixteen. But that’s neither here nor there. “He told me what he wanted.”

“Which is?”

“Anakin…” You raise your gaze to your old apprentice and sigh, standing up. A thoughtful expression is etched onto his face. At times, you can’t help but think maybe you should’ve exercised or demonstrated more patience with him. It seemed like you only exacerbated his natural proclivity for recklessness. Other times, like now, you think you did a pretty damn good job. “Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith Lord we are searching for.”

Anakin’s countenance drops and his mouth opens, trying to argue but you quickly continue.

“No one can know better than his apprentice,” you tell him. Reaching out for his shoulder, a cold feeling settles in your gut when Anakin jerks out of your reach, brushing past you with a stony expression. “Anakin—“

“How do we know you can trust this Obi-Wan?” he points out. “He could easily be using you, manipulating you to get what he wants.” Turning to watch him go, your eyebrows knit together. “Master, whatever you think he feels for you, he could be lying.”

That stings. It stings more than you thought it would and you saw it coming from miles away.

“Have you not stopped to consider the same thing applies to the Chancellor? Anakin, I know you and the Council have never seen eye-to-eye regarding your relationship with Palpatine, but Obi-Wan isn’t lying.”

“How do you know?” he repeats.

“I just do.”

“That’s not good enough! Have you told anyone else about this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, great. So we’re going off the Sith Lord’s apprentice’s lead. That’s real trustworthy.”

“Anakin, if you don’t trust him, trust me.”

“I do trust you, Master. I’m just afraid that your mind is clouded.” Anakin’s eyes meet yours and a lightning current shoots down your spine at the graveness in his face. He looks much older than his years and you’re more than aware that the longer this war continues, the more exhausted they both will be. 

“Anakin…” Then, you remember the weight of his secret. You wonder if that adds to it—if the burden of carrying the love for a certain senator drags him by the ankles. You understand that. You just wish Anakin knew that you would understand.

“I’m sorry, Master, but what does he want? This can’t be out of the goodness of his heart.”

“He wants to kill the Chancellor. That’s it. The Republic won’t fall beneath the weight of this war.”

“That’s it? That can’t be right. He must want something in return—“

“In return, I leave the Jedi Order,” you cut him off quickly, trying to rip the band-aid off. It doesn’t work because the colour drains from Anakin’s face and your heart wilts in your chest. Regret knots in your chest as he walks up to you and opens his mouth to argue, hands reaching for your shoulders. You raise your hands, stopping him. “It’s a done deal. I’m leaving on my own accord.”

“Master… you can’t. You can’t just—“

“You and I both know it’s more than possible,” you shoot back. Your words come out cold, flat, and you wish he could’ve found out any other way, but life is rarely, if ever, perfect. Anakin’s blue eyes search your face for answers you do not have and it must be something in how you say it but realization soon dawns upon him.

“You love him.”

“He loves me, too,” you reply quietly. “It is, I assume, not dissimilar to how you feel for Padmé.” You smile faintly and reach up, cupping his face. “I’ve never been blind to that, Anakin.” Sputtering, your old friend tries to come up with some excuse but you merely shake your head. “Once this war is over, Obi-Wan and I will leave Coruscant. That was our deal. And we need your help to do it.”

“My help?” The words come out strangled and you nod. “How?”

“The Chancellor trusts you. Get us into his office, and we will do the rest. You can leave the room, deny responsibility, do whatever you need to. The Council must not connect you to this.”

“But—“

“Anakin, you have the potential to be a great Jedi Master, if not the greatest. With my spot on the Council opening up, who knows? Your part in this may push you in the right direction.” Glossy azure eyes fix on yours and you hold Anakin’s face in your hands before resting your palms on his shoulders. “I’m more than willing to do this if it means this war ends and don’t worry. You’ve grown into a great Jedi. Greater than any other I’ve known. There’s no more I can teach you that you won’t learn yourself.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, Master.”

“It’ll always feel like that. We never stop learning, but that’s how life is. Don’t worry.” You squeeze his shoulders. “There won’t ever be a goodbye between us, Ani. Only a temporary parting.”

“But you’re leaving.” And just like that, he is nine again and you are twenty-five, crouching in front of a young blond boy from Tatooine as you tell him you will be his Master, prove your own Master wrong. Newly made Knight and desperate to please, you were determined to give Anakin a life he didn’t have to worry about never seeing his mother again, nor money, nor hunger. Pain, anger, fear.

You know you failed.

Still, you tried. That, you decide, must count for something.

“And you are staying. I have never, never, wanted to leave you Anakin, but I believe in you. I know you are the change the Order needs and if I can’t be here to see it…” You hum thoughtfully. “Maybe one day. One day we will return and I will see you as the Master I know you can be.”

A weak attempt of a smile on Anakin’s part.

“I’d welcome you back with open arms, Master. No matter what.” 

You force a grin onto your own face and pull him into your arms. Immediately, he embraces you and you hold him tight, eyes closing. His face buries into your neck and you cradle the back of his head like you did when he was younger, a boy tainted by nightmares, and you know soon, you won’t be able to do this again. Hug your family… hug someone who has become your son when he’s scared.

“I’ll help you,” he finally whispers into your shoulder and your arms tighten around him. His voice may be muffled but it doesn’t manage to stop the everflowing sadness. “Just tell me when and where and I will be there.”

“Okay.” You draw back and hold his face in your hands, smiling still. Your eyes refuse to shed the tears burning there so instead, you just… stand in his presence for a moment longer until they have to part.

.

“Darling.” Obi-Wan stands when he spots you approaching their meeting spot on the roof again and you stop in front of him, pulling your hood down. “And your old Padawan?”

“He’ll help,” you murmur. “He’ll alert us through the comlink when he’s in position, then this assassination attempt will go through.” Disgust curls at your tongue and you shake your head. “I still don’t like this plan.”

“Why?”

“Because it seems too easy.” You cross your arms over your chest. “We just go in there, you cut off his head, and what? How do you explain this death? The fallout of this will be torrential.” Looking out over the city, you sigh. “What will we say?”

“Say that I was his assassin,” Obi-Wan says, joining you near the edge of the roof. “The Jedi tried to stop me but were too late.”

“That still paints us as failures.”

“Then what will you have me do? There is no alternative that doesn’t paint the Order as murderers. I know that isn’t what you want.” His eyebrows rise. “Is it?”

