#qui gon/reader

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Headcanon/Preference # 37

Gifs NOT mine.

Rating - SFW

Reading time (roughly) - 12 minutes

Year posted - 2025

So yeah I totally killed the reader off in this one... Wanted this one to be angsty. Enjoy.

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

• Obi-wan Kenobi •

• Obi-wan knew he shouldn't have let you join him on this particular mission.

• He knew something was off about this mission, he had sensed it in the Force.

• But he'd let you join regardless, and now you lay at his feet, bleeding out.

• He quickly dispatched of the enemy, and pulled you into his arms.

• "My love stay with me, you're going to be okay."

• He cradled your head in his free hand, trying desperately to assure you that everything will be okay.

• While also trying to fool himself into thinking you'll be able to pull through.

• As your breathing turned shallow, he kissed your forehead, smiling through the pain.

• He needed to be strong for you.

• And as your eyes fluttered closed, and your chest stilled, Obi-wan felt as if a part of himself had died with you.

• Only then did he allow himself to cry, and Obi-wan Kenobi was never the same.

• Becoming a shell of the man he once was, he eventually leaves the Jedi and roams the galaxy, feeling utterly lost without you by his side.

• Anikin Skywalker •

• Anikin thought he could protect you from anything.

• His one truest love, the one person he would have done anything for.

• This is the most dramatic turn of events for Anikin, the moment when he gave into the dark side.

• Cradling your lifeless body in his arms, Anikin screamed and cried.

• "You can't leave me (Y/n), you can't!"

• And with the aggressive flick of his wrist, he killed those that had taken you from him.

• He was merciless, unforgiving, and beyond angry.

• Anikin felt as if he'd died alongside you, and in many ways he did.

• Alone he laid you to rest.

• His once beautiful blue eyes turned to yellow as he watched you disappear from his life.

• Anikin felt as if your blood was on his hands, as if he failed to protect you.

• He also felt as if he failed you, because if you hadn't loved him as deeply as you did, maybe then you wouldn't have given your life for his.

• The day you died, was the very same day Darth Vader was born.

• Qui-Gon Jinn •

• Qui-Gon knew he shouldn't have grown attached to you, he knew it wouldn't end well.

• The rules about attachments, about love, were in place for this very reason.

• Quickly he took care of the man that had fatally wounded you, and held you close.

• Try as he might with the help of the force he attempted to heal your wounds, unable to do so he tried his best to be strong for you.

• He pecked your lips, and brushed back your hair.

• "You're going to be alright darling, just breath. That's it, just keep breathing."

• His hands shook as he placed his free hand over your wound, trying weakly to stop the bleeding.

• Again he tried using the Force to at least try to ease your pain, to make this easier for you.

• "Just relax my darling, we'll see eachother again."

• Qui-Gon promised you with a weak smile, his heart breaking at the sight of your own equally weak smile.

• His heart breaking further as he felt your breathing slow down considerably, the light in your eyes fading with every shallow breath.

• If there was anything Qui-Gon was grateful for, it was getting to hold you in his arms one last time.

• Darth Maul •

• Maul was foolish enough to think you were untouchable, that you were both untouchable.

• And his world crashed around him as you collapsed to the ground.

• Maul thought he knew pain, but all that he's been through, all that he's done. It was nothing compared to losing you.

• "You'll pay for this!"

• Maul growled at the man that was daring enough to hurt you.

• Ruthlessly he slashed at the man, cutting him limb from limb, and keeping him alive until he was satisfied.

• His rage blinded him, and only subsidied when he heard you wheezing in pain.

• "(Y/n) my star."

• Without another thought he dropped his saber, and rushed to your side, cradling you against his chest.

• He was unfazed by your blood seeping into his robes, firmly placing his hand against your wound, desperately trying to at least slow the bleeding.

• "I'll find you again my star, nothing can keep me from you, nothing."

• Maul promised as he rest his forehead against your own, the connection between you both through the Force, assuring him that he could keep that promise.

• He also swore to take down anyone and everyone that was involved in your demise, whoever that man worked for was as good as dead, and anyone else Maul deemed guilty.

• Maul will destroy worlds to avenge you if he must.

• He kept his eyes locked with yours as you slowly slipped away, his hearts thundering with heartache.

• "We will be together again."

• Maul promised before you gave your final breath, a rage filled scream escaping him as you died.

• And all who knew of Darth Maul, learned that after your demise, the Sith could be far crueler, far darker than he had been when you were still alive.

• Maul eventually turns to the traditions of the Zabrak, and finds a way to reunite with you through the magick of his people.

• It isn't enough, and it'll never be enough, because it is simply a ghost of you.

• But until his demise it is all he can manage, and he will accept that while he cannot hold you anymore, he can at least still see you and speak with you.

• Feral Opress •

• Feral is heartbroken beyond belief.

• You were the only truly good thing in his life, you were his and he was yours.

• Savage had witnessed the whole thing unfold, and for the sake of his brother, he struck down the man that dared to harm you.

• Feral wasn't sure what to do, so he acted on instinct, and laid beside you, pulling you into his arms.

• You had once said laying in his embrace was your favorite thing, the thing that brought you the most comfort.

• And he knew that's all he could do for you, comfort you as you slowly succumbed to your wounds.

• "Sh sh my sweet, just relax, I'm here, I've got you."

• He brushed your hair back in a soothing way, ignoring how much it hurt him to feel your blood painting his skin.

• He peppered kisses across your paling face, his hearts breaking with every kiss.

• You giggled in a pitiful way, coughing a moment later, blood oozed from your mouth.

• And Feral, delicately, lovingly wiped it away.

• "It's okay my sweet, look at me."

• His lip quivered a little as your glossy eyes peered into his own.

• "I love you, don't you ever forget that."

• He pecked your lips, tears escaping him when your final breath wheezed out from your lungs.

• Savage Opress •

• Savage instantly saw red, his hearts filled with rage, and regret.

• He ripped the man who hurt you limb from limb with his bare hands. The man's blood only cooling his temper a little.

• Dropping the carcass carelessly to the ground, he rushed back to your side, and as gently as he could he picked you up and cradled you against his chest.

• With you in his arms, Savage walked carefully across the tundra of the desolate planet you were on, unable, unwilling to just leave you on this wasteland of a planet.

• "Oh little one, my sweet stupid girl. You should have just let me handle him."

• He meant well, he really did. But he was hurt that you would do something so reckless, so selfless.

• You had once promised him forever.

• You giggled weakly, reaching up to caress his handsome face. And Savage melted into your touch.

• His hearts broke, knowing he couldn't save you, not this time.

• His blazing eyes locked onto your pale face, he wanted to commit your face to memory, despite the fact that he already has every part of you committed to memory.

• "I'll see you again little one, through the magick, the Force, I will see you again."

• He promised as he cradled you close, the chill of your skin finally breaking his resolve.

• Savage cried as he held you close, falling to his knees as you struggled to breathe.

• He grew darker that day, much darker. Swearing to fight to the bitter end, until he could be reunited with you once more.

• Kylo Ren •

• The moment you collapsed before his eyes, Kylo felt as if he would die alongside you.

• With a rage filled cry, Kylo cut down the man that hurt you, and threw the rest over a nearby cliff with the Force.

• He fell to his knees beside you, watching helplessly as your blood stained the snow around you.

• "Starlight what have you done?"

• He breathed out as he pulled you into his arms, tears of heartache and rage streaming down his face, his helmet long since abandoned.

• "I couldn't- couldn't let you get hurt."

• You had wheezed out, desperately clutching the deep gash at your side. Kylo's hand rest over yours, desperately hoping to stop the bleeding.

• "I can't live without you."

• Kylo whispered in a broken voice, burying his face into the crook of your neck.

• He squeezed you tighter, as you grew colder and colder in his arms.

• "Don't leave me, please, I can't go on without you."

• Kylo shook in his sorrow and rage, as your breathing became shallow.

• Despite the fact that you were literally dying, you still tried to comfort him, brushing his hair back weakly, your blood staining his pale skin.

• This only served to break his heart further, how can he possibly go on without you?

• Kylo is the most likely to rage an all out war, in hopes of getting himself killed so he could be reunited with you.

• But that's not to say he won't fight to the bitter end.

• Armitage Hux •

• It took everything in Armitage to stay standing, to not collapse and cradle you in his arms.

• If he had done so, he knew your sacrifice would have been in vain.

• But the moment the man is killed by his troopers, he's falling to his knees and pulling you into his arms.

• "GET A MEDICAL DROID NOW!"

• He barks at his men, who rush to follow out his order.

• But it's too late, your once bright eyes are dull and lifeless, having died on impact.

• That doesn't stop Armitage from deluding himself into thinking you'll be okay.

• He's crying, and begging you to wake up, but you don't respond to any of his attempts to stir you.

• "Please angel, wake up, come on."

• He's shaking you, kissing you, and eventually in his desperation he's beating on your chest in an attempt to get your heart pumping again.

• By the time a medical droid comes, he refuses to let you go. His troopers eventually have to tear him away from your body.

• He's kicking and screaming, red in the face as he fights them. But it's no good, they are to strong.

• Armitage has to control himself during your funeral, every instinct in him screaming to not let you go, to fight to bring you back.

• He is much harsher after this, starting arguments more and more with Kylo, and taking every ounce of pain when Kylo throws him across the room with the Force, as if he deserves to be punished.

• He's even trying to goad Kylo into killing him, but the man has a little more restraint than the General had thought.

• Armitage is the most likely to give into his dark depressive thoughts, and take his own life.

• His final thoughts are of you and you alone.

• General Grievous •

• You were his most prized "possession" so to speak, nothing in all of the galaxy meant as much to Grievous as you did.

• "My treasure, no you can't do this, you can't leave me I forbid it!"

• He's killed the man before you even hit the ground, where you lay for mere moments before he's cradling you in his arms.

• He's gentle with you, as he quite literally sprints you to the nearest medical bay.

• "Get out all of you!"

• He barks at the droids, not trusting them to fix what cannot be undone. Certain that he'll be able to save you.

• He's frantic in his attempts to patch you up, almost unaware of the way you gently touch his arm.

• Grievous froze in an instant when you weakly called out his name, his attention now solely on your face, cupping your hand in two of his.

• "What do you need treasure?"

• He asked in a soft voice, ignoring how his voice shook with emotion.

• You simply smiled at him, as if taking in the sight of him was all you cared about in that moment.

• "I-I lo-ve-"

• You tried croaking out, only for your breath to be stolen as you slipped away, dying before his very eyes, trying to declare your love one last time.

• The very ground shook with his scream of despair and heart retching agony.

• From that moment on he took out every ounce of pain and anger at losing you on anyone he deemed a threat.

• Sometimes even on innocent people, who would unknowingly remind him of you.

• He fought dirty and ruthlessly, uncaring if he would get himself killed, or if he would even succeed.

• Grievous also travelled far and wide across the galaxy in an attempt to find some way to bring you back to life.

• He cared not for whatever it might cost, or what he might have to do, who he would have to kill.

• If there is a way he can bring you back, he'll find a way, not matter how long it takes.

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

[tessxblxckthorn]

whenever i’m happy i think about the fact that obi-wan literally lost everyone he cared about and then i’m not happy anymore… at all. and yes, you have to suffer with me! :))

[yama-uba]

This morning I saw some art that made me wonder if there is a so-called Mandela effect created by the fanfiction community.

Guys, what color is Obi-Wan Kenobi's hair?

And how justified is this Don Juan's leading position in all pairings in AO3?

Prequel trilogy: Ewan McGregor - variations from dark blond to brown. No romantic interest.

Tartakovsky's cartoons: Base color - "brown ocher". No romantic interest.

Filoni's cartoons: Base color - "almond". One story arc about platonic love with a tragic ending.

Books: Siri Tachi - "school love" is platonic. They talked like adults and decided to remain friends. Cerasi - he didn't even realize he was in love because no one told him. She died tragically. Lina Kobral - nah. The color… Idk… most likely a cold shade of blonde.

SW Fan Community: OH, THAT'S DEFINITELY A FIRE-REDHAIR INCUBUS, HUNGRY FOR THE WARMTH OF SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY EVERY SECOND OF ITS EXISTENCE!!!

[fearmakess]

[dontyoufeelitangel]

Well thought out villains with incredible backstories being turned into children’s toys:

They look so stupid I love it😭🫶

Omg😭 what’s got maul so mad☹️☹️ he’s plotting something,,

His horns being little nubs will never not be funny

[enchantingbl0ssom]

Omg I literally have no idea what to ask because there is sooo much fandom that you write that I like....But I'll go with my all time favourite : Obi Wan Kenobi ! I would really like a obi wan x female!reader where the reader is a jedi that is friend with Obi-Wan since they were children at the temple. They were seeing eachother romantically when they were padawan but the reader had left for a mission when he was on naboo with Qui-Gon and she was only called back years later when the war started. (I want to see a reunion fluff where they don't know if the other still like them and they still have to hide) Thank you and sorry for the long request!

I Miss You

⋆˚ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ୨ ✿ ୧ ︵ ‿ ︵ ‿ ︵ ˚⋆

Characters ➼ Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader

Word Count ➼ 3,559 words

Warnings ➼ Death, slavery, torture, shock collars

A/N ➼ Hope you enjoy reading! Thank you for the request! Sorry it's took awhile.

You and Obi-Wan have been best friends since you were both six years old. Always sitting next to each other in lessons, studying together, practicing together, and eating meals together. Everyone in the temple knew you were friends. Obi’s cheeky ways growing on you, as your own personality traits growing on him. 

Although the Jedi ban relationships, you two couldn’t help but have feelings for one another. You both hid your feelings for one another until you were seventeen years old. When you both could no longer hide, to each other at least. While your relationship blossomed, the other’s thought it was just your friendship coming stronger. 

“My darling,” Obi-Wan startled you as he grabbed your hand from around the corner. “We won’t be seeing each other for a while, due to us being on separate missions, so I came to see you.” He finished, his hands placed firmly on your cheeks. 

“You scared me, Obi.” 

“Oh, so I don’t matter to you?” He smirked, raising his eyebrow.

Your ears both shot up like dogs, at the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. You separated from one another.

“So, do you want to do some training with me?” You asked him, as the footsteps neared.

“Unfortunately, Y/N, I have got to go on a mission soon. Maybe when I come back?” Obi said, smiling mischievously at you.

“Oh, good evening Madam Secura, didn’t hear you.” Obi greeted, nodding his head in respect.

“Good evening to the two of you as well.” The Jedi Master replied, nodding before walking away.

Both of you dropped the act immediately after she went away from ear shot. Smiling towards Obi, you plant him a kiss on his lips before asking where he is going.

“I have got to go to Naboo, Senator Amidala needs my help. How about you, my dear? Where are you going?” He smiled at you, staring lovingly in your eyes waiting for you to answer.

“Me and my master have to go to Zygerria and stop slave trade happening again.” You replied, sighing at the state of the world.

“Well, when we get back, do you want to go on a date?” He asked, hooking his fingers under your chin, to get you to look back at him.

“Sure, I will decide.” You spoke, putting your hands on Obi-Wan’s hair.

Before you can both lean in for a kiss, your comm goes off. “Y/N, I need to talk to you before we leave tomorrow.”

Bring your comm device to your lips, you say “Yes, Master. I will be with you shortly.” Rolling your eyes at the inconvenience, you surprise Obi-Wan with a kiss on the lips. A soft, passionate kiss to remind him how much you love him.

“I have to go. I love you though. I will see you in the stars, my love.” You say, hugging him.

He leans into you, whispering in your ears “I love you too, my darling. And I, too, will see you in the stars.” Repeating your phrase, that you have made since you were both padawans. This phrase has stayed with you, ever since you both had to leave each other to go on missions.

You give each other one quick kiss, before you run off towards the distance to meet your master.

―୨❀୧―

“There is one more thing, before you like Master Qui-Gon Jinn and Padawan Kenobi.” Mace Windu called out, before either two could leave the high council chamber. They had just finished talking about their findings of Anakin Skywalker, and the pair didn’t know what else needed to be said. They looked at each other, puzzled, before turning back to the council.

“Yes, Masters?” Qui-Gon asked.

“Padawan Y/N and her master have seemingly died together while on their latest mission.” Mace Windu said.

“How has this happened?” Obi-swan asked, his heart racing.

“Don’t worry Kenobi. Lower your heart rate. Yes.” Yoda spoke up. Yoda’s normally confusing way of speaking does not help lower Kenobi’s heart rate.

Looking at Yoda, Mace raises his eyebrow before facing towards the master and padawan pair. “While on their mission, we received no contact from them. So we sent two other Jedi for them, to see what the problem was. But it appears that the two jedi found themselves not even near the Zygerrian system.” 

“Thank you Masters, for letting us know.” Qui-Gon spoke up, before leading him and Obi-Wan out of the chambers. Qui-Gon led his apprentice to his chambers.

“I know how close you were to Y/N. It is best for you to relax and meditate.” Qui-Gon reminded Obi-Wan, before leaving him at his chambers. 

Obi-Wan enters his chambers, closing the door behind him. He takes off his robes while walking to his bed, not caring about putting them away. Too tired, too sad, too heartbroken, to care about his robes. Getting on his bed, all he has on is his pants, as he rolls up into a ball, staring into the night sky, hoping to find you up there. The pads of his fingers rub against the wooden star necklace you gave him for his twentieth birthday. His body shakes, and tears leave his eyes, thinking  about you. You were the only one to keep him grounded. You were always there for him. Even when he was fed up with Qui-Gon, or is saddened that he can’t do more to help the people, you were always there for him. When he struggled to study, you were always there for him. But now you weren’t.

You have died.

You are no longer a part of his life.

Tears continue running down his cheeks, keeping his skin hot as he prays that the news he has just heard was a lie. A terrible lie. Yet, these prayers don’t get very far. You are still gone. And he has no one. 

Even though he wipes away the tears, more keep coming, like a never ending battle. He continues crying in his sleep, wrapping his arms around him, like you would’ve done. Praying that he will see you in his dreams. So he can finally feel peace again.

―୨❀୧―

Years have gone by since you have gone. Obi-Wan has tried his best putting his past behind him, now that you are no longer in his life. He is trying his best to cope with the pain, and hide it in front of his new apprentice, Anakin Skywalker. 

Recently, Obi-Wan has joined Anakin and Ahsoka toa mission located on Kiros. Where a whole planet’s population has been forcefully taken and placed in the Zygerrian slave trade auction.

The three of them, including Captain Rex, have tried to free the people of Zigros to no avail. Leaving, all four of them enslaved as well. 

