#qui won’t leave me alone

[blueman-irl]

I post this having absolutely nothing to say🗣️

[campingwiththecharmings]

Good Neighbors (5)

PART 4

AN: Thanks for your patience, guys. I've been having a rough time the last few months and it's been difficult to focus on a lot of things as a result, even writing. 😭 I did have a good couple of days tho and was able to bang this out (pun intended?) so I hope y'all enjoy. Here is the fifth smutlet in a series set after the events of Night Moves.

There you are, standing on the fire escape, fingers clutching the railing, head thrown back as you look up at the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see your face, but he knows it’s you; he’d recognize your silhouette anywhere. The yellow lights from the street shine around you like a halo, making you look like some kind of goddess. He moves closer, glass still in hand as he watches you, his heart beating wildly in his chest.   He’s drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. Hopefully he won’t get burned.

(Un-beta’d)

Rated: M+ (this is smut so, i mean, you’ve been warned?) Words: 1,396 Pairing: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x F!Reader Warnings: pwp, kissing, fingering, neighbors with benefits AO3

——————

Santiago’s still a little buzzed when he comes home from a night out with the guys, stumbling as he makes his way down the quiet, dimly lit hallway that houses his apartment. It’d been nice to get out, to see them, to take his mind off of things…off of you. He stares down your door as he passes it, looking for any sign that you might still be awake, anything he could use as an excuse to knock. It’s late, well into the next day, and even though you’re friendly (perhaps decidedly more so), he doesn’t want to bother you. 

He sighs, tearing his eyes away as he continues on, leaning against his door frame as he fumbles with his keys. When he makes it inside, he heads straight for the kitchen, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. He looks around as he sips, noting how quiet it is, how…empty it feels. Before he can consider those feelings, something outside catches his eye. 

Santi’s heart stalls in his chest. 

There you are, standing on the fire escape, fingers clutching the railing, head thrown back as you look up at the sky. It’s dark, too dark to see your face, but he knows it’s you; he’d recognize your silhouette anywhere. The yellow lights from the street shine around you like a halo, making you look like some kind of goddess. He moves closer, glass still in hand as he watches you, his heart beating wildly in his chest.  

He’s drawn to you, like a moth to a flame. Hopefully he won’t get burned. 

He stands at the window, eyes dragging slowly down your body, quietly taking you in. You’re wearing those silly little shorts again, the ones you were wearing the night he first met you, the ones that are always driving him up the wall; they’re tight and short, leaving little to the imagination (not that he needs to imagine as he’s seen what they’re covering). Every time you wear them, all he wants is to tear them off of you with his teeth. 

Someday, maybe. 

You haven’t seen him yet, still staring up at the sky. He notes the half-drunk bottle of wine on your windowsill and dread drops like a ball in his stomach. Did you have company? A pang of jealousy slices through him at the thought and he swallows, pushing it away. He sets his glass down on the table nearby before sliding the window open, a smile stretching on his lips when you quickly meet his eyes over your shoulder. 

“Evening, hermosa,” he greets, eyes briefly flicking toward your apartment, alert for any movement inside that could indicate you’re not alone. 

You smile, leaning heavily against the metal frame as you turn to face him. “Santi.” 

You say his name with a sigh, like you’ve been waiting for him, like you’re relieved that he’s here. 

He ignores the now-familiar longing that settles in his chest at the thought. 

Your smile widens as he comes closer, taking sips from the cup he hadn’t noticed was in your hand.  

“Come watch the sky with me,” you say, holding your free hand out to him. 

His lips quirk, his body relaxing slightly as he realizes this likely means that you are indeed alone. He takes your hand, smile widening when you giggle. He can tell you’re drunk, most definitely three sheets, the glassiness of your eyes and the ease of your smile giving you away. He’s a little drunk too, he thinks, and not just on the alcohol he’d had earlier. 

“Want some?” you breathe, swaying as you offer him your cup. 

He takes it, eyes locked on yours as he takes a sip. You chuckle, pulling your lip between your teeth as he sloshes the liquid around his mouth before swallowing it. As he drinks, you tell him about some comet you’re waiting for, that it’s supposed to streak across the sky soon. He should be listening, and he really does want to, but all he can seem to focus on is your mouth, the curve of your lips, the way your tongue peaks out to wet them periodically.  

You let his hand go, leaning over to grab the bottle of wine from the windowsill. You pour some more in his cup with a smile, before sealing your lips around the mouth of the bottle and taking a long pull. Santi swallows thickly as he watches, wondering how the wine would taste if it were coming from you rather than the cup in his hand. You laugh as some of the liquid escapes your mouth, running over your chin and sliding down your neck in rivulets. 

Santi wants to lick them from your skin. 

Unable to resist, he leans in, hand on your waist as he drags his tongue up the side of your neck. He hears your breath catch, the fingers of your free hand fisting in the fabric of his shirt. He groans softly at the taste of you, closing his eyes to savor it as he works his way up to your mouth. You sigh his name just before he kisses you and it sends a shiver down his spine. His mouth devours yours, tongue slipping between your lips, licking inside. You hum as it slides against yours, pulling him closer by his shirt as you kiss him back.  

He shifts, the hand on your waist moving as he slips it beneath the waistbands of both your shorts and your underwear. You break the kiss with a gasp as he cups your mound, dropping the empty wine bottle in surprise as he lightly brushes against your clit. He slips his fingers inside you, lip pulled between his teeth as you roll your hips against his hand. He watches your face as he slowly pumps his fingers in and out of your wet heat, groaning as you convulse around him. You cling to him, mouth falling open in ecstasy, eyelids heavy, chest heaving slightly—He swears he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life. 

His rough fingers caress your spongy walls, dragging over all your sweet spots. You keen when he hits that special one, the one deep inside you, the one that makes you feel like there are stars exploding beneath your skin. He leans in again, nuzzling your nose with his in an effort to soothe you, lips hovering. 

You whimper his name, trapping your lip between your teeth—the sound slices through him like a knife. Ignoring the ache in his chest, he fucks his fingers into you faster, his palm rubbing against your clit, dragging more pretty sounds from between your lips. Santi pulls back as you begin to flutter around him, muttering his encouragement to you as you near the edge. He takes in every sigh, every hitch in your breath, every twitch of pleasure in your face, packing the memories up carefully and storing them somewhere safe inside his head. You come with a gasp, heavy-lidded eyes locked on his as he gently shushes you, his fingers working you through it, prolonging your pleasure.  

Your body goes limp against him as you come down, a soft, sated smile on your lips. Santi smiles back, extricating his hand from between your legs and bringing them to his mouth. Your smile falters a little, eyes locking on his hand. He smirks, humming at the taste of you on his tongue. You kiss him after that, fingers tangling in his hair as you hold his face to yours, your tongue licking into his mouth.  

You laugh breathlessly when you break for air, leaning in to peck his lips a few more times. He chuckles, something warm settling in his chest. Something catches your eye, and you quickly turn away, gasping with delight as something bright streaks across the sky. 

“Santi, that’s it, that’s the comet!” 

Santiago looks up briefly, if only to see what all the fuss is about. He doesn’t really get it, if he’s honest, but it makes you happy and that’s all he really cares about at the moment. He watches as your eyes light up, the joy evident on your face. He feels something inside him loosen, something he’s kept sealed tight for far too long, something he’s not ready to admit to himself just yet.

If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I appreciate every single reblog and/or comment. Thank you. 💖

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PART 6

[hexheathen]

Writing sample

I needed a non-drive link for a writing sample so here is a small twins hc :>

“My sweet angels…”

Madeleine held her young daughter’s hand as her children rested on her frail torso. They had driven away the people in this cabin—just enough time for Madeleine to catch her breath. It was frigid outside, and her fever was worsening no matter how hard she tried to hide it. Charlotte could see it. She was in tune with her mother’s condition, insisting they stop and rest, no matter the danger. They were both so young, their wide blue eyes reflecting a fear Madeleine desperately tried to shield them from. The same blue eyes as their father, gone too soon.

They shouldn’t have to live like this, Madeleine thought, looking at her children. So full of fear... and anger.

She knew the world was not kind to them. Her beautiful children. They’ll never see the light in you. They didn’t know Charlotte had learned to read before she turned six, her deep voice already capable of singing the most beautiful songs. They didn’t know how Victor would sneak small treats and treasures, always saving some for his sister and mother. He would whistle along to Charlotte’s singing, finding joy even in their darkest moments. If only the world could see their kindness… If only they’d give them a chance…

"Mes chéris. Mes adorables enfants. S'il vous plaît, aussi tentant que cela puisse être dans un monde aussi grossier et sans cœur, n'oubliez jamais qui vous êtes. Ne devenez jamais les monstres qu'ils sont."

[“My darlings. My lovely children. As tempting as it might be in a world so crude and heartless, never forget who you are. Never become the monsters they are.”]

“Do to them what they have done to us.”

The fog was thick, the oppressive hum of the generators growing louder. Charlotte stalked her prey, the weight of it crushing her soul. A doll, she called them. A tiny survivor with bright blue hair, so vibrant against the bleakness of the trial. She was to be the next target of their twisted duty.

Victor was close. She could feel him even if his cries were silent to the women. The heartbeat thrummed in her ears—their heartbeat, almost as if it had become her own. Her vision clouded as she neared the survivor.

“We have to collect the dolls, for God’s sake, sister. Or else... They’ll take me away again. They’ll kill me. I don’t want to leave you alone. Not again.”

I can’t lose him again... I can’t. The thought echoed through her mind with every step she took closer. She hated every moment of it. Her eyes filled with tears of regret as she moved, her heart heavy with the knowledge that this wasn’t survival. This was killing. We are killing so that I don’t have to lose him again.

She had lost him once. She couldn’t... wouldn’t... do it again.

Charlotte’s hands trembled as she cornered the survivor. The Doll, wide-eyed and desperate, didn’t stand a chance. For a moment, Charlotte hesitated, her mind screaming to stop. In that brief pause, a flood of longing surged within her—If only things were different… If only I could protect instead of destroy. But Victor’s silent presence reminded her of what had to be done. We owe them this… We have to survive.

“Do it,” Victor’s words echoed in her mind, spurring her forward. She had to act. I’m sorry.

Her hand tightened around the weapon. First, their legs, she thought numbly, so they can’t run. Then their neck… something quick, something clean. She didn’t want them to suffer. Not this time. Not the first. Maybe if it was fast or gentle, she could pretend she hadn’t fully become the monster… at least, not yet.

But when the blood splattered her hands, she couldn’t ignore it. Why won’t it wash off? She had tried to scrub it away, but it was in vain. Dolls don’t bleed... so why do my hands still feel so stained?

“They’re trying to take me away, sister. They’re the ones hurting us.”

Victor’s words dug deeper into her heart as the chilling shrieks filled the air. But this time, it wasn’t the sound of a survivor falling in the trial. It was her own soul-breaking.

I’m sorry, maman. I promised you I wouldn’t become the monster they are. I tried.

But her promise had been broken.

[iheartgod175]

Some Thoughts!

Man, I haven’t done a post like this in a while! But I figured I might as well before I work on one of my numerous WIPs XD

—So, I’ve been back on a Zula Patrol kick like you wouldn’t believe. Though that should be obvious with all the memes I’ve been making, haha! I promise this won’t become a Zula Patrol only blog, haha!

—I’ll be working on building my graphic design/editing skills so I can properly redesign my blogs ^^ You can expect a few graphics throughout the month! :)

—Chapter 4 of The Zula Patrol: Dreamscape Crusade Remastered is also coming along pretty nicely. I’ve been enjoying adding the layers of mystery and horror to the world that Multo ends up in. Oh, and a couple of new characters are making their appearance, too. And that’s all I’m going to say about the subject!

—I’ve also been steadily working on Love Language for the last couple of months. I thought FOR SURE that I’d be posting its first chapter by the end of the month, but life happened��not to mention that I keep coming up with MORE headcanons for Multo and Zeeter that I just have to write down and put in the story. XD Also, the story’s grown to the point where I had to break it up into FIVE chapters, now, with the fifth being the actual conclusion. This story’s been so fun to work on, and I hope you’ll all enjoy it when I finally publish it.

—That being said, I did have a few insecurities regarding the writing of Love Language. I wondered if anybody would actually read this story since 1. ZP isn’t a very well-known cartoon, and 2. Even for rarepair standards, Multo/Zeeter sure seems like it came out of left field. And for about a few weeks, I did leave it alone, out of worry that nobody would read it. But then I came across posts in my feed that said that it’s important to write the stories that you’d like to read, even if they don’t get any readership, because telling your story is what matters. I’ve dealt with this a lot since writing all of my stories, namely my Zula Patrol series. And while I struggle with it occasionally, I’m not going to let that whole “nobody will probably read this” mentality stop me from writing about these goofy aliens, and my favorite opposites-attract ship, of which I’m the sole captain.