You scowl. ”No.” Thinking, you add on, “Couldn’t we say we struck you down? Eliminate the threat all together.” Eyes lighting up, you look at Obi-Wan. His eyes, a strange mixture of gold swirling with blue, squint in confusion. “Obviously, you won’t actually be dead, but I think people won’t think twice looking at you if you’re supposed to be dead. The Jedi Council said so.” 

Realization: “Ah. Faking my death.”

You nod. “Exactly. If we settle on some planet and someone recognizes you, well, that’s impossible. You’re dead. The Jedi are very rarely wrong.”

“You’re quite clever, you know.”

“It’s honestly a wonder you haven’t thought of it yourself,” you reply. He smirks and you roll your eyes as he gently takes your shoulders and places a tender kiss upon your forehead. Something inside you melts at the touch. His nose presses into your scalp and their eyes close before you pull back and take hold of his hand. He’s warm to the touch.

Raising your other hand to flit over the scar crossing his face, you feel the sunken edges carefully. His eyes flutter shut and you run over his nose. It’s caused a small chasm in the structure of his face but you find that you can’t fault him for it. It’s become a part of him—a mark of his history. It may be a mistake in some eyes—not fast enough, not strong enough, not good enough—but to you, it’s simply a reminder that Obi-Wan is human. That he’s alive.

He’s alive. You still marvel at that. “You’ll have to tell me the story of this some day.” 

He smiles and the scar stretches with it. It’s somehow endearing. “Some day,” he agrees. “As well as many others.”

“Sounds like a date.” You squeeze his hand just as the comlink beeps and you grab it from your pocket. “Anakin?”

“I’m ready. Ahsoka’s speaking to the Council as we do.”

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan questions. 

“His Padawan,” you explain quickly. “Good. Keep your link on. We’ll mute ourselves from here on out.” Sending a nod to Obi-Wan, the two begin the plan. Clipping the rope to their waist, you wrap the end around a pipe, giving it an experimental tug as Obi-Wan looks over the edge of the building. Soon, they’ll be scaling down to the maintenance room and managing a way into the ventilation system.

“You know, if I thought we were speaking to the Council of this, I would’ve packed my fancy robes,” he calls dryly and you shoot him a glare to be quiet but he merely tips over the edge of the building and you suppress a groan,. The height makes you a bit woozy but you turn your back to the ground, grabbing onto the rope and slowly lowering yourself until they’re scooting down the side of the building together.

“Master Windu trusts my judgement, and better than we tell them when they can’t stop us,” you retort. Swinging out of the way of a window, the two glance at one another. “Sorry I didn’t tell about that. Didn’t think it was quite so imperative, what with the fact that we’re overthrowing a dictatorship tonight.”

“I don’t mind. At least I found out before Master Windu showed up out of the blue and decided to splice me in half for being anywhere near your vicinity.”

You barely contain a retort as they continue down.

Are you really doing this? Are you about to assassinate the Supreme Chancellor with a man you long thought dead?

Yes, a quiet voice replies, you are. And then, you will run.

.

They manage to crawl into the vent, him first, you second, and you’re stuck trying to avoid staring at Obi-Wan’s ass as they inch forward towards the Chancellor’s office. It’s not the most dignified position to find a Jedi and a Sith apprentice in, but alas—one must do what they do to rid the galaxy of tyranny.

Besides, you’re pretty sure the arrogance radiating off of Obi-Wan means about a million jokes will stem from this. 

They stop when they are just above the office, Obi-Wan crawling over the tiny gap and turning around so they can both peer down the vent. You manage to unhook your saberstaff, breaking it into the two separate sabers, clutching each in tight hands as you listen in on the conversation below.

You aren’t even aware that your nails are digging into your thumbs before a gentle hand brushes over yours.

Relax, Obi-Wan’s voice orders gently in your mind. Remember—I do all the dirty work.

That doesn’t omit my part in this, Obi-Wan, you shoot back but your fists relax anyway and his hand withdraws. Everything inside of you is tense when you hear a voice.

“Anakin, what a surprise. What brings you to my office at so late an hour?”

“I wanted to talk to you about these dreams I’ve been having. I… I trust you and I’m not sure if it’s real or not.”

Just a little more.

Obi-Wan, are you sure he’s the Sith Lord?

Why are you having doubts now of all times? Your eyes flash to his and he glares back. I’m sure. I wouldn’t lie to you.

A sharp nod.

You spot Anakin’s figure approach and then the Chancellor, meeting just below and your fingers tighten around your sabers.

“What dreams?”

“Dreams of the Sith Lord that caused this war.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I believe I know who he is.”

The Supreme Chancellor’s eyes shoot up and he regards the Jedi Knight with a strange mix of confusion and suspicion.

“I’m sorry, Chancellor Palpatine.”

Anakin’s eyes flash up to the vent and Obi-Wan sends you a nod. You send your sabers into the grate, melting it off its hinges and letting the metal clamor to the ground before Obi-Wan jumps out, landing behind the Sith Lord who whirls around.

Activating his lightsaber, Obi-Wan stares at his former Master with a cruel snarl to his lips. You jump after him, twirling your yellow sabers as you stand behind him. 

The contrast is near blinding.

“General Y/L/N.” The Chancellor has never sounded more unforgiving as he looks from you to Obi-Wan. “I believe you have a job to do. Kill this assassin.” You stare at the man who’s feigned warmth and kindness to the entire galaxy and you wait for his head to start rolling but when Obi-Wan doesn’t move, frozen, knuckles white as he clutches onto his saber, your eyes dart to his form. 

“Obi-Wan,” you whisper. His gaze snaps to yours and for a moment, you don’t even recognize the man behind it. His golden eyes peer at you curiously and then he twirls his saber with a practiced motion, turning back to the Chancellor.

Palpatine frowns.

The vibrating hum of another lightsaber igniting joins the buzzing symphony and Anakin raises his blue lightsaber with a harsh, cracking expression upon his handsome features. 

“By Jedi law, you must arrest me. Surely you won’t let him murder me in cold blood, Anakin,” Chancellor Palpatine says, glancing back at your old Padawan and hesitation flickers across his features. “Surely your Master taught you better.”

Anakin’s eyes flicker to yours. You are silent in return.

“This is treason.”

“What you have done to the Republic is treason,” you correct icily. “You do not deserve the luxury of a fair trial.”

It happens so quick. Palpatine reaches into his robes and there is a flash of red before the smell of burning flesh rises. A hand drops to the floor with a sick slap and a lightsaber rolls. Anakin sticks out a hand, letting the hilt fly into his hand and he deactivates it with a quick flourish as Palpatine keens over, clutching at his stump of a wrist.