All around Obi-Wan was pain, agony, and despair. Causing discomfort in the jedi, making the shock collars feel tighter. 

As Obi-Wan continued digging, he looked around the room. Noticing how many slaves there are, even if the Republic removed the Zygerrian people from their slave empire. Every slave that Obi-Wan sees shows more weaker conditions, as he continues looking. 

But he stops in his track, when a slave caught his eyes. They had the same eye colour as you. The same look of finding hope in the galaxy as you. His breath stopping, depriving him of any forsaken terrible air. His eyes caught their as they felt him stare at them.

A Zygerrian slaver noticed that the other slaves have stopped working, caught in a trance by Obi-Wan. So the slaver whipped them, causing them to shout in pain.

It’s you.

It’s actually you.

Tears brimmed his eyes, hearing the sound of your voice. He can’t believe it’s you. 

“Sir?” Captain Rex asks, noticing that Master Kenobi is uncharacteristically quiet. Obi-Wan whips his head towards the captain. “Are you alright?” Rex finished speaking.

“Yes, I am alright Rex.” Obi-Wan replied, staring at you.

―୨❀୧―

It has been weeks since Rex and Kenobi have been enslaved at the camp. When the two of them have been called to see warden. Kenobi’s heart races as he is electrocuted as he walks towards the warden’s office. His heart has already been racing today, as Kenobi has yet to see you all this morning, he is scared something might have happened to you; so his heart is in so much pain. 

Being pushed into the office, he immediately sets his eyes upon you. You were strapped in a car. Straps securing your head, legs, arms, and torso. Clothes had ripped off you, leaving you only in your underwear and your white jedi shirt. Tears stained your face, as it screwed in agony. Your collar shocking you with every move you make.

Obi-Wan’s heart and face drops at the sight of you. Yet he has no time to think about what has happened to you, as he and Rex are being electrocuted down the stairs. They both grunt in pain as they land on their knees, looking up at the warden.

“Someone wishes to speak to you.” The warden said, his voice ringing in your ears. 

The three of you stare as up at Count Dooku appears through the holo. His arms crossed over one another, as he looked down at the three of you. 

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, in chains once again I see.” Count Dooku starts off the conversation.

“Count Dooku, still afraid to get your hands dirty?” Obi-Wan questions before Dooku could finish. 

“I would gladly make an exception in your case, my friend. I wanted to say a proper farewell before Keeper Arguss puts you to death. Alongside Captain Rex, and your best friend, Y/N Y/L/N.” The warden rubs his hands together and the sound of Dooku’s words. Staring into your souls menacingly. Frightening teh lot of you. 

“Keeper, the slave ship Tercora is making an unscheduled landing on platform two-four.” A slaver spoke up, turning from a screen towards the warden.

“Skywalker.” The Count comments.

“Close the doors.” The warden commands.

Count Dooku turns back to the three of you, “Kenobi, tell your friend Skywalker if he does not surrender, the slaves will be terminated in his name.”

You watch as your boyfriend is shoved towards a camera. Bowing his head down in pain, you watch as he is electrocuted to look up. 

“Anakin! I’m glad to see you, but I’m afraid our host feel otherwise.” Kenobi said, looking into the camera that connects to another side. You cannot see the screen however, but you do hear the noise.

“Well, you can’t make everyone happy, Master.” You guessed Skywalker said. Even though you are in imaginable pain, your eyes still shot up in delight, hearing that your boyfriend had got the title that he has dreamt of having for years now. Since you became friends. 

“They are threatening to kill the slaves unless you surrender.” Obi insisted. 

“It’s good to see you’re always ready to negotiate. But I’ve had enough bargaining with slave drivers.” The other jedi argues back. 

“Anakin, you must realise this is a fight you cannot win alone.” Obi-Wan continues to voice his side.

“Who said I was Alone?” Skywalker quips, before the camera feed went dark. 

“Keeper, a fleet of warships have dropped out of hyperspace in sector six.” Teh same slaver from before commented again, before looking back at their computer.

“Jedi reinforcements.” The keeper stated, turning his chair to look at the count. His rough voice echoing around the room. 

The building shakes. Obi-Wan immediately looks up, before looking to his friend. “Rex! Now!” he says, using the force to break away their shock collars.

“About time.” Rex confirms Obi’s orders. 

You watch as the two men fight off the Zygerrian slavers Using the slaver’s shots to free them from their restraints. The building shakes rapidly, as you watch your companions fight. Your heart breaks as you watch your lover be electrocuted again and again. Explosions could be heard all around you, as the thick smoky air suffocates you. The keeper runs off to a far away screen, pressing as many buttons as he can, while Kenobi and Rex fight and destroy the slavers. 

“Obi!” you yelled out, getting his attention. His head perks up at the sound of your screams. He looks around the room, finding the keeper. Kenobi yells at the keeper to stop, but Arguss ignores him, hitting the screen. The keeper presses some more buttons, igniting your shock collar. Jolts of severe pain run throughout your body, as you get electrocuted. Unable to move to your restraints, all you can do is take the pain. You scream, your throat tightening due to the electricity sparking. Obi-Wan looks towards you, yet is thrown to the ground by the slaver he is fighting. The Zygerrian comes closer to Kenobi, allowing him to punch the slaver’s head.

“There is nothing you can do.” The keeper remarks, laughing at your pain.

Obi-Wan sighs, before letting Master Plo know that the controls are overridden. 

More slavers run into the room, sending shots to Rex and Obi-Wan, as you watch in agony. Being tormented at the sight and the pain you’re feeling. Both physically, mentally, and emotionally. Obi-Wan uses the force to throw the slavers away, before using the force to retrieve his lightsaber off the warden. Lighting it up, he looks at the warden with so much anger. 

“Come now, Master Kenobi. I know a Kedi won’t kill an unarmed man. The keeper stated, leaning forward in his chair. 

Obi-Wan looked over his shoulder, smiling at Rex, as he threw an electrified stick into the warden’s heart. 

“I’m no Jedi.” Rex stated, as the keeper falls off his chair and onto the fall. But Kenobi had no time to look at the warden in anger and disgust, as he uses the force to rescue you from your restraints, finally having the time to do so. 

As the restraints fall off you, you slowly fall off the chair, your body too weak to hold you up. Obi-Wan quickly runs towards you, holding you against him as he carries you outside the building.

Once outside, you press your face towards Obi-Wan’s chest. The sun is too bright for you to handle, having not seen the sunlight in over a decade. You hear Kenobi’s heart rate lowering, as you hold yourself against him.

“Thank you, Obi.” you whispered, loud enough just for him to hear. Before everything goes dark.

―୨❀୧―

You wake up in a medical centre, with two familiar faces looking towards you, alongside two unfamiliar faces. 

“It’s great to see you again Y/N Y/L/N. It’s been awhile.” Master Plo spoke up. Even with his face being almost covered, you could tell he was smiling, happy to see you back. 

“I must apologise, but I have to go and report to the Jedi council.” Plo finished speaking, leaving the room.

A couple minutes after Plo left you were finally even able to regain enough energy to speak. “How are you?” You questioned, your voice raspy, silently begging for water. Kenobi recognises this, fetching you some water, as a tall man introduced himself as Anakin Skywalker, and the young girl as his padawan, Ahsoka Tano. Taking a sip of water, you stared at the three, unable to think of what to say. You stare at your boyfriend's face, expressions mixed. Anakin notices your staring, and excuses him and Ahsoka out of the room.

“Come here.” You whispered, voice shaking. Obi-Wan walks over to you, tears rimming his eyes becoming visible. 

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered back, too scared that if he spoke louder that this would end up becoming another dream. His hands reached out to you, wanting the touch of your skin. 

“You could never, as I will always be in the stars.” You responded, referencing your shared phrase. He laughs gently, tears spilling out of his eyes as he is reminded of what your relationship was like before you had left. 

He lifts up an arm rest alongside your bed, to be able to sit right next to you. Feel your skin against him. Wrapping his arms around you, he forces your head to lean into his chest, as he kisses your forehead, leaving his lips on you. Closing his eyes, he thanks the lords above that his prayers have been responded to. That he finally has the light of his life back. 

―୨❀୧―

You wake up a couple days later, inside a familiar room. Your old room back at the Jedi temple on Coruscant. Your eyes glanced outside the window, the sunlight dancing on your skin. Looking around the room, you spotted the collection of trinkets Kenobi has given you over the years of dating. Items he has given you from all the planets you visited. Shared alongside a photo of you and him together. Looking further along your room, you spotted a pile of clothes on top of your dresser. You get out of your green silk sheets, stepping on to the cold wooden floor boards. You walk over to your dresser, grabbing the note that sits on top of the clothes. The note read

Dear Y/N Y/L/N,

Your new robes that I have retrieved for you, sit below this note. Everyone is waiting to meet you at the Great Tree, to celebrate your return. I noticed when I rescued you, your matching necklace was nowhere to be seen, so I got a replica for you. Also, underneath the pile of robes is a box filled with all the stuff you need to make a lightsaber again.

I look forward to seeing you soon, my dear.

Love, Obi

Tears spilled out of your eyes, missing this feeling of love and care for your boyfriend and the Jedi being to you. You quickly get into the shower, turning the water on hot. 

After you took a very long needed shower you got dressed in your robes that smelt just like Obi. You finished getting ready and making your lightsaber before heading towards the Great Tree outside. 

When you reached the area, you saw all the Jedi gathered. From younglings to masters, smiling at your return. You spot some familiar faces, but the majority of them are unfamiliar. You make your way to the front of the crowd where Yoda and Mace wait for you. 

“Welcome back Y/N Y/L/N. It’s nice to have you back.” Mace Windu spoke, grabbing your hand. Cheers came from the crowd, before they separated, chatting to one another, and grabbing some food that had been placed out. 

All the old masters that you know come up to you welcoming you back home. You tried your best to listen to their conversations, but you couldn't help that your eyes were diverting to a certain someone. A certain someone who catches your gaze and walks over to you. A certain someone, who grabs your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it. 

“Y/N Y/L/N.” Obi-Wan said, his smile widening. Looking towards his peers he asked them if they don’t mind excusing himself and you.  

Grabbing your arm, he links the two of you together, walking towards an isolated garden within the Jedi temple. The same garden that you and Obi-Wan would meditate and talk together in. 

The smell of fresh flowers hitting your nose, as the sunlight graced your skin. You closed your eyes, basking in the warmth. Letting Kenobi guide you to the seats. The water of the fountain drowns your ears, as you open your eyes to see your lover staring  at you lovingly. The same kind look from years ago.  

“I miss you, my love. I have missed you every day. I couldn’t decide on what to say when I would see you, so I am just going to go for it. I love you, my dear. You are the most perfect being in the entire galaxy. You complete me. And when you left me, it was like you took a big gaping hole out of my heart. I struggled to cope without you here with me. Holding me. Kissing me. Laughing with me. And your back, with the same part of my heart you have taken. I must say, coming into the Jedi Order is the best thing that has ever happened to me. As I would have never met you. I just want you to know, how much you mean to me, my dear.”

Tears fell down both of your eyes as Obi-Wan spoke. Nodding your head in praise with every line he spoke. 

You lean forward, holding onto his cheeks, you press your lips against his. His hands rapidly moved up your body, from your legs where they were originally, up to your neck. Bringing you ever so closer to you. Your lips melt into one another, the taste of each other’s lips forever ingrained into your minds. Your hands move to the back of his head pulling him closer towards you. Missing the spark he would provide you. 

The kiss lasts for what seems like forever, before you fall apart. Noses still touching, as you press your forehead against his. a you both breathe out, inhaling each other's breath, as your eyes both remain closed. 

“I miss you too, my love.” You breathed out.

[generalkenobee]

Hello lovely! Two things: 1. GOOD LUCK SHIFTING I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. 2. Might I send in a little request? If so; Obi-Wan and Reader are both Jedi masters on the council. They just so happen to be trying to meditate together when they begin reading each other's thoughts on accident... smut ensues?

Whether you do this request or not, just know I appreciate you and everything you create -🦇 anon

Your thoughts are extremely loud

Omgggg-

I have the biggest thing for mind reading-

You're literally the sweetest

Warnings: SMUT, inappropriate use of the force, language, pnv penetration, FEM! reader, let me know if I missed anything 🩷

Obi Wan sat across from you, his breathing was level, his face was relaxed, and his thoughts we concentrated. You knew this because every once in a while you would peek your eyes open and look over to him.

"(Y/N)" he said when you opened your eyes to peek at him "sorry.." you let out a sigh. meditation was your thing! You were always so content and focused however ,you'd never done it with another member of the council

"something bothering you?" Obi Wan questioned with his eyes still closed

You've learned from past experiences that it's better to be honest with your peers, that's the Jedi way "it's just that I'm having a hard time.. relaxing I guess?"

"be cautious of your thoughts (Y/N), just because I'm here doesn't mean you can't meditate" how did he know that?

"Obi Wan! What have I told you about getting in my head? I have private things in there" You opened your eyes completely and stood up. You weren't actually that upset, more scared that he would find your hidden fantasies.

"I'm gonna go train. Meditation isn't working.. maybe swinging a lightsaber around will"

---

You faced the large rock with your ignited saber in hand thinking about what you wanted to do. You went with sokan, sokan was developed by Jedi during the great sith war..it felt right.

The glow of your (L/C) saber grazed over the rock before you yelled and ran at it with full five attacking

"Y/N), I know you're having the time of your life slashing the holy hell out of that rock, and also- why a rock? You have PLENTY of sparring partners in there"

You rolled your eyes "I need to be alone" and you did. You needed to think about all of your emotions, because you didn't want to love obi wan, you just wanted to make a legacy, a change, help people. Falling in love wasn't helpful for a jedi.

"you know talking about things like this can help"

"you don't know what's wrong so how could you help, you don't know what I think about"

"actually I do" obi wan walked over to you and you pressed the small red button on your saber to retract the blade.

"what are you talking about?"

"oh maker I want to get dicked down by him so bad right now, like for real-"

Obi Wan had said to you exactly what you thought while meditating earlier "Obi Wan.."

"I would let him do anything to me" he looked down to you and smirked "your thoughts are extremely loud"

---

The big chrome door slid shut while Obi Wan pushed you down to his bed. Your hands immediately flew up to your robes sliding them off while he did the same

"Obi Wan please.." that was all he needed to use the force. He slightly drew a long stripe from where his cock was slamming into you up to your sensitive clit

"let me in honey" and you did. Whenever a force user has sex it's amazing..you felt like Obi Wan was a part of you and you felt as you were a part of him. "Shit, s'so tight..I'm gonna" you looked up at Obi Wan with pleading eyes "m-me too..."

I KNOW THE SMUT WAS SHIRT BUT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN AN ACTUAL STORY IN A WHILE😭

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Caught {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

Summary: You and Qui-Gon share an intimate morning that gets interrupted by Anakin who harbors a secret crush for you.

Warnings: 18+, mdni, F! reader, breastsucking, nipple play, being caught in the act, age gap (Qui-Gon is in his 40s, reader in their 20s, Anakin in his 20s), angst, nsfw

You were the first to wake. Eyes called open from the warmth of the sun cascading through the large window pane of Qui-Gon's bedroom. You stir from where you laid on your back to now face the handsome Jedi as he sleeps, free from stress and disturbances.

What better way to wake up than with kisses? You thought. Ever so lightly, you press soft pecks over his cheeks, chin, jaw, forehead and lastly on his lips. The final peck seems to pull him from the depths of his dreams and flutter his eyes open to see the goddess he has managed to call his own.

He couldn't help but stare at you. The sun projecting a hallow of light around your head. Skin so soft and warm from slumber, naked from the previous night's activities. He lazily kissed you back, mixing in words of affirmation and silly pet names.

As your movements became more passionate, you decide to sit up and lean your body over Qui-Gon to continue kissing and grant him access to fondle your plush breasts. The blanket that was once covering you slipped down to pool at the base of your hips.

Qui-Gon used his large hands to run down the length of your back to feel as much of you as possible. His kisses to your mouth turned to kisses and sucking at your nipples, causing your back to arch, pushing your ample breasts further into his face.

So enraptured by the feeling, your senses were delayed as you turned seconds after you heard the large wooden door creak open to see Anakin there with a dumbfounded look on his face.

His eyes were as wide as could be and the heaving of his chest was notable to you across the room. He couldn't look away from the ethereal figure before him.

He had always thought of you as beautiful but this was a revelation to him. You looked like the marble statues he saw in museums. You had the supple breasts of a breastfeeding mother, the tousled hair of a woman freshly fucked and the glow of an angel.

You however were mortified and screamed as if you were running around with you head cut off. Instantly dropping down into Qui-Gon's embrace you shake from self-consciousness and he grips you tight to his chest.

Now aware of the pain you are feeling and anger he has towards the young Jedi, Qui-Gon falls back on his protective nature and is darkened with rage.

"Anakin you must leave at once!" Qui-Gon all but barked at Anakin, which was enough to shake him from his thoughts of desire and envy to leave the room running.

All Anakin is thinking about is you. I want to be under her as she kisses me awake. I want to softly caress her skin, only I touch. I want to claim her as mine.

Turning his attention back to you, Qui-Gon hears your sniffles and hiccupped breathing. You were trembling with embarrassment.

Qui-Gon coos you up from the cave you dug between his chest and arm to reveal your red eyes and puffy lips. Qui-Gon held you close. His arms felt like a sanctuary of warmth and reassurance while he gently stroked your back in soothing circles, whispering words of love and understanding.

Later on he will give Anakin a stern talking to and remind him of the importance of privacy but for now, the two of you will lay in bed sharing a level of intimacy designed for only two souls.

Qui-Gon's thoughts are loud, but he picks up on louder ones coming from Anakin who is stoked with desire and craving a moment alone with you.

[angelseraphines]

i am so genuinely so serious on MY soul i will write obi-wan kenobi fanfics based on requests my star wars era is soo strong rn 🙏

also i need more star wars mutuals 😇

[beauiestars]

OBI-WAN KENOBI - Scars of Age

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader {PART FIFTEEN}

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.7K

Warnings: Slow burn, pining, source material inaccuracies, medical inaccuracies, semi-graphic violence, minor character death, semi-graphic blood/injury, vomiting (not explicit or recurring), moral dilemmas, betrayal…

Beau's Note: Writing new chapters is all fun and games until I realise I have to update all of my warnings --- nvm it didn't take that long!