—While I’ve been working on Blazin’ Trails content off and on, I’m having a deuce of a time trying to work on the final chapter of the original BT. I’ll literally sit down and open the document, looking for something to leap out at me and inspire me to work…but nothing’s working. And I really want to get things started with Blazin’ Trails Redux as well…*sigh*

—As for Super Why stuff, I’m looking forward to seeing the new shorts that are debuting next month! I got to see the first short, and it’s adorable. And I also can’t wait to see more of Power Paige in action! I just really hope that Woofster and Alpha Pig aren’t written out of the show :(

—Speaking of PBS Kids stuff…I kinda sorta got back into both WordGirl and Arthur. GOD, I feel old! And now, I’m half-tempted to have WG guest star in SRBA like Santiago will. The SRBA ‘verse? More like Into the Reader-verse, LOL XD

—Sodor Magic Crusaders MAY be getting an update in the near future. I thought about working on it for the first time in months, and I remembered that I only have a few episodes left until I can get to write the second season.

—Slowly but surely getting back into Honkai Impact 3rd. I still haven’t gotten a chance to watch the part 2 trailer, but it looks like it’s gonna be interesting!

—One thing’s for sure. Power Paige will definitely appear in the SRBA ‘verse. I just have to figure out what her backstory would be as well as her powers and what kind of fighting style she’d have. I know for sure it won’t be a sword—we already have four sword fighters in SRBA thus far (Super Why, Presto, Muse and Jackson).

—In Super Why news, I HAVE been working on the fifth chapter bit by bit, and I’d like to say that it’s about 65% finished. I don’t think it’ll be quite as long as the last update, but I don’t want to speak too soon ^^;

—I haven’t drawn anime in ages, not since I first started uploading on DeviantArt. And I admit, the pic that I’m going to post of Usagi isn’t the best..but you know what? Screw it! The only way I can improve is to practice, even if it’s wonky or incorrect! ^^

[atchoumthecat]

Atchoum: I used to have a sister who never wanted to play with me, and now I’m stuck with a clingy little brother who won’t leave me alone for a second. 😒

****************

J’avais une sœur qui ne voulait jamais jouer avec moi, et maintenant je suis pogné avec un petit frère accaparant qui ne me lâche pas d’une semelle. 😒

[darkjanet2]

Sonic Adventure 2: Sonadow

Chapter 6: Arrive at the Prison Island

Sonic was sitting in his jail cell, his knees close to his chest and his head resting on them. His hands were folded neatly in his lap as he rocked back and forth.

'Why won’t they tell me what’s going on? I know I didn't steal the Choas Emerald, but they won't believe me. I mean, I know it’s not my fault that I got caught' Sonic thought bitterly to himself.

He looked up at the ceiling, deeply thinking about Shadow and how to beat him. He was a master of many forms of combat; from gunmanship to hand to hand and from hand to foot. He was also pretty damn good at fighting with his fists. He shook his head.

'No time to think like that,' he thought. 'It's important to focus. I have to practice beating Shadow.'

He stood up and raised his fists, staring at them as he clenched his jaw. “I'll show Shadow that I am not going to lose! I'll become the best!” He pumped his fist in the air as he punched through the air several times before dropping into a crouch and punching the ground. Then he was doing the kicking exercises again. He was just getting started.

“You can do it, Sonic! Just hit harder and kick harder, just like Knuckles taught you how to fight!” he shouted to himself as he did another set of kicks. “Yeah, I’ll get you! I’ll kick your ass until you’re crying for mercy! And then you’re going down!"

Meanwhile

Amy and Tails arrived at the Prison Island. The sun was rising before them, casting long shadows across the ocean. They landed near the island and walked out towards the edge. The sun glinted off the sea’s surface as it rose higher and higher above them, illuminating a large expanse of water. ‘So beautiful…’ said Amy as she gazed around her, admiring the view.

"So this is the Prison Island," said Tails, looking over the edge. “Sonic must be here somewhere."

"We can always find him if we look for long enough," replied Amy as she began walking along the edge of the cliff. "This place has an amazing view. It makes me feel like I could conquer the whole world. And there are so many things to explore, too."

"Yeah, I guess it does, although I'm sure Sonic could come up with something better than this," Tails frowned, gesturing around at the prison island and the ocean. "And I bet he already knows it. He would be bored if he couldn't do all those things!"

"I'm going to save my Sonic from boredom! That’s what I’m going to do after I defeat Eggman," said Amy, running to the center of the island.

"Amy, wait!" shouted Tails, but Amy had already gone. He sighed, "What am I going to do with her?" Tails wasn’t exactly a big fan of the idea of leaving Amy alone with Eggman, especially since he knew that she was going to try and rescue him. He hoped that she wouldn’t go in there all by herself.

Tails took a capsule out of his pocket and threw it on the ground to reveal a vehicle called Cyclone, he mounted his Cyclone and went into the forest.

“Alright, let’s see what I can find.” He ran towards the forest, hoping he could find some clues as to where Sonic might be. And Amy, too, if she managed to get past Eggman and get to the Prison Island. He was a little worried about that possibility.

-- Amy looked for Sonic in all the forests and swamps surrounding Prison Island, but no sign of him seemed to appear. She had tried searching everywhere except for the prison itself and was starting to wonder why. But then she saw a shadow in the distance. ‘Is that Sonic?’ she wondered, picking up speed towards it. She soon reached the clearing area and stopped, surprised to see the black hedgehog and a female bat talking to each other, standing about five feet apart.

Amy smiled in relief. “Thank goodness he’s okay!” She rushed forward. She grabbed Sonic around his torso and hugged him. “Oh Sonic, it’s so great to see you again,” she whispered in his ear. He didn't respond to her hug, so Amy pulled away and stared into his eyes. He was different. He had black fur with red stripes on his quills, arms, and legs. He had crimson-red eyes, and he had white fur on his chest.

Amy gasped, "You're not Sonic! Who are you?!" she demanded angrily, pointing at the ebony hedgehog. She backed up, ready to defend herself should the other figure attack her.

Then Eggman appeared in front of Amy. He pointed a menacing finger at her, "Don't interfere!"

Amy backed up, "Dr. Eggman!" she cried in fear. Her heart pounded in her chest. This was not the first time he had threatened her, but this one scared her more than anything else ever had. She was frozen in fear.

"Aaaaaahhhh!!!" she screamed as she ran away from Dark Team.

"Aaah, Amy, your timing is impeccable!" Eggman turned to Rouge and Shadow, "Leave it to me. I'll take care of her. You two go."

They both nodded and disappeared. Amy kept running until she had run about half a mile. She stopped at the edge of the cliff and looked out over the ocean. The waves crashed onto the rocks below, sending huge waves crashing against the coast. The wind blew strongly against Amy’s hair and face, causing a shiver to go through her. She turned her attention from the ocean to the prison island.

"Give up, Amy! No one can escape my clutches! Especially not a foolish girl like you!" Amy whirled around to face the sound of Eggman's voice. He was standing about ten yards away from her, smiling maliciously. Amy gulped in fear. She couldn't let him catch her. If he caught her, he would hurt her.

Fortunately, Tails was able to save Amy from certain death. She felt relieved at the moment. It was clear to her that he was capable of protecting her.

"Amy, are you okay?" Tails asked, trying to calm her.

"Yes, thank you, Tails," replied Amy.

"Stand back, Amy." Tails jumped backward and fired an energy blast at the approaching villain. Eggman was knocked off his feet and fell down to the rocks below. He quickly got up and glared daggers at Tails.

"Where is Sonic?!" Tails demanded, "If you don't tell me, I'M gonna break every bone in your body and throw them into the ocean!"

"I don’t know where Sonic is," answered Eggman. "But if I did, you wouldn't get any information out of me." The two friends stared at each other, their hatred for each other evident. "Now," growled Eggman as he pressed the button. It transformed into a massive robotic scorpion made of steel materialized in front of him. He aimed his claw at the two Mobius as it slowly began walking towards them. "Let's finish this."

15 minutes later

Eggman was panting, looking all scratched up and bruised from Tails' attacks. Tails was still panting too, but he was alright. Eggman looked at Tails and growled, "Not bad, young fox, but you've lost your edge! You weren't able to knock me unconscious. You need to improve, or you won't survive."

Eggman fled from the battlefield, disappearing into thin air. Amy watched him fly away, confused by what just happened. She turned to Tails, who looked slightly shocked. "Are you okay, Tails?" she asked him.

"Yeah, but what were you doing? Don't you know how dangerous it was? You could have been hurt! What if you were hurt or captured? I couldn't even think of a way to get you out of the situation! Why are you so reckless sometimes?!?" asked Tails, exasperated.

"I'm sorry. I just wanted to save my lovey-dovey Sonic from being in prison," replied Amy sadly.

Tails paused for a moment, then looked up, a strange expression coming across his face. His mouth hung open slightly. Then he snapped out of it and shook his head, "No, you…you have to stop that. It's stupid. He's not your Sonic."

Amy frowned. "What do you mean? We're in love, aren't we?"

"You know what I mean," said Tails sternly. "Anyway, we have to save Sonic and get outta here."

"You're right. We have to hurry! I know Eggman's up to no good again!" said Amy.

"Okay, you stay here and I'll be right back!" said Tails, he left Amy and raced away towards the prison island.

"Don't leave without me! I wanna help Sonic, too!" yelled Amy after him, running after Tails as fast as she could.

Meanwhile in prison

Sonic was pacing back and forth in his cell, thinking hard. He needed to figure out what Eggman wanted with him, and how he was going to destroy the machine that controlled the robot. As soon as he figured that out, he was confident that they would be out of jail before the end of the day.

Suddenly, a clanking metal noise came from the ceiling causing him to look up. A vent in the wall near the ceiling had opened, and Amy climbed down from it. Sonic tensed.

"Amy?!" he exclaimed in surprise.

She placed her index finger to her lips to shush him, "Shhh! Keep your voice down! Have no fear, Amy Rose is here," she twirled around as she danced around him in circles, "to save you." She walked over to his cell and held up the key for him, "Come on, let's get you out of here."

Sonic sighed, "How'd you get here?"

"Well, if you gotta know… I caught a ride with Tails. Are you sure you don't need my help? It looks like you could use it," she tilted her head, gave him flirty eyes smile, and batted her eyelashes.

Sonic rolled his eyes, "Whatever, the reason I'm in here is because of that fake hedgehog."

"You mean that black hedgehog?" asked Amy.

Sonic turned to Amy in surprise, "Wait… Do you see him? Where is he now?"

"If I tell you, will you marry me?" smirked Amy, placing her hand on her cheek with a coy smile.

"For God's sake, Amy! Stop acting crazy and give me answers already!" replied Sonic annoyed. Amy giggled and winked at him. She moved closer to him and whispered seductively in his ear, "We'll make him pay, Sonic. Trust me."

Sonic blushed a little, knowing Amy meant everything she said. She put the keycard through the slot to open the cell door and led him out of his prison. Amy walked to Sonic, she smelt something reek coming from him. She pinched her nose and grimaced. She moved away from him in disgust.

"Ew, you reek! Have you been working out?" she asked, disgusted.

Sonic scratched sheepishly his head, "Um… Yeah… Sorry, I had to train hard about how I beat that fake hedgehog last night…"

Amy sighed, "That black hedgehog came here with Dr. Eggman."

"So, Eggman's behind this, huh?" mumbled Sonic.

Amy walked into the cell there was a lot of writing on the wall and she found what she was looking for in the corner.

"What's with all the writing on the wall, anyway? Did you write that?" she asked Sonic curiously.

He didn't respond to her question. She turned around and Sonic was nowhere to be seen. She furrowed her brows. Where could he possibly be? Had he managed to get away? Was he hiding somewhere?

"Hello?" she called.

Nothing. No response.

"Wait for me, Sonic!" she yelled after him, then she sighed. "He's such an ass sometimes."