Obi-Wan raises his lightsaber from the Chabcellor’s arm to his neck.

“I am finished with your manipulations, Sidious,” he murmurs lowly, and then, with one great, unfaltering swing, he decapitates the Sith Lord and lets the head roll.

There is no blood. The lightsaber burns too hot for there to be any and you can only smell the shit and piss as an old man dies.

Obi-Wan’s harsh pants are the only sound as the body drops and you deactivate your lightsabers. Anakin does the same as you step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder and another on the trembling fingers that wrap so tightly around the hilt of his saber.

“Obi-Wan.” His name passes by your lips softly, like a caress, and he drags his gaze from the dead Chancellor to your face. “It’s over.” Eyes fluttering shut, he lets you pull him tight against you, their foreheads knocking together as his lightsaber deactivates with a whomsh.

Your name passes by his lips in a soft breath and he cups your face just as doors open and he springs away from you. You grab his hand, tugging him behind you just as Master Windu and the rest of the Council walk in, and his hand tightens around yours as Anakin pivots around.

Ahsoka steps out, panting, her eyes wide.

“I tried to stop them—“

“Ahsoka, please.” You step forward, letting go of Obi-Wan’s hand but he tugs you back. Glancing at him, you smile. “Let me handle this.” His eyes search yours and you give him a nod of assurance before he finally lets go and you step towards the Council, past Anakin who wants to speak but you grab his arm gently, stopping him. “Master Windu.”

“General Y/L/N. Would you care to explain why the dead Chancellor’s body laid at your feet?”

“He was the Sith Lord orchestrating the war. Doubt there’s any other reason.” You meet your old Master’s eyes. “Master Windu, know that this is all my doing, and mine alone. Anakin had no part in this and neither did Ahsoka. She just found out and told you about our plot. I don’t want them to be punished.”

“That remains to be decided.”

“‘Our’?” Kit Fisto inquires.

You sigh, eyes fluttering to the floor. “Obi-Wan and I. It was our plot, together.”

“With the Sith, you conspired?” Yoda questions and you open your mouth to argue but you catch Ki-Adi’s shaking head and something inside you sinks.

“Look, he was manipulated. He’s not Sith. Not anymore. That man”—you point at Palpatine’s body— “was the Sith Lord we were all searching for and Obi-Wan led us straight to him.” Stone-cold silence. Your shoulders fall and the adrenaline that had burned through you drains away, leaving you oddly exhausted. “I understand if you wish to charge me with any crime against the Republic. Sedition or otherwise.”

“Obi-Wan is the one who killed the Chancellor, Master Windu. Master Y/L/N had nothing—“

“Anakin, don’t,” you cut him off quietly. “It’s not worth it to pretend otherwise.”

Anakin’s frustrated glare meets yours but you only smile at him and shake your head. Facing the Council again, you wait for one of them to speak. Master Windu’s unimpressed glare goes from Palpatine to you, and you only look at your former Master with raised eyebrows. 

“What proof is there?”

“Nothing more than my memories, Master Windu, and a few recordings,” Obi-Wan speaks for the first time and eyes dart to the man as he steps forward into line with you. “I will submit those if you need them. Attempt to arrest me, however, and I will not go willingly. I’ve renounced the Jedi Order, as well as the Sith way. That, I can assure you of.”

“Master Yoda, your thoughts?” Master Windu asks, turning to the Grandmaster. A hand presses against the small of your back and you turn to Obi-Wan who watches with a stony glare. However, when he turns his gaze in towards you, something softens and you step closer to him.

“Upon the former Padawan, the dark side still lingers. Unsure of what to make of it, I am,” he admits and your hand finds Obi-Wan’s back, your other hand hovering by your lightsaber. No matter what, you are not leaving him alone in this.

“However this looks to the Republic is my greatest concern,” Ki-Adi murmurs. “To see a Jedi Master conspiring with the Sith—”

“Then manipulate the truth,” you argue. “That has never stopped the Jedi before. It didn’t stop them from completely erasing what happened twenty years ago and it can happen again.” Your hand drops from your saber and you send Master Windu a pleading look. “Say Obi-Wan was struck down, say he escaped, say anything but what happened. The only truth that needs to come out is that Chancellor Palpatine orchestrated the Clone Wars and with him gone, we might be able to find some semblance of peace again.”

The Council look at one another. Anakin and Ahsoka, standing side by side look to you.

War is rarely that simple.

.

“I forfeit every right, privilege, and rank I have achieved in the Grand Army of the Republic. I renounce my status as a Jedi Master.”

“You understood that you are barred from the Jedi Order henceforth?”

“I understand.”

Master Windu’s expression softens for his old Padawan and you could’ve sworn there was something darker, something breaking, as if he himself felt for you turning to someone else for the help he could not give.

You want to tell him it has never been his fault.

You don’t. Instead, you ask one last time for your own sanity: “And Obi-Wan? What of his records?”

A bitter, coy smile resides on his face: “Who?”

Satisfied yet curiously empty, you walk out of the Jedi Temple, to where Anakin, Ahsoka, Padmé, and Obi-Wan await. There are tickets and bare necessities for them to make a fresh start in a bag slung over Obi’s shoulder. There’ll probably be a speeder waiting for them at the base of the steps, waiting to take them to their new transport arranged courtesy of the Senator of Naboo herself and then… then who knows where to next. 

You suppose that’s part of the excitement of it all.

You feel naked, stripped bare. You no longer wear the tan neutrals of the Jedi. Instead, a leather vest covers you, a shirt tucked into brown pants and paired with Obi-Wan, they look nothing more than smugglers. A cloak is draped over your shoulders and clasped at your throat, one you tug closer around yourself as you approach. 

Obi-Wan extends a hand to you and you take it numbly, letting him kiss your knuckles.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine.” You squeeze his hand and he nods. “Wait for me at the bottom?”

“Always.” He lets go and his eyes turn to the others. “I appreciate your aid.”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan.” The words sound strangled coming from Anakin’s mouth. The two look at one another and you think, in another life, they could’ve been good friends. “Take care of her. Please.”

But that is not how it is now. Instead, Obi-Wan merely dips his head again, once to Anakin, and then to Padmé and Ahsoka before climbing down the steps of the Jedi Temple.

You watch him go until he is out of sight, your eyes lingering even after, before you turn around to feel Ahsoka launching herself into your arms. Eyebrows shooting up, you embrace the Padawan tightly, eyes closing shut and then two more bodies pile in closely.