Summary: They say time heals all wounds. But with the forces of the universe tearing them apart, can two childhood best friends rediscover their connection and find solace in each other once more?

Y/n.

Your entire body shivered and trembled, wracked by a fever that burned through you like fire in your veins. Curled on the cold floor, you found no relief—only the sharp contrast between your searing skin and the unyielding surface beneath you. Consciousness slipped in and out, your vision swimming in a haze of rippling blurs.

You toyed with the notion that you might be dead—until the stench of rot invaded your nostrils, thick and real. It coiled in your throat, choking you, but there was no clean air to grasp at. Your limbs had locked up from stillness, muscles stiff and sore, while your wounds throbbed in slow, aching pulses.

You lifted a trembling hand—bloodied, dirt-caked—and held it before your eyes. Counting your fingers was a struggle; your mind reeled as the doubled image wavered. The nausea swelled.

Your head slumped forward, and when your eyes cracked open again, sound reverberated through your skull. You weren't sure whether it had been seconds or days. The concept of time was lost on you.

Nobody is coming.

The voice slithered through your mind, hollow and distant, setting off dulled alarm bells. Your reactions had slowed—too slow. Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself upright, agony sparking through every nerve as you pressed your back to the wall.

As your eyes finally peeled open again, the room was no longer the same. Glancing around, you were no longer surrounded by impenetrable darkness. Instead you were sitting in an office you didn't recognise. With effort, you pushed yourself upright, wincing as stiff limbs protested the movement. Each step toward the window sent another sharp pulse through your body, but you pressed on.

The view outside was fractured—an unstable image, blurring and flickering as though projected onto a faulty screen. Buildings stretched and warped, shifting like an illusion on the verge of collapse.

The door creaked open behind you, and you snapped around, your vision blurring as you focused on the figure that stood in the doorway—hooded, familiar. "You," you rasped, every word a struggle, as if your throat had been scorched like the dunes of Tatooine. Sidious didn’t meet your gaze. He advanced with deliberate slowness, his presence suffocating, while his pale eyes darted toward the window beside you.

"Your mind is weakened, young one. It's struggling to fill in the blanks," he said. It was strange hearing him so close, his voice less overwhelming than when it echoed in your mind. "You must be angry."

You inhaled sharply, composing yourself. "Angry at what?" There was no shortage of reasons, but you wanted him to say it, to define your rage for you.

"The Jedi don't care who lives or dies, as long as they maintain their false sense of justice," Sidious replied, his tone unbothered. He clasped his hands behind his back, speaking with clinical detachment. "You are enslaved by their code. Give me your loyalty, and I shall set you free."

You rested your elbows on the ledge, your face sinking into your palms. His words tugged at you, sowing doubt, twisting your very beliefs. It was dangerous how easily they took root, how they made you question everything. But his logic—was it wrong? If joining him was truly an evil choice, why did his words resonate so completely?

It was clear now—the seed had been planted. Sidious had burrowed into your mind, sowing desires you hadn't known existed. Once, the thought of taking a life had caused your stomach to twist in disgust. But at the next opportunity, when you swung your saber, there was no hesitation. You were complicit in a massacre. And you hadn't flinched.

There was a dark exhilaration to it—a rush of power. The feeling of strength, of being untouchable. You had never felt this alive, not even when you were a puppet dancing to the Jedi council’s tune. They had never granted you this freedom, this assurance. You were a force of nature bound only by their rules and expectations.

Sidious let out a sudden, barking laugh beside you. Startled, you glanced up at the man. Although his robes obscured his features, a vicious grin stretched across his wrinkled face.

"It felt good, did it not? The thrill of it. You felt no guilt because those men were not innocent. You saw what they did to that little girl."

Your heart lurched, and your fist clenched at your side.

"It isn't the Jedi way," you murmured, though the words felt foreign on your tongue—as if spoken by someone else. Your convictions had crumbled. "But it felt good."

"The Jedi seek to control you, but because you refuse to be disciplined, they fear you’ll be disloyal. You feel it, don’t you? Your masters, waiting for the chance to force you into submission. Do not let them tame your fire, young one."

Sidious' voice boomed through the enclosed space, each iteration of his words tightening their grip on you, swaying you further.

"If I were to join you," you said, your voice quieter than before. "Would I serve you? Would I be trading one tyrannical master for another?"

"Not quite."

You watched him warily, searching for deception in the shadows of his hood.

"You would be my apprentice. And I—more like a teacher—would show you how to harness all of your hate and anger into power. With the dark side, you will find victory, glory, and strength beyond your imagination."

Victory. Glory. Power. The words coiled through your mind, igniting something deep within you. Your stomach churned—not with dread, but with desire. The loyalty you had once clung to, the weight of the Jedi’s expectations, had been stripped from you piece by piece. You had all but succumbed to the dark seduction of the Sith.

"Where would I find you?" you asked, though the question felt strange on your tongue. "I've suspected, ever since that day on Tatooine, that you've been nothing more than a figment of my imagination—a personification of my doubts. But that isn’t the truth, is it?"

Sidious hummed, tilting his head ever so slightly in contemplation.

"I will find you. So long as you let me."

His words filled you with something unfamiliar—not dread, nor fear, but the stirring of something new. A promise. A certainty. There was no return to the Jedi now. No redemption. His presence, his persuasion, had solidified that fact.

You turned your gaze to the window. The fractured cityscape was gone. In its place stretched an endless expanse of the galaxy—star systems and nebulae glistening in the void. You had always felt small beneath their vastness. Insignificant. But now, Sidious’ words made you feel as though you could reach out and take it all. Conquer it all.

Then—silence. A terrible, suffocating silence.

You turned sharply, but the Sith Lord was gone. And as if pulled away like a veil, the office melted into nothingness. The illusion shattered.

Your mind reeled, grasping for a sense of place, but there was none. Only pain. It crashed into you like a tidal wave, your fever roaring back to life. You hadn’t even realised it had dulled, faded into the background of your conversation—but now, it consumed you.

It was all too much—but you were awake. For now.

Something skittered across your face, tiny legs brushing against your skin. You swatted at it sluggishly, your limbs slow, uncooperative. A distant buzzing caught your attention, an eerie drone that sent a shiver down your spine. Forcing your eyes open, you blinked through the haze of exhaustion—then froze.

The huddled, cocooned form of your friend was swarming with insects.

A choked gasp escaped you. Bile burned at the back of your throat, the sour taste of nausea rising fast. You gagged, chest heaving, but forced it down. Not now. Focus.

Suppressing your horror, you dragged your limp body across the floor, each movement an agonising battle. You tried not to breathe too deeply, afraid of what you might inhale. The scent of decay clung to the air, thick and putrid.

You reached out, arms trembling with exertion, and waved frantically at the writhing mass. Your muscles screamed in protest, but it worked—the creatures scattered, vanishing into the darkness.

A ragged sob wrenched itself from your throat, and the effort sent you collapsing back onto the ground. Your body refused to move. Your vision blurred.

Your eyes fluttered shut, no longer able to fight it.

***

The Jedi took far too long to respond to your distress signal. They scrambled to assemble a team, urgency battling against the methodical nature of their process. At the centre of it all was Obi-Wan Kenobi. He had been the one to receive your message, and after days of unease—haunted by a distressing dream that refused to leave him—he had been searching relentlessly for any sign of your return.

But the signal contained no other information. No coordinates. No voice. Only silence, empty and ominous. A pit formed in his stomach, heavy with dread. You were in danger. He knew it with unwavering certainty. That alone was enough to send him barrelling out of the communications room, issuing orders with a rare urgency that sent people into motion.

When Obi-Wan Kenobi broke his typical calm, meditative demeanour, people tended to listen.

Once the extraction team gathered their bearings, they set off immediately. But uncertainty loomed over them—how long had the signal taken to reach them? Where exactly on the planet had it come from? Every moment spent in speculation was a moment wasted.

Locating your ship proved just as difficult. The jungle had reclaimed it, vines constricting the hull like a vice. The ship had become part of the landscape, buried beneath layers of thick, twisted plant life. But the Jedi wasted no time. Igniting their sabers, they cut through the overgrowth, turning vegetation into ash as they forced their way inside.

They moved through the darkened corridors, their blades casting eerie beams of light that danced along the walls. No one knew what to expect. No one dared to voice their fears.

But even in their worst imaginings, they had not anticipated the sheer horror awaiting them in the cockpit.

You weren’t conscious when they arrived.

The younger Jedi was obviously dead—you had spent hours, between bouts of unconsciousness, desperately swatting flies away from the body. But it had been a losing battle.

Obi-Wan was at your side in an instant, his hands trembling as he checked your pulse, his eyes scanning your injuries with barely contained dread. He had seen you wounded before, but never like this.

Your pulse was weak, fluttering beneath his fingers like a dying ember. Nearly all of your wounds were red, raw, and festering with infection. There was so much blood. It streaked the walls where you had dragged yourself, smeared across the floor in long, dark trails—evidence of your struggle. And it wasn’t just your blood.

The other Jedi worked quickly. The cadaver was loaded into a containment pod, while you were carefully placed on a stretcher—though Obi-Wan allowed no one else to carry you. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable, but there was a tightness in his jaw, a quiet fury simmering beneath his grief.

Your infected wounds would be treated in the temple’s medical bay, but there was little certainty about the extent of the damage. What they could salvage from your ship, they did—though in the end, it was decided to leave the wreck behind.

As the pilot routed the course for Coruscant, the ship hummed softly, engines lifting it from the cursed ground. But within the cabin, there was only silence. The other Jedi sat motionless, staring into the endless void of hyperspace.

No one spoke of what they had seen.

No one spoke of what would happen when they returned.

Obi-Wan stayed by your side.

Your body felt foreign to you, disjointed, as your blurred vision struggled to make sense of the figure beside you. His voice reached you, but it was muffled, distorted—as if you were submerged underwater. Obi-Wan could see your eyes weren’t fully closed, but they were bloodshot and watery, fighting to stay open.

The final stretch of the journey back to the Jedi Temple felt both instantaneous and eternal. Your mind, numb from pain and exhaustion, couldn’t mark the passage of time. At some point, Obi-Wan had left your side, but you hadn’t noticed, trapped as you were in the haze of your own delirium.

In fleeting moments of lucidity, Coruscant loomed before you—its sprawling cityscape shimmering like a distant constellation. The place you once called home now felt like a strange, cold expanse. The city lights twinkled, indifferent to your return. There was no comfort in the sight of it, only the stark realisation that the world you had known was gone. The gleaming towers and endless sky lanes felt unfamiliar, even alien.

The serene silence of the Jedi Temple contrasted sharply with the chaos you had just survived. As you were carried through the corridors, the murmurs of the Temple’s inhabitants fell into a hush, their eyes turning toward you. Their gazes shifted from shock to concern, but none dared approach.

Not with the look on Obi-Wan’s face. Never had he appeared so gravely burdened. His frown was deep enough to make him seem years older, and his eyes never once drifted down to you. His face was a mask of barely contained worry and resolve, but it was clear: this was not a sight he was prepared for.

You were a ruin. Blood, sweat, and dirt clung to your skin, streaked with unnatural hues from the alien flora that had stained you. Your sleeves were rolled up to your elbows, exposing a deep, angry gash that pulsed with each beat of your heart. Dark bruises marred your jaw and neck, a sickly purple-black. The blood on your lips had dried, forming cracked, flaky lines.

You looked like you had crawled out of hell. In a way, you had.

Your half-lidded eyes stared at the ceiling above, vacant and glassy, betraying none of the storm brewing inside. Grief, rage, exhaustion—a maelstrom too overwhelming to process. So, you didn’t try. You simply let the tide pull you along.

The Temple corridors blurred past you, each step a blur. Your chest heaved with shallow breaths, and the pain—the deep ache in your arm, the throbbing bruises, the sickly scent of blood—all of it faded into the background, drowned by the fog in your mind.

You’d blink, and suddenly, you were in a different part of the Temple. The voices, the movement, all became distant as you approached the medical bay. Frantic whispers and hurried arguments flickered in your fading consciousness, but you were soon left in the hands of the medics.

They tended to the most severe of your wounds—and did so swiftly—but they were cautious not to overwhelm your body with too many procedures all at once. As a blurry figure approached to check your heart rate, you gathered the strength you had left and reached out, grasping at their sleeve.

A muffled gasp escaped their lips. "I think she's awake," they said, their voices fuzzy, like distant sounds muffled through a thick wall.

You croaked in response. Your trembling fingers tapped weakly at your throat. The person beside you hesitated, then carefully poured water into your mouth. You swallowed gratefully, though it made you feel small and helpless. You tried to speak, to ask for something more, but the effort left you with nothing but a hoarse whimper.

You wiped your arms using your hands, a feeble attempt to show them what you needed. Things were beginning to clear up a little now. You might’ve passed out a few more times while trying to convey your need, but the person watched you carefully, slowly grasping your meaning.

"Ah, of course. I hadn't even considered..." Her voice trailed off. You weren't sure what happened after that. You felt yourself being gently lifted, one body under each arm, guiding you towards the bathroom. She left the door slightly ajar, giving you some semblance of privacy, but not enough to feel fully alone.

You stripped off your bloodstained rags, throwing them into a heap in the corner of the room. Those clothes had clung to you for days—heavy, suffocating, sticky with sweat and the weight of memories. Days... how many days had it been?

The spores. The memory surged back—their sickly, sweet scent, the way they filled your lungs and dragged you into that endless darkness. You'd been unconscious for nearly two days. Long enough for Juna's body to grow cold. Long enough for decay to set in. The gruesome imagery flashed in your mind, vivid and grotesque, making your body shiver uncontrollably. You hugged your arms to yourself, trying desperately to shake away the horrors that clung to you.

Your legs trembled as you climbed into the shower, and you quickly sank to the ground, using the pristine tiled wall to lower yourself carefully.

You watched as the water pooled around you, swirling red-tinged streaks down the drain. It should’ve felt like a release, a cleansing, but instead, it only reminded you. You sat hunched on the shower floor, knees pulled tight to your chest. The water pounded against your back, but the sound fell flat, like it couldn’t reach you.

No matter how hard you scrubbed at your skin, you didn’t feel clean. The scalding water cascaded over you, fogging the small space with steam, but it did nothing to wash away the grime caked onto you. Dried blood had buried itself beneath your fingernails, stubborn and impenetrable, no matter how much you scrubbed. Frustration built up inside you, and you cut your nails down to the quick, leaving jagged edges that stung with the exposed, tender skin.

The grime melted away, swirling with the blood, before disappearing down the drain. And with it, the last traces of Juna—those fragments of her that had lingered on your skin—slipped away. You scrubbed harder, your hands raw, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

You felt empty. Drained. The person you used to be was slipping through your fingers, fracturing like a shattered mirror. The reflection in the broken pieces wasn’t someone you recognised. You were trapped between who you had once been and the shell of a person curled up on the cold tiles, gasping for air.

When the water finally ran clear, you forced yourself to move. Your limbs trembled in protest as you peeled yourself from the floor, wrapping a towel around your body. You dried off slowly, methodically, as if the simple act of drying your skin might anchor you to the present, to something solid. You slipped into fresh clothes—soft, loose, and clean against your skin—that someone must have placed there while you were being carried in.

Your feet dragged as you stumbled back to the hospital bed, the woman from earlier following closely behind, ready to catch you if you fell. Sleep called to you like an oasis in a desert, but you knew it wouldn’t offer peace. You collapsed onto the mattress, the clean sheets foreign against your battered frame. Sleep was not an escape—it was a battleground. Nightmares came as they always did—vivid, merciless, clawing at your subconscious. But even that was preferable to being awake. Awake meant remembering. And you weren’t ready to face that yet.

You pulled the blanket tighter around you, clinging to the fragile semblance of safety. For now, sleep was all you could manage, however fleeting or fractured it might be.

***

You woke in the early afternoon, a dull ache in your body reminding you that you were alive. The sensation was surreal, almost impossible to grasp. With a shaky hand, you pressed your fingertip into the pulsing gash on your arm. The wound no longer seemed as daunting as it had when you were covered in blood, but you still hissed at the sharp sting.

Your only plan for the day was simple: patch up the remaining wounds, then crawl back to your bed away from the sterile, claustrophobic confines of the infirmary.

The medics who’d attended to you the previous night had done a miraculous job. Your body, stubborn and resilient, had healed quite a few of the injuries on its own before they had even gotten to you. Your fever had broken since returning to the temple, and you felt better than you probably should, considering how you had looked just hours ago.

Even so, every movement felt deliberate, like you had to coach your body into doing what it once did instinctively. You moved stiffly, struggling to make your motions appear natural. You were like a spluttering machine as you donned fresh clothing, each tug of fabric feeling forced and irregular. You tried to make yourself look presentable, but your body betrayed you: black and blue bruises marred your skin, gashes crisscrossed over your limbs, and old scars stood out like they had only just been made.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you expected the infirmary to be quiet and empty, but it wasn’t. As you stepped deeper into the space, you realised the one person you had hoped to avoid was still here.

As if sensing your presence, his gaze shifted toward you. The silence that followed was deafening as his eyes locked onto yours. You expected him to speak, to shout, or maybe pretend he hadn’t seen you. But instead, nobody said a word.

Your breath stilled in your throat.

You padded over to the drawers full of medical supplies, and with the somewhat adequate knowledge you’d gained from your medical training, you started pulling out what you needed to patch up the wounds you could see. The rest—those that were hidden from view—were problems for another time.

Obi-Wan’s eyes didn’t leave you, burning into the back of your head. You fought every natural instinct in your body and tried your hardest to ignore him.

You hopped up onto one of the beds, carefully setting out the supplies beside you and preparing the antiseptics. You shrugged off your outer robe and rolled up your shirtsleeve. Glancing up at Obi-Wan once, you caught him still watching, his gaze unrelenting.

You cleared your throat, breaking the silence, and his expression softened, like he’d finally remembered why he was there. He picked up a small first aid kit and tucked it into one of the deeper pockets of his robe.

You poured antiseptic onto a cotton pad, though some of the liquid missed and dripped down your wrist. You grimaced as you gently patted the wound on your arm—it had looked far worse when you were covered in blood, but it still stung like hell. The wound had needed more cleaning than you’d managed in the shower, but as you wiped at the scabbed flesh, you realised the injury was deeper than you’d initially thought.

“You need stitches,” Obi-Wan spoke up, his tone calm but firm. You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to argue, but you dug out a dissolvable thread and suture needle nonetheless. As you started to prepare the supplies, the rustle of his robes drew your attention. He was moving closer.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

"Since when are you any good at first aid?" you jabbed, trying to push him away with humour. He took the needle and thread from your hands, and you let him.

