#so shame upon shame upon shame for obi-wan here

[tennessoui]

thinking about a soulmate canon au where you find your soulmate via touch and the jedi order is a bit more pious and has a very respectful no touching culture that obi-wan absolutely abides by. meanwhile anakin is raised on tatooine before coming to the temple and he's really used to touch, and it drives him a little insane, that no one touches him casually in the temple but he learns to abide by it as well and follow his master's example

only for him to fall head over heels for padmé as soon as they touch in aotc and he thinks his reactions to her are due to them being soulmates so they get married because padmé doesn't really know what finding her soulmate feels like either, but anakin's touch and attention feels good (and maybe he unintentionally uses the Force to convince her) so they must be soulmates

meanwhile obi-wan saved his padawan's life when he was like sixteen and was knocked unconscious and tossed into an ocean or something so obi-wan gives him mouth to mouth to resuscitate him---and discovers instantly that they're soulmates....but anakin's out cold and doesn't feel it so obi-wan's left alone with the realization that he's some kind of monster, being the soulmate of a child and anakin can never ever ever know.

so canon happens as canon does but with obi-wan knowing and keeping this secret to himself and carefully making sure he never touches anakin while anakin gets all of his touches from his wife and obi-wan watches from afar knowing he can never tell anakin or anyone else

but palpatine works it out and definitely tells anakin once he's Fallen and killed his wife and also been barbecued (by his soulmate), which makes vader obsess with finding obi-wan (more than he is in canon)

and he finally captures him and has the acolytes chain him up in mustafar. vader visits and asks if obi-wan cut off his arms so he couldn't touch him and know, and it's obi-wan's worst fear and biggest regret that anakin finds out they're soulmates, but now he has no control over the situation. not as vader approaches, not as he takes off his helmet, not as vader leans close and brushes what remains of his lips against obi-wan's cheek

and it feels just as good and right and perfect as it did the first and only time they touched, except now obi-wan isn't sure who the monster is. maybe it's both of them

[bunnie-online]

desperate boy. {A.S.}

pairing: sub!Anakin Skywalker x dom! fem reader

MINORS DNI. THIS IS 18+

summary: after not seeing you for weeks, Anakin can't wait to feel you again.

warnings: femdom, slight humiliation kink, teasing, orgasm denial.

word count: 1,059

Anakin was so far gone. His mind was betraying him while he was trying to fly himself and Obi-Wan back to the Jedi temple safely. He knew that he was going to see you soon, every time he tried to think about something wholesome, thought of you bent over, panting and screaming his name flooded his thoughts. It was a painfully long flight home, trying to keep himself at bay, figuratively and literally. As soon as the speeder touched down, Anakin basically sprinted from the landing pad to your room. To his surprise you were there waiting for him. He nearly knocked you over when he embraced you, squeezing you tightly. "Oh.. How I've missed you." He whispers huskily, making you shiver.

"Anakin, wait until we get into my room, we could be caught!" You giggle, Anakin nipping at your neck started to tickle. He opens your door with the Force, and backs you into your own room, his body never leaving yours. He backs you into a wall. "Ani.. Ani..." you gasp in between Anakin's impatient kisses. "Anakin!" you say sternly. He jumps. You can feel the goosebumps form on his skin. "You need to learn how to wait." Your voice low and seductive. You place you hands on his chest and move him backwards. His gorgeous blue eyes are blown out, widened with surprise. " 'm sorry" he slurs his words, already drunk off the pleasure that he has yet to receive. "You're going to do everything I say. Understood?" you gaze into his eyes, making your place known. "Y-Yes. I understand." he stutters out, but still nods obediently. "Kneel." you command. He drops to his knees, no questions asked. His eyes almost tearing up, awaiting your next command. You waltz around him, circling him like he's your personal, pretty prey. Anakin is basically shaking in anticipation. "Now, do you think that coming in here, forcing yourself upon me like a depraved horny being, makes you a good boy?" You ask, trailing you pointer finger along his jawline, forcing him to make eye contact with you. He shakes his head in shame. "Words, Anakin." you reprimand him. "No. It doesn't." his voice barely above a whisper. "And bad boys don't get what they want, do they?" you look down on him, your eyes darkening. "No... they do not." he was so delectably embarrassed, his arousal begging to be set free. "So. You're gonna listen and be a good boy, okay? Then I'll think about giving you what you want." an audible whine comes from him as soon as you finish your sentence. "I'll be good! I'll listen! I promise!" his voice is slightly pitched up, desperation dripping off of every single word. "Ah ah ah... Too eager. You need to wait, baby." you stroke his cheek, earning another whine from the very pretty boy kneeling in front of you. "Can't wait anymore" his voice cracks. "Need you, need to cum, please, it's been so long." He's almost in tears. Your heart (and other parts) aches for him, poor thing, he probably didn't touch himself the whole time he was gone, he's probably gonna burst soon. You get down on his level, joining him on the floor. "You've been so pent up, huh?" you take his face into both of your hands. He nods frantically. "Mhm! Haven't cum in so long, was waiting for you." tears of embarrassment and frustration well up in his eyes. "Oh you poor baby." You say, your voice feigning sympathy. "I'm gonna help you, okay Pumpkin." your voice sounded sweet, but your intentions are nothing but sinister. "Oh thank you, thank you." he repeats, already panting heavily. "Stand up, pretty boy." you order. He stands, his legs shaking from the adrenaline and anticipation. You couldn't ignore his arousal if you tried. It made the heat between your thighs grow more and more unbearable. You can't give in now though, how will your impatient, desperate boy learn his lesson? You can't reward his behavior. He has to learn. "Lean against the wall." you command him. He steps behind you, to switch your places. You turn around, still on your knees. "Be good for me, Ani." your voice low and commanding, making the man before you shiver. His voice caught in his throat, only leaving him to nod. You pull his pants down, suddenly, causing him to gasp, he looks away, his face suddenly crimson red. "Oh~ would you look at that. My boy is so sooo needy, hm?" you lean in and place a kiss on his left thigh. "Ohh" he groans, having you so painfully close to where he wants you, resisting the urge to grab your hand and place himself inside it.