Shaggy hair and floral scents—Anakin and Padmé.

“I’m going to miss you all so much,” you whisper, raising a hand to cradle the back of Anakin’s head and another to hold onto Padmé’s shoulder. “You don’t understand how much you mean to me.”

“If it’s anything close to how much you mean to us, I might have some idea,” Padmé says. She kisses your cheek, a tiny blush on her cheeks. “Stay safe, Y/N.”

“I will. And you, too. Make sure this one over here protects you,” you say with a sharp nudge to Anakin who winces, running a hand through his hair with a brash grin. Ahsoka, with her arms still around you, looks up and you rest a hand on her shoulder. “And you, little one, make sure you take care of your Master. He’s a lot. Make sure he’s not too in over his head.”

Ahsoka laughs much to Anakin’s irritation and even Padmé breaks a smile, poking the Knight teasingly. “I promise, Master.”

“I think,” you correct with a sombering smile, “that you should get used to calling me Y/N. I’m not a Jedi Master anymore.” Ahsoka’s expression falters and you squeeze her closer, cradling her head against you. Anakin’s downcast face catches your eye and you look up at him, finding blue eyes watching.

“You will always be my greatest teacher,” Anakin murmurs. “I just wish there was another way.”

“But there isn’t, and I’ll miss you more than you know, Ani,” you reply. “You will never fail to make me proud.” Letting go of Ahsoka, you reach forward, hugging him tightly once again. His arms wrap around you and he seems to sink against your frame, shoulders dropping, head buried into the crook of your neck and you close your eyes, knowing the torment that rips him in two. Patting his hair, you let him hold you as long as he needs to. 

It’s not until Padmé touches his arm gently that he remembers to pull away and you cup his face, brushing your thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. Then, looking into his face, a face you’ve seen everyday for the past decade and now a face you don’t know for how long you’ll have to wait until you see again, you can feel two hands take your heart and tear it like paper, into uncountable bits. 

Tilting his head down, you press a kiss to his brow. Then, with one final squeeze to Padmé’s hand and a squish of Ahsoka’s cheeks which she takes only because you don’t know when they will see each other again, you pull away. 

“I’ll be okay, guys.” Trying to joke, you force one last smile upon your face. “You can at least look like you’ll see me again.”

“We’ll see you again,” Ahsoka decides. “The Force wills it so.”

“I hope it does.”

You pull your hood over your head and turn around, descending down the steps and leaving your old life behind.

.

They nestle between two ginormous crates. The captain’s paid to turn a blind eye in exchange that they take up minimal space and don’t cause problems. That’s easy for them—they’re heading to Tatooine and from then, who knows? Maybe somewhere cooler, wetter, snowier. They’ll decide when they want to.

You rip apart a piece of bread and hand it over to Obi-Wan, resting your head on his shoulder. Your arm is looped through his and he takes your offering, swishing it down with spotchka. You chew on your own piece, their fingers interlacing and their boots knock together playfully.

For some reason, it makes you feel like a Padawan again—stealing moments, sharing secret smiles. In the darkness only fractured by a sliver of white light, the two are lost in each other’s eyes. 

Raising your head from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, you look at his side profile again, the sharp lines of his jaw, the fine ginger-blonde of his beard. His nose and his eyebags and that scar—

“You still need to tell me that story,” you murmur, and he turns his head, swallowing with a quirked eyebrow. “Of your scar. We could trade.”

“You have scars I don’t know about?” he asks mischievously, and you roll your eyes, struggling not to laugh as his lips sneak a kiss. Reciprocating, you can’t help but wrinkle your nose at the taste of spotchka on his mouth. Maker, the stuff is not your cup of tea. Obi-Wan seems to note your reaction because he pulls away, kissing your eyes and between your eyebrows before pulling back. “Not a drinker, are you?”

“Oh, I am.” You try not to pull the face that’s so desperately begging you to come out. “Just… not something I’m used to tasting.”

“Well, we still have time.” He blinks, returning to the rest of the food they have laid out in between them in their tiny tin containers, and you sigh, just watching him. With every passing moment, you just see more and more of the Obi-Wan you think he could’ve grown to be. The fissures are barely covered by dry jokes and thin smiles, but still, you can see where the dark side had shattered him in to pieces.

No matter. You suppose that this is where their life together begins. Building each other up again.

He catches you staring as he pulls a grape off its stem and pops it into his mouth.

“What is it?” he asks curiously, amused, and you say nothing, brushing hair out of his eyes and marvelling at the gentle blueness that stares back at you. “Is there something on my face?”

“No,” you whisper. “Not at all. I love you.”

He smiles. “I love you, too. This isn’t a dream?”

You shake your head. “This isn’t a dream.”

And he kisses you.

[ashlyreads]

reading a big battle scene like:

[sweatandwoe]

4, 6, 16, 31

4. Do you regret getting involved in any fandoms?

Probably when I was a teenager, like tumblr pre-2018 was a hell hole. A wonderful, filled with content hell hole, but dear god it was still a hell hole. At least on my end.

6. List your OTP from each fandom you’ve been involved in.

UHHHH, I haven't really written for many other fandoms besides Arcane and Star Wars but here are some OTPs from fandoms I like in no order besides me remembering them

World of Warcraft: Tyrande/Malfurion, Jania/Slyvanas (there's some good fics out there rip), Jania/Tyrande (I just wanna see her happy in the arms of a lady love), Vol'jin/Tyrathan Khort, Slyvanas/Nathanos (but only from Makaniart's art, that's the entire reason for my shipping of that), Wrathion/My Pussy, also Vol'jin/My pussy

Star Wars: OCs/OCs (seriously I write this stuff still, I just won't ever post it, it's my little happy series), My Swtor characters/Lana, Padme/Ani, Mando/Reader, Obi-Wan/Reader, Darth Maul/Reader (pretty much any main dude /reader)

LOTR: Gimli/Legolas (read an entire 150k fic one time about it. God it was good), Aragorn/Arwen

Mass Effect: SHAKARIAN

Dragon Age: Solas x F!Trevalyan (I may have spelled that wrong. Also please see @designfailure56's sibbe x solas content and tell me it's not cute. I dare ya), Solas x Anyone really (used to hate the egg, but now egg is cute. and also a pain in the ass still, but still) Ironbull/Inquisitor, Morrigan/HoF, Hawke/Fenris

Asoiaf: Brienne/Jamie, Margery/Sansa, Dany/Sansa, Viserys/Getting pegged

16. Are their any popular ships in your fandom which you dislike?

For any fandom my number one NOTP is:

Arthas x Jania or Thrall x Jania. if she wanted a man she'd have a man, simple.