"When you grow up alongside someone who's frequently injured, you pick up a few things," he replied, his voice even. There was no hint of amusement, and for a moment, you froze. His words hit too close to home. He was talking about you.

He had more to say to you—more feelings to express behind the cool, collected mask—but he was afraid of scaring you off again. To say the wrong thing and send you running as you had so many times before.

The silence that followed was thick, painfully awkward. After so much time spent avoiding each other, you weren’t sure how to act. So, you simply let him work on your wounds. He cleaned, stitched, snipped, and dressed each injury with practiced ease, like he had done this countless times before.

“Turn around and lift your shirt,” he said, his voice casual, almost too casual.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. It felt strange to be able to act like this—normal, engaged in a conversation—as if the past week hadn’t been one long, harrowing blur of pain and terror.

“So I can look at your back,” he clarified, his voice warmer now. You could tell he was fighting the urge to laugh. You were grateful for the chance to turn away, hiding the flush that crept up your neck.

“Right, of course,” you said with a huff. “I just didn’t hear you properly.” A breathy laugh escaped him as you lifted the back of your shirt, a shiver running up your spine as his fingertip brushed the skin of your lower back.

“Were you shot at?” he asked, his tone laced with concern, despite his attempt at indifference.

At some point in that jungle, all your injuries had blended together. It was hard to tell where one wound ended and another began.

“Yeah, why?” you asked, fiddling with your hands in your lap. You felt like a little kid caught doing something wrong. Ridiculous, considering you were an adult—and Obi-Wan was nearly a year younger than you.

You half-expected a lecture, a reminder to be more careful, like you were some fragile thing that needed protection. But instead, he just hummed thoughtfully.

“You’ve got a nasty graze,” he said, poking the injury. You yelped in surprise, instinctively swatting his hand away.

“Dick,” you huffed, but the amusement in your voice softened the words. He snickered, then cleaned the wound gently. For some reason, you felt a smile tug at your bruised cheeks.

At times, he would let his hands and eyes linger a little too long, as though reminding himself that you were here, right in front of him, alive. He hummed quietly as he finished stitching you up, cleaning the space around you. When he was done, he deposited the blood-soaked dressings and cotton pads into the bin with a soft rustle.

“Thank you,” you said, breaking the silence that had enveloped you both. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You kicked your legs back and forth, letting them dangle off the edge of the bed. It felt good to keep them moving, to keep your muscles from locking up after all that time in bed.

He paused for a second before responding. “I know.” He leaned back against the drawers, turning to face you fully. “You’re welcome.”

“About the other night—” You started, but the pained expression that flickered across Obi-Wan’s face made you pause. He had been adamant about hiding his feelings, but they were there now—flickering just beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” you continued, your voice small. “And you were right.”

He nodded slowly, then, with surprising courage, he sat down on the bed beside you. You scooted over to give him space, your shoulders and thighs brushing, but you didn’t mind. "You can say you told me so," you added, quietly.

“I wouldn’t dare,” he replied with a half-smile, and for a moment, everything felt a little easier.

You both sat in the silence that followed, but it was different now. Comfortable, even. It allowed you to hope for change, though you knew it was fleeting. Obi-Wan excused himself, remembering that he still had to bring a first aid kit to one of the Youngling classes. As you watched him leave, a tight pit formed in your stomach.

Sitting with Obi-Wan had revealed a difficult truth, one you hadn’t quite allowed yourself to face until now. Life would have to go on, whether you were ready for it or not. And you felt guilty—guilty for letting yourself feel something other than sorrow or mourning. It felt too soon. The wound was still too fresh.

･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆･˳ . ⋆ .˳⁺⁎˚ ⋆

TAGS:

[thesassypadawan]

Sweet Padawan Of Mine (Master Qui-Gon x FemPadawanReader)

Summary: Who would think that Qui-Gon’s sweet, innocent, little padawan liked it rough. That beneath her robes she was so…beautiful.

Warnings: 18+ (mdni), because there sooo much of the smut. Dom Qui-Gon, Sub Padawan, painful sex, age gap, and…Qui-Gon’s fat dick. Padawan reader is of age.

- Standing in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection intently.

- You are Master Jinn’s padawan. His sweet, innocent, little padawan. At least, that’s how the rest of the galaxy sees you.

- Smirking, you slip off his cloak. Revealing a body covered in an array of bruises, bites, and hickeys.

- “Beautiful,” Qui-Gon mutters. Coming to stand behind you, he absolutely towers over your smaller frame. The size difference sends a thrill down your spine. “You are more beautiful than the star filled sky.”

- “Bea-beautiful?” You whisper shyly, a dusting of pink on your cheeks.

- Big hands come to rest on your sore hips. Lips kiss the tender marks that litter your shoulders and neck. “Yes, beautiful. Bruised so perfectly. Forever bearing the evidence of who you belong to.”

- A gasp escapes your lips as he squeezes your thoroughly abused ass. He chuckles darkly at the sound. “Tell me, who is it that you belong to, sweet padawan of mine? Who makes you cry out in ecstasy each night?”

- “You… I belong to you, master,” you whimper. Pressing back into his rough touch. “Inside and out.”

- “Don’t you ever forget that,” Qui growls. Nipping harshly at your neck, making you moan. “Now why don’t we make you more beautiful?”

- “Please,” you beg. Body growing warm. “Please, make me more beautiful for you.”

- Lifting you effortlessly, he sets you on your shared sleep couch. Joining you, he smacks your bottom. Pain rippling through you tenderized flesh as he says the single command of… “Arch.”

- Without hesitation, you obey. Kneeling, your head down and cheek pressed to the mattress. Your back curves, posture perfected under Qui-Gon’s training. Hands splayed out before you, held in place by the force.

- Hips twitch instinctively to his bulbous tip sliding through your wet folds. His pre mixing with your slick, coating his massive cock.

- You’re practically shaking, body still sensitive from the previous night’s escapades. From him fucking you ruthlessly. From anticipation of the sweet ache, the ache that you crave so badly. “Master… Need it…”

- “Shhh, it’s all right. I’ll give you exactly what you need.” Snapping his hips, he buries himself to the hilt. A pleased rumble coming from his chest as you yelp out from the burning stretch.

- His grip on your waist tightens. Yet you stay poised, never faltering. Despite the hard slaps he delivers to your ass and thighs…even your poor clit. Cries of pain escape you.

- “So lovely. Your screams are like music to my ears, little one,” Qui groans. Long fingers digging into your blemished skin, cupping your breasts. Pathetic mewls falling from your lips.

- Your mind is becoming hazy. Thighs are trembling. Walls fluttering and clenching around him. You wonder how much longer you can stay upright, your orgasm fast approaching. All you can do is whine desperately into the sheets.

- Qui-Gon’s grunts fill you ears. You can feel his cock pulsing deep inside of you. His hips bucking wildly, heavy balls slamming against your bottom. “That’s it. Cum for me. Cum…with…me!”

- Squealing out in pleasure, shuddering waves of ecstasy crash through your body. While he moans low, thick spurts of cum filling your pussy. Overflowing, dripping down on your thighs.

- Releasing his force hold on your wrists, you nearly collapse. Hands now holding you gently, kissing lovingly down your spine. Muttering soft praises into your bruised skin. “Beautiful…absolutely beautiful.”

- “Bea-beautiful?” You stammer, the ache beginning to set in.

- “So beautiful for me. With each new mark, your beauty only grows,” he murmurs. His grip slowly tightens. “Shall we add some more then, sweet padawan of mine?”

- “Yes…please, master.” The words barely leave your lips and Qui starts pounding into you again. Further bruising you, marking you forever as his.

[memoiich]

Obi wan Headcanons my lord? feed the poor

God, I have a lot of them .I'm going to split this up in a few parts just because it makes sense . Strap in !!!

Part 0: baby obi wan

His parents noticed that he was a surprisingly bright child, and since they were farmers from stewjon, they weren’t well off. When they had their second child (a son) they brought obi wan to a near by testing unit on the neighbour planet Klommet , in hopes of giving both him and his brother a better chance at survival.

Obi wan was tested at the age 1 and a half. He was clearly gifted but nothing special.

He used to cry a lot when he first got to the jedi temple. Most jedi got rather annoyed at the younglings crying, except one ,qui gon jin .

Qui gon voluntured a lot at the creshe , he believed that crying children needed confort not a lecture. Obi wan got attached to qui gon rather quickly as a 2 year old ( qui gon looks a bit like his late dad)

As he grew up , he got along well with the other children and formed close friendships with them ( po ,kit ,quinlan) . Seeing this, qui gon went back to helping the new kids.

Part 1 : padawan years

Obi wan is rather talented at most things, not on a “ WOW YOU’RE THE BEST “ way but more like a “…that shouldn’t go so easily “ . He picks things up quickly, which causes him to be rather inpatient. Not impulsive, he doesn’t rush he simply hates waiting. That's why he hates meditating. He doesn’t understand it.

He doesn’t know it but when discussing who would get which apprentice , his name fell quite a few times . Obi wan likes to learn and so many suspect that he would be a nice well behaved padawan.

He was so happy when they informed him that qui gon would be his master . Qui gon had always stood out as the nicest jedi , not that the others weren’t but he had seemed to understand obi wan a bit more.

The first thing qui gon asked of him was to meditate. Obi wan started stressing immediately, and it went pretty bad in the beginning. Qui gon thought it was hilarious how quickly he was distracted. “ the wall paper does not need your attention right now “ he would quip or “ breathe through your nose and dont rush it” . It took obi Wan's a year to truly be able to meditate properly.

Luckily time wasn’t wasted because his fight skills and knowledge were unmatched.

Piloting took some getting used to. Not only was he scared of heights , but he also wasn’t a fan of rollercoasters. Qui gon always noted how slow he was . “ If you keep flying like this, we won't get there before im 60 “ or “ we can always walk , it might be faster” . But his master did help him, he would go to more desserted planets with obi wan . The planets that even if he would fly faster, he couldn’t hit anything . Obi wan got his red piloting bead 5 months later with the promise to let go a little.

He picks up quickly with missions , like i said he’s a natural . His first mission was a bit stressful but after that hes pretty much set . Also when they get back to their ship , qui gon cooks a home cooked meal because hes not going to let obi wan live on war rashens and blue milk.

He also teaches him how to cook

Obi wan starts feeling a bit quilty because he starts thinking of qui gon as his dad since well he is a little. But the jedi code says no attachments and he will follow that . Until he has a nervous breakdown because if qui gon is a jedi master that follows the jedi code he probably doesn’t care about him , he ends up getting in quite a lot of danger on a mission because of this . When he confesses to qui gon why he did all that he doesn’t respond,he just pulls his padawan into a hug . “ you are my kid obi wan “

When he turns 20 , he starts to really push qui gonn to let him take his trials. He just wants to be a jedi master.

That all changes a bit when he meets the dutches of mandelore Satine . He falls inlove quickly but he’s a real coward about it ( Satine notices) . Satine ends up pulling him into a kiss 2 months later at a gala she had to attend. They had a night together……

Qui gonn knows 100% . He finds it hilarious how his bumbling fool of a padawan got himsel into this mess . He prepares for the inevitable “ im leaving the order “ not that he wants him to . Obi wan is just that kinda kid .

When he sees obi wan the next morning, he looks like he cried acts rather somber and asks when they are leaving . Qui gon figures out what happened but doesn’t say anything. They leave and he gives him some space .

For the next 2 years it all goes smoothly until…

Part 2: early Anakin years

Obi wan isn’t too happy with the orphan. They are on a dangerous mission in the middle of who knows where with the queen of a planet that’s about to die . And now they have Ani , he wasn't going to lie it was a sweet child . But why now.

Obi wan has a quiet panic attack when qui gon says he will take anakin as his apprentice . He doesn’t feel ready to take the trials since his self esteem plummeted a bit after the Satine debacle and no one helped him take care of that ( fuck the jedi council) .

During the flight back to Naboo, padme went to her room and qui gon had a call with the council, leaving obi Wan to babysit ani . The child would yap non stop “ Did you make your own lightsaber?” “Yes” “can i hold it?” “No” “ when do i get mine?” “ When you're ready” “ but i am ready” “ no you’re not “ “yes i am “ “ no you’re not “ “ Did you choose THAT color?” “ Yes, i did” “ It's kinda ugly” “…” . A true test of patience but strangly lovable.

About 2 hours later was when the child fell asleep next to obi Wan . Anakin was still shivering , tattooine was a warm planet, something the ship heaters couldn’t compete with. Obi wan draped his long outer coat over the boy in hopes of giving him some warmth . Seeing the child peacefully asleep, Obi wan realised why his master liked him.

It took 48 hours to get to Naboo . It also took 48 hours for Obi wan to look at Anakin as his little brother.

When he first sees Maul he’s scared . He doesn’t want to be, but he simply is . Back in school him and his friends would joke about the sith and how cool it would be to defeat one . Right now , face to face with the first sith in ages , he’s horrified, and the red zebrak seems to kick on it

All he hears are the red force feels buzzing . He doesn’t hear his own scream or the blood dripping from his master . He feels an immense amount of pain, but the moment those shields lay down, he's up . He only focuses on gett to his master in time .And when he’s hanging in the hole , he snaps back into his jedi mind. The sith shows a new hubris, and he sees his chance. He wins

When qui gonn tells him his final wish , he can only lie to him . He doesn’t feel fit to be a master ,he might be the only jedi who pased the old trials ( to kill a sith ), but he feels like a fraud to weak to safe his master. Qui gon passes in his arms and obi wans let the tears fall.

He sees Anakin after he returns from his “trip” and he almost wants to cry again . Anakin looks so confused “ where’s qui gon ?” “ he passed away , anakin” The tears start to well in the little boys eyes, and all that obi can do is pull him into a hug .

The next weeks are quite hard , anakin becomes his padawan, and he becomes a jedi master. They attend qui gons' funeral, and anakins enters the academy since he needs to do both his padawan ship and the basic training. He is a bit pissy about it , but obi Wan cheers him up with home cooked meals .

They are not allowed to go on mission yet together just obi wan alone, and its extremely hard breaking to leave anakin alone .

When they are home together, obi wan pampers the little guy rotten. He brushes and braids anakins hair he buys him miniatuur planes in hopes of getting a better piolet than he is . He helps him with his homework, and he is just a total single dad .

When about a year has passed obi wan realised that he didn't know his birthday so he asked ani and he didn’t know either . They chose marche 5th because its a week from then and obi Wan can plan his birthday.Ani loved it.

Anakin doesn't make a lot of friends in school or anywhere. Which bothers obi Wan greatly , he thinks anakin is a great kid who can do no wrong. It all escalated when a child calls Anakin a slave ( obi wan does not know how they got here )

Obi wan threatens to destroy him to the boys face . He ends up crying, and Anakin isn’t bothered ever again. ( the jedi council was not happy )

And so it pretty much continues for a few years

Part 3: late anakin years

Anakin is now 20 years old, which is double the age he was when obi Wan met him .

Many people think that obi Wan is past his prime, but this man is absolutely ribbed. He has perfect physique, he’s just covered in robes and coats and stuff

He keeps extra kyber crystals around because Anakin keeps losing/breaking his lightsaber

Anakin requested black robes, and the council wouldn’t let him because of the association with the sith, and obi wan was like “ No , let my padawan express himself . Plus, I killed the last sith years ago “ so they let him because nothing is scarier than getting on obi wans' bad side

When they meet padmé again, obi Wan is almost laughing at how bad anakin is hiding his feelings for her . He also realises that he will have to talk to his padawn about it .

Obi wan gets a little stricter over the last year since anakin definitely doesn't think before he does anything

When the council decided to let Anakin go with Padme , he couldn't help but warn anakin once again. He reminds him of the problems that might occur or the heartbreak ( he's definitely not projecting)

When shmi dies, he tries his best to support anakin best he can . He doesn’t remember his parents, but he assumes it's like losing Qui gon, so he does everything he needed back then . Home cooked meals ,hugs ,pep talks, pulling him out of mission….

He noticed from the moment they set foot into the arena that they were together. On the one hand, he was extremely nervous about it, and on the other, he was a bit proud of his boy.

ALSO, he gets that shiver down his spine because he realises that qui gon knew about him and Satine, and he's a bit embarrassed about it .

He doesn't tell it to anakin because just like his master he thinks that it might be better to give them space .

He gets really offended that he wasn't invited to the wedding. He knows it was supposed to be undercover, but please

Padme and anakin will sometimes invite him for dinner as if they aren't dating, and he truly enjoys those evenings together.

He likes padme immensely . She helps to calm anakin down, and she's all around a great person .

She's also the first out of her and anakin to realise that obi Wan knows . Sadly, this happens after the wedding, so now it's like a shared secret.

Now that anakin left the nest , he gets to enjoy hobbies. He starts experimenting with cooking until Kit , Quinlan and Po are so done with it that they start ordering out . Then he gets a pet a feathered veractyle he names boga , when the planet he’s visiting allows it she will be his transport . He also keeps a variety of plants ( they remind him of qui gon) and books .he collects golden trinkets. Anakin jokes that it all goes against the jedi code, but he likes it .

HE ALSO LOVES TO GOSSIP with his clones anakin padme kit po anyone that wants to listen.

Talking about his clones , he loves them dearly not as much as anakin but like coby is one of his closest friends.

212 has tried to give him nicknames before, but it never sticks , they do like saying the negotiator in funny voices .

Obi wan thinks that his clones are the best clones, but it seems that every jedi thinks that.

He is now a jedi council member, and he still has that off feeling that he doesn’t deserve it . His ideas dont link with the others, and he feels that he doesn't have a lot of influence on it . Qui gon was never part of it, and he understands why more and more. He loves being a jedi master but kinda hates the council.

That also makes it really hard for him to help Anakin with his dissatisfaction with his position rn . Being on the council but not a master feels like the worst-case scenario, but he has to help anakin not be pissy, so he does . It is a great honor to be on the council.

He didn't know about padmé being pregnant. So he just thought anakin was so stressed out about his career and the jedi order . After everything happened as it did , he felt that he didn’t support anakin correctly.

Obi wan objected when they wanted anakin to spy on Palpetine . He doesn’t want his boy near any danger and definitely not in the front line . He yells and fights for it until it goes to a vote, just as his seat on the council, obi Wan would leave the council immediately if it meant that Anakin was 100% safe . In the end , the vote goes for the spying and obi wans demands to tell anakin himself. It doesn’t go well, obi Wan feels like he's betraying his brother.