"pleasepleaseplease" He whispered frantically as you continue to plant kisses all over his thighs and pelvis, actively avoiding his cock. "Still so desperate." you lightly graze your index finger along his shaft, stopping at the tip. "Ah! Please I'm too sensitive for this" he whines.

"Oh, I'm sorry, handsome. I shouldn't tease should I?" You plant another kiss right next to the base of his dick. Earning a whine, paired with a thrust of his hips. You decided to give in... for now,

You wrap you hand around him, stroking up and down while maintaining eye contact with him, until his roll into the back of his head. He's moaning loudly, his body spasming every once and a while. He wasn't lying when he said he was sensitive. "Aw Ani. I haven't even done anything yet." you laugh. His face flushes once more, he hide in his hands. You decide to push the limits and put him in your mouth. He got louder, his hands moving from his face to your hair. "Ah! No no no I'm so close already. Fuck!" he moans, you're convinced the entire Jedi temple can hear him, that spurs you on. You pick up your pace. "B-Babe. Baby! If you don't stop, 'm gonna cum!" he cries out. You take this as your sign to pull off of him. "Well if you say so." You wipe your mouth with your thumb, never breaking eye contact with him. You stand up. "W-Wait no! Wait don't stop!" His voice breaks, you could've sworn a tear rolled down his cheek. "Remember, Anakin. Only good boys get what they want."

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

ahhh this was my first time writing in a WHILE, let alone writing smut AHHH i'm sorry if this is ass

~ bunnie!

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 4

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, realising feelings, tending to wounds, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Every like and reblog on my previous chapters have had me absolutely squealing, kicking my feet etc. <3 I recently realised this blog had asks disabled for some reason, so I've rectified that!! I have a oneshot in the works that will probably be posted before chapter 5, so keep an eye out for that, too!

Shout out to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 here) for beta'ing as always!

Wordcount: 7.3k

Prev chapters: 1, 2, 3

✷✷✷✷✷

In the half hour or so the two men have spent on the cliffside, the wind has picked up again, and violently. Despite the usually tropical environment of the planet around them, the temperature has been dropping harshly along with the setting of the sun and the encroaching storm.

To say the conditions are miserable would be an understatement.

Obi-Wan and Cody remain unmoving in their positions, only occasionally breaking the silence between them to share quiet murmurings of intel over the howl of the wind. 

Staying perfectly still as they have been, has both men growing numb, losing sensation in their legs from remaining knelt for so long.

Neither of them, of course, let it show. They’re professionals, after all.

“The atmosphere is more tense than it was a few seconds ago. Something’s changed,” Obi-Wan says softly, brows pinching together as he concentrates on the minute shifts in the Force around him. 

Cody continues to watch the exchange down on the beach with a sharp eye, shifting the scope of the sniper rifle subtly to track Barrek as he paces back and forth. He pauses for a moment to allow Obi-Wan to adjust, the Jedi briefly rolling his shoulder to alleviate some of the discomfort that comes from being used as a living blaster stand. 