For Arcane, any Proshipping ones, and I'm not the biggest Ca!tv! fan (I will write about them being together because I do like them it's more like Riot held them back and you can tell, and it makes me sad. I don't feel like they got enough confirmation for people's reactions if that makes sense? Like if the genders were reversed, we'd be talking about the biggest queer baiting in history, because they don't even kiss in the show or get confirmed as a couple. And I want it to be, but I hate riot tip toeing around it. Having their cake and eating it too kinda shit.)

31. What’s the nicest thing someone has ever said about your writing?

Answered already over here!

[cabezadeperro]

for the thots on a character: maul

How I feel about this character:

sorry trilla and vader but he THE best villain in the star war. He's a lot of fun to watch! He's nuanced and has a shitty personal history and nonetheless he wakes up every day and decides to be the worst version of himself he can think of! He's a mess ❤

All the people I ship romantically with this character

Rex (IT tehei's fault), jesse (IT apples' fault), and Obi-Wan's fun as well. I'm pretty much open to anything except a couple characters ngl

My non-romantic OTP for this character

Savage :(

My unpopular opinion about this character

Sorry, x reader fic writers, I really don't think this man's capable of topping anyone :(

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon

That idea Lucas had for the sequel trilogy. It's INSANE and it would have been a mess, but it's also a lot of fun imho

[myevilmouse]

2020 Fic Year In Review

This disaster year was my second of writing fanfic for the Star Wars fandom, focused as always on my handsome Jedi and charismatic Grand Admiral.  Here’s the same thing I did last year:  basically share the idea of the fic I wanted to write and the result of what came out of that idea.

Because I don’t outline or plan, it is often as much a surprise to me as to my readers as to where the story winds up.  But I enjoy the magic that is surrendering to the muse / autonomous typing hands, so I doubt that will change anytime soon.

Context:  2020 began with the fic whining circle’s discussion of the sad dearth of blowjobs for Luke Skywalker in fandom.  We resolved to remedy this with the creation of the Luke Deserves All The Blowjobs Challenge, our 12-month mission to provide our man with 12 blowjobs, detailed lovingly for your (and his) pleasure.  We all agreed to contribute and so my first offering was:

1.    Anomaly

Idea:  In 2019, I participated in the Star Wars Rare Pairs Fic Exchange.  Shanlyrical had requested the pairing of Guri/Luke, which I’d never considered.  I didn’t get assigned that one (I got assigned Thrawn/Original Art Forger), but the idea stayed with me.  The blowjob challenge was the perfect opportunity.

Result:  A one-shot I am quite proud of, written from droid POV attempting to seduce our Jedi (who is quite difficult to seduce damn his perfect ass), full of technical and cyborgian terminology.  Since shanlyrical had put the ship in my brain, it was gifted to her.

2.  Comfortable

Idea:  Write an “old married Skywalkers” smutfic for a Valentine’s Day gift to my Luke/Mara cohorts.

Result:  A rather florid one-shot that is overstuffed with choice adjectives and bursting at the seams with love for my Jedi’s happy ever after.

3.  The Problem With Prophecy

Idea:  Write a Thrawn/Pryce fic for the Thryce Discord’s Valentine’s Day.  The prompts shifted, from “blind date” to “soulmates” or maybe vice versa as a theme.  I had already started it when the prompt changed so made them both work.

Result:  Another “how they got together fic” (of which I seem to write many for Thryce) that was a lot of fun to write, with a little contemplation about free will vs destiny in there.

4.  Proxy

Idea:  The Luke Deserves All The Blowjobs Challenge needed more fic, and no one wrote that Asajj Ventress/Luke pairing I had requested for SW rarepairs 2019… *cracks knuckles*  If you want something done, gotta do it yourself!

Result:  This was an interesting challenge.  Whilst I typically attempt to create scenarios for Luke to bang all the ladies that are SOMEWHAT realistic, I decided the only way to make this happen was to assume whatever plot was required to set this up had already occurred, so it starts *cough* right before the action, so to speak.  I also sort of low-key ship Ventress/Kenobi (what is that called?  Ventrobi?) so operated throughout with the idea that since she couldn’t have Obi-Wan, she was settling for another Jedi as a plaything.  Since I used only pronouns for Ventress in the fic, I suppose the reader could imagine any wicked woman or Nightsister or whomever on the other end of Luke’s cock, but in my brain it’s Asajj and she is a lucky woman (and Luke is a lucky man).  Anyway, it was probably one of my least popular fics this year but I still like it!

5.  Thranto 400 Works Celebration Ficlet (Ch 3:  Everything To Lose)

Idea:  @jessko-fic​  asked me to contribute to this collection to commemorate the Thrawn/Vanto ship hitting 400 works on AO3.  Me:  Slash?!?!

Result:  I don’t write slash in general because I just…don’t really enjoy it, doesn’t float my boat or melt my butter, although so often I wish that weren’t the case.  I have read a lot of Thranto thanks to Jess’s evil influence though, and thought I could tackle this ship.  I wanted to write something exactly 400 words for the 400 works thing, and the result was a little “missing scene” that I hope was true to the spirit of the collection while also slotting into Thrawn and Eli’s storyline.

6.  Creativity

Idea:  For The May The Fourth fic exchange, try to hit my giftee’s likes and stuff as many MacGyver-inspired easter eggs as possible into the story.

Result:  14 “original series” MacGyver-isms crammed into this thing, including winks and nods to names and dates, and  plenty of Luke and Mara banter to accompany the mission. One of my most researched fics this year and one of the most fun to write!  And my giftee loved it, which is the best result possible.

7.  Physical Graffiti

Idea:  Agreed to a one-on-one fic exchange with @jessko-fic​, since we never get matched in “regular” exchanges.  She requested Luke x Sabine, which tied in perfectly to my never-ending goal of Luke x All The Ladies.

Result:  A (hopefully) sexy multi-chapter that required a lot of research on timelines to get them together for this “missing scene” and Mandalorian stuff.  My septuagenarian mom has proclaimed it’s her favorite of any of my stories, so I call it a success.  O_O  Yes, she reads my fic.

8.  Strangers When We Meet

Idea:  Write a reader-insert fic for @enmudecer​.  I love setting challenges for myself, and writing a smutty reader insert was something entirely new to tackle.