[gffa]

     “As hard as it was to become a Jedi, it was even harder to stop being one.”      “They were all gone.  All the Jedi.  And sometimes I wondered if I should have gone with them.”      “You never trained me for this, Master Qui-Gon.  You never taught me how to fade away.”      "There's a strength and nobility in restraint.  I know that's what you'd tell me, Master Qui-Gon.  But nothing about this feels noble.  The people here are dying. While I do nothing.  I cannot fight as a Jedi.  I cannot train the boy.  I am lost here, Master.”      "My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.  The last of my Order.  But this is not the end of the Jedi.  All it took was a young boy's courage to assure me of that." Now that we have the teaser trailer for Obi-Wan Kenobi out, I’ve been wanting to reread these issues of Star Wars about Obi-Wan’s time on Tatooine.  Who knows how well they will or won’t fit together with what the show gives us, as I doubt they’re much on the radar of the show.  But that’s not the point of why I wanted to reread them, and it’s more that I love this storyline. Because the Obi-Wan we see at the end of Revenge of the Sith is heartbroken, he feels responsible for not being able to prevent Anakin’s fall to the dark side, he’s lost his entire family, his community, his people, his culture.  And he cannot even speak openly of that loss, he cannot practice his own faith, he would be hunted down and killed--or worse--if anyone knew what his faith was.  That he was born as Force-sensitive and raised as a Jedi, that alone was enough that the Empire was hunting him down to kill him, much less that he was Obi-Wan Kenobi. And that’s what really tortures Obi-Wan.  The loss of his family and people devastates him, but that he cannot even lean on his faith, he cannot even be a Jedi anymore, that every cell in him wants to help people, but he cannot, because it would call attention to him, call attention to Luke. This is the central conflict Obi-Wan faces, because he is a Jedi to the core. “Jedi cannot help what they are. Their compassion leaves a trail. The Jedi code is like an itch. He cannot help it.” “I cannot fight as a Jedi.  I cannot train the boy.  I am lost here, Master.” Obi-Wan Kenobi is lost because he only has the thinnest of threads to hold onto in a galaxy that has frayed and snapped and broken every other one.  He is the survivor of a genocide of his people, a galaxy of lights he used to be able to feel in his mind are now dark, and he cannot even talk about it, because there would be no shelter and it would only drag down more people.  Would only snuff out the last few candles of light left.  Cannot help anyone because it would only make them suffer more.  And that conflicts with everything he was taught to be, everything he wants to be--someone who helps people because of his compassion for them, an itch that lives under his skin and that he must hold himself back from scratching. And the story is about finding the balance there.  Because the danger still lurks, but learning when and where you can still help, learning how to find a way to be a Jedi in a galaxy that is so vastly different than what it used to be, to find a way to hide who and what you are until the time is right, without losing yourself to it.  That’s Obi-Wan Kenobi’s journey and there is still so much room for story in that. Especially because, whatever happens, we know he does get to be a Jedi openly again.  Maybe only for a brief moment, but when facing Vader on the Death Star, there’s no question that Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Jedi, that is his culture, his faith, and his purpose.  One that will help save the galaxy, one that will help create a moment for Luke and Leia and Han to escape and find their own path forward, one that will eventually allow him to become a Force Ghost and continue to help guide Luke and eventually reunite him with Anakin. Do we know what happens ultimately with Obi-Wan?  Yeah, of course, we’ve seen A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back and Revenge of the Sith.  We know how this story ends, but the journey there is one that I’m very interested in, because it absolutely aches to think of a Jedi who cannot even be who they are in a galaxy that would kill them just for existing, and how they must grapple with the horror and pain of that, how they find their way through such a deep cutting into their spirit and still moving forward, still trying to find the light and hope again.

[therewasatale]

craving touch (Part 1)

Part 1 - discomfort

On Ao3.

Obi-Wan felt uncomfortable in his skin. He tried his best to pay attention to the discussion while hiding his feelings through the Force. His fingers touched his arm, he felt the bandage underneath his clothes and put on enough pressure to keep his attention in a bay. And that pain helped him to clear his head.

"After all, the negotiations were successful and the baron decided to side with the Republic." Mace Windu crossed his arms in front of him, as he spoke on the holoprojector.

"And next time, I'll be here and we'll catch Grievous together." Anakin said almost snarling as he nodded at his master. He paused only for a moment, and his eyes narrowed a bit, but continued. "But now you need to rest, master, and you can go back to Coruscant to have some rest." He placed his hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder.

"Skywalker, you will be needed soon, be ready to depart Obi-Wan," Windu spoke up and everyone listened to him again. "Nice work."

"Thank you, the Negotiator, thanks to the Force is still able to go back home. A couple of days and we can go back at the front line." Obi-Wan finally let his body relax a bit.

"May the Force be with you all." The broadcast ended, the holo-display changed back to show a map and some data of the nearby planet.

"Nice work, that is a real compliment coming from Master Windu." Ahsoka coughed standing next to Rex. The clone allowed himself a half-smile.

"As you say, Snips." Anakin's hand still rested on his master's shoulder. "But you really should go and meditate, Obi-Wan, since I know sleeping is off the table when we're talking about you. We'll take over from here, check over everything once again, and then you all can go back to Coruscant." He gently patted the man's shoulder before letting him go.

Obi-Wan's shoulders tensed up, he tried his hardest to hide his feelings from the two other jedi in a room, he didn't want to let Ahsoka feel his discomfort. It was embarrassing to know that Anakin was aware of it already. "Yes." He managed to find his voice. "I think it would be the best. I leave it to you, then, Anakin."

"He should be really tired, -ouchhey." Whispered Ahsoka, then Rex gently poked her with his elbow.

"You'll be fine, master. You chased away the big, evil cyborg."

"I wish I were able to defeat him once and for all." Obi-Wan shook his head.

"You cut one of his limbs off, seriously damaged his dreadnought, and practically decimated his army." Said Anakin.

"I suppose." Obi-Wan gently rubbed his eyes, trying to wash away some of the exhaustion. "Cody, while I rest; I leave things to you and Anakin. You can find me in my room if there are any problems."

"Yes, general." The clone commander carefully watched his jedi, only Rex noticed that his eyes were more serious than usually.

"But there won't be any problem, go to sleep." His former padawan gently started to push him out of the bridge. "We will wake you up, if needed."

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, but nodded gratefully to Anakin before exiting the wide door. They were right. Yes, he was tired. Yes, he needed to take care of himself.

"Have a nice sleep, master Kenobi." Ahsoka called after him.

He waved a bit of a thank you and goodbye, then began walking down the hall alone.

When he got away from everyone, his skin began to tingle in the same way it usually did. The nervous knot in his stomach was there again, as it had been for months. He knew he was touch starved, but he decided not to face it, not yet. He couldn't let it get in his way in the middle of the war.

He had this condition from a very young age. He felt it even as a youngling, and he had to deal with it when he became a padawan. The masters were aware of his feelings, and most of them helped it to control it. Even Qui-Gon sensed his nervousness, but for Obi-Wan's surprise, his master didn't think at it as a bad thing. Physical contact itself was not something he should worry about, rather the craving for it that can be dangerous. The Force made him this way for a reason - he once told him. And he taught him as much as he could to manage his feelings. As a Jedi, keeping his desires under control proved to be quite a challenge.

His master made sure to kept it in a balance; he always put a hand on his shoulder, or on his back when he sensed Obi-Wan's discomfort through the Force. And sometimes he even embraced him. To this day, Obi-Wan wasn't sure that those occasions didn't just deepen the relationship between them. Either way, he was grateful to Qui-Gon, he had never told him to suppress his feelings, only to focus on the present and the Force.

And Obi-Wan had learned over the years, even though sometimes he noticed that they were trying to break through. The yearning of being held, and holding onto someone. During the meditations, he could sometimes only go deeper when he imagined that hands that stroked his back and chest and hugged him tightly, almost protectively.

He trembled at the thought, and had to slow down in his steps.

The war didn't help.

Back at the temple at least he could hug master Plo. The Kel-Dor soon realized he needed to be touched so he always kept a close eye on him, especially after Qui-Gon's death. And Obi-Wan always felt deep gratitude towards him too. With his help, he was able to keep his own feelings at bay. Not just about the loss of Qui-Gon, but him becoming a full knight, and a master so fast.          

And now he was stuck in a war - he, and every jedi, and every clone.

And he became more touch starved with every week. Honestly, he was a bit proud of himself, that itching feeling of loneliness took a long time to completely got a hold of him. He focused on the war and on every battle, - on his men to protect them, as much of them as he was capable.

First, he didn't know what to expect about his clones. First, he thought a bunch of soldiers will be completely different from him, - a jedi - but how foolish he was. They too were taught not to get attached, Force, they were taught they didn't even matter. Their only purpose was to fight for the Republic, and die if they must. They were ready to throw their life away to protect him, or to win in a battle.

For the first couple of days, he needed to meditate, and think. His soul felt heavy, and while he focused on the battles, his guilt stood with him.

He had to push down the urge to constantly argue with them about the importance of their lives. There are millions of clones, they said; if some of them die, three other brothers will take their place to fight. But there was only a few jedi, and all of them are important, much more than a clones. Obi-Wan almost let out a dry, empty laugh the first time he heard that.

He folded his arms in front of him. Every part of his being wanted to hug his men, to comfort them, to comfort himself. He wasn't a soldier, he wasn't supposed to be a soldier, just a peacekeeper. But sometimes he felt like he failed being both of it.

With a small nod he walked besides his men until he reached the turbolift. As the door closed, he leaned his back against the wall and took a shuddering breath.

He tried to cling into the tiny hope that Anakin was the only one who noticed he was trembling. Ahsoka was still young, but the Force was strong with her, there was no question about it, and she also seemed to be better at sensing someone else's feelings than most people.

Still, Obi-Wan had to hid himself even from his people, it would make him look weak in the end, and he couldn't allow that. Acting like a general, that was expected of him, and in the last few months he realized what exactly that meant.

Luckily, he was returning to the temple soon, if Force willing, maybe Master Plo will be there as well.

He pulled himself straight, gently adjusted his clothes, crossed his arms in front of him again, then stepped out of the lift. Maybe he was really worrying for nothing.

 But of course, there was someone, besides Anakin, who realized that something was wrong with the jedi master.

Cody was watching his superior throughout the conversation, taking notes to himself. Any of his men could tell that the jedi had been on his feet for too long. His injuries were too fresh to run around, making sure that everything was in order. However, in the last weeks, the jedi's behavior has changed. It felt like he closed himself up from them. His usually open demeanor faltered and he seemed to have turned inwards.

After the briefing, he assigned everyone their tasks and checked everything that was required. But even then, their general didn’t let himself relax. Only when Skywalker left his hand on his master's shoulder, the older man let himself ease a little bit.

Something was off with his general, and as a clone he needed to figure it out what, so he could help him. After checking on everything again, he decided to search for Skywalker. For once, Force decided to side with him. At least he thought the Force probably worked something like that, since he found General Skywalker and Commander Tano with the 212th in the cafeteria.

Most of his brothers were keeping their attention on the general, and each one of them tried to sit as close as it was possible.

Cody couldn't help but let himself smile.

Loud laughter broke out around the general, in which Ahsoka also joined in on.

"And so, we got our lightsabers back, and even our clothes too." Anakin chuckled along with the clones. "But of course, if the master tells this adventure of ours, he usually only notes that we engaged in a long diplomatic discourse, then duly accepted the drinks served to us. Then we left the next day."

"The general doesn't tell much about his old adventures." Hex noted cautiously, following his words quite a few curious glances fixed on Skywalker.

Cody nodded to himself in agreement. Obi-Wan always warned them to keep their eyes on the present, sometimes he revealed a detail here or there about his old adventures, but mostly the answer was always the same; it's a long, old story, and I'll tell it in time, when we will have time. That time never came though, only that sad glint remained in the Jedi's eyes.

"In time he will surely tell, Obi-Wan always focuses on the present, as he taught me. Just give him some time."

Cody slowly clenched his fists as he stepped closer. "General, may I have a word, sir?" Good, he was able to hold his voice.

Skywalker turned to the clone, his eyes watched him carefully before he stood up, he was most likely already aware of his intentions when he approached. "Well everyone, duty calls, maybe we will have a different story next time."

Cody stepped next to the jedi and they made their way out of the cafeteria.

"How can I help you, Cody?" Skywalker asked when they were finally alone.

"I would like to ask, about General Kenobi." The clone felt a nervous knot appearing in his stomach.

"Something personal, perhaps?"

Cody really wished in that moment that he was wearing his helmet. "No-, well in a way."

"I'm listening." Skywalker seemed more serious, he really did care about his master after all. He was a good man, a bit extra for Cody's taste, and maybe a bit unpredictable. But he protected his men at least as conscientiously as Kenobi. Even though his usual methods and unconventional tactics didn’t always suggest this. Regardless, he was glad that Rex was serving under Skywalker, both he and the young jedi seemed to get along well.