In the coming weeks, he will see the loveable orphan of tatooine change to a traumatized war veteran, and he's not happy about it. He tries to calm him down and speak to him just like he did when shmi died . Sadly, this time, it doesn’t seem to work.

When his clones betray him , he feels fear for the first time since the deul of the faiths . Not only is he in danger, but they are in danger , anakin might be in danger . He feels his life falling from betw his fingers . Boga and some of his dear clones die when he gets back to his ship . He calls to anakin, but he doesn’t pick up . He flies to the temple.

When yoda and him visit the temple, dread fills his mind. He still didn’t receive anything from anakin and was really worried about it . They see the temple lithered with death children, and all he sees are small Anakin's death on the floor . Then they see the footage of the night before, and the world falls beneath him . Anakin is a murderer, a sith, and still his brother . Obi wan chooses to go alone to face him ….

{that one deleted scene }

The deul with anakin is the worst moment of his life. Nothing compares to it . He tries to enter with an open mind and the little voice in the back of his mind telling him to redeem anakin . Sadly hes to far gone. The deul ends with his dying friend near the fire , obi wans whole life in pieces and a almost death padme.

The birth of Luke and leia is a small piece of hope, but padmé passes away . Obi wan has no one anymore.

He's extremely happy with the organas asking to adopt leia, and he himself asks to adopt Luke, but that did not happen because of the circumstances. If the sith starts hunting jedi , Obi wan will be at the top of the list

In the end, he lives near Luke until he grows to be a jedi .

He tries to meditate, but his bond to the force is pretty much broken .

Part 4: obi wan alone

Since moving to Tatooine, he has got some new dreams . He gets flashbacks to his childhood before being a jedi, but the worst once are the anakin once . They all start the same , meeting ani quick flashes through their years together and then Mustafar .

He believes that he killed anakin and that he burnt to death .

He has mixed feelings towards his actions. On the one hand, he as a jedi had to kill him, but as his brother, he is simply broken.

He doesn’t think of himself as a jedi anymore. Over the years, he has come to question the jedi order . For how they treated anakin and ahsoka even padme . He promised to himself that he wouldn’t teach Luke to throw away his emotions.

When darth maul shows up on tattooin, he's in some strange way. Sorry for him . They were both just children raised for war , he wished partly that they could have got Maul out before Naboo or that he wouldn’t hold the anger he had towards him for the death of his father . He took a deep breath and let it go . In the end, Maul died in his arms , the same way he had hoped he would have pulled anakin up after their duel.

He tries to meditate again in hopes of connecting to qui gons' spirit or anakins . He hopes to apologise to anakin to pet his hair and tell him it's alright to get one last evening diner with padmé and Anakin . From qui gon, he just wants comfort a long hug or a smile that shows him he’s proud of his padawan, even a home cooked meal .

He starts working as a butcher for sand whales . In the beginning, he used to walk there, but then lars pointed out that that was really suspicious for the other people in town . So he went shopping for a transport that was nice and easy to maintain . That's how he ends up with his eopie Akkani .

Akkani is a bit of a lazy animal , she just wants to eat and walk and eat again. He's happy he has a pet, tho because he gets a bit lonely.

He keeps all of his jedi things in a chest in his gave , including his own lightsaber and 2 sets of beads . One set is his own padawan braid beads, and the other are anakins . He also has some other stuff such as qui gon' s old kitchen knife and some pictures of his clones scrabs of r2d2 when he needed repairs a feather of boga some model airplanes anakin used to play with and so on. ( NO BURYING IN THE DESSERT I HATE THAT)

He really wants to train Luke, but Lars won’t let him . Which hurts obi Wan a lot . He wouldn’t push Luke to be a soldier like the once before , he would connect him to the force just like qui gon wanted with Anakin .

That's why he started reading up on the ancient scripts about the jedi . He loves the Yawa sellers just because he can buy his books without the empire noticing.

He will wait forever in hopes of setting the universe back to balance for the mistake he made on Mustafar.

This took so long and its not even all of it .( i left out the kenobi series because i didn’t want to rewrite it and i couldn’t figure out how to add to it without rewriting it srry)

Also i wrote a little obi wan reacting to ahsoka being Anakins padawn not that long ago ( link below )

And i left his later relationship with satine and maul out because it might be a bit long . If you want that you can always ask in my requests ( i do have some thoughts about those)

{masterlist}

[agere-fics]

🍄 you're a little during the phantom menace time period 🍄

caregiver!qui gon and big brother cg!obi wan headcanons (sfw agere)

♡

• qui-gon is your main caregiver here

• he looks after you, keeps you safe, gives you healthy, appropriate rules to follow

• he shows you how to mediate and calm yourself when you're anxious

• he's not quite strict, just firm and protective.

• obi-wan is your big brother caregiver

• he likes to start up mischief with you, get you to say bad words, and pulling harmless pranks on qui-gon and the other padawans

• when the council calls in qui-gon for a talk, he knows for a fact that it's about something you and obi wan pulled.

• qui-gon likes that you help obi-wan remember that he's still young too. the jedi council always talk about being logical, grown, responsible, and to act like you're an all knowing ethereal being. qui-gon disagrees and knows how important it is to just be young.

• so even though your antics with obi wan can get a tad annoying, qui-gon really appreciates it

• your big brother obi wan likes to use the force to fly you around or tickle you. he'll also withhold snacks sometimes by flying it high up where you can't reach. he lets you have the snacks after a couple seconds however ajxhs he just likes messing around

• he also likes helping you through nightmares. often you'd find yourself in his bed needing a cuddle and he gives that to you while half awake

• you and obi wan often play games on the holo tech

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 12: Separated

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of war injuries and medical solutions, angst, light banter, confused Ani, Obi hurtin' :(, special guest 👀, guilty reader, Cody my bff, allusion to self-sacrifice, Ahsoka doing her best, wow everyone needs like so much therapy.

Summary: When the Republic's secret medical station becomes the Separatist's next target, you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are forced back together from across the Galaxy to confront the threat. However, as you lead your end of the charge, distractions of the weeks prior cloud your thoughts and coerce you to confront the culminating impact of Qui-Gon's death. Hoping for a distraction from the consequent blunders, you try to focus on the mission at hand. Until an unexpected force's personal journey compels you to deeply reflect on your own.

Song Inspo: I Lost a Friend — FINEAS

Words: 12.8K

A/n: I'M ALIVEE. Apologies for the lengthy hiatus. Life got really crazy but I'm back with some more of ✨The Guardian✨ (and I'm going to start working on the requests in my inbox soon I promiseee!). Remember to comment with what you want to see in future chapters. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

For these words of good, evil, and contemptible are ever used with relation to the person that useth them: there being nothing simply and absolutely so; nor any common rule of good and evil to be taken from the nature of the objects themselves — Thomas Hobbes

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan huffed impatiently from the convergence on the Negotiator’s bridge, arms folded neatly across the chest as he absorbed with purposefully raking eyes the striking, streaky holocomm image of his former Padawan’s excited upper torso.

The azure image sheepishly fluttered against the backdrop of glowing round sensors and flashing rectangular buttons. Their various configurations and proportions formulating the prismatic hemicircle control panel which stretched out beneath the trapezoidal viewport, evenly segmented to swallow the far wall. An enveloping frame that transformed the barrier into an existence of distant, flickering stars amidst an endless, jet-black mass that hardly distinguished it as a wall at all.

At least, not to Obi-Wan.

To the Master Jedi, it was an unseen path. A blindness rallying Force-sensitives’ reliance on the all-encompassing flow that had always guided his each and every move. Yet, there was such a thing as being too far out to sense its intricate indications of a war that spanned countless parsecs. And that meant, even to a Jedi with a warship each straddling his spearlike class leader, a Galactic war could pose quite the surprise at any turn.

And fuel a steady disquiet in moments like these, when the Force felt awfully clouded by an imperceptible numbness.

Though that was far from the main distraction drawing Master Kenobi’s heavily pointed eye beyond his maneuvering lips.

“You simply cannot be late to an emergency meeting you yourself called.”

“My bad, Master,” Anakin expelled.

Though his neck remained creaked downwards with baby blue eyes flicking side-to-side, acting as tight straws siphoning in information beyond Obi-Wan’s view. Each beat punctuated by the Jedi’s shoulders subtly gesturing alongside hand movements inputting far-off data. And just as smoothly as the Chosen One’s mind navigated the rolling screens Kenobi had imagined he was negotiating, the self-assured former Padawan still seemed to effortlessly communicate the situation at hand.

“Ahsoka and I had to get the strike force out and moving toward Grievous’s ship first. We might not have as much time as we thought.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan hummed while curiously eyeing the young Jedi, brows shifting from unease at his words as once crossed arms released to their respective, comfortably postured sides. “Care to share?”

“Still waiting on one more invite to this meeting,” Anakin explained, invisible fingers finally allowing forearms to rest as his shoulders relaxed into a slump, followed by a fluttering blue gaze now attentively rising toward the bearded Jedi.

Odd, Kenobi mused. Usually Anakin’s last-minute calls either involved relaying information vital to the war efforts or, in most cases, a change of plans— either of which Obi-Wan could easily pass along through the necessary channels. Rarely did it necessitate others’ involvement. And it surely couldn’t have included another Council member, since they would’ve arrived in an earlier fashion as the Master Jedi himself.

“Who?” Obi-Wan questioned.

But before Anakin even had a chance to release his jaw in response, a new holographic swirled into existence beside him, completing the triangle of bodies with a deep-bellied thrum.

A similarly flickering, cobalt specter whose back revealed the robed figure’s linen-wrapped arms and legs and lightly armored shoulders leisurely swiveled to face the holocomm’s emitter. Yet, despite the uniform tinge that consumed all such holographic images, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but divert his trailing gaze up their wears onto the set of sharp, gleaming eyes that secreted a hint of silver.

And after a brief pause in which those very same eyes adjusted to the forms before them, an inkling of once quirked lips and lifted cheeks trickled into a singular expression of finished neutrality and professionalism.

One too novel to be shared among friends.

“Master Kenobi,” you nodded simply.

Obi-Wan’s steady chest faltered with an uncomfortable celerity.

It’d been only a week or so since he’d seen you last. Even longer since Obi-Wan left you in your quarters that evening following the surprise ambush on Lanos. And, now that he thought about it, likely two weeks since the bearded man began to notice how the air between you two grew more delicate as your tactful efforts to mold a parrying dullness swelled into a steady rainfall.

A fortnight since you appeared to have misplaced his first name.

It was as subtle as standing on the opposite side of a leadership meeting, deliberately placing yourself between two clones who’d naturally allow the General a respectful gap between himself and the Regiment. It was the conscious avoidance of the Negotiator’s refractory whenever Kenobi experienced a rare chance to sit down for a meal, or the decision to reside on the mirror end of the chamber when he was present. And it was the one time you did finally engage with him a few days later during a system strategy meeting that took place by way of a similar holocomm exchange.

“Master Yoda expressly stated that King Katuunko would only allow the alliance negotiations between himself and the Senator representative on Rugosa to continue as long as a Jedi emissary was present,” Master Plo Koon continued neatly with his black, patchwork eye guards trained on General Kenobi.

“Don’t the Toydarians know we don’t have the manpower for a babysitter?” Anakin rather agitatedly expressed, nostrils flaring into his thick eyebrows as if repulsed by a pungent smell. “Even if we did send someone, it would be no use to them.”

“For once, I must agree with my former Padawan,” Obi-Wan lyrically vocalized with a hand subconsciously motioning at the idea. “I highly doubt that a Jedi would rival a trained senator in the exercise of diplomacy.”

“I can go, Master!” Ahsoka piped up brightly from her Master’s rear with lifted eyelashes and gently shaken montrals. “I mean, if it’s just a Jedi that needs to be there, I can do that.”

Anakin glared at the young Togruta with thinned lips, deliberately crossing his arms and angling to the side all to firmly mutter a simple command:

“Not now, Snips.”

“I’ll go.”

Obi-Wan’s head whipped toward your once noiseless form stood a few meters off from him, staring into the collection of holograms opposite its emitter with a steely creed buttressing each syllable as dancing, sapphire illuminations molded interlacing shadows to distort your countenance.

“That seems appropriate,” Master Plo readily spouted, head nodding neatly in agreement while his charcoal antiox breath mask bobbed along otherwise elliptically sculpted, ochre features.

But what Master Plo did not yet know, was that beyond this political snafu, Obi-Wan too had his own ongoing obligation to manage. The task of integrating The Guardian into the Order while ensuring their protection from dark forces who were sure to take action if they’d learned of your identity, and what that meant. A danger so great, that Master Yoda had yet to decide on how to inform the rest of the Council about its development. And with that, came the task of keeping you as far away as possible from blackened powers so to guarantee such a calamitous future never saw the light of dawn.

So, considering your state of being in the days prior, more than ever did Obi-Wan sense your disregard for these concerns from such an offer.

It was the wrong time for you to be going off on your own. And Obi-Wan had a responsibility to make that known.

“Silvey has been assigned by the Council to assist me with my Regiment,” he countered quickly, bolstered by a charged arc, yet even tread. “I do not believe I can do without them at this moment. They are also recovering from an injury during one of our most recent run-ins with the Separatists, which I’m sure requires more time to heal.

But not even the seasoned Jedi himself was truly prepared for the sheer impersonality of your businesslike regard as you twisted toward his form with an expressive detachment that, when compared to the prior months, rendered you unrecognizable to his vigilant, cerulean eyes.

“Master Kenobi,” you spoke evenly. “My leg is healed enough after a few days with a bacta patch. And I trust that you’ll be able to carry out the rest of this mission without me.”

Your true stare remained levied on his gaze as a hushed exhale fell past your lips. So placidly, that were Obi-Wan’s attention not solely focused on your next words, he would’ve certainly missed the faint wobble coloring its receding steps.

“I’m putting in a formal request to be temporarily transferred to Rugosa so to aid in their negotiations.”

Even now, a week later on the Negotiator’s bridge when faced with two Jedi dialing in from thousands of parsecs away, Obi-Wan recalled the tenuous stiffness that tugged at his breastbone in that moment. The sinking weight accompanying his realization made right then and there:

That his efforts to keep you nearby so to have any hope of acting as a barrier between you and the dark forces watching from the shadows was only forcing you to yank farther away from his necessary observation.

Maybe that’s why, for the sake of your future collaboration,

For your budding friendship,

The Master Jedi settled to meet you where you were at. To give in to exactly what you were pressing for in order to ensure your safety.

To give you… space.

It was with restraint equal to your own, Obi-Wan remembered, with which he approved the request. Respectfully downcast eyes and a simple nod had sent you on your way later that very same day, along with a small group of clones led by the reputable Commander Cody. The only clone in General Kenobi’s Regiment that he truly trusted to keep an eye on you in his place.

And a soldier the General knew would follow any carefully communicated instructions to the letter.

Still, Obi-Wan hadn’t predicted that it would take this long to cross paths with you again.

“You look well,” Kenobi expressed with scant ineptitude, granting enough freedom to the interval in between your spoken word and his to give pause to Anakin’s freshly perceptive expression, which raised a curious brow at the duo.

“The negotiations are wrapping up nicely,” you formally relayed, seemingly ignoring Skywalker’s questioning bearing in favor of communicating a timely report. “My squad and I are cleared for departure and may rendezvous with The Negotiator whenever it’s convenient.”

“That’s good timing, because we’ve got a problem,” Anakin butted in, suspiciously shifting gaze left to the wayside in favor of narrowed brows that was the Chosen One’s signature expression of solemnity. “Grievous’s warship attacked a convoy of medical transports near Ryndellia. We think he’s after Kaliida Shoals.”

“The medical center?” Obi-Wan questioned with thinly veiled surprise. “Anakin, that facility was supposed to be a secret. How did the Separatists learn of its existence?”

“I don’t know,” Skywalker echoed. “But they know about it now. My squad of Y-wings are taking a shortcut, but I’m not sure if we’ll get there in time.”

“I’ll contact the Naboo to request their assistance and let the facility know that I’m on my way as well,” Obi-Wan assured.

“Warn them of my arrival too,” you promptly raised, drawing Kenobi’s attention to ambivalently narrow at your words.

Though that did little in the way of stifling your stride.

“I’m closest so I’ll help with the evacuations. There’s probably an extra fighter here that I can borrow since we have so many protecting the negotiations. That way I can get there before the Naboo fleet.”

You nodded to yourself, seemingly appreciating the evolving plan as it swirled into existence past still-moving lips. "My clone squad will follow behind with a larger ship to supplement the facility’s escape shuttles.”

“No Silvey,” Obi-Wan voiced, tongue fluttering your name for the first time in a while. “That will bring you quite close to a Separatist leader. Something Master Yoda has advised you to avoid.”

He raised an emphatic brow, even restraining his voice as if an empty room of swirling sensors and buttons could decipher its meaning.

“We have your identity to think about.”

“The risk is low,” you expounded toward the bearded Jedi unflinchingly. “I doubt General Grievous has any desire to contact that facility directly.”

Then, while a touch of uncertainty skidded by upturned eyelashes, your hands rolled into a shrug as you twisted to address both men equally.

“Either way, isn’t this why I was requested to join this meeting? Because of my proximity?”

“Silvey’s right, Obi-Wan,” Anakin posited, angling toward the cerulean-eyed Jedi’s less-than-merry gaze. “They’re our best chance at getting the facility evacuated in time before the ion weapon arrives.”

Master Kenobi couldn’t help how Anakin’s unfortunately reasonable words delivered a feeble pinprick to his adeptly impartial posturing, breaching the seal for a taste of his inner thoughts to leak out in the form of a finely charged sigh that expelled through set nostrils. Stiff fingers reaching to stroke the corners of his auburn beard as if to draw out the rest of the swelling frustration that narrowed cobalt orbs into tapered brows.

And from the chilly, detached churn of your sideways peer at his form, Obi-Wan could still markedly discern that, no matter the stony stance you attempted to elicit by pitching your arms akimbo, the veiled fashion with which you chewed at your inner lip exposed just how stubborn you remained to his argument. Even when the cogs of your mind turned in a direction opposite to your body.

Though, in which bearing, he did not know.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Anakin suddenly queried, lips parted slightly while he puzzledly peaked at you both.

Yet by the way in which your glittering silver eyes cast asunder from his own, chest rising as you deeply inhaled into its discomfited crevice with a mind reflecting focus on some other Rugosian movement, Obi-Wan understood that this was perhaps a poor time to concentrate on such a subject.