Result:  I think reader inserts sometimes get a bad name but they can be a lot of fun.  I avoided the (y/n) convention because I find it pulls me out of the story, tried hard to keep it gender neutral, and hopefully everyone who reads it can feel like they just banged Luke Skywalker 😉 Also I have a long-standing goal of writing songfic, and while I didn’t do it here, at least the title is from a Bowie song that seemed appropriate.  So not just my first reader-insert, my first song-titled-fic!

9.  Infectious

Idea:  The Thryce Discord, and in particular @handsofthrawn​, had been asking/lobbying me for ages about writing a quarantine fic since the world was in lockdown.

Result:  Well, this is what I achieved this year, when I look back at what I accomplished.  My longest fic ever, and a particularly ambitious premise of getting from an awkward, miserable (and hopefully realistic) fuck-or-die scenario to a happy ever after for my evil OTP.  I unashamedly love this story and I’m so happy and grateful to the readers who loved it with me—their comments and kudos gave me life when the stress of reality made me want to curl into a defensive little ball and hide for the rest of the year.

10.  Evilmousetober 2020

Idea:  I couldn’t choose what X-tober prompts to use for my October drabbles this year, so I used whatever felt right that day.

Result:  A compilation of my tumblr drabbles from various October prompts.

11. Dis Manibus

Idea:  I am not going to write this fic.  I am not going to write this fic.  Crack and ridonc and no way is there any conceivable way it would work.  And then I wrote it.  The basic concept as my muse nagged me was to write the “nightmare comfort” trope with Luke and Pryce.  WHY?! I HAVE NO IDEA I DON’T CONTROL THIS BITCH.  Anyway, the idea wouldn’t go away.

Result:  This fic is the perfect exhibit of how I never know what the heck is going to happen when I start writing.  Everything was a surprise to me, including the Thryce element to what was SUPPOSED to be a Luke/Pryce fic.  Also I didn’t get the smut I wanted.  *curses*  But I like it anyway and it worked, timing-wise, for Halloween-y themes.

12.  Alone Time

Idea:  After swearing not to write fic for the rest of the year, @contentment-of-cats​ put out her Merry Chissmas bingo card and my ambitious ass decided to try to knock every single prompt out with a one-shot.

Result:  Thrawn jerking off in the shower and thinking verrrrrry naughty things.  I apologize for nothing.

So in 2019 I wrote 26 fics and this year only got to about 12…but fanfic is for fun, and we all needed fun this year.  I enjoyed writing for you and I hope you enjoyed reading my output.  I look forward to providing more smexy silly and strange fic for you in 2021.  <3

[obiwanthetherapistkenobi]

cody and obi-wan, obvi but if that's already asked, rex and boil

Oh boy, I saw this ask earlier when it came in and then I just completely forgot about it. Sorry about that! Anyway, no one else sent in any requests, so i’m just gonna go ahead and do all of these characters for something to do.

Cody

Favorite thing about him: the way he roundhouse kicks droids

Least favorite thing about him: Order 66 but that’s not his fault

Favorite line: “Well good luck. I’m putting you in charge of this one,” he says as he throws his brother under the bus the moment he senses something’s gonna go wrong

brOTP: Rex

OTP: Obi-Wan

nOTP: of the ships I’ve seen him in that I didn’t care for, the only one I can think of is Mace

Random headcanon: Cody’s a reader. He loves to read. He’ll read basically anything he can get his hands on, but if one of his brothers writes something they’re willing to share with him? It’s automatically one of his favorites.

Unpopular opinion: not sure that I have an unpopular headcanon about Cody, but if I had to say something here, then I suppose it would be the idea that Cody’s actually not bad at taking care of himself and he’s not bad about seeing the medics when he has to

Favorite picture of him:

Obi-Wan

Favorite thing about him: his chaotic, yet tired Dad Energy

Least favorite thing about him: canonically, some of the things he did and his choices weren’t that great, but in all seriousness... which character hasn’t made some poor decisions in canon? that’s why fanfiction and headcanons exist

Favorite line: “Hello there”

brOTP: Feemor

OTP: Cody

nOTP: Maul, Anakin, Qui-Gon i have a lot of nOTPs

Random headcanon: Obi-Wan loves sweets. he has an insane sweet tooth. he still eats healthy and responsibly and all that jazz, but he will also enjoy some sweets at any given moment, and he will absolutely share with Cody and his men when there’s enough to go around

Unpopular opinion: I don’t know that I have an unpopular opinion about Obi-Wan, but I suppose this whole AU could potentially be an unpopular opinion? so... I guess that’s the answer

Favorite picture of him:

Rex

Favorite thing about him: there’s no way he’s not a natural blond, and I will absolutely die on this hill

Least favorite thing about him: nothing. he’s perfect, and I love him

Favorite line: “Find Fives” it hurt so good

brOTP: Fives, Cody

OTP: do I have one for Rex? hm... I enjoy him in plenty of ships but there’s no, like, one that I would absolutely die for. if I had to pick, I’d say Cody

nOTP: Ahsoka

Random headcanon: there’s a practice that starts up in the 501st called Comfort Sweaters. we’ll be seeing more about these soon in the series, I promise. Without revealing too much about them, let’s just say that Rex is a fan of them

Unpopular opinion: I don’t?? think I have one???

Favorite picture of him:

Boil

Favorite thing about him: how very done with Waxer’s shit he is very early on

Least favorite thing about him: he started off as kind of an asshole also his stupid mustache

Favorite line: I don’t remember off the top of my head exactly what he says, but the scene where he joins Waxer in comforting Numa? that’s my favorite

brOTP: Waxer

OTP: Waxer

nOTP: I don’t have a nOTP for him

Random headcanon: Boil does actually like kids. he just doesn’t like randomly being thrown into a situation with kids without warning

Unpopular opinion: I don’t think I have one

Favorite picture of him:

And that’s it! Thanks for asking! I didn’t do any of the songs questions just because I don’t typically associate people with songs, and I can’t play any at the moment to do some looking into it.

Also, I hope I did the right ask game for your requests! If I didn’t, I’m so sorry and I invite you to request it again and specify which game you’re looking for. If this was what you wanted, then feel free to ignore this little blurb.

[innocent-until-proven-geeky]

for the character thing; cody, obi wan, and ur oc pova (is that how you spell it?)

YEAHYEAHYEAH (also that is how you spell it) I see we’re doing the whole family and I LOVE it.