Cody cleared his throat. "The general, he seemed more worried for days now, I'd even say he seemed uneasy, sir. I wondered if there would be a way to help him to get some rest." He didn't know exactly where they were going, but he waited patiently for an answer as best he could, and he didn't know who to turn to.

"Obi-Wan has always, erm, needed closeness."

Cody tried not to give to the jedi an odd look.

Skywalker either didn't see it, or just didn't care about it as he continued. "As his former Padawan, I know how much it affects him - to lose even one soul that he tried to save. And besides that…" He went silent again.

For a second it seemed like the jedi became uncomfortable.

Cody didn't know if he stepped over a line, or if he asked something wrong. Maybe it was his fault, maybe it was some kind of Jedi thing that the kaminoans never knew, so they couldn’t teach them. Maybe he should just have to mind his own business. Before he could say anything, Anakin started talking again.

"He mostly meditated with someone else." The jedi glanced at him, again, there was something in his eyes. "With his master, and with me. Maybe you should help him, he could teach you how to meditate, and you could help him to calm down a bit."

"I'm not sure, sir. I have never-"

"It's all right, Obi-Wan was always a good teacher. You just have to sit with your back against his." He looked at Cody up and down. "Maybe without the armor. It, um, well your back needs to touch his. It will help."

Cody gave the jedi an uncertain look, he has never meditated before in his life, but it was sure as the stars that he wasn’t going to argue about it with a jedi. "Well, if you say, sir. And if it really helps the general, then I think I could try."

Skywalker patted his shoulder and stopped after a few steps. "Good, I think he's still up, probably reading the reports, or the situation about the war around the galaxy."

"He does that, maybe a bit too much." Cody stood next to him. "Worrying too much, and getting hurt during that."

Skywalker glanced at him, with that same mysterious look.

"Sir? Is there something on my face?"

"Nothing, Cody. I'm glad you're next to my master. You're a good man." He gently patted his shoulder again. "Good luck, and don't let yourself be shaken off."

Cody raised an eyebrow, and had to blink a couple of times when he finally realized that they walked right to Obi-Wan's room. He caught Skywalker's gaze as he glanced back at him over his shoulder.

After a couple of moments Cody stepped closer to the door. It felt as if he was up against the biggest challenge of his life. But he wanted to help, it was his duty; taking care of his jedi. And even if it wouldn't have been his task, he would have still wanted to help the man.

He took a deep breath, but the door opened before he was able to knock.

[annaallicce]

Memories - Chapter 2

Y/n and Sirius were lying on the bad, she lay with her head on Sirius chest as he stroked her back “how was it meeting Harry” y/n asked.

“He is brave and determined, I was very proud and happy to meet him.’’

y/n smiled "he is a good boy even in spite of everything, Vernon and Petunia are terrible people and treat him horribly"

Sirius sighed "he told me, he even wanted to come and live with me, but it was safer for him to stay away, the dementors won't be leaving me alone anytime soon" y/n nodded.

Sirius squeezed her hand and smiled "it's good to be with you, I didn't think I would see you again"

"I thought I wouldn't either" she looked at him and smirked "and you're still flexible".

Sirius laughed " I can't believe you remember that"

''It's serious'' y/n said laughing.

"I did yoga in Azkaban, when the dementors weren't looking" Sirius spoke amused and y/n's laughter increased 

James arrived at the dormitory, where Sirius was "man, there's been some weird gossip about you" Sirius looked at him confused, James had an amused look on his face " they're talking about your flexibility" Sirius was still confused, James continued "that you're quite flexible at the time..."

Sirius interrupted him "got it!" now he was wide-eyed "where did you hear that?

"Out there" James was definitely having fun

"Why are you finding this funny? You should be inspired, after all having good flexibility is not a bad thing''

James laughed “some are saying you use the braquium remendo spell"

Sirius raised an eyebrow "that spell is for mending bones not for making them flexible"

"But they say you miss it on purpose to..."

"Ok, enough!" Sirius interrupted him again now nervously " who's been saying these things?

''Probably some girl you've deluded, meaning almost half of Hogwarts?"

Sirius rolled his eyes "don't exaggerate" he sighed "I'm going to have to find out who it is... I hate it when they get angry to the point of spreading fallacies”.

James put a hand on Sirius' shoulder "I am amused"

Sirius removed James' hand from his shoulder "I noticed... so to reward, being a good friend, you will help me find the person responsible.”

''no, no, I have a date with Lily today, I'm sorry, ask Remus or Peter''

"To tease me you have time, no?"

James laughed "Always my friend" and left the dorm.

 Sirius saw Remus and Peter in the communal hall, he went over to them ''Guys I need your help"

"Look if it isn't the flex man" Remus spoke smiling as peter smiled as well.

"that's what I want to talk about, I need help finding the person who spread this rumor about me"

"And what would you do? whoever it is, is going to keep spreading lies, whether you know who it is or not" Remus said

"I don't know yet, one thing at a time! let's first find out who it is and then find a solution to the problem"

''your problems tire us Sirius" Peter said as he got up from the couch

"Is that a yes?" he asked excitedly

they both nodded.

  Everyone started asking various people about who might be spreading the lies about Sirius until they came up with a name Marlene McKinnon.

''okay, now you know who it is, what are you going to do?'' Remus asked

Sirius smiled ''I will prepare the truth portion for her''

''that's a good idea, but if I remember you failed miserably in that class, in fact none of us did very well'' Remus said

''but I remember one person who does it perfectly'' Sirius said determined

 ''y/n, my dear y/n'' Sirius put his arm around her shoulder

She sighed and said ''look guys, I know Lily told you that after she started dating James, she left me alone, but I'm fine, I don't need company this is fine.

“We need your help'' Sirius said turning to look at her

"These last few times you've been with me, I've realized that helping you is the same thing as joining in some trouble, so I'll politely decline

''If you help us, we won't bother you anymore'' Sirius had a big smile now

"Okay, what do you need?" she answered so quickly it surprised the boys

"That you do a portion of the truth" said Remus still surprised at her quickness in answering

"What do you need that for? And how am I going to get the ingredients?

Peter said ''you're not aware of the rumor?'' she looked confused Peter was about to speak when Sirius interrupted him.

"It doesn't matter! As for the ingredients, we'll give them to you, but we'll need your help to get them.

"Look at the catch, can't you guys go a day without getting into trouble?" y/n asked annoyed.

‘'Remember, after this we won't bother you anymore'' Sirius spoke with a hopeful look

y/n sighed ''right, how am I going to help you guys?''

Remus excitedly spoke ''after Lily, you are Professor Slughorn's favorite''

y/n looked thoughtfully at the floor ''actually Dorcas is second favorite... then there's Snape and...''

Remus interrupted her embarrassed ''but you're one of the favorites, that's for sure''

y/n made a face ''I'm not sure'' Remus was red now

Sirius then spoke '' but if you talk to him, he will welcome you right?''

''I think so''

Sirius started to push her towards the corridors ''perfect! we'll drop you off at the professor's room and while you distract him, we'll get the ingredients''

y/n was definitely nervous ''and what do I tell him?

Sirius replied '' anything that gets you interested, we won't be long, we'll work out a way to signal you when we leave the ingredients room''

'' that won't work'' y/n spoke trying to stop walking, but Sirius put his arms around her shoulders again and continued to lead her to Professor Slughorn's room '' optimism dear y/n, everything will work out!''

When they arrived in front of the room Peter knocked on the door and the three of them ran out leaving her there the door opened and Slughorn smiled ''Miss y/l/n! everything ok? How can I help you?

''I have some questions about the last potions class could you help me?''

"Sure, sure, come on in!

In that time the boys went to the potions room and when they got everything they needed, they went to the window of Slughorn's room and saw y/n sitting talking to him the professor had his back to the window and she could see the boys at the window showing her the ingredients very happily, she widened her eyes, Slughorn turned to the window and they bent down to hide, the professor turned back to her ''is everything ok? you looked at the window scared''

y/n gave a nervous smile ''me? no... it's just that my eye gets dry sometimes and I do that to make it better, it's a habit"

Slughorn looked at her worried and said ''hmm... dry eyes can be vision problems, take care of it, it can get worse" she gave a nervous laugh and answered him.

''right, of course... well I have to go, after all now that I've cleared up my doubts, I'll go... well, study more to fix the content"

Slughorn stood up and walked her to the door "I'm glad you came to clear your doubts, have a nice day"

y/n still had a nervous smile "thank you professor, you too sir" she got out of there as fast as she could, when she went to meet the boys, she said "I swear this is the last time I help you with anything! Merlin, my heart has never been so fast!'' Peter replied ''at least keep your heart test up to date" she looked at him angrily and he looked away his gaze to the sky, while Remus and Sirius held back their smiles

"Okay, I will make this potion and in return you will distance yourselves, right? Sirius replied ''absolutely right!''

They entered an empty room, Peter and Remus stood watching the door while y/n made the potion, when she finished, she handed Sirius ''this is done, now I'm leaving and I hope I don't hear from you" Sirius smiled

"It was a pleasure making this deal with you dear y/n"

she left the room with quick steps.

Sirius walked over to the boys ''guys the potion is done now we need to find a way to deliver it to Marlene''

Remus said '' you have to find a way to give it to Marlene, we helped you with the hardest part, let's leave that part to you''

''I know you'll find a clever way to get her to take the potion'' Peter said as he placed a hand on Sirius' shoulder.

 The next day at breakfast Sirius sat next to James in the main hall and facing Peter and Remus, he placed a small bag of chocolate inside on the table ''Marlene loves chocolate, so I bathed these chocolates in the potion and will give it to her, when...'' Sirius was interrupted by a letter left in front of him by an owl, he was confused so he opened the letter and started to read it and the more he read the more disgusted he got, when he finished he crumpled the letter threw it on the table got up angrily and left the main hall, his friends looked at the whole situation confused, so James took the letter and as he started to read it there he sighed

''It's a letter from his parents, as usual with some extremely unnecessary and inappropriate criticism, I'm going to look for him"

"Before we talk to him, could we do him a favor, to cheer him up" Remus said pointing to the chocolate left on the table.

"How are we going to do that? James asked

"I was thinking about a mouse" Remus and James looked at Peter smiling while Peter looked frustrated.

 The boys were in the common room when Remus said ''you just need to go into Marlene's dorm and leave the letter and chocolates on her bed, can you carry this in your mouth?

Peter replied "I believe so"

James excitedly said "great, don't ruin the letter it's essential, good luck buddy, we'll keep a lookout, we'll find a way to let you know if anyone comes"

In the form of a mouse, Peter held the letter and chocolate in his mouth, he started up the stairs of the girls' dormitory, hoping that the stairs would turn into a slide and that the boys' theory that Animagus could climb was wrong, but unfortunately, he managed to climb and the little rodent's heart was racing, apparently it was his day to get the heart test up to date too, he went into the room and started looking for things that indicated Marlene's bed, until he saw a bedside table that had a picture of Marlene with her family, he then turned back into a human and put the letter and chocolate on the bed and smiled proudly at having made it, he then heard a loud noise and James' voice ''oh no, Marlene I'm sorry for dropping your stuff, let me help you'' Marlene replied ''why are you screaming?''

Still talking out loud James continued "I'm not screaming! am I?"

At that Peter turned pale and scared and turned into a mouse, he went under the bed when he heard footsteps, Marlene opened the door while talking to Alice, she stopped talking when she saw the chocolate on the bed and was surprised ''how did it get here'' Peter took advantage of their distraction and quickly walked through the door and left, in the common room Remus took the mouse in his hand quickly and they left.

 Y/n was walking down the hall when she saw Sirius crestfallen, she went to him and sat next to him he looked at her "not now y/n, even I thought you wanted distance"

she replied "yes, I said you guys should back off, not me, does that make sense?"

"no"

y/n continued ''you don't look well, does it have something to do with the potion?"

"it's nothing" Sirius replied dejectedly

"Okay then" she continued sitting next to him, after a while he looked at her and asked "aren't you going to leave?"

"Do you want me to leave?

Sirius sighed and shook his head "no" and y/n remained there.

A little farther away came James, Remus and Peter, when they saw Sirius and y/n together Remus said ''looks like he doesn't need us'' and smiled James and Peter were also smiling.

James then said "let's get out of here, I'll buy you a butterbeer on the next trip to Hogsmeade, for your bravery!" and ran his hand over Peter's head ruffling his hair, Peter's smile widened and they left.

 Sirius broke the silence "my parents sent me a letter today, I never got along with them and today they decided to send me a letter full of random criticism, it's like it's nice for them to put me down and they always say I'm not welcome, I know I shouldn't care, but no matter how hard I try, I can't, it's impossible"

Y/n looked at him sadly "I'm sorry" she touched his hand and squeezed it tight to comfort him.