“Fine, I’ll inform Nala Se of your arrival,” Obi-Wan yielded as his shoulders relented his beard-stroking arm to the side, all while your ever-watchful gaze returned to his. “But bring your squad along. They will be unable to aid you if left to follow along in a slower ship.”

“Time is of the essence, Master Kenobi,” you straightly reminded. “The fighters on Rugosa are the fastest transports available, but they only have room for a copilot at most.”

“Then take Commander Cody,” the elder Jedi practically ordered.

Obi-Wan watched as the ligaments in your throat twitched from your quiet swallowing.

“Yes… General,” you acquiesced with delicately raised brows pitched over lips pursed illusively.

Yet that retort appeared to only heighten the incontrovertible befuddlement that nearly furrowed Anakin’s brows into his monitoring baby blue eyeballs.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan expelled before his former Padawan had the chance to probe any further through loose lips. “Our main mission is to protect that facility. We all know our part. Comm this channel with any updates.”

Roping his hands to fold back into each other against a straightened spine, the Master Jedi ended the meeting of quivering blue, holographic streaks and notably disparate impressions with one last memento.

“May the Force be with you both.”

—

No matter the weightlessness of your footsteps, your treading boots still kindled soft, echoing thumps like an infant flame as you traversed the narrow, cubic hallway that led to the medical center’s main command. That, of course, meant Commander Cody’s comparably lumbering stride resonated with a vigor that supplied an unforgettable reminder of the facility’s smooth, metal construction like a chronometer. With its reflective navy floors, rusting chalk walls, and highly collaged paneling, it was a wonder how the normal bustle expected in such a regional hub wouldn’t generate an endless barrage of clamoring turbulence.

A testament to the VenteX Construction Yards’ quality technology, according to the short facility report you perused during the brief journey here.

Thank you, Cody, you hoped to say once more. From what you learned in Rugosa, he always seemed to be prepared. And that meant, so were you.

Still, you weren’t ready to bestow praise upon such talented, Republic builders just yet. It was instances like these, in which overwhelming silence subsumed your surroundings like a vacuum sucked out air, and in which a ticking beat centered the mind as would an ancient meditation tool, that you found yourself left with something you were really trying to avoid.

Your thoughts.

It was quite the adjustment, you were beginning to realize. Transitioning from a life of static, icy days to an existence among so many different kinds of beings.

A life of unfamiliarity,

Of war,

And death.

So, so much death.

And it seemed like it only took seizing those experiences in their rawest form and stabbing them into your cerebral cortex like a hammer to a cold, rusty nail for that very catalyst to coerce you into considering their verity, arriving in stillness like a strong gust that stifles breath into unavoidable, beating ruminations.

It compelled you, to finally register, to truly internalize, that Qui-Gon was gone.

Just like Getter, and just like that creature of purity.

Your friend, was gone.

And, in that moment, whatever tiny piece of childlike hope, whatever illogical thought about his return that remained all this time in the deepest crevices of your mind, seemed to disappear too.

You truly were alone.

Until Obi-Wan appeared.

In one of your most conflicting hours, in which you were coming to terms with your Master’s death and the consequences of such a fact, he placed a hand atop your fist. He lifted your chin from troubling thoughts.

And he caressed your hand—

No, you internally adjusted, slightly shaking your head to loosen that particular memory from your mind as your well-adjusted footfalls carried you away from the stiffly wrapped wall paneling by which it fell.

Because you just couldn’t do it.

At least, not right now.

You enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company, you thought. Appreciated his mind, and respected his character. All factors that contributed to the growing friendship you sensed budding between the two of you.

And it was for that exact reason that, in a knee-jerk reaction, you pulled away.

Your mission was Anakin. Guarding the Chosen One. You couldn’t afford the clouded nature your mind embraced as you journeyed through Qui-Gon’s death. And that meant you couldn’t sustain another.

You needed to wait. Felt compelled to temporarily lock the gate to your strengthening fellowship. For, in this unpredictable time of war, if you’d lost him too, your last connection to Qui-Gon, alone would fail to describe the depth with which you’d feel disconnected from the Galaxy.

But, even as you passed through the last charcoal archway into the command center’s grimy white staging area of encompassing red and silver panels and rambunctiously flashing buttons, the new atmosphere failed to in any way hinder the invariably thrumming shame that churned your gut and shifted your demeanor. As you stood beyond the handful of medical clones rushing commands with expertly trained fingers through the computerized workstations lining the rear wall, such excitement too was futile in impeding the elusive hurt that swam behind his cerulean eyes in those memories of avoiding his approaches, attempts at conversation, or dependably questioning gaze.

No matter, for now, with two feet easing into a standstill before the medical officer ranked highest by three red dots hugging his white-draped sleeve and the superior Kaminoan with similar garb wrapped below a protracted neck, you could take comfort in the fact that such a circumstance would never be the case with Anakin.

In all likelihood, considering your position, you’d be the first to go in the line of duty protecting him. He’d always be there while you were around.

At least Obi-Wan was right about that.

“Nala Se, my name is Silvey—“ you uttered clearly, relying on the familiarity of her pearly white complexion and metallic, oval head medallion from your temporary right hand’s report.

Speaking of.

“—and this is Commander Cody,” you nodded at the soldier stood firmly beside you. "We’re here to assist you in any way we can to usher along these evacuations.”

The Chief Medical Scientist of Kamino’s towering figure offered a gradual, appreciative nod which moved as seamlessly as her blackened eyes creased in regard.

“Silvey, Commander Cody,” she acknowledged with an almost regal air and buttery tone. “Master Kenobi informed us of your arrival.”

You bit at your inner lip as a subtle twinge of an already swirling gut twisted at the raw nerves like a freshly seared burn. Though you swiftly brushed it aside, all in favor of absorbing Nala Se’s speech which echoed with congruence to this mission.

“We appreciate having another Jedi here to aid us.”

And it was a good thing you were focusing that weening attention, too, because this was certainly unexpected news.

“Another Jedi?” You questioned aloud while still supporting the movement of your lips atop businesslike breath. “This is great to hear, but, I thought I was the Jedi closest to this facil—“

“—Sectors C, F, and J are ready for transport.”

You barely caught the echo of nimble footfalls that preceded the adolescent voice which rang with a tone leveled only to communicate with clarity, yet tempered beyond any hint of vociferation.

A lick of curiosity hoisting your ears, you comfortably twisted toward the articulation’s source as Cody followed suit beside you, only for silver eyes to land upon a strangely familiar sight…

Teeth-like horns mirrored down their skull tattooed with curving lines and sharply jagged arrows.

Characteristics too similar to that unknown thing. That devil being from your dreams of weeks ago that, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t seem to forget, even when faced with an inkling of similarity that most would not discern.

“Thank you, Mill,” The Chief Medical Officer approved as her arms crossed into a lock behind her pencil-slimmed figure.

“I’ll head to the next set as fast as I can,” Mill expressed confidently.

Yet your thoughts only mulled over that point for a short time. Because as your purposed gaze trailed across other features, like the short tuft of jet black tied just behind her head, the swirling Force encircling her nut-brown vested and ivory-robed being, and the very noticeable limitations of her stature, you quickly realized that this was the Jedi Nala Se spoke of.

But with that also came the observance that this Jedi appeared to be—

“A youngling?” Commander Cody doubted with faintly mixing unease as his hesitant stare drew the lips below into an unlatched slump.

And it was that not-so-subtle oratory that sprung the young Jedi’s button-sized orbs to bounce toward you both, remaining equally unaffected as investigative of the new presence your figures fueled into the surrounding Force.

“Master Jedi Rig Nema and her Padawan Mill Alibeth were recently assigned to this outpost as our Jedi Liason,” Nala Se explained calmly from behind your turned figure. “Although the Healer was temporarily called away a few days ago. It was urgent. I believe to an off-world battle site deemed too dangerous to bring Mill along.”

“Mill,” you expressed to the observing Jedi. “I’d be honored to help you carry out the rest of the evacuations while my Commander aids Nala Se in the remainder of the planning.”

Your straightforward regard quickly flicked both silver orbs toward Cody who was still situated at your side, earning from the attentive Commander a nodding salute to your orders before you refocused that attention on the young woman before you.

“That is,” you progressed with utmost openness. “If you’ll have me.”

Enough to tug a small smile from the Jedi’s stoically taught mouth.

“I could really use the help,” she replied honestly, which lifted your own cheeks as you broke your stance and moved toward the Jedi who stood a few meters away.

“Many of the injured need help and instructions on how to get to the shuttles,” Mill continued with an earnestness that defied the essence of her youthful voice, like a creature who's lived an entire life through glories and hardships in only a few seconds.

“It’s important to note, Silvey,” the Kaminoan opined from the center console, inciting you to halt just as you reached Mill’s being to turn toward the Chief Medical Officer’s words. “We may not have enough shuttles to evacuate the facility’s full complement.

“Let me worry about that, Silvey,” Commander Cody piped up as he shuffled beside Nala Se to take a peek at the data screen emanating below her fingers with focusing brows. “We’ll find a way to make do and get these boys to safety. We have another ship on our tail ready to board as soon as they land.”

You nodded gratefully.

“Here,” Mill cleanly expelled while leaning into a smooth yet charged pace toward the Command Center’s primary exit, leading you to follow along as you passed under that same charcoal-tinted arch into the eerily stagnant hall. “I’ll show you which sectors still need to be evacuated.”

You barely hid the subtle quirk of your lips that momentarily lifted your features as you kept your gait swiftly ahead.

Despite Commander Cody’s assumption that the Jedi careening evenly beside you was simply a Youngling, it remained a struggle to grapple with that preconceived notion. You had to admit that there were few and far between opportunities to engage with peers when you were her age, but that didn’t prevent you from surmising Mill a Being well beyond her years. Still, you tried not to consider why for too long. For no reason other than she, in some ways, reminded you of yourself during those times.

You remembered quite well the experiences you inescapably traversed to develop similar mannerisms. And beyond all else, you understood that independence born out of necessity always craved a modicum of guidance.

At least, that’s what you recalled.

And it was clear that Mill could handle it.

“Have your lightsaber ready,” you advised while the two of you careened around a sharp corner in your trek down the station’s winding passageways. “It comes in handy when you need to lead the way. Especially for large groups.”

A flurry of shuffling, pearly fabric flitted through the air as a duo of medical clones with mahogany brown boots squeaked by you both before disappearing down a left coordinator in a rush that left a slight breeze. All the while you sensed an uneven crinkle shimmy into the Force’s very own cloth as if the slightest touch tugged a loose thread.

“I don’t have one.”

Your once hurried pace drained into a muddled falter, expressive brows stitched into genuine confusion as you angled to fully face the young Jedi. At that same instant, your probing gaze tracked Mill’s depleting drive, siphoned away from a once urgent gate and into a withstanding regard of some tolerant shade. Only leaving heavily relaxed facial muscles as the framing sight from Padawan Alibeth who similarly eyed you head on.

Though you were not yet intimidated.

“Really?” You genuinely inquired, once again asking yourself whether you were showing your lack of knowledge of modern customs. “I thought the ritual of The Gathering happened when a Jedi was still in Initiatehood.”

Yet the slight but unyielding tilt of one addled brow upwards on her otherwise collected expression did thrust you back one mental step to reassess what you’d so impulsively uttered.

“You say that as if you’d not seen them yourself,” Mill expounded, a slight smile crawling up her cheeks to erase any previous hint of uncertainty. “It’s hard to miss the loud groups bouncing down the Temple halls every season.”

You mirrored her expression with a nearly tickled one of your own as you clawed onto the escape Mill had somehow so expertly plopped straight into your palm.

“I’ve been away on a very long mission that spanned on before the war began,” you casually delivered, motioning your hand in the air in place of a shrug. “I suppose it hasn’t helped me in the way of keeping up with current practices.”

You raised your head toward the corridor’s main stretch that tunneled to a turbolift, breathing in the heightened energies spattered throughout the medical station as the sensation drove you to hastily renew your step, like a starship sucking on hypermatter fuel that tugged on Mill to tag along with an invisible lure. A mixing pot of swirling anticipations of what was to come, and a general unease of impending doom that reminded you all too well of the potential conflict had against these Separatist forces if you didn’t reach the appropriate sectors soon.

You exhaled. “And it hasn’t warned me of this Galactic contest’s nature.”

“That’s why I can’t have one,” Mill quickly related, thoughtfully gripping at your attention as she kept pace with each and every step you took to reach the turbolift.

Marking too the first instant you felt a hint of misgiving tempt the flow around you.

As an almost tranquil silence bloomed between you both, you each entered the contraption’s silvery-clear aperture that swirled open at your very presence. It was evident among those slight shuffling and intermittent creaks from an overused transport system, that there were still many words Mill was leaving unsaid. Trapped inside her thoughts much like how the wall of transparisteel at the turbolift’s rear blockaded the vacuuming essence of space from your comparably flimsy forms. Still, such musings did little to stop her from selecting the correct floor on the rusted button panel, clearing the doors to shut, and initiating your leveled descent.

But it was only like that for a moment longer.

“If it’s true that you were gone for all this time, then you didn’t see what I saw,” she released quietly, eyes drilling holes into the turbolift’s aged panel as the soft buzz of its mechanics grayed the silence. “The aftermath of Geonosis. The battles that followed. Maybe you didn’t even see the HoloNet News.”

Mill shook her head with an involuntary drag, rocking her neck as a mother would a crib while the visceral words flowed from her.

“All that blood. The pain. Anguish felt through screens and wires. Through medical encampments. Those people. The ones the Order is suppose to protect. I can see it all.”

“All of it?” You questioned lightly, keeping your eyes respectfully ahead to provide a modicum of space for the young Jedi whose stirring mind was beginning to flower open.

“Each emotion for me…” she twisted her knuckles as if wringing a towel, eyes focused on the nothingness of the solid turbolift ahead. “It’s like a color that’s part of an unbalanced rainbow. And anytime one shows through the Force, I can feel it like a scream in an empty room.”

Until those same button-brown eyes rounded toward your own, burrowing into your very being.

“And every time, in some way, it’s all at the hands of a lightsaber.”

You couldn’t help but hear the distant voice of Qui-Gon Jinn echo through your skull as you absorbed Mill’s eloquent words that swiped one more shallow cut across your understanding of this strange world.

“Only use violence as a last resort, my young Padawan.”

It was clear that holobooks, well-stocked libraries, nor storied pasts would aid you now in understanding how to apply that particular guidance since you’d witnessed Hoth’s sunset for the last time.

All you’d known of the Galaxy was from fantastical holobooks describing the High Republic, but all you’ve known since crowned a Jedi Knight was violence, demise, and despair.

Deep in your bones, you still resonated with the Order’s teachings learned from your former Master and the occasional old-style book he’d bring during his visits, and of course the lightsaber’s symbol throughout history. But for the life of you, there seemed to be no way to truly reveal such truths to a being who’d clearly experienced this time of chaos far longer than you. 

“This is not the era I grew up in,” you expressed earnestly, sensing the turbolift slow as a gentle pressure built at your heels like the squeeze that threatened your throat to uncomfortably swallow. “I’m sorry, Mill, that this is what you’ve learned to associate with the Order.”

And just as quickly as those utterances escaped your lips, a dearth of words sucked the air dry.

Because there was nothing else either of you could say.

—

“Alright!” You ringingly called out from the anterior of the chilly sectional recovery hall, drawing the balloon of deep-set, chatting echoes to sputter into an empty husk. The snow-white medical beds evenly distributed against the walls with the occasional cabinet and sporadically placed stone-tinted, blocky armchairs were brimming with disparately injured clones, all of which swiftly angled their attention toward you and Mill who stood quietly by your side as she gazed out at the crowd through a subtle frown.

You tried to keep your eye on the task at hand, mentally calculating how long this evacuation would need to successfully usher out the countless heads beholding you with bated breath for orders, including the small groups that stood at attention in various pockets of the hall the instant you made yourself known. But even though the medium-sized pathway striking through the room’s core offered any flitting gaze a moment of solace from the surrounding carnage, it was not enough of a centering force for your observant mind, which fixated on those scattered, recuperating soldiers who’d so clearly been dealt an inferior hand. 

One on the far left sported a thick bandage, wrapped firmly around his corner head all the way down to the eye. And had you not once employed such an old fashioned device in your past, you would’ve thought they were all manufactured to be a crimsoned red. Much like the cuts and scrapes dispersed across visible patches of skin like paint splatter.

The flick of your eye to the room’s other far side, and you couldn’t help but rake your silver stare up and down a clone who’d scurried upwards with the aid of a dodgily constructed cane of metal scraps and angled bolts the moment your resonant voice chimed through the room. It wasn’t until he raised fully that you noticed the black ligature wrapped tightly above one of his knees, and the nothingness that remained below. It just wasn’t there.

His leg. It was gone.

And all he had left to say for it was another arm in a sling that appeared exquisitely clean against the bloodied gauze decorating the hall’s bodies and swipe-stained floors, leaving an eerie odor that only appeared in the Force as a steady pulse of yanking anguish.

Yet still he chose to stand as those with lesser injuries opted to do. To show you a respect you were beginning to wonder if you really deserved.

Though it was easy for a mind thrumming with the ebb and flow of a weighted chest to wander toward that conclusion in any regard. It was fermented more potent by the swirling uncertainty of what to do with Obi-Wan, and the guilt that pushed through the dirt like budding shrubbery.

It was exactly why you needed to accept that guilt, you reasoned. It was what you had to do to center in on the mission at hand. To prevent another lapse in focus like you did when Qui-Gon clouded your thoughts on the battlefield not so long ago.

But the crumbling wall of words that fell like boulders into a lake as they rocketed away from each exchange you shared with Obi-Wan crashed as loud in your mind as did the splash of those heavy rocks.

How are you to focus on the next mission you’re lumped together on? What of when you’re forced to discuss those parts of yourself only a handful of beings know? And when Anakin becomes the topic of discussion, and your eternal tether to him, how will you protect him by pushing his Master away?

Thrusting him away as Mill had with her chance at a lightsaber. The chance at a supporting hand. At something she needn’t fear. And a device, a piece of herself, that if she remained without, would make the trials the young Padawan was bound to face down the road much worse.

Then you were making things worse, you considered fleetingly.

And if in any way you were putting The Guardian’s mission at risk from such decisions, then maybe you really didn’t deserve the eyes of thousands of clones centered on you with an eminence of trust and respect.