I was in the middle of answering this and then I went to find my favorite episodes and Tumblr ate whatever I was working on sooooo I start over.

Cody

Why I like them: Sass. Fandom’s interpretation as Ultimate Big Brother (behind Alpha-17, of course). Mysterious scar. And he’s pretty.

Why I don’t: Honestly? The fact that the clones are slave soldiers, and the fact that fandom tends to give racially biased interpretations of the clones (I’m guilty of this too). Nothing to do with Cody himself, honestly, which isn’t to say he’s perfect or anything, I find him to be rough around the edges but who wouldn’t be in his shoes?

Favorite episode: s1e16 The Hidden Enemy. This one is probably on my top 5 list even without Cody. But guys. GUYS. “Hey there, Slick. Gun’s empty.” WHAT COULD BE MORE ICONIC?

Favorite film: Okay technically these questions were “episode/scene if a movie” and “season/movie” but because he’s in both I’m gonna have to go with a film for this one. Revenge of the Sith. Listen, I can’t watch ROTS without crying but damn if I don’t love Cody in it anyway. The lightsaber scene will ALWAYS get me. (Season 1 gets an honorable mention.)

Favorite line: Uh. Well. Okay so. “Hey there, Slick. Gun’s empty.” *holds up mag* LISTEN GUYS I LOVE THAT ONE. Although he also gets points for “I’m putting you in charge of this one.” I don’t know if season 1 just has a lot of iconic Cody lines, or if it’s because I’ve been watching that season in Spanish lately.

Favorite outfit: ... his armor? No actually though, I love his Phase II armor. Phase I is cool but Phase II has the cool ventilators. And how can I not make fun of his antenna?

OTP: Codywan. Ideally in a post-war fix-it or semi-fix-it where there isn’t a huge power imbalance, but I’ve been known to read Codywan stuff that takes place during the war, especially before I was as cognizant of the power imbalance as I am now.

BroTP: Cody and Rex. I’m sure y’all saw that one coming. I mean it’s CODY and REX, I’m pretty sure that’s everyone’s BroTP!

Headcanon: So this might be a good time to mention that I headcanon everyone everywhere as autistic. Everyone is autistic. Cody is autistic. Okay actually though, I headcanon that Cody has a great deal of anxiety. He handles it well, and he has a support system, but given his entire life, and the fact that he’s a Marshal Commander, and further more the headcanon we collectively have that Obi-Wan insists on promoting Cody to get out of paperwork because Cody deserves it, he’s probably anxious. And man, same.

Unpopular opinion: Do I have one? Tbh I don’t know how to determine whether an opinion about a character is unpopular. How do we define unpopular? Do we mean just like, not commonly known or shared? Because if so, I once again raise for your consideration: everyone is autistic, therefore Cody is autistic.

A wish: For Disney to retcon Order 66. Barring that, for the Bad Batch show to give him a happy ending involving the removal of his chip and the opportunity to live happily ever after with Obi-Wan on Tatooine. (Is the Bad Batch show going to be live-action like Kenobi? Because PLEASE give me Temuera Morrison playing Cody in both.)

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: Don’t laugh. Order 66. Listen I KNOW it’s canon but that doesn’t mean I have to like it!

5 words to best describe them: Salty. Snarky. Protective. Competent. Thoughtful.

My nickname for them: honestly, just Codes or Kote. Not much to get out of Cody, really.

Obi-Wan:

Why I like them: HE’S PRETTY. And sassy. There’s a pattern here.

Why I don’t: I don’t think there’s ever a time in canon that he acknowledges all the issues with the clones’ existence. He does in fanon, which I can appreciate, but canonically he’s like, “ah yes, we bought 3.2 million humans. We’ll just stick them in this war I guess.” Also frankly he’s a bit oblivious, bordering on daft, especially considering he’s the Negotiator, I mean he KEPT HIS LAST NAME when he went into hiding. I still love him though.

Favorite scene: That deleted “good girl, Boga” scene, which just hits different when you’ve read Master & Apprentice and know how much he loves varactyls. I don’t care that it’s deleted. It’s my favorite. (Plus you’ll probably like this better than my favorite episode, which is the Kadavo episode.)

Favorite film: Attack of the Clones. Listen listen listen, he has a lot of good moments in TCW, but hands down it’s AOTC.

Favorite line: Eheheheheheh. Eheheheheheheh. Eheheheheheheheheheheheheheheh. “Hello there!”

Favorite outfit: Was gonna make a comment about Jedi robes but then I remembered his stolen Mandalorian armor in The Lawless and *swoons* that’s one pretty outfit.

OTP: ... also Codywan. Again, ideally in an AU with less of a power imbalance, I mean it doesn’t matter how much he promotes Cody, canonically he’s still a Jedi and Cody is still a slave and I just don’t love that but I live for Codywan. Domestic Codywan? *chef’s kiss*

BroTP: probably Obi-Wan and Anakin. Maybe Obi and Padmé? Idk I have Thoughts about Anakin, he’s a problem child, but not much can top the agony in “You were my brother, Anakin! I loved you!” (I like whump, okay?) Also just. Can you imagine the Negotiator just being buds with Senator Amidala? Helping each other with domestic disputes and speeches? Working on a Clone Rights Bill? Yeah. Can it be a broT3? What if we just don’t have Anakin and Padmé dating? It’s such an unhealthy relationship. That’s it, broT3 is Anakin, Padmé, and Obi-Wan.

Headcanon: ACE!OBI ACE!OBI ACE!OBI!!!!!! Also,,, autistic!Obi. I know I know, but actually genuinely @fromryloth-tocorellia has some pretty good autistic!Obi-Wan stuff, including Obi-Wan being semi-verbal, low-verbal, and non-verbal. Autistic characters is a hill I will die on, and Obi-Wan is a character I happen to enjoy projecting on (oops). Plus, if I headcanon Cody and Obi-Wan as autistic, then the entire Ibonek family is autistic, and I love that.

Unpopular opinion: The only reason Obi-Wan “left Anakin to die” was because there was nothing he could safely do to help. When I was taking first aid classes, one of the first things they told us was that, unless there is no danger to yourself, you do not help. You wait for actual first responders to show up. If Obi-Wan had tried to help Anakin, either Anakin would have killed him or Obi-Wan would also have been severely burned. And if he had stayed, he may have been caught by Palpatine. Is it sad that he left? Absolutely. Heartbreaking. I don’t think it was a GOOD decision. But he didn’t just leave him to die; there was no other safe option. There were no good decisions here. I have a lot of thoughts about this, I have half-written essays on Discord about it, feel free to ask further questions.