Sirius gave a small sad smile "it's ok" and the silence returned.  

a few minutes later it was Y/n's turn to break the silence "so... about your flexibility.."

Sirius let out a small laugh "so you knew"'

Y/n replied "I thought it was inappropriate to talk straight away since you were sad"

"And saying 5 minutes after I vent to you seemed appropriate?''

She made a worried grimace "yeah.. more or less"

Sirius' smile widened ''so you're curious about my flexibility?''

She replied ''I'm curious to know how you miss the braquium remendo for...''

Sirius interrupted her ''that's a rumor! Even the potion was supposed to solve that'' y/n chuckled and nodded and Sirius just smiled.

 Later Sirius and y/n entered the common room and saw James and Lily, they approached and James said ''did you hear?'' Sirius looked at him confused ''apparently Marlene has a huge crush on you and the fact that you don't want to dating her made her make up stories about you, words she said"

Sirius excitedly said "Did you give her the chocolate?" James nodded.

Confused, Lily said "I don't know if I want to know what's going on"

Y/n sat next to her and replied "oh you don't want to know" and smiled.

''Then she ended up in the infirmary and I felt guilty for weeks"

Sirius smiled "at least the objective was accomplished"

y/n gave a small smile

Sirius noticed that she looked worried and asked “are you ok?”

Y/n now sat on the bed looking at Sirius lying down ''it's just that at Hogwarts these were our worries, petty problems of irresponsible young people, but with Harry it's different, since he went there has been no peace, Voldemort is coming back Sirius, this worries me a lot”

Sirius sat up too and replied "that worries me too but we will do our best to help him, Remus commented to me about bringing back the order of the phoenix, that would be a start"

y/n smiled and nodded “count on me to help’’

Sirius said while smiling "Harry told me about you, about a nice neighbor who helped him out every now and then"

She replied ''I did my best to make him feel good, the hard part was getting to Privet drive, I managed to move there when Harry was 7 years old, because even after Lily and James died, many were suspicious of me for defending you, so it was very difficult to approach him, but when I did, I did my best to become a person he trusted"

"I'm sorry I put you through this" he said upset.

"Sirius, I'm sure what I went through out here isn't even close to what you went through in Azkaban" she ran her hand over his thin face making him close his eyes to enjoy the touch and she continued "we have to focus on the future, unfortunately, what happened cannot be changed, but we can find a way to make that boy's future the best it can be." Sirius just nodded.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

A collection of fics I’ve read (/reread) and thoroughly enjoyed in the past week-ish from all kinds of fandoms and genres.

BNHA

tell all the truth (but tell it slant) by carolinaa                

From: Maybe: Yoarashi Inasa 12:41 WHY is ms joke asking me about you 12:50--Missed call from Maybe: Yoarashi Inasa 12:51--Missed call from Maybe: Yoarashi Inasa 12:52--Missed call from Maybe: Yoarashi Inasa 12:53 PICK UP YOUR PHONE. ARE WE DATING??

Or: Todoroki Shouto covers up his father's abuse with...a different kind of abuse. He's never claimed to be smart.

(BTHB square 3: misunderstanding)

ATLA

blade of silver, forge of blue by MikkiOfTheAnbu  

“Blessed Spirit, we thank you for the gift of this child’s life. We are forever in your debt.” The whole village is kneeling now, even the tiniest toddlers flopped down on their stomachs doing their best approximation of a bow. “Please, won’t you give us a name to call you? We would like to properly express our gratitude.”

Oh.

Well shit.

(Where Zuko saves a little Earth Kingdom girl from drowning, the villagers think he's a Spirit, build him a shrine, and long story short, a fake story about the Blue Spirit who dances with dragons suddenly becomes very real.)

Customer Service Solidarity (sometimes means you have to kidnap the fire lord from his own party) by myrskytuuli

They had spent hours and hours drilling and preparing the servers upon the importance of everything being perfect for the new fire lord. This was fine. Jin was good at her job. She could handle one fire lord.

Expect that wasn't the fire lord. That was FUCKING LEE!

It Takes a Village by dancingstar

Zuko is dropped on the edge of the Earth Kingdom, burned, shorn, and banished. He's found again and again, and built up from ashes.

or, the earth kingdom takes a look at Zuko, asks “is anyone gonna raise that?” and doesn’t wait for an answer

Spider-Man

it's up to you, new york by JBS_Forever  

“Um, what am I –?” Peter starts, but doesn’t need to go on, because it's clear now what he’s meant to be looking at. There’s a live feed of Twitter posts already pulled up, videos and pictures and text flashing by, each one with the hashtag “WeAreSpiderMan” and moving too quick for him to process.

He blinks, confused. “What – what is this?”

Beside him, Happy breathes out a laugh. “That?” he says, and there’s an amused undercurrent in his voice, knowing and fond, “That’s New York.”

- - -

Or: after Spider-Man's identity is revealed, New York City steps up to support one of their own.

Danny Phantom

do not stand at my grave and cry (i am not there, i did not die) by blueh

“I just—” he hiccups down his ghost sense but feels the cool burning sensation crawl up his throat anyways. He has just enough time to throw a hand over his mouth to cover the blue mist, and sends a desperate look at the clock. There’s still five minutes left in class. He stands up anyways. “I have to go.”

“You have to go?” Sam says. Danny hears the accusation in her voice loud and clear. “Again?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry isn’t enough, Danny! You keep—you keep leaving us! You’re pushing us away!”

His tongue feels like lead and he knows, even if he wants to, he can’t tell them. He cant. So instead, he doesn’t meet her eyes, takes one step back, and repeats, “I’m sorry.”

Sometimes, it feels like it’s the only word he can say these days.

Or: When Danny goes down to the lab and enters that portal at fourteen years old, he goes down alone. This changes things.

Star Wars: Clone Wars

The Past Remains by otherhawk                

The war drags on leaving trauma and destruction in its wake. After a bereaved Master is accused of harming his padawan, Obi-Wan is sent to talk to her, dredging up memories of his own past.

These Things Happen by writehandman

Obi-wan Kenobi keeps promoting Cody. The promotion gets out of hand, and suddenly the balance of the universe shifts into the palm of a very competent, caffeinated man.

Care What It Cost by MissjuliaMiriam

Five years after Naboo, Obi-Wan becomes aware that things between Anakin and Qui-Gon have become... tense. The obvious solution is to mediate their difficulties if at all possible.

That is not what happens.

[kashimos-hajime]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master, I—Do something—“

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

“Bring her to the ship, Obi-Wan.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can hear him calling your name. 

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

.

You wake up and everything changes.

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

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

But you don’t.

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

What Obi-Wan would’ve wanted for you.

It is… the Jedi way.

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

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

You do not speak of the dreams.

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

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

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

“So he was right.”

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

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

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

Mature, civil, cold.

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

He, the calming hand. You, the fist.

Now, it seems, that they each are both.

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

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

Is it still blue? Red, now? 

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

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

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

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

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

“Darth Contritus.”

“Catchy.”

“Hm.”

“I won’t use it.”

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

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

You can feel him everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

But there won’t be. You know this.

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

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

Loved.

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

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

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

“I need your help.”

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

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

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

Except he is. 

He always will be.

“With what?”

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

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

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

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

“Don’t call me that.”

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

“You know what.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Obi-Wan—“

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

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

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

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

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop it.”

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

“I won’t work with you.”

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

But still. Still, everything’s changed.

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

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

“Obi-Wan—“

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

“There was no time. We were Jedi—“

“Temptation frightens you.”

“I’m not afraid.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Or what?”

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

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

Your eyes burn but you do not blink. 

“Leave. Me. Alone.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright, Master?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

You don’t know.

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

There is nothing complicated about this. 

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

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

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

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

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

How romantic.

“I told you to leave me alone.”

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

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

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

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

“You noticed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, now I know you aim to wound me.”

“Am I hitting my mark?”

“Not even close.”

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

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

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

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

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

So be it.

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

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

“Now you want to listen to me?”

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

But you still can.

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

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

“Count Dooku? The Jedi who retired.”

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

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

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

“Obi-Wan, you can’t just say that.“

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?”

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

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

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

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

Good.

“You were following me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Because that’s wrong! Because democracy—“

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

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

“That is a fool’s play.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Can’t. Won’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

“Master Windu must be pleased with your work.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin…”

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

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

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

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

That Skywalker swagger. Must be.

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

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

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

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

A scowl. “And you deflect with sarcasm.”

“As all the best do.”

“Master.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

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

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

The doors open at last and you begin to leave.

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

“Hello there.”

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

“I trust you’re well?”

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

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

Quiet.

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

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

“Am I understood?” you finally inquire softly.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

“I am.”

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

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

“Manipulate is a strong word.”

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

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

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

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

“My torture is your amusement?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Anakin?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You barely remember when your eyes closed. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not?”

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

After all, no one will ever know besides them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you sure?”

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

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

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

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

“Ours.”

“What—what do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is real, Obi-Wan.”

You never want to leave him again.

.

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

“Do you think I’m six?”

A levelling look. A loud sigh.

“Okay, fine. I won’t interrupt you.”

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

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

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

“Master—“

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

“Sounds like you have a fan.”

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

“Which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?” he repeats.

“I just do.”

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

You shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master… you can’t. You can’t just—“

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

“You love him.”

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

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

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

“But—“

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

“It doesn’t feel like it, Master.”

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

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

You know you failed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

“Why?”

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

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

“That still paints us as failures.”

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

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

Realization: “Ah. Faking my death.”

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

“You’re quite clever, you know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ahsoka?” Obi-Wan questions. 

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

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

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

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

You barely contain a retort as they continue down.

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just a little more.

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

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

A sharp nod.

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

“What dreams?”

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

“Really?”

“Yes. I believe I know who he is.”

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

“I’m sorry, Chancellor Palpatine.”

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

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

The contrast is near blinding.

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

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

Palpatine frowns.

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

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

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

“This is treason.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ahsoka steps out, panting, her eyes wide.

“I tried to stop them—“

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

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

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

“That remains to be decided.”

“‘Our’?” Kit Fisto inquires.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What proof is there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

War is rarely that simple.

.

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

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

“I understand.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you alright?”

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

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

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

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

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

Shaggy hair and floral scents—Anakin and Padmé.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I hope it does.”

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he kisses you.

[twilightofthe]

Obi Wan Kenobi Show Liveblog: Part II

ok ok ok ok ok we gettin’ back to it let’s fucking gooooooooooo

aight so i’m re-listening to the obi wan theme but i’m gonna need to pull it all up once everything’s over and give it my full attention

characters like obi wan kenobi and din djarin having to take commercial air travel and deal with customs makes me laugh a lot

so i’m LOVING the neon aesthetic of Daiyu

wait motherfuck this is obi wan’s FIRST TIME OFF TATOOINE IN TEN YEARS HOW IS HE COPING

slkdfjsdlk saying this is qui gon’s kind of mess apparently

MOTHERFUCK IS THAT A CLONE

THAT’S A CLONE MR MORRISON WHY DID YOU COME BACK JUST TO HURT ME HEY

and obi wan’s giving him coins and looking like his heart is breaking fucking help me

ahaha go home and rethink your life kiddo

“MY DAUGHTER”

FUCK EVERYTHING

FUCK EVERYTHING

oh ANOTHER jedi huh?

ehhhh i don’t believe it

ah hello kumail nanjiani

oh fuck he actually did the force summon thing

hmmm still don’t know if i trust

like he did say he was a scam character

he’s giving me Hondo vibes

yeah MAJOR Hondo vibes

pffff i knew it was a scam

ohohoho obi wan’s gonna fuck with this dude big time i know it

Get his ass Obes get him

“of course” ohohoho that’s obi wan’s Danger Voice sexy ehehe

HAHAHA IT WAS A MAGNET AND NOW OBES HAS A GUN GET HIS ASS

THE GUN AND THE ANGRY VOICE IS STILL VERY HOT I’M SORRY I KNOW IT’S UNCIVILIZED OK OK OK I’LL SHUT UP

BUT IT’S HOT

SHHHH OK BACK TO WATCHING

heeheeheehee he’s STROKING HIS BEARD

PENSIVELY

fuuuuuuck

i am so obnoxious i’m sorry but also not

yes he still makes a gas mask look hot

ok wow i guess the entire first episode with me crying was me too distracted by my emotions to be drooling over obes but now the dam has burst