On the beach, a durasteel briefcase changes hands among the group, eventually ending up in the possession of a relatively short Trandoshan man. He shifts uncomfortably as it’s pressed into his hands, inspecting the locks incredibly carefully, almost as if he doesn’t want to tilt the case too much or subject it to any sudden movements.

It is not, in Cody’s opinion, a particularly good sign.

“He looks scared,” Cody comments.

“He is,” the Jedi confirms. “Why though, I can’t say.”

Cody frowns as he observes just how delicately the Trandoshan is handling the package, his mind working overtime to figure out what could be inside.

“They wouldn’t have put a bomb in there,” he states slowly. It’s a ridiculous suggestion, and yet Cody can’t quite wrap his head around what else would cause such tension in the group below them. 

“Certainly not,” Obi-Wan agrees quietly. “But there must be something volatile inside, of that I have no doubt.”

A hush falls over them once more as the group’s discussion continues. Barrek is approached by another individual attending the deal - the Trandoshan’s assistant, they’d pieced together from watching their earlier interactions - who pulls out a small datapad and taps away at it for a moment. 

“Credit wiring,” Cody mutters. “Barrek’s part is done, and it looks like the party’s breaking up. All that’s left is for us to intercept.” 

Obi-Wan dips his head in acknowledgement, keeping the movement minimal so as to not jostle the rifle too much. “Just… keep an eye on the Trandoshan. I’m sensing there’s– wait.” 

Cody draws back from the scope to look at the other man, trying to ascertain what it is that’s caught his attention.

He barely has time to process the way his Jedi’s eyes suddenly snap open, a sharp shout of warning leaving his lips.

In seconds, he finds himself tackled to the ground, the back of his head making contact with a sharp and unfortunately situated rock as Obi-Wan’s body covers his own, pressing him securely into the damp grass.

Cody groans, ears ringing and eyelids fluttering as he tries to make sense of the disorienting shift in perspective. Barely a second later, a blaster shot flies overhead, exactly where the two had been kneeling seconds before.

Cold-bitten hands cup his face, forcing his gaze upwards to Obi-Wan. The Jedi’s eyes are locked on his, wide and urgent as the world spins.

“Commander. We need to move,” Cody hears him say, his voice muffled and distant from the blow to his head. 

Obi-Wan’s fingers press a little harder into his cheeks, his jaw tense with worry. “Cody,” he tries again.

Cody blinks hard, shaking his head to dispel the lingering daze. He’s relieved to feel his senses returning to him more and more with each second that passes, though his head still pounds from the impact. He brings up a hand to check the back of his head, relieved to find that he doesn’t seem to be bleeding. 

His eyes snap to Obi-Wan’s, the danger of their situation flooding back to him in an instant.

Spying on the meeting. Being shot at. Need to run. Right.

Cody manages a small nod, and Obi-Wan rolls off of him just as another shot rings out overhead.  

“Escape routes?” the Jedi asks, the two shuffling a little further down the hillside to slip out of sight of the sniper on the beach. Before Cody can respond, Obi-Wan grimaces, shaking his head. “Nevermind - I can feel that the Trandoshan is retreating with the package. Blast it all.” 

“Which way?”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes for a moment, his brow furrowing in the way it always does when he’s urgently searching through the Force. “Back down to the resort.”

“Then it looks like we’re following,” Cody murmurs. 

They slip a little further down the hillside until they’re sure they can safely stand without taking a blaster shot to the head. Obi-Wan stands first, before turning to pull Cody up with him, holding onto his arm a little longer than strictly necessary. 

Cody can see the concern in his eyes, and he wishes that the Jedi would for once understand that they don’t have the time to worry about his health while they’re in such a perilous situation. He can get himself checked over at the medbay when they’re safe. Before then, he is not a priority.

“How’s your head?” Obi-Wan asks, an apology clear in his expression. Cody starts off into the darkness ahead of them, giving the Jedi a quick nod over his shoulder as he does.

“It’s fine,” he insists, sounding more certain of that fact than he actually is. “We need to go.”

Obi-Wan sets off after him with a sigh that carries the weight of all of the previous times they’ve clashed on this very issue.

“You’re going straight to see Helix when we get back to the venator, Cody. No detours,” he says firmly.

“Is that an order, sir?” Cody responds dryly, ducking down to avoid a piece of debris flying his way.

“Undisputably so, Commander.”

Cody can’t help but smile a little at that. Obi-Wan has never much been one for pulling rank, even early on in the battalion’s deployment. The one exception he has always made - will always make, Cody suspects - is when it comes to the safety of his men.