A wish: For Qui-Gon’s dying words to be retconned. I know I wrote that post about how his dying words were full of trust in Obi-Wan and I stand by that, but that doesn’t mean Obi-Wan realized that, or that they were a good choice.

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: For the Kenobi show to be sad. It’s not allowed. Obi-Wan can have one fight, and that’s it, he is happy as a clam on Tatooine because he DESERVES GOODNESS DAMNIT.

5 words to best describe them: Kind. Soft. Warm. Compassionate. Daft.

My nickname for them: Obi

Pova:

What I like about them: They’re my OC and I can do whatever I want with them!

What I don’t: They’re my OC and I’m in charge of them.

(Okay actually though:)

What I like about them: Nonverbal. Pink. Perpetually grumpy.

What I don’t: perpetually grumpy. Seriously how did that happen? Why did I do that? Why is the only time they AREN’T grumpy around Rex or when shopping with Obi-Wan?

Favorite scene: The adoption scene in “Observations on the Nature of Cody Ibonek”.

Favorite work: Probably “Observations”. It’s the first one that’s entirely from Pova’s point of view.

Favorite line: “He was making fun of my stimming. I was already having a bad day. I punched him. It’s whatever.” POVA NO. (Pova yes.)

Favorite outfit: Uh. Haven’t given it much thought yet? Haven’t done many character designs, although fromryloth-tocorellia did one for me and it’s my icon at @ver-writes-things if you want to check that out? Also my Halloween costume is gonna be a super basic cosplay of them and I’ll probably post that.

OTP: None. First of all, the oldest I’ve written them so far is 14. Second, I don’t have any other characters their age yet. Maybe the six kids from the Gathering episode survived? But even then I probably wouldn’t ship it. And I mean, not every character needs a romantic ship.

BroTP: Either Pova and Rex or Pova and Luke. Rex is like big brother/cool uncle, and Luke is like little brother. As of right now, though, definitely Rex, as I haven’t written much of anything with Luke.

Headcanon: I don’t have any because all my headcanons about this character are CANON! Man I love having OCs.

Unpopular opinion: to quote Paige Layle on TikTok: “Stop using the term low functioning autistics when you really mean that they’re just nonverbal. And nonverbal autistics still have a lot to say, they just have a hard time talking.” Basically, I’m certain that as this AU gains traction, Pova’s gonna start getting flak from readers for being nonverbal. It hasn’t happened yet, and maybe I’m just being pessimistic, but just in case someone needs the reminder: No. Stop now. Pova’s autistic. And nonverbal. And not a savant (man I fucking hate that trope). But they are a capable Jedi and, with Cody and Obi, developed a very functional sign language comprised of Jedi hand signals, trade sign language (like from episode 5 of the Mandalorian, that the Tuskens use?), and ARC signals. There will be NO functioning labels on this AU, and Pova has and will continue to have PLENTY to say. If you have a problem you know where the door is.

A wish: For everyone to love my kiddo as much as I do!

An oh-gosh-please-don’t-ever-happen: Listen Pova is gonna have a good and happy life. There is trauma and there is bullying and there is heartache but they are going to live a good life with two AMAZING dads. So there is no “don’t ever happen” because it won’t.

5 words to best describe them: Sneaky. Quiet. Excitable. Compassionate. Snarky.

My nickname for them: Kiddo or my kiddo.

[lysmune]

Holo // 001.

Read the web version

Found in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s chambers, third month of 44 BBY.

(The hologram statics and crackles; the initial words are fuzzy but after it is played once, clears.)

Obi-Wan, is it true you’ve been taken into apprenticeship? That you’ve started your Jedi training?  Because, by the stars, that’s amazing! Congratulations on becoming a Padawan under Master Qui-Gon Jinn! It’s so odd to see him take you in because I hear that he’s refused to mentor absolutely anyone, but I guess it must be because you’re pretty skilled, or special, or something.

Unless you cheated, which I don’t know - I mean, I’ve never seen you cheat, but maybe it’s something you do?

But anyway, I’m happy you finally have a mentor; it’s been your long standing goal, am I right? I think you’ll do well as a Jedi, so good luck to you and um, come talk to me when you can. I need the holopad back, since I borrowed it.

(With a stutter, the hologram disappears.)

[mirdaniaa]

Anakin Skywalker and Jon Snow for the character ask!

Anakin Skywalker

My NOTP for them: i don’t really think i have any

My BROTP for them: Anakin x Obi-Wan

My OTP for them: Anakin x Padmé 

My second choice pairing for them: Anakin x Obi-Wan

My fluffy pairing for them: Anakin x Padmé 

My angsty pairing for them: Anakin x Padmé 

My favorite poly ship for them: Anakin x Padmé x Obi-Wan

My weirdest pairing for them: someone once suggested Anakin x Han and my life has known no peace since that moment

Jon Snow

My NOTP for them: idk if i have one? tbh i find jon really boring so i don’t actively ship him with anyone

My BROTP for them: jon and sam <3 

My OTP for them: jon x his hand, much to the anger of my readers

My second choice pairing for them: jongritte 

My fluffy pairing for them: jongritte

My angsty pairing for them: jongritte :(

My favorite poly ship for them: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

My weirdest pairing for them: idk if it’s weird but jon x tyrion

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

For the FANDOM ask: A, O, W 🌼🌼🌼

A - Your current OTP

        It’s weird, I don’t have that many since I am so far down the reader insert hole it’s not even funny.  I think the one that gives me the most feels though is Rebelcaptain.  I think about the ending of Rogue One and need to lay down for a while.

        Of my own writing though, I gotta go with Sigyn x Loki.  (I love them and I have way too many AUs in my brain)

O - Choose a song at random, which OTP does it remind you of

        Meant to Be Yours from Heathers: The Musical

        I don’t ship Reylo under any circumstances, but a Star Wars Heathers AU with Kylo Ren as DJ and Rey as Veronica is too good to pass up.  The throne room scene at the end of The Last Jedi is basically this song.  I just, I can’t.

W - 5 favorite characters from 5 different fandoms

Star Trek TOS: Doctor Leonard “Bones” McCoy

The Magnificent Seven (2016): Vasquez

Star Wars Original Trilogy: Luke Skywalker

Star Wars Prequels: Obi Wan Kenobi

Star Wars Sequel Trilogy: Poe Dameron

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