HELL YES BABE YOU DESTROY THAT BREAKING BAD LAB

HOOHOOHOOHOOOOOO HE BRAWLIN HE BRAWLION THAT’S STILL HOT

hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

stop fucking hitting him u bitch ur just jealous he’s hot and you’re not

HELL YEAH SMOKEBOMB

I love this man so much y’all have no clue

AHAHAHA LEIA’S FIRST ENCOUNTER WITH OBI WAN AND SHE ATTACKS HIM I LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT LOVE IT

obiwanandleiaobiwanandleiaobiwanandleiaobiwanandleia

motherFUCK THE DISGUISE HE GIVES HER LOOKS LIKE PADME’S HANDMAIDEN DISGUISE I’M GONNA FUCKING SOB

AND SHE SPENDS HER ENTIRE TIME CALLING HIM OLD AND GIVING HIM A CORONARY I LOVE THIS SO SO SO VERY MUCH

ohoho so i think Reva IS trying to please Vader

fuck offffffff G. Quizzy Reva’s so much prettier than u

SO YOU DO ADMIT THAT KENOBI’S STILL ALIVE DON’T TAKE CREDIT FOR WHAT SHE’S DONE YOU BITCH

WE ALL WANNA SQUEEZE HIM BITCH YOU’RE NOT SPECIAL

obi wan hon u do realize that y’all took off your disguises and are now walking around barefaced right

oh ok ok he’s getting her new clothes good

FASHION ICON LIKE HER MOTHER

“GRANDDAUGHTER MAYBE” LEIA ORGANA I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING

HE’S USING HIS ANNOYED ANAKIN VOICE ON HER I LOVE HIM I LOVE HER SO VERY VERY MUCH

fuuuuuck he’s hot when he punches people

“my droid is fucking dead :(” “good” OBI WAN

don’t jinx it you bitch did you learn ANYTHING obi wan from like ur entire life

NO DUMBASS DON’T LEAVE HER ALONE

ahhhh she’s suspicious oh dear and here we go

OOOOH HE’S GONNA CATCH A BLASTER BOLT WITH THE FORCE TO PROTECT HER OR SOMETHING

Reva you’re such a dramatic bitch i love you can’t u jump off a building like a normal force user

nah he’s gonna float her

yep!

Skywalker requirement: MUST nearly give Obi Wan a heart attack after being in his presence for ten minutes

“IS IT THAT HARD TO BELIEVE THAT YOU MIGHT HAVE FRIENDS” LEIA

“we gotta take the free help dumbass” this is giving me big Padme vibes

OBI WAN THINKS SO TOO

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Reva you dramatic-ass theatre kid I love you

“I’ll be right behind you” lmaoooooo Obi Wan just said the magic words that means he DEFINITELY WON’T AHAHAHA

so she IS trying to capture him for Vader

ahahahahahaha his EYES LOOK AT THE PAIN AND TERROR

wait wait wait what the fuck WHY DOES SHE KNOW HE’S ANAKIN

oh fuck wait a minute did she actually stab G. Quizzy?

So is he NOT the same one from Rebels?

AHAHAHA ANYWAY BACK TO OBI WAN’S BREAKDOWN HEEHEEHOOHOO

heeeheeehee he’s crying

OH THERE YOU ARE YOU BROODY BURNT BITCH

NOW THE PARTY’S STARTED

NOW THE ANGST IS HERE

HAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[goroufucker]

part two to the kazuha public sex ig 💪🤤 ft: beidou for lore ig

——

authors notes: i really don’t feel comfortable having beidou have like… sex with kazuha and the reader since beidou and kazuha have a mother son type relationship. so she’s here for lore.. BUTTT… i will be writing a beidou fic to make it up to y’all <3

——

the sound of the waves crashing against the wood of the boat was starting to become a familiar sound, leaning against the edge and staring out into what seemed like nothing. in your dozing, you had specific thoughts clinging onto your mind.

“was what i did with kazuha just a one time thing..? no, he said it himself that he didn’t want that to be the only time.. but he’s definitely not gonna come down with me to inazuma, especially not with his.. reputation…-“ you snap out of your thoughts with a sigh, leaning your head down while thinking of the difficult situation.

did you love him? there’s no way, you can’t fall in love with a man you just met, but you did fuck him- so perhaps anything is possible. your own feelings confused you, you just weren’t sure- trying to fit him into your future of adventuring, especially in this specific moment, was difficult.

“ah, there you are” a calm and familiar voice spoke out to you, instantly recognizing it, you quickly lift your head and straighten your posture. “ah-! kazuha, you startled me..” you grinned to him, attempting to hide your emotional distress with your signature kindness. though kazuha isn’t a fool.

he stared at you for a second, then looked off into the endless sea just as you did before. you hesitantly leaned back onto the boat again, just trying to relax. “you do know, if there’s something bothering you,, you can tell me-“ kazuha spoke, you stared at him while he cleared his throat. “i might not know the best words to respond.. but i can listen” he finished.

without another thought, you blurted your emotions out in one single sentence.

“kazuha, will you join me?”.

he was silent, not a single word escaped his mouth. kazuha refused to look at you, not because he was angry at what you had asked him, he just was thinking.

the air around you two was tense and heavy, so heavy it felt like you could barely breathe. you felt inclined to just run off, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“woahh, what’s with all the seriousness over here huh?!” beidou cheered, trying to soothe the tense mood. “ah, beidou-“ kazuha started, before being interrupted. “come, both of you- our journey to inazuma is nearly over, we should be celebrating” she ordered, winking at you.

it wasn’t until a few drinks in that you fully understood why she winked.

cheers from some of the crew, cups hitting the others in a toast to the journey. all seemed lively, it felt like you were having a big family reunion. you didn’t want to do much drinking, so you only had one cup and took your time with it.

“hey, y/n? i gotta ask-“ beidou sat down next to you, “you and kazuha, what was keeping the air so tense?” she asked. you gripped onto your cup, thinking hard, looking left and right to make sure that kazuha wasn’t nearby. “..i believe i might have feelings for kazuha, but i’m not sure” you spoke, earning a laugh from beidou.

“well, it’s pretty obvious you two are enamored with eachother, especially with how you two act on a daily basis” she sipped at her drink, her words made you think. you are often going to kazuha out of everyone else on the ship, you find comfort in his presence.

“what’s with that face? finally realizing it?” beidou smirked at you, “but.. on a serious note, if you think it’s love- why not give it a try? couldn’t hurt could it?” beidou patted at your shoulder before getting up again- giving you privacy with your thoughts.

you glanced over to where kazuha was, continuing to think but acting on impulse and instantly walking over. holding your breath, you counted each second.

5..

love, perhaps you are feeling it. or it could be addiction to him.

4..

with each step closer, you felt your body leaning towards an answer.

3..

he smiled at you, of course you had to smile back.

2..

laughing and smiling at each word that flutters out of his mouth, his sentences are pure poetry, as if he’s reading out one of the most gorgeous haiku’s you’ve ever heard.

1..

idle touching, a look around the ship before your hand is grabbed and quickly dragged away from the crowd.

0.

with your back hitting the wall of the half full storage room, your arms snaked around kazuha’s neck, one hand going straight to his hair. both of his hands were pinned against the wall, keeping you exactly where you were. your heart skipped a beat each time you heard him groan against your lips, greedily keeping them connected to yours.

you two had to be quick, before the rest of the crew noticed you two were gone. you knew beidou would try to play it off as much as she could to give you two some alone time, it can’t be helped. you were pulled out of your worried mind by a hand slipping under your top, you pulled away to gasp lightly, feeling kazuha’s bandaged fingers rub and lightly pinch at your nipple.

he leans in and kisses at your neck, gently suckling and licking. leaving visible marks wasn’t his goal, he wanted to make you feel it as much as possible, and you were definitely feeling it.

your impatience took over you, sliding your arms down to his sides and tugging him closer to you, wanting to feel every bit of him. your leg went between his, feeling at his hard dick hidden away in his baggy shorts.

he hummed against your neck, sliding his hand down to your hip and squeezed at it, detaching from your neck to smash his lips back onto yours. this was 10 times more sensual then the first time, his romantic personality truly shining through. you craved more of his touch, taking a step forward to press the entirety of your overheated body against his.

kazuha had a cheeky little smile plastered on his face the entire time, he was amused by your need for him. he brought down his other hand, luckily, not needing to take off his glove. his bare fingers slid down your stomach, unbuttoning your bottoms and continuing to slide his hand down your body and through your garments.

when his fingers grazed over your sex, you shivered, pulling away from the kiss and gripping onto his shoulders for support. kazuha simply continued to grin, watching your expression as he continued to tease the skin around your sex. your eyes stayed shut, face flushed from embarrassment at how he was staring at you.

“come now, won’t you look at me? ~” kazuha purred to you, continuing to tease your sex, using his other hand to cradle your face. he watched your eyes flutter open, staring at him with pupils dilated, he seemed pleased. “how mesmerizing, it makes me wonder.. how much would it take to change that adoring look on your face, hm.. ~” he teased you.

though you felt amazing right now, you had a want to touch him, to please him. you looked him in the eye, shakily breathing. “kazuha.. what about you..?“ you whimper out, reaching out your hand. his eyes went half lidded, solely chuckling at your want to please him. “this isn’t about me, this is about you. love ~” he spoke, “for i never even answered your question, quite rude of me, i must make it up to you..”.

without even a breath from you, two of his fingers inserted themselves into your sex. your breath hitched, the single hand left on his shoulder gripping at his clothes. it wasn’t the same feeling as his dick, but it was just as nice. kazuha’s fingers pumped in you, keeping an easy pace. he watched your expressions, learning what you like based off the sounds you made whenever he changed the position of his fingers.

you felt like cumming right then and there when he pushed his fingers as deep in as he could, moaning at him. that’s all you could do, moan and pant when the speed of his thrusts stayed at the perfect pace. it had felt like the two of you had been in that closet for hours, the air was so hot and heavy. little beads of sweat slipped down your face, your stomach starting to knot.

you couldn’t bring yourself to keep eye contact with kazuha, your eyes were squeezed shut. though kazuha didn’t mind, he smirked and leaned in close, quietly mimicking your pants and moans. embarrassment took over you, but the sound of his voice was so intoxicating that it only made you moan more.

when you felt yourself reaching the edge, you gripped onto him tighter. “oh? ~” kazuha moaned, letting you grind against his hand before you came hard onto his fingers, straining your cry of pleasure. he hummed, letting you full calm down and relax from your high. he pulled his fingers out of you, breathing a bit hard himself from all the tension in the room.

you opened your eyes again, leaning against the wall. your pupils met his, slowly looking down his neck, then his chest. you finally landed your eyes to his crotch, staring at his erection, standing as tall as it possibly could. you practically started drooling from the sight, though he might’ve said this moment was about you, how could you let him go back out there with all that, surely it must be painful.

ignoring your shaky legs, you stepped forward, quickly tugging and pulling him close. with your faces so close, kazuha was inclined to kiss you. he hummed against your lips, hugging his hands around your waist. the kiss wasn’t very long, your hands slid to his cheeks, cupping them before pulling away and dragging them down his body. you lowered to your knees, forcing kazuha to let you go.

“hey.. what did i tell you? this is about you-“ he tried to scold you, but he definitely wasn’t gonna stop you if you insisted. since you had absolutely no shame, you quickly shoved your face into his abdominal area, breathing in his scent before looking up at him. “are you really gonna go back out there, infront of all the crew, with your dick standing tall?” you asked, your hands going to his hips, ready to pull down his shorts and red tights.

kazuha stared at you for a quick second, then grinning. “well, if you insist ~” he purred, his hand meeting your hair. the second you got his approval, you felt antsy to let him be free. you quickly tugged until his shorts loosened and you could pull them down with his tights and underwear. he laughed at your quick movements, “relax, i’m definitely not going anywhere~” he teased, tracing your cheek with his thumb.

his words barely stayed in your brain, you lusted to the thought of tasting him. wasting no time, once his dick was out and right in your face you opened your mouth and rolled your tongue along the tip. you focused on it a bit, taking the tip in your mouth and continuing to roll your tongue all around it.

kazuha let out small groans at the beginning, as he did to you, you focused on the sounds he made and watched his expressions to see what felt good and what didn’t. he kept a single hand in your hair, not gripping or pushing you around, he gave you the freedom to do as you pleased. his other hand laid flat on the wall, helping him keep his posture as he watched you suck him off.

you looked absolutely beautiful, even with the intense pleasure he was feeling, he made sure to barely even blink. if he were to blink, he could miss another moment where you locked eyes with him. he nearly choked on his spit when you pulled away to get some of your own spit on your hand just to hop back on and pump your now lubed hand on the base of his cock while you continued to suck.