There are many Jedi in the Order who take a blanket ‘mission-first’ approach to jobs, and Cody doesn’t blame them - there is a Galaxy-wide civil war, after all, and calls have to be made. His General, however, is not one of them when he can help it.

The two break into a sprint back towards the resort as the wind whips up around them, both men laser focused on salvaging whatever they can from this mess. 

The question remains of how they were even spotted in the first place, how long they’d been noticed for, but that’s a matter for later. First of all, they need to get out of this with their lives intact - and most importantly, intercept the briefcase in the process.

They hear another shot go off in the distance, the ensuing blur of red plasma disappearing off into the darkness to their right. Between the storm-darkened sky and the force of the gale around them, their pursuers are thankfully at a disadvantage. A pleasant rarity for them.

“You always take me to the nicest places,” Cody calls over the howl of the wind to Obi-Wan.

His Jedi barks out a laugh in response, mirth twinkling in his eyes even through the dim light.

“Only the best for you, my dear.”

______________________________

When they make it back to the hotel, Obi-Wan keeps a hand on the small of Cody’s back as he quietly directs the both of them through the winding hallways, trying to keep their steps swift yet not in a way that’s too conspicuous to the guests they’re passing by. 

Acting suspiciously when they’re so close to the end of this would be a foolish thing to do. Best to sacrifice some speed for the sake of their cover.

“To our left,” the Jedi informs him softly. “He’s gone back to one of the rooms.”

Cody nods subtly in acknowledgement, smiling politely as they slip through a group of guests mingling in the corridor.

“Well, we’re certainly being led into a trap, then,” Cody mutters through gritted teeth.

“Ever the pessimist.”

“Realist,” he corrects as they turn a corner, speeding up their pace just slightly when they see they’re alone. “And you’re telling me you think I’m wrong?”

Obi-Wan gives him a wry smile. “Of course not. I just like to keep an open mind in the event of a welcome surprise.”

Cody raises a brow. “When do we ever have luck like that, sir?” he asks, dryness bleeding through his tone. 

Obi-Wan’s smile turns to a full grin. “Oh, it hasn’t happened yet, dear Commander, but I always hold out hope.”

They push through into the room Obi-Wan’s senses have led them to, the door left ajar by its previous occupant - another tally mark for the ‘definitely a trap’ column. 

Cody has his blaster in hand and levelled immediately, his sharp eyes scanning the room for any sign of movement.

… Movement that doesn’t seem to be happening. 

Lowering his pistol, the Commander shares a glance with his General. No one’s here. The room is empty, save for the briefcase they’ve come here for, laid out on the bed like it’s just any other piece of luggage.

Obi-Wan cautiously steps over, slowly picking it up and turning it over in his hands while Cody sweeps the room.

In his periphery, he catches a glance of something red and slick staining the carpet  underneath the bed. He frowns, crouching to get a better look.

“Blood,” he says under his breath.

“Or wine,” the Jedi says breezily, still inspecting the case.

“Wine doesn’t have this consistency.”

“Alright,” the Jedi concedes, glancing over to follow Cody’s gaze. “A thick wine, then.” 

Cody meets the Jedi’s gaze with a huff, the two breaking out into a smile despite the severity of the situation. He returns his attention under the bed, flicking a switch modded on the end of his blaster to activate a small flashlight.

His light is reflected back to him in the glassy-eyed stare of the Trandoshan from the beach, his features twisted in a permanent expression of fear. They arrived quickly - he must have been killed mere minutes ago.

Cody grimaces, straightening up. “It looks like the trap might not have actually been set for us,” he mutters. “Poor bastard. They must’ve had a traitor amidst–”

Creaking behind him, the door to the fresher swings open. 

Before he has a chance to turn, the ever-so-familiar sensation of a cold metal barrel of a blaster presses against the back of his head. Cody sets his jaw. 

Obi-Wan, from a few steps away, inclines his head slightly towards their visitor. He looks far from surprised at this development. 

He offers them a placid smile, though Cody can tell from the way his breathing has become just a touch more shallow that he’s on full alert, ready to spring into action the second he has the opportunity. 

“I wouldn’t recommend that course of action, Lia,” Obi-Wan says, his tone low and calm. “You must know it won’t end well for you.”

“Maybe,” the voice behind Cody confirms - very clearly that of the Togruta they’d met at lunch yesterday. Damn it. How had he not realised…? Of course she was in on the whole thing. More than that, even - it seems she’s actively double crossed the rest of the group. She knows who they are, so she’s likely been watching them since their arrival. “But at least I’d take out a thorn in the Separatists' side while I’m at it.”