But whether you earned it or not, still needed was this attention that accompanied the title of General to lead them to safety.

“Sectors K, L, and M,” you announced with a tight core, reaching your hand to your belt as you wrapped your fingers around the attached saber’s cold hilt.

Springing it free with a whoosh and empowering its gray luminescence to blind the air above you, you displayed its heated might before the hundreds of heads that seemed like mere dots within the six-story ship bay that was converted into a sort of field recovery station, towering in height and breadth beyond some of the larger ships you’d become acquainted with this past month and a half.

“We are evacuating the facility. I want Group 1, all able-bodied clones, to line up in the middle,” you projected, cutting your saber down center for all to clearly see as those who fell into the category sprung or lumbered to their feet with a steadily bustling clamor. “Group 2, men who are unable to move on their own, remain where you are.”

You waited a few moments, allowing these soldiers with patches for wound dressings, injuries dealt to less severe locations, and minimally broken or dislocated bones to bustle toward the central stream against squeaking floors before, handful by handful, the mass of gray-clothed patients turned forward in staggered arrays, most patiently awaiting their next command as whispers flowed by the line like sand through fingers.

“Now,” you began loudly, gesturing between the two groups with your brightly buzzing lightsaber as the mumblings dissipated. “Everyone partner with a person in the other group. Individuals in Group 2 who are unconscious or are otherwise completely bedridden will need two soldiers from Group 1 to take them out on a Hover Stretcher,” you confirmed with two raised fingers.

“Um, Silvey?”

You quickly glanced at Mill’s nervously stitched brows, eager eyes just as distended as her mouth with a battery of words stuck at the tip of her tongue. “We don’t have any more Hover Stretchers.”

It seemed this facility was running low on many necessary supplies during such a frantic evacuation, you marked internally.

Alright, you readily accepted. You’ve dealt with worse.

Your neck flicked back toward Group 1’s already parting sea as the endless line of clones split off to either side of the hall in search of a partner, morphing a once relatively uniform line into an expanding blob of varied, struggled movement.

“No more Hover Stretchers!” You exclaimed swiftly. “Use the bed sheets, or carry them if you have to. Make your way out through the South Entrance in a single file line.”

Raising your saber once more down the middle, you signaled the appropriate exit at the other end of the transformed ship bay.

“Move!”

With a deep breath, you disengaged your saber, keeping your gaze alert while returning it back to your belt with a metallic snap.

“Don’t worry,” Mill expressed calmly, dragging your vigilant survey away from the slingshotting voices reverberating off bordering panels that surrounded clones in various stages of gradually hooking arms with compatriots and carrying each other to the far wall. “We’ll get them all out.”

“I know, Mill,” you smiled gently, warming at her intrinsic compassion while tilting your eyes back toward the swarming clones to assess their progress as a handful began to exit through the South Entrance. “We’re doing well on numbers. I know you’d tell me if we weren’t.”

“Then why are you feeling… regretful?”

Your neck snapped toward the young Jedi, a flood of questions desperately trying to manifest through your features as you held the flood bag with a simply raised brow and a smile faded into tensed lips.

Not Master Jedi, not even a Grand Master, but a Padawan Learner? A Padawan learner was the first to sense a hint of what your mind autonomously hid in the Force? You knew for a fact that your countenance failed to divulge the deep harboring of such an emotion that you were still trying to discern as such.

“You can sense what I’m feeling?” You questioned, perplexed.

“Usually, I can sense a range with groups and people,” she began matter-of-factly, tensed brown eyes swaying toward the buzzing clones before you both. “But yours are pretty clouded. The only reason I can sense that one is because it’s pretty strong.”

Perhaps Mill Alibeth was not only a wise, but a powerful Jedi. And while you certainly sensed a stronger glow in her connection with the Force than others her age that you’ve encountered at the Temple, such a reading remained a speck of sand in an ocean when compared to the Masters who’ve tried again and again to dissect your mind.

Meaning one thing and one thing only.

Something must have changed.

Though what, you had no idea.

A charged yowl cracked through the air like the blast of a horn, reverberating down the hall as a noticeable thump sounded from the same general location before chasing after the dissipating cry into the void.

Your neck snapped toward the tumult’s direction before quickly discovering that the hastening throng of clones rushing past each other to pair up and race for the exit clogged your view of the wider hall from where you stood. Even as you tried to focus your mind on the beings around you, hoping to pinpoint the pain of that cry through the Force to find the afflicted’s position, you struggled to parse through the torrential flood of indistinguishable trauma that clouded your mind as much as your eyes.

Anguish. Agony. Fear. Vexation.

All eddying into a tempest of incomprehensible noise, like pouring every color known to the universe into one bucket of black hole goop.

“This way!” Mill suddenly shouted, grabbing your wrist to tug you along as she sprinted into the crowd.

Your feet caught up to the sudden charge, falling in step with the young Jedi’s hurried pace before she released your arm so that you both could navigate the thicker junctions of the whisking horde. All the while you took particular care in keeping an eye on the small, nut-brown cloak hanging off her back so as not to lose her darting figure in the crowd.

Arms snapped up against your shoulders and torsos collided with your arms while flying commands seemed to cultivate either eardrum as a doorway for the indiscernible racket, leaving you no choice but to adapt to the unstoppable swarm. With each duck and shimmy, you eventually settled into a rhythm through each twist and turn of the crowd. Waves of streaming bodies that crashed into interlocked, haphazard footpaths steered your figure through a slew of precise dodges, all the while you found your focused eye unintentionally memorizing the marginally bobbing hood of Mill’s robe so not to misplace her in the masses. And it was the exact instant that you realized such an intense stare had nearly burned the chaotic rush into your retinas, that the young Jedi finally burst through an opening in the rabble of soldiers fueling gusts of injured groans and strident cries amongst stampeding boots which plunged behind you once the horde finally spit you out.

Your silver eyes adjusted to the far emptier space hugging the hall’s right wall: a handful of medical beds mostly unoccupied and disarrayed with sheets crumpled and tossed asunder from the rapid charge of this evacuation.

That was, except for one bunk on which a clone lay curled into themselves, one hand firmly clutching their leg. Crying out, teeth bare to the ceiling with such might his torment was sure to break right through. It was certainly enough to heighten the two clones who frantically bent over to asses him from either side, wondering aloud through their countenance alone what to do and how to make the awful noise stop.

“What happened?” You pressed firmly, lips depressing into a thin line while you slowed at Mill’s side as the aura of his suffering inked the Force’s everlasting stream with an unavoidable, pounding strikes.

The left soldier spoke with a rich tone as his bushy eyebrows and speckled beard dimmed in anticipation of his own words.

“We tried to move him and his mechnosutures snapped.”

At the same time, you watched as the convulsing clone’s hand slipped from their inner thigh, revealing a deep crimsoned gash that spurted a miniature fountain of blood the instant its spout was uncapped. Splattering the outspoken clone still hunched to his left with a healthy spray across his gray tunic in the injured man’s effort to roll off the cot.

Your eyes widened, the sudden gush which consumed your vision ramming your legs into a full sprint before propelling you to nearly leap atop the gravely wounded man as you jammed two fingers into the humid cavity to cork the leak.

“Mill!” You called over your shoulder as you struggled to find and hold the bleed that oozed past your fingers with a steady, warm pulse. “Bacta spray!”

“We’re all out on this side of the station, sir!” The right clone sporting a young, bare face interjected just as Mill darted to your side.

“It’ll take too long for any one of us to make that trip,” the opposite soldier noted, brushing any remnant cerise droplets from his deep-stained shirt as he rose to his full height. “And he’s in no condition to be moved.”

You briskly sorted through your years of survivalism and relevant readings that supported your life of Hoth, gravely considering each and every option at your disposal to save this clone as his cries galloped after each other in their echoing race into the ether.

Because, despite the rapidly declining seconds you had left to solve a femoral artery bleed, you knew it was still more time than you had to save Getter.

It was still time in which you could do something.

No Bacta Spray, so perhaps a tourniquet.

“I need a thin rod and some bandages,” you spouted urgently. “Do we have anything like that?”

“There aren’t any medical supplies in this section at all,” Mill clarified nervously, rubbing her wrist as she briskly spoke. “The recovery rooms ran out of supplies last week. We were still in the process of transferring the new supply delivery throughout the facility when Nala Se ordered the evacuation.”

“I could give you my shirt,” the scruffy soldier suggested, pointing at his blood-soaked garment. “But I don’t know where we’ll find you any sticks.”

“Bandages alone won’t work,” you audibly exhaled, feeling the steady throb that would easily cut through a simple cloth.

“What about your lightsaber?” The cloaked Jedi inquired, pointing at the delicately hanging device strapped to your belt.

“Unfortunately, I need something thin,” you explained, eyes rapidly scanning your surroundings for anything even close to what you needed. “My lightsaber is too—“

You paused.

You hesitated because, with that comment, Mill may have certainly saved this man’s life.

But you knew from experience that this was going to really, really hurt.

“Men,” you ejected forcefully past the icy chill running down every nerve in your body, reaching your free palm to clasp the saber and disconnecting it with a clink from your side. 

“Hold him down.”

A steady thrum of timorous buzzes flickered into the Force to the left, luring your outwardly mollified gaze toward the apprehensive Jedi beside you who watched on with ever-widening eyes.

“You’re right, Mill,” you quietly expressed, redirecting your attention to the task with a gaze that lowered just as deliberately as your body fell into a deeper crouch beside the bedridden man whose entire life relied on the thread plugged by a few fingers.

Though your words seemed to crack her restless daze in half as she whipped her head toward you, short ponytail flying after the sudden movement.

“You’re right, that a lightsaber can harm,” you softly continued, flicking on the weighty device with a shockingly bright drone that emanated between you and the young Jedi, reflecting in her brown eyes like a distant star.

“It can kill with ease,” you gradually moved the weapon through the air, allowing its buzz to vibrate through the atmosphere as the hall’s glaring light reflected its hilt. “Elicit misery out of those who least expect it.”

You returned your conflicted stare back to the disoriented man stuck beneath your digits, neck twisting in and out of consciousness too rapidly to permit any awareness of where his miracle cure was coming from.

It was probably best that way.

Because, either way, this needed to happen. 

And it was that very notion that finally put into words what you’ve always felt about the Jedi’s most holy artifact. What you knew was true but struggled to explain to this Padawan all the same.

Until now.

“But you’re also right, Mill, that this same weapon will save him.”

You hovered the saber above the delirious clone’s wriggling form, held moderately still by the two soldiers on either side of him who seemed equally displeased with where this was going.

“It will be the opportunity to live another day. A healing energy to save the desperate. A bright light in the darkness.”

You paused, lowering the weapon to your side for just a moment, fingers still firmly held against the wound as you turned toward Mill as wholly as possible. Capturing her cautious gaze with your own meaningful stare.

“Because they aren’t good, and they aren’t bad, they just… are.”

You glared at its metallic shaft, crafted with great care and precision during your trip with Qui-Gon to Illum to collect your Kyber crystal. You observed its checkered black grip that snaked up the whole of the hilt, an intentional design you implemented to increase its resilience to Hoth’s cold nights. The triangular-shaped dent in the blade emitter from a particularly nasty run-in with a Wampa bite a few years back. The small puncture at the hand grip’s base, chinked by those pirates who stole it off you ages ago.

“They are their own Master,” your lips quirked gently. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

You peaked at Mill whose intent stare swirled with a galaxy of evolving thoughts, chest rising and falling through each breath solely motivated by comprehending your meaning.

“I alone can decide the purpose my lightsaber serves.”

You exhaled rigidly, circling toward the man clinging to life on the cot before you as you lifted the saber above his puncture once more with clenched teeth.

“And I choose to heal.”

With a heedfulness akin to threading a star cruiser through a pinprick-sized wormhole, you sunk the tip of the saber down toward the gash. Recoiling your blood-soaked fingers just as its gray luminance touched down on the spouting artery.

An overlapping murmur of groans from one chapped mouth swelled into a jarring shriek of intolerable magnitude as his vocal cords rawed at the sputtering roar. Saturating the Force with an incessant burden that threatened to collapse your sternum under its simultaneously consuming, draining anchor.

The scent of charred flesh smoked your nostrils as you observed pools of blood begin to blacken a charcoal brown alongside the bordering skin. And in that instant, you didn’t need to use your eyes to sense the young Jedi beside you shoot her hand to her forehead, clutching it fiercely as her eyes squeezed shut with a stinging gasp.

But soon, a subsiding energy overcame that temporary darkness that plagued the nearby Force Sensitives, like releasing a muscle strained into one, sun-beaten position for hours. It arrived with the shaky exhale that flickered past the maimed clone’s settling lips. Along with a sudden relief that oozed from his figure and infected his fellow comrades with similarly soothing sentiments.

“He has more time now,” you swallowed with sharp eyes pointed at the bordering clones as you rose to your feet. “Now get him out of here.”

The soldiers stood at the ready, acknowledging your request before promptly moving toward either side of the injured clone so to follow that very order.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Silvey,” Mill voiced while meeting your stance as the soldiers before you twisted the ends of the bedsheet in their fists to create a makeshift Hover Stretcher.

You eyed the Padawan whose conflicted gaze and curled brows twisted her jaw through a holobook of responses before settling on one that seemed to burst through all the others as a cough would stifle conversation.

“Now we’re running out of time.”

—

“It looks as though Skywalker has failed. He’s lost almost half his ships!”

The head Medical Clone’s vehemently unsettled tone aimed at Nala Se whipped past your ears in its journey as you and Mill led the last group of clones through the frantic energies swirling through the Command Center. It happened to house the getaway hatch to the last escape shuttle on board the medical station, beside your clone squad’s extra shuttle which had already been filled to capacity. And all that meant was that you were bound to receive an update on the battle unfolding beyond its walls whether you liked it or not.

Either way, your focus remained on leading the small batch of five to seven soldiers to the hatch’s entrance, one of which whose shattered kneecap obligated that an arm hung rigidly over your shoulders as you supported his weight through those final few limps.

And that was certainly not doing wonders for your own recently healed leg.

The Kaminoan’s advisor sighed drearily beside Commander Cody who watched on with an analytical gape over to your left as the advisor continued. “We should go, Madam.”

One more step and you reached the small, square hatch that stood from the floor no taller than your waist. Quickly scanning its side panel, you motioned for the other clone beside you to scoop his own grip under the injured clone’s armpit, enabling you to gently release him into his comrade’s company. Soon you accepted the lifting of that digging pressure as permission to drop down to the dingy panel clasped to the door so to input the release override.

“I will stay,” Nala Se tranquilly expressed as she turned to address the Lead Medical Clone.

“That won’t be in the clones’ best interests,” you cautioned swiftly, rising to your feet as the hatch whirred open behind you amidst a high-pitched beep and fogged-over emitter that struggled out dulled, red wisps. “You and your team should leave with this escape shuttle. The others will need someone to help coordinate the care for those more injured. More so than before considering the evacuation exacerbated their conditions.”

You observed with the corner of your eye as, one by one, the line of clones dropped to their knees so to shimmy through the tight-fitting hatch, aided by Mill who remained at each of their sides to support along those more mangled through the ingress. All throughout Nala Se’s carefully hidden hesitation fruitlessly defied your shrewd gaze.

“Silvey’s right, Madam,” Cody assuredly reminded. “With this last group, all the patients will have been evacuated. There’s no point in staying to find out what the other end of that giant Ion Cannon looks like when we already know it’ll kill life support and seal the escape hatches with the power surge.”

And despite the subtle rumblings of uncertainty that the Kaminoan frothed through the Force’s otherwise steady stream, the disappearance of the final soldier’s booted foot through the getaway hatch in combination with Cody’s loyal support of your stance seemed to sway her to respond.

“I will follow your guidance, Master Silvey.”

“Alright clones,” Cody called out while spinning around to the remaining staff furiously typing away at their stations, some standing like a string tugged at their tailbones while they moved through screens of defensive data as if to punch in one last key before being yanked away like a loose puppet. “Drop what you’re doing and load on that shuttle.”

The Commander calmly angled back toward Nala Se as the strings snapped and the puppets scurried free, his arm unfurling into a pointed finger toward the hatch entrance behind you.

“This way, Madam,” he instructed while the towering Kaminoan offered a gradually angled nod of acknowledgment.

You observed as the two of them cooly strolled forward with the Lead Medical Officer in his professional garb inching behind, all amidst the rushing forms and swiping legs of her remaining team shutting off workstation permissions before they made their final, fleeing departure.

Until the flinging movement of a small shape rising upwards caught the corner of your eye, all while an unexpected coolness invaded the Force from your left.

“I sense pain.”

You glanced strangely at Mill’s sudden revelation, taking in her crinkled eyelids while the nerves that twisted around her facial markings pulsed in concentration, palm cradling her vein-pulsed forehead.

“What is it, Mill?”

“There’s someone still here,” she coerced through crunching teeth. “Someone we forgot. They’re below us somewhere. Like a red blob.”

You caught the break of Nala Se’s once steady step from the corner of your eye, tugging at your gaze to serve her patent dithering with your full attention as if caught in the crossfires of a blaster bolt. Even the Commander seemed to take note of the acknowledging release of breath escaping your lips while he simultaneously focused on guiding the last few stragglers away from their stations with firm commands of “let’s go” and “leave it be.”

“Don’t worry,” you clearly conveyed to both Jedi and doctor before focusing your mind on the younger one’s concentrating gaze.

But, even with a turned head, your intrinsic intertwinement with the Force made it impossible to ignore the watchful eye of Commander Cody who reserved a slice of regard for you that more than tinted the everlasting stream.

“Mill, I’m counting on you to ensure this last group’s successful evacuation: Nala Se’s team and the patients in the escape shuttle. Work with Commander Cody. He will help yo—“

“But what about you?” She fiercely interrupted.

Cody finally cut in, “Silv—“

“—I’m going to get that soldier,” you promptly established as you twisted your neck toward the second-in-command who eyed you with oddly laden disquiet, firmed torso communicating the same inevitability to the young Jedi as well.

The words barely escaped your lips as you stormed toward the overhanging archway exit that would swallow you back into the space station’s bowels, heels fully contacting the metallic floor with each step to avoid any other objections of the matter with the all-to-familiar rhythmic clang.

But still, as the final swarm of clones swiveled around you like a parting sea to navigate toward the rear escape hatch, a light-footed figure seemed to cross that distance twice as fast with another heavier-set bunch clad in chaffing milky armor converging from the opposite angle.

“Silvey!” Mill called, swinging around to your side as you swiftly straddled your stride to avoid knocking over her fleeting form.