“ah..! Mm..~” kazuha hissed, gently pushing your head farther down, but not enough to choke. you obliged with his need and took more of his dick in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head on his cock. kazuha hunched over, even with such a short amount of time of you pleasuring him, he’d be so turned on from finger fuckinh you he already felt himself reaching the edge.

you could feel him trying to hold back from the way he tensed up, you grinned against his cock, keeping the eye contact and starting to pick up the pace. his moans went from small and quiet to much louder, kazuha’s face scrunching up and having more trouble keeping eye contact. “fuck.. fuck y/n!” he cried, his hips starting to hump his dick in your mouth, unable to control himself. though you didn’t mind, letting him ride out his high.

you had barely done much to him in comparison, but he was more then happy with the pleasure he was feeling right now. he came within seconds, not even trying to strain back any moans. kazuha’s voice was gorgeous, making you not wanna waste even a tiny amount of his cum that splattered into your mouth. gulping it down, you finally pulled away from his dick, wiping a string of spit that was still connecting your lips to it.

kazuha finally closed his eyes, breathing gently. you pulled up his bottoms as best as you could in this position, standing up to fix it up more. his posture fixed, looking at you for a bit, then smiling and just hugging you. you grinned and put a hand on the back of his head, holding him close. kazuha kissed your cheek, then leaned into your ear.

“to answer your question.. i’m not sure if i’m fully ready, but for you, i’ll follow you there” he whispered. a blush tool over your face, it was so hard not to just squirm in excitement. you hugged him even tighter, “i love you so much, kazuha!” you blurted without thinking. he simply laughed, letting go of the hug to start to leave the two of you out of your hiding space. “i love you too, dear”.

<3

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

'i promise I'll stay on my side of the bed' with lewis and arthur 'only one bed' perhaps? *w* maybe Vivi got injured or sick and lew needs to test without crushing her, and while they're reconciled they're still awkward together but end up octopus-ing within the hour

>:3ccc yess thank you [from this]

--

“I promise I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”

The tension in Lewis’s face and shoulders is reading like he’s not saying something, but Arthur can’t figure out what and it’s frustrating. He’s so used to being able to tell what Lewis is thinking - it’s not like it’s ever been hard, the guy’s not exactly good at hiding his feelings, if anyone was paying attention - but after everything that happened, Arthur just... doesn’t know anymore. He can make guesses, sometimes, but he can never be sure. He hates it. Like he needed another reminder that even though he’s back, Arthur’s still functionally lost his best friend.

Okay. Changing subjects. That’s not helping.

“Can’t you just-?” Lewis can float. He’s never had a problem doing that before, when he wanted to rest or just sit down for a while. He’s not even going to sleep, he’s just sitting and reading - but for some reason he’s insisting he does it on the only available bed. 

“Stop being greedy. It’s not like you’re using all the space. You turn into a tiny ball when you sleep anyway.” Lewis isn’t actually looking at him, glaring daggers at his book instead.

Arthur can’t find the words to say that’s not exactly true anymore, so he gives up and just rolls over, letting his head hit the pillow with a loud fwump. Fine, he thinks vindictively. If Lewis wants to get kicked so bad, let him find out why this is a bad idea the hard way.

---

Lewis is reading peacefully when he feels the bed shift.

He looks down to see Arthur, unfurled from his normal position around a pillow, legs kicking under the thin covers like he’s trying to push something away.

Ordinarily, Lewis wouldn’t be here to see this. He’d be idling on the other end of the room, or more likely, outside trying to clear his head. Ghosts can’t sleep - or at least, he can’t, and he’s tried - so he always tries to find some other way to occupy himself while the other two slept.  Reading is usually a safe bet, or watching something, or drawing, though that last one could... get away from him.

But tonight... tonight he hadn’t wanted to do that. He’d been, well, he’d been lonely. Frankly, he’d been lonely for over a year now, but it had been easier to ignore, before. He had... other things to occupy his mind with. But now he has no revenge quest and it’s just so quiet. It was just a matter of time before he didn’t want to spend the whole night alone again.

I just want to be close to you, I don’t want to be alone felt like too much to say, too fast, and two years ago he wouldn’t have had to say it at all. Arthur would have just known, without him even having to try.

But that was then. That was before. Now everything’s different, and Arthur doesn’t know and Lewis doesn’t know if he can just say it. If Arthur even wants him near.

So he just insisted and didn’t elaborate. And if Arthur could tell he wasn’t saying the whole truth, well, it didn’t matter anyway.

But now Arthur’s twitching in his sleep and this is new. He’s never really been a restless sleeper unless he was having a nightmare, and those are rare, especially when he’s with the others...

...those were rare. Now Lewis realizes that that’s probably not true anymore.

He reaches out, intending to shake him awake and then back off - but instead Arthur’s hand finds his. And then it’s tugging him closer, grip twitching like he’s trying to tighten it but sleep is getting in the way. He makes a sharp sound that’s half muffled by the pillow, almost a whimper but not quite long enough.

Lewis changes tacks. Sets the book down on the nightstand without looking, shifts over and lies down a little more fully, pulls the still-sleeping Arthur closer until he’s nestled against his side, using his arm as a pillow. He goes still pretty quickly once they’re curled up together.

That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t, he scolds the warm feeling blooming in his chest. Arthur is definitely still angry with him and that doesn’t mean anything.

Ghosts can’t sleep. But lying here like this, it’s easy to let his mind go quiet.

---

For the first time in... he can’t even remember how long, Arthur isn’t jolted awake out of an increasingly weird and terrible dream. He blinks his eyes a few times and then lets them close again, and the first thought he has is a surprised realization that he can’t even remember what he was dreaming about.

He’s warm. He’s comfortable. He feels leaden, and his eyes burn when he tries to open them, but for once that feeling isn’t even accompanied by frustration. He could lie here forever, it feels like.

Then his brain wakes up a little more and he realizes how wrong that is.

He forces his eyes open again and pushes himself up a little on his elbow, trying to look around. Pretty quickly he realizes he’s really close to Lewis. Actually, fuck it, he’s basically on top of Lewis.

Fuck.

Apologies fight for space in his throat as he scrambles away from the warm embrace. God dammit he knew this was a bad idea, but he’d just been expecting to- fall off the bed or get kicked awake because he was being too wiggly or something, not- not-

“Arthur?” A pair of eyelights come into view, blinking at him. 

“Shit- I-” his voice still won’t cooperate.

Lewis moves back too, and that surprises Arthur enough that he stops. It’s not like he’s moving away out of anger or disgust or anything - actually, regardless of how little Arthur can read him right now, every motion is broadcasting sheepish.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” 

That just adds to the confusion. “What are you ap-a-apologizing for?”

Lewis looks away, fiddling with the end of one of his sleeves. “You, ah. Were having a nightmare, and I... I just thought...”

Wait, that wasn’t him? That was Lewis who brought them so close together?

Whatever. With practiced speed, he shoves all his confusion into a box so he can focus.

“Yeah, s-s-sorry, I should, uh, I should have warned you. Th-that’s why I didn’t, uh... want you to be... there. I’m not... exactly a- a qui- a quiet sleeper. Anymore.”

Lewis takes a moment to consider that. Then he glances over at the electric clock on the other side of the room. “You were pretty quiet for... three or four hours, there.”

Shit, did he really sleep for that long? No wonder he’s so tired and foggy.

...and Lewis was lying there the whole time? And didn’t wake him up?

His throat is getting tight.

He slides off the bed. He’s intending to flee the room, but he pauses.

“Why?” 

“Hm?” Lewis’s hum is fake-casual.

“I mean, you could’ve j-j-just... woken me up.” That’s not really what he’s asking. “Why did you... want to- to be here, anyway?”

“I don’t know, I...” he trails off, looking away.

Assuming he’s not going to explain, Arthur turns around again. He doesn’t get two steps before Lewis speaks.

“I missed you.”

Arthur starts to turn back around, to ask what? But Lewis is already continuing, with an air that suggests he’s been rehearsing this in his head.

“I’ve been missing you for... since...” He leaves that sentence unfinished. That’s fine; they both know what goes there anyway. “And I thought... maybe you wouldn’t mind if I... stayed close. For tonight. I’m just...” his gaze is fixed on his hands. “Making up for lost time.”

Dammit, his throat hurts and it’s getting legitimately hard to speak now. “W-well, I, uh, I don’t... don’t know if a f-f-f- a few hours is gonna put a dent in... th-that, but...”

Lewis finally looks up and meets his eyes. Almost hopeful.

Arthur walks back over and sits back down on the bed, letting himself lean against Lewis just a little. “I... I am st-still pretty tired.”

The corners of Lewis’s eyes crinkle into a smile. “Well, then... I think we can sleep for a little while longer.”

[tennessoui]

for obikin, maybe pretending to hate each other au? (sth where their ages are a little closer, perhaps, so obi-wan can be intensely petty and not feel the need to Set an Example)

45. (Pretending To) Hate Each Other (raised as Sith!Anakin, salty!Padawan Obi-Wan)(1.6k)

Obi-Wan turns away from the training stalles with a barely suppressed sneer. Anakin, as he is to be called, has defeated his opponents. His fellow Padawans. Darth Vader has become a Padawan and everyone is just fine with it.

Obi-Wan marches out into the halls, not knowing where he’s going, but knowing he must get away from the smirk on Anakin’s face as he had lowered his training saber to his opponent’s neck. Does no one but Obi-Wan remember how just months ago Vader’s saber had been pressed against his neck and it hadn’t been a training exercise? Does no one remember the atrocities Anakin had committed, the sentients Anakin had killed?

And yet Obi-Wan’s master seems infinitely fascinated by the boy. And yet Obi-Wan, it seems, cannot step out of his own room without finding this Anakin underfoot, either taking tea with his Master, or dolefully skulking around the doorway of Obi-Wan’s quarters. What draws the boy, he has no lasting idea.

They’re approximately the same age, he supposes, although Obi-Wan has a few years at least on Anakin--it’s clearer to see now that Anakin has stopped wearing his helmet and armor into battle, now that the lines of his face are not hardened by scowls and snarls. Really, he’s a boy. His medical chart puts him at eighteen, making him four years Obi-Wan’s junior.

And, he supposes, Qui-Gon was the one to find Anakin wounded on the battlefield, the one to insist they treat the Sith, heal him, and give him shelter. But Obi-Wan was the one who had found the slave chip embedded between his ribcage, the one who had alerted the Council to its presence, so it could be used to find the boy’s master, to capture him or kill him, to end the war.

But surely, whatever small part Obi-Wan had played in the war’s conclusion, the Force should have known better than to repay him by gifting him with the care and keeping of a Sith Lord, Chosen One or not.

Although Obi-Wan can admit, even if only to himself, that it’s worse when Vader latches onto anyone else in the Temple. His master is too starry-eyed by his ideas of Vader’s midichlorians, his destiny as the Chosen One, to see the boy in front of him now.

And anyone younger than Vader is too easily swayed by his looks, his charm, his disgustingly transparent eagerness to know about the Temple, about the Jedi way of life.

Obi-Wan knows this. He’s fought a Sith at 20, fended it off after it dealt a nearly fatal blow to his Master. They cannot be reasoned with. Vader cannot be reasoned with.

Anakin exists only as a figment of their imaginations, their desire to have the Chosen One fly under the Jedi colors. He is not real, not anymore.

Gradually, Obi-Wan finds himself making his way up the stairs of the Jedi Temple. Of all the spots to hide--to sulk, as his Master would say--the rooftop is the one least likely to be checked. It is one of Obi-Wan’s favorite areas in the entire building.

But he had not thought to check for stragglers before arriving at his destination, had thought the thunderstorms of his own Force presence would keep others at bay. He hadn’t yet figured Vader into his calculations, hadn’t remembered the propensity Vader had for showing up right when Obi-Wan least wanted him to.

“You left,” Vader--Anakin--whoever accuses, as Obi-Wan sits down on the rooftop. The wind howls around them. Obi-Wan has the distinct thought that they’ve lived through this before, that last time Vader had cornered him on a rooftop, he had threatened to take a piece of his body home to his Master. Now, Vader is standing in his home.

Obi-Wan takes a very deep breath and banishes those sorts of thoughts. Anakin, he reminds himself. Anakin.

And just as importantly, the chip. There had been a chip. Not controlling Va--Anakin’s thoughts, but certainly controlling his actions. What he would do to survive is no different from what Obi-Wan had done to survive; they had just been on opposite sides of the war.

Is Obi-Wan weak for not being able to move past that? For not being able to greet the boy--the man--Anakin with open arms into the folds of his family?