“I wanted to say… thank you,” she continued, the hint of a sigh crawling along her words as Cody’s striding figure levied its last few steps toward your right.

You quirked a brow at the young Padawan while stretching out a soft hand in signal of Cody to slow in wait. And you sensed him do as you willed, stuttering his gait to a halt like a ripple in the flow surrounding you as your head tilted with a slight curiosity amidst Cody’s respective silence. Still, your muscles stood taught as you prepared to sprint to the station’s lower levels at a moment's notice. Though even then it was a task to derive your focus away from Mill’s big brown eyes which churned with a form of tempered contemplation you’d not quite seen on the young girl before.

“—for showing me the bigger picture,” she continued in another breath, eyes levied at the ground as she worked through tumbling thoughts. “Anytime I felt pain I only saw it for what it was. Something uncomfortable. Something black and white. I didn’t see that some pain could be needed to heal. To do good.”

Mill’s hair flicked to the side as her chin swung back up toward yours with brows raised in relief.

“But saving a life makes it worth it.”

You remained with a steady gaze, relaxing your arms as shoulders released into an attentive expression that urged her to go on.

But with pursed lips that yelled move quickly.

“All this time,” she caught on with a push of breath. “When the Masters said that a Jedi’s life is sacrifice, I thought they meant what we were losing in this war. But it’s not that at all, is it?”

She got it.

You gently smiled.

“It’s what we go through, what we help others go through, to save them.”

Her brows crinkled into a conclusive regard that strained to loosen with the last three words she uttered.

"It’s our pain.”

You allowed for one more minute pause so her thoughts could settle before responding with your chin pointed teasingly downward, eliciting a warm tone.

“You’ll need a tool for that.”

Her lips settled upwards.

“The next Gathering is in a few months.”

And with an approving nod, you took off toward the archway once more. But not before swiveling into a backward pace with Cody following determinedly along so to relay one last piece of guidance that you nudged the young Jedi to carry with her through a gliding tone alone.

“May the Force be with you, Mill. Always.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cody began not a second later as Mill sprinted back toward the escape hatch while you whirled through the archway, the Commander hot on your heels.

“We’re running out of time, Cody,” you implied as you leaned into a jog that he so aptly followed with an armor-laden trot of his own. “I need you to follow orders.”

He spoke plainly, “I am following orders.”

“Well they aren’t mine,” you relayed through a sarcastic twinge that seemed to reach your not-so-healed leg under the weight of a running form.

“General Kenobi instructed me to keep an eye on you if this mission got dicey.”

Of course he did, you internally objected.

Yet you also couldn’t help the fleeting thought that Obi-Wan was jumping through hoops to ensure your safety while you avoided him at all costs.

And if Mill had the courage to take on the Gathering, to face that pain, then you must have, somewhere, in some deep crevice, some semblance of bravery to make allies of those who were sure to aid you in your sole mission.

Starting with that blue-eyed, bearded man.

But you couldn’t worry about that right now.

There was a life at stake.

You twisted on your heel toward the determined soldier, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he ebbed to a stop against its resistance, stark chestnut orbs wrestling with the notion of failing to follow his General’s orders before your very eyes.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t always right.

“You will only slow me down,” you relayed earnestly, gradually lowering your arm when it was clear the clone’s attention was fully on you. “Jedi have a way of moving quicker and bringing you along will only threaten that man’s chances. If you want to help me, go make sure that shuttle leaves with everyone on it. You’ll still be following orders.”

The soldier’s lips parted ever so slightly as he took in your words, only to clasp shut while the commander’s mind accepted that you were, unfortunately, correct in your calculations.

Even with a sorely palpitating leg.

Still, it was clear from tensely pursed lips and only a brief glance over his shoulder at the command center that the loyal man had one more thing on his mind.

“What about you?” He inquired, confusion etching across his brows.

Your cheeks lightened.

“You’d know better than I, Commander,” you teased. “I distinctly remember you mentioning the handful of scattered single escape pods still located on the lower levels from when VenteX’s constructors needed a plan B during a plasma leak.”

The Commander’s eyes rounded in remembrance as an air of approval dusted off his subsequent nod. “Good catch, Silvey.”

He took a few strides to his rear, angling to jog back toward the Command Center as the determined man left you with one final promise.

"I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

And you certainly planned to keep that appointment.

But that meant drawing on the Force’s all-encompassing existence to guide your way.

You closed your eyes, reaching out your fingers to feel its comforting endlessness energize your veins like a tingling drone as you leaned into a sprint. Its volume remained gentler than the weeks of past, almost reminding you of the calming expanse on Hoth. With a medical station nearly void of life, there wasn’t much to upset its delicate balance as you sensed the escape shuttle’s hatch spin closed with a twist far behind you to secure in the last of the escapees. It enabled your mind to focus intensely on any indications of a disturbance. Whether that be dodging a wall to turn a corner or thoughtlessly punching in floor levels inside turbo lift after turbo lift as you attempted to sense this being lost in an endless array of intertwined hallways and rooms.

Until, while traversing alongside towering walls of precariously placed, foggy cargo containers held within one of the station’s high-ceiling storage lots, you suddenly felt it.

Your eyes slammed open.

A dull jolt in the everlasting stream, pulling at its ripples like a confused animal, and, from what you gleamed, located somewhere alongside the far wall that was sectioned into outstretched viewports inviting in the expanse’s brightest stars. Though those specks of white were vastly overshadowed by the eloquently zipping fighters whose choreographed dips and dashes pirouetted amongst a swarm of red blaster bolts, painting the Galaxy’s complexion with streaming tears of blood. Yet the source of her sobs, no matter how large her function, remained out of sight.

Your feet peddled through the sweeping repository with greater haste, bringing you mere yards from the transparisteel separating beings from the blackness beyond when you heard to your left a tenuous groan leak from its creator.

Your head swiveled toward the sound as a weakening malaise perfumed your senses.

Trapped underneath a lofty cargo container inscribed with gray geometric lines of Basic was the whole right arm of an older clone that maintained a graying beard and sported the brown garb of a supplier logistics technician. The side of his ribs pressed against the floor with intense pressure as he wrestled to shimmy the limb free from its metallic captor, teeth grinding into nubs from the striking pain of likely broken bones shattering still. An electrocuting sensation traveling down legs that dragged at the floor in an attempt to break himself free. Enough so that you caught wind of the oddly twisted placement of an ankle which flopped limply from the thrashes.

Without a second thought, you rushed toward the clone, arm outstretched as you landed on your knees to hold his chilly one still.

“Hold on!” You expelled while your mind tapped into the surrounding stream, allowing you to guide its energies into yourself as you focused your crumpled brows on nudging the container through the outstretched fingers of your free hand.

"You should get out of here, Sir,” the clone expressed through a weak huff.

The large box sharply groaned with a slight shake as you gasped through tense lips at its noticeable heft, fingers curling tighter until its vibrations evolved into the crackling pop of the container losing traction with the ground. Not by much, just a few inches at most, but enough for you to shimmy his arm out from underneath the lifeless beast’s grasp as utterances of excruciating cries and relief-drenched pants shot out of the man’s mouth and ricocheted across the echoing chamber.

The graying clone rolled on his back, cradling the damaged arm with squeezed eyes as he allowed the waves of salient affliction to wash over him while you stumbled back to catch your breath.

“Yes, I should,” you aired breathily as you bent down to help the injured man with a palm under each armpit, hoisting him up high enough to rest a good arm around your shoulder amidst protesting grunts so to limp him a few feet forward. “Now shut up and move, soldier.”

“Yes, Sir,” the weary clone moaned with a subtle shadow of ease as he hobbled through one lumbering step after another, digging into your shoulder with each footfall while you held the majority of his weight firm amidst a damaged ankle likely broken when the cargo container fell.

And for a brief instant, despite the significant setback spawned by the discovery of a severely inured clone, and the increasing pressure on your vibrating leg, you thought that the two of you had a pretty good chance of making it out of here, given that one of the escape pods you’d gleaned from the medical station’s blueprints was on this very level, in one of the inner hallways just a few turns away.

That was, until the staticky pop of your wrist comm buzzed to life with the sound of a familiar yet resistantly tense voice crackling through its speaker.

“Silv— Sil—vey. Come —in. Silvey—, are — there?”

You stretched your dominant hand toward your opposite shoulder, answering the call through a tap to the answering button without losing your grip on the saddling soldier.

“Anakin, I hear you.” You acknowledged forcefully with another step forward toward the storage repository’s sweeping, double-door exit that you carefully eyed a dozen meters away. “The weapon is causing some interference. We’re about to depart. What is it?”

“You nee— out of there! Not s— can’t— hol— —off”

A tingling eeriness ignited in the Force to your rear.

You spun back around toward the storage area’s rear wall of geometric viewports only to glimpse a dash of electrifying purple sparks rotate into the far left segment’s view amidst the endless streaks of red cuts into the Galaxy’s inky fold. A massive, circular charge that revved as the face of the expansive, shark-like ship Malevolence threatened with a roaring breath to blow away any chance you or this clone had for survival.

You remembered what Cody said. One strike from that destructive weapon would shut off the escape hatch releases you’d been relying on for your escape. And with all other systems offline, it would effectively annihilate any life left on board.

This was going to be a problem.

Until a swarm of marching fighters swung into view, veering about one big loop through and out the cannon’s neck as one after another launched an explosive, fiery torpedo that streamed into its wide gullet, supplying a smoky black beard that puffed outwards from the consecutive detonations as the beast’s electrifying, violet mouth roused wider at the provocation.

And just when you thought that the deadly spit of this wild creature would consume your vision, a wide array of clustering, rumbling copper blasts pimpled the shark’s decelerating form, caking the surrounding space with blotches of a wider, billowing smog. An apt fireworks show to welcome the arrival of several Republic warships that swung in from hyperspace within mere seconds like the flying bolts of before that now laid dormant.

“Anakin, do you copy?"

The firmly smooth yet urgent undertones of Obi-Wan’s voice broke through the speaker with an abrupt clarity that snapped your thoughts back into the present, empowering you to recognize that Anakin’s team foiled the imminent threat. You released tensed shoulders that had tightened at the height of this ordeal, enough so to liberate the older clone’s arm from your grasp. You leaned your chest toward the floor as his weight reclined against your back, sliding his arm across your wingspan in order to better grasp each armpit all to gradually lower his form down to rest against a few cargo containers stacked to your left.

“I’m here,” Anakin acknowledged, his transmission having audibly improved as you rose back to your full height to face the viewports once more, feeling the deep sting of a leg that appeared to have seen too much action a moment too early. “And Silvey is too. From the station.”

A flicker of white noise. Hushes of circuits and wires that marked General Kenobi’s line as open. Yet, in those few seconds, no words traveled across its waves from the lead warship drifting comfortably at a distance that characterized its structure as a miniature figurine.

Still, it was enough of a lull to catch your notice with the elicitation of a slumping sensation in your gut as your stretching senses reached through trained eyes to get just a glimpse of the damage you’d begun to realize you’d done.

Though your sight could never reach that far.

“Well,” he started with a bump. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright. Thanks to the success of Anakin’s mission. Congratulations.”

“Partially, but Grievous is still alive,” Anakin corrected just as swiftly as Obi-Wan spoke, though rumination deepened his tone. “The battle was pretty rough on my men. We’re heading for the medical station.”

Grievous…

It was clear he posed a threat. Not just to the Republic’s success in this war, but to Anakin too if these violent exchanges were to continue. The Chosen One and his entire team were nearly killed at his order.

And, to you, that was unacceptable.

You understood the Masters’ weariness which governed the decision to separate you and Anakin on the battlefield. You really did. Lest your proximity allow the enemy to discover your connection, and by association, your eternal mission. But you’d do no good in fulfilling those responsibilities when stationed so far from Skywalker’s battlefield skirmishes.

It was time to take matters into your own hands, it seemed. Because while it had been a little while since you last spoke with Master Windu, you were positive that neither he nor Master Yoda himself would approve of you joining Anakin on his next mission.

No matter, you knew you had to anyway.

It was time to finally fulfill your responsibilities as The Chosen One’s Guardian.

And, maybe then, you could address the mistakes you were beginning to realize you’d made in your friendship with Obi-Wan.

Maybe then, you could face your fears in stride like Mill Alibeth, in hopes of a better future.

“I’ll remain here to help with the return efforts and the injured,” you justified succinctly, unintentionally dipping into the professional drone you’d so expertly habitualized in conversations with the bearded Jedi these past few weeks.

It would also be worth having your leg looked at, you internalized.

But that thought flitted away as another shimmer of peppery nothingness filled the airways with empty feedback.

Yet this time, out of the automative choir that filled your eardrums, you felt a tenuous lug in the Force’s most inner threads, drawing a sliver of confusion to crinkle across your brows as you perceived this foreign sensation not only emanate from within you, but from a distance too far to pinpoint.

“Stay if you must,” he uttered. "Not all paths need to run side-by-side, after all.”

The sarcastic lilt of his mechanically transmitted voice tugged at the cogs of your mind, but not staunchly enough to process the Jedi’s meaning before his cogent air collided with your eardrums once more.

 “Perhaps I’ve asked too much of you.”

You felt your cheeks chill an icy warmth as your body tried to reckon with the blood escaping to flood your features, synapses snapping with an equal potency of guilt and unease that threatened to spin the temperature of your ligaments into endless dials.

“But don’t worry,” he quickly finished while redirecting a more sanguine vocalization toward his former Padawan with the succinctness of a head turn. "we’ll call you when we need you.”

As you felt Anakin’s awkward hesitation from a filler word loosely pass across his comm line and directly into your very bones, you came to the solemn acceptance that the damage you’d chipped and chipped into existence this past week, was done.

And just as briskly, your motivation to mend your mistakes dissipated into the ether along with Anakin’s final sign-off.

“We’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Taglist

@js-favnanadoongi

@panandinpain0

@randomwriter435

@soleywoley

@burnthecheshirewitch

@lemonherb

@imherefordeanandbones

@aroundnothingsoundsright

[iobsessoverfictionalmen]

Sith Obi-Wan x Reader x Sith Qui-Gon Jinn

Enjoy this fic that popped into my head while I was at work today. On another note, self indulgent fics really are the best, aren’t they?

Warnings: mentions of death, serious injury, manipulation, criminals, nausea and canon typical violence.

“Whereas some would call that pragmatism, I believe it demonstrates a lack of faith.”

Detective Olivia Benson stiffened but otherwise gave no response to indicate that she’d heard the words of the man who appeared from nowhere and stood next to her, watching the young woman breathe through a ventilator.

Olivia had a choice: subtly examine the new arrival or openly confront him about his identity. She chose the latter.

The man was taller than her. He wore a black robe that covered him from head to toe but didn’t hide the fact that he wore black robes. His hair was closely cropped and he had auburn hair with a matching beard and moustache.

She opened her mouth to demand answers but the man held up his hand, “I will not take your voice as I find that to be rude. Instead know that I will not answer your questions.”

“Why?” Olivia bit out.

“They are not important. The only question you should ask me is: Can you heal the woman in the room opposite us who unfortunately was targeted by a criminal?”

Silence followed the man’s question. Doubt and hope battled inside Olivia and the silence stretched until it became painful. Olivia was all too aware of the slightly mocking edge to the man’s voice.

“What do you want in exchange?”

The man’s eyes unsettled Olivia; they glinted as if she was playing right into his hands and she could have sworn they had a yellow ring in the iris in both eyes. Then she blinked and the rings were gone.

The unknown man smiled, confirming Olivia’s theory that she was being manipulated. “I want you to know that you made all the events in the next twenty-four hours possible.”

“Wait!” Olivia called out but it was too late. The woman on the other side of the window suddenly gasped deeply and loudly. Her eyes flew open and her panicked gaze darted around the hospital room.

“Thank you, Detective Benson. You were very useful.”

The unsettling man disappeared as quickly and soundlessly as he’d arrived and at the same time, the doors to the hospital wards banged open. You rushed in at a sprint with Eliott hot on your heels.

The concerned frown on your face only grew more pronounced when Eliott mentioned that the woman was sitting up in bed with the support of nurses and the doctor.

“Olivia.” Your voice was soft but it trembled and that worried her. “What happened?”

Olivia recounted her nearly one sided conversation with the strange man. You swallowed when she described his features and behaviour. You were so shaken that you reached for a seat and lowered yourself down into it with quivering hands.

“Do you know him?”

You nodded in resignation, “The man you met was once called Obi-Wan Kenobi. However terrifying he might be, he has nothing on his former Master. His name was Qui-Gon Jinn.”

“Was?” Olivia pressed, horror churning in her stomach and making her nauseous.

“There was a time when I counted both of those men, Jedi, as good friends. But then we were ambushed one day and I was badly injured as a result. They….removed the threat and vanished from my life. Years later, I heard rumours that they’d Fallen and become Sith Lords.”

“Can Sith Lords heal people?” Olivia inquired.

You looked up at her, “Not without a price.”

Obi-Wan’s final words began to play on a loop in Olivia’s mind, “What would the price be?”

“To use the dark side of the Force in that way, another innocent life must be surrendered otherwise the healing process will be reversed.”

[ladysparklefarts]

Glitterbomb

Just a fun little short I'm rather proud of. Showcasing a pride in her shenanigans and a certain proclivity towards pranks, my OC Lora makes for safety.

"What was that?" Anakin asked as the trio made their hasty retreat. Obi-Wan glanced back as Lora snickered, a nasty sadistic little giggle escaping her lips.

"A glitter bomb."

"A what?" Obi-Wan and Anakin responded in unison.

"A glitter bomb. It won't hurt him, but Dooku will be scrubbing sparkles out of all of his orifices until the end of the war," Lora explained giddily as they dove for the ship.

"Take off!" Anakin gasped as Obi-Wan stared at Lora, a bewildered grin on his face. The clone in the pilot seat hollered back an affirmative and the ship sprang into action as the trio of Jedi laughed breathlessly.

Dooku stared at his reflection. The bomb Lora had thrown at him as they fled wasn't anything like he'd expected. He'd expected maiming and potential injury. Not... this. A rainbow of glimmering dust coated everything. He'd gotten it in his eyes, up his nose, in his mouth. Everywhere. Even as infuriating as it was though, he couldn't help the gentle smile that forced it's way onto his face. Lora reminded him so much of someone. She was chaos incarnate in the most Jedi way possible. She fought in the most unexpected ways and he couldn't help but feel a shimmer of hope for the Republic. Glitter really does get everywhere.