“I did,” Obi-Wan replies, keeping his eyes on what he can see of the city skyline.

Anakin steps closer. “Why?”

He turns to face him, takes in his sweaty appearance and messy tunics. He must have been looking for Obi-Wan’s reaction. He must have seen the exact moment Obi-Wan had turned, must have scrambled to cloth himself as he followed after.

“Why does it matter?” He asks instead of answering, always instead of answering.

“Because I wanted you to watch,” Vader says.

“I’ve seen you kill Padawans before,” Obi-Wan turns away and stands up until he can lean against the high protective walls of the roof. “I wasn’t impressed.”

Vader feels frustrated in the Force. No. Anakin.

Anakin. “It was a training exercise.”

“Now,” Obi-Wan points out. “Or do you mean then?”

“Would you hate me if I said both?” “I hate you now, Vader.” The other boy’s Force signature withdraws, flinching away from Obi-Wan’s ire. He hears him sit down. He’d rather throw him off the roof.

But: “Don’t call me that,” the boy pleads quietly. “I know I can’t--that I don’t--” he cuts himself off and grows quiet.

Obi-Wan would say something to break the silence, but he doesn’t want to engage the boy if he doesn’t have to. If he closes his eyes, he can feel and see the Force raging around them, violently buffering them as it demands some sort of denouement.

The boy inhales and stands again, stepping forward hesitantly until he’s a scant foot away from Obi-Wan. “My mom always told me she thought for ages about my name. That it had come to her in a dream after I was already a month old, that it was bad luck to have waited for so long to name me because infants on Tatooine can die as quickly as their mothers.

“And then I...I couldn’t use it or hear it or speak it for so long that I think I almost forgot it, almost lost it to Sidious and...and Vader. So even if you hate me, and I know you should hate me, I know I’ve never done anything to you that cancels out the bad I’ve done to you, but. Please don’t call me that. I think it would have made her sad."

Obi-Wan works his jaw as he stares off into the city. He doesn’t think V--Anakin has ever said so many words to him. If he gives in now, he’d be just as bad as the other padawans who had welcomed Anakin in amongst them because of his big eyes and soft lips and earnest enthusiasm.

Anakin seems to take his silence as permission to continue, which it isn’t. “And I know I’m not. That I can’t be--won’t ever be a Padawan, or a Jedi Knight, that. That I’ll never wear a braid or anything. I’m not--I don’t want another Master. I never want another Master.”

Obi-Wan turns his head just enough to look at Anakin. He’s spent an awfully long amount of time hanging around Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s quarters if he doesn’t want a Master. But...what he’s saying makes sense, and, more importantly than that, soothes the furious emotions in Obi-Wan’s chest enough that he can speak. “Then I can’t understand why.” Why you’re here, why you won’t leave me alone, why you chose to follow me if you’re not trying to dispose of me and take my Master for yours.

Anakin sighs, leaning his head on his hands as he looks out at the city. Obi-Wan finds himself annoyed with that as well, even though he’d just been doing the same thing. Now he can’t tear his eyes away from Anakin’s profile.

“You’re warm in the Force,” Anakin says eventually. “I think maybe I spent too long in space, because I’m always cold. Except when I’m around you. You burn. You always have. I used to think that maybe--it was hatred or disgust at me, when I met you in battle, and you were an inferno. But you burn when you’re on creche duty too. A different kind of fire, but still so warm. It’s just your soul. It’s just who you are.”

Obi-Wan blinks open-mouthed at him. He’s never considered the thought that Vader--Anakin--had been trailing after him for anything other than easy access to his Master. Now he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do or say.

There’s a part of him that still doesn’t understand what Anakin wants to get out of his tenancy at the Temple, a part that whispers that the Sith can’t be trusted, no matter how blue they can make their eyes look. But the Jedi part of Obi-Wan is bigger.

The Jedi part of Obi-Wan tells him to extend his hand just enough to brush against Anakin’s exposed wrist. It’s a point of vulnerability the boy doesn’t shy away from.

“Would you…” he asks slowly, forcing the words out of his tight throat. “Like to meditate with me?”

Anakin looks astonished, then hopeful, then disappointed, then dejected. “I’m no good at meditating,” he says, scuffing the point of his shoe on the ground. “It wasn’t a huge part of my...former Master’s curriculum, and the Force is just so loud in my head that it’s hard to do anything but react.”

He looks up at Obi-Wan through his eyelashes, biting his lip as if he’s afraid that he’ll be turned away for this.

Instead, Obi-Wan turns fully to face him and latches onto his flesh hand. “There are some things, I’ve found,” he murmurs, leading them away from the edge of the roof before pulling Anakin down to sit cross-legged in front of him, “that are much easier done with someone else. Done together.”

[the-last-kenobi]

I know I have already requested a fic based on one of the dialogue prompts, so you don't have to answer to this ask if you don't want to. It's just that I would love another angsty story with Qui-Gon and padawan Obi (the way you portray their father-son relationship just melts my heart and breaks it simultaneously). I don't have a preference for any specific dialogue to be included. You as the writer can choose anything from the prompt list. Whatever you think would suit your story best. Thanks again!

Thank you!! <3 Always happy to get requests from you! Oh, author’s choice. Now I gotta make a decision... hm.

I decided to go with prompt #1!

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

-

From the very first moment, Qui-Gon had looked at him and seen Xanatos instead.

From the dueling mats in the Temple, to the rundown transport ship, to the wastes of Bandomeer, Obi-Wan had never really been Obi-Wan to him — just another phantom of his former, cherished apprentice, another reminder of his failings as a teacher.

Obi-Wan knew there had been times when it had been different.

In the mines — his small, trembling fingers sore from slave work pressed against the collar fitted around his throat, his breaths coming shallow but steady as he prepared to press it, to erupt, to shatter himself into billions of fragments just to open a door for Qui-Gon Jinn — there, then, it had been different.

Qui-Gon had seen him, and apologized to him, and praised him.

Offered to be his Master.

Yes, of course, yes.

But despite their bond being sealed and the training begun, after that it felt like two steps forward, five steps back, one step forward, standstill.

Qui-Gon could not seem to comprehend that Obi-Wan was not Xanatos.

He was surprised in his habits, that he hated waking early but enjoyed it once he was up. That he ate light, small meals often throughout the day instead of three large ones, and wouldn’t touch a heaping plateful no matter how hungry he was. That he was tidy in his clothing and writing but usually forgot to make his bed until the end of the day, when he wanted to climb into smooth, tidy sheets instead of a mess.

And he seemed ready, at all times, for Obi-Wan to do something… evil.

Not just wrong, or reckless, or crazy.

But as if he expected his thirteen-year-old Padawan to dramatically drop a facade of innocence like a masked villain dropping his disguise, and prove to the Order that he was capable of incredible harm.

It was worse after Telos.

One might have thought Qui-Gon expected Obi-Wan to announce himself Xanatos’ heir after the older man had flung himself into a pit of acid rather than face justice.

If Xanatos had lurked between them before, he positively pushed them apart after his death.

And then…

And then Tahl died.

And it was Obi-Wan’s fault, his stupid broken bone and his stupid inability to take care of himself or be left alone in a war zone, and she was dead. There would be no more hastily made dinners shared with laughter and teasing and her telling stories from her childhood with Qui-Gon while Qui-Gon cringed and shook his head and looked at her as if she were his favorite star, and no more basking in the light she seemed to share.

And when Qui-Gon looked at Obi-Wan, sometimes it was clear that he could only see the love he had lost, and her lying dead before him.

And wishing it had been Obi-Wan who had died instead.

Obi-Wan could never decide which was worse.

When his Master looked at him and saw Xanatos instead, missing Obi-Wan entirely and both loving and loathing the face he saw instead —

— or when he looked at him and saw him, saw Tahl and the role Obi-Wan had played in her death, and wished to the gods that Obi-Wan had simply never been.

To not be seen at all?

Or to be seen and to be despised?

You look right at me, Obi-Wan wanted to say. You look at me but you’re always seeing someone else.

But Obi-Wan loved his Master. Loved him like a son loves a father, like a good student loves a great teacher, and he could not stop loving him and wanting to be loved in return.

He could not even bring himself to try stopping.

And Qui-Gon, it seemed, could not bring himself to see Obi-Wan differently than he did. Maybe there was simply nothing more to see.

After awhile, Obi-Wan stopped hoping, and simply pushed himself to keep going, regardless of what he received in return. It was enough to be his Master’s Padawan, to have those rare moments of perfect harmony.

He stopped checking to see if his Master was pleased with him. Stopped looking for signs.

Qui-Gon Jinn would never need him, but he needed his teacher, and so he would not complain.

And this state of being went on for years.

And years.

The first thing Obi-Wan registered was the sound of beeping. The whirring of machinery, the quiet hum of droids working nearby.

There was something foreign, uncomfortable and plastic, in his nose and his mouth.

His whole body ached, but at the same time he was so comfortable and so very very tired that it felt as if the bed he was lying on had half swallowed him. He couldn’t so much as lift a finger if he tried.

That’s odd, he thought hazily. I’ve never had a bed try to eat me before.

And that is when he heard it.

Qui-Gon, muffled by a closed door or even two, his voice raised as Obi-Wan had never heard it.

“—you insisted on speaking to me about this right here and now, then the burden is on you! I won’t lower my voice just to appease you, Mace!”

That’s not good, Obi-Wan thought sluggishly. Master is going to get himself in deeper trouble with the Council again, and I can’t help him if a bed eats me.

A pause, and then Qui-Gon shouted, “I don’t give a damn!”

Obi-Wan smiled inwardly. You never do, you rule-flouter.

Another voice rose sharply through the haze, but Obi-Wan could not make it out. Qui-Gon spoke again, anger bleeding into borderline rage. “Look where your priorities got us! I warned you, I told you not to send him in there alone, and did you listen?” The voices drew much nearer as Qui-Gon continued to yell, and he was getting nearer, too.

Obi-Wan frowned. That sounded bad. Who was it that Qui-Gon did not trust to go alone, and what had they done wrong?

“You sent him when I was away and couldn’t do anything to prevent you! You went behind my back! Obi-Wan could have died!” Qui-Gon roared, very close by.

A strange stillness fell, a quiet, like the sudden disorientation after turning off music or a bright screen and blinking in the darkness.

Me.

“He could still die,” said Qui-Gon, much softer, and his voice broke. “My Padawan could die in that bed and you want to talk to me about mission parameters now?”

I went alone somewhere and he did not want me to go. I did something wrong.

“Qui-Gon,” sighed Mace Windu. “No. We just wanted to—”

“I know what you wanted,” snapped Qui-Gon. “I’m not leaving his side, and I’m not discussing anything not related to his health, do you understand?”

A familiar voice that Obi-Wan could not place a name to spoke up just then, mediating. “Peace. Your volume and aggravation are disturbing other patients. Master Jinn, go sit with your apprentice and be still.”

“Thank you, Healer Che,” Qui-Gon murmured.

A door opened. Very close by.

Footsteps approached Obi-Wan where he lay motionless, sunken into the bed and burning with dull physical pain and a much sharper pain called shame.

Qui-Gon sighed somewhere nearby.

And then, to Obi-Wan’s astonishment, he felt warm breath ghosting the top of his head and then a dry-lipped kiss was planted on his forehead, paternal and solemn, a benediction.

“Foolish boy,” Qui-Gon murmured, and the bed shifted as he sat on its edge, one arm coming to curl around Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Rushing off on perilous solo missions as if I wouldn’t notice.”

Obi-Wan waited, a strange breathless hope inside him, like small child expecting a gift, a silly and wondrous feeling.

“Sometimes I think you don’t know that I love you,” Qui-Gon said. “Go easy on your old Master, Obi-Wan, he’s a very foolish man and you’re going to give me heart problems before my time.”

A sturdy, rough-fingered hand began rubbing absently up and down Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“You are remarkable, Padawan mine. Don’t forget that.” Qui-Gon’s voice broke again.

With an almighty effort, Obi-Wan struggled within himself, searching for strength. When he found it, he seized upon it, and with all he had he reached out along his decade-old training bond, trying to connect with his Master.

A flash of surprise, recognition, relief, joy.

Qui-Gon actually let out a strangled sob; the arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened fiercely.

“You’re going to be all right,” he said aloud. “In fact, I expect you’re going to be incredible, one day, my Padawan.”

Obi-Wan could not muster the energy for a smile, but he tried; and perhaps Qui-Gon understood, because the last thing Obi-Wan felt before darkness pulled him back under to the impenetrable sleep of drug-induced relief was the warmth of laughter against the top of his brow, and another paternal kiss.