The blaster presses more insistently against Cody’s head, exacerbating the throbbing pain that remains from earlier. It seems to be slowly getting worse, but perhaps that’s just the stress of the moment.

Biting down a wince, the Commander remains still, eyes locked on his Jedi as the other man negotiates for his life. 

“And risk compromising the package in the process, after you’ve gone to so much trouble to ensure you’re the one to leave with it?” Obi-Wan gestures to the briefcase in his hand. “I must warn you that if my compatriot is harmed, I would have no qualms with crushing the contents of this, whatever it may be.”

Cody could spin around, attempt to disarm Lia, but such an action would carry a high risk - too high of a risk for such a small space. Undoubtedly, she’d squeeze the trigger at the first sign of movement, and a stray shot would go off. Even if he were to avoid getting hit in that scenario, the noise would attract the attention of every single member of security personnel in the hotel.

While they could definitely deal with that outcome if it arose, it would be far more preferable to sort this out quietly.

It might seem strange to one less used to high-stress missions, but Cody doesn’t feel particularly afraid, despite the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He’s scraped through worse odds. He will again.

If anything, he feels calm, centred, watching as Obi-Wan drums his fingers lightly against the edge of the briefcase - a restless tic to anyone else’s eyes, but Cody knows better. His gaze tracks as the Jedi surreptitiously taps out a code against the metal, ‘NOT YET’. He meets Obi-Wan’s gaze as it lands on him, blinking hard to show he’s understood.

“And how, exactly, would you even get access to the inside?” Cody hears Lia sneer behind him. “It’s durasteel, and locked with three separate–”

“You forget,” Obi-Wan interrupts coolly, “that I am a Jedi. I could reach in with the Force and simply destroy everything you’ve worked so hard to get.”

Decidedly not an application of the Force, Cody knows, at least not without spending a lot of time meditating on the case and its contents, but Lia doesn’t need to know that. 

The lie seems, thankfully, to give her pause.

“... Fine. Hand it over, then, and you’ll get him back” she orders, her tone sharp with tension. Obi-Wan’s eyes flick briefly to the blaster behind Cody - decidedly not a good sign. Cody hopes she isn’t reflexively tensing her finger around the trigger, but with how agitated she sounds, it’s likely. 

She can’t be that experienced if her trigger discipline is this sloppy, but unfortunately for Cody, this just puts him at more risk. He can practically feel the danger levels in the room rising with every second that ticks by.

“You’re stressed,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his gaze turning to Lia. His expression remains stoic, even as his fingers tap once again against the briefcase - ‘GET READY’. Cody flexes his hand at his side, waiting for the signal.

“Stressed?” Lia barks out a sardonic laugh. “Yeah, I’d say this is pretty high stakes for all of us. Hand. Over. The case,” she repeats in a low growl. 

Obi-Wan tilts his head, observing her for a moment, calculating. He doesn’t make a move to step closer, or to start bringing over the briefcase. “It’s because of Barrek,” he states softly, watching her reaction to his words. “Isn’t it?”

Cody understands the game. He’s attempting to distract her, to throw her off-balance so that they can make their move. He only wishes that Obi-Wan wouldn’t choose topics that have the woman behind him pressing the gun even harder against his head.

“What?” she hisses, voice low and dangerous.

Cody barely breathes as Obi-Wan continues to observe her, the Jedi narrowing his eyes slightly. “Yes,” he murmurs, “you’ve done something, haven’t you? Something you can’t take back.” His expression softens to something akin to sympathy, attempting to provoke a reaction. “Oh, Lia.”

Lia stammers, but before she has a chance to properly respond, Obi-Wan taps out the final instruction - ‘NOW’. 

Cody ducks down quickly, twisting around as Obi-Wan uses the Force to send her blaster flying out of her grasp. She yelps in surprise, and the Commander swiftly drives his elbow into the side of her head, knocking her out cleanly as the blaster clatters to the ground.

It’s quiet for a moment, as they wait to see if she’s truly unconscious. 

When it’s clear that they’re out of danger, at least for the moment, Obi-Wan huffs out a breath, brushing down his robes. “Well, that was sufficiently exciting, but I rather think we shouldn’t stick around. If they’ve all double crossed one another then we have approximately five other buyers on their way to try and claim this. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

Cody glances to the prone form of Lia, now crumpled in a heap between them. It’s almost a pitiful sight. “Shouldn’t we arrest her?” he suggests, his hand coming up to gently rub at the back of his head. The strange ache persists, despite the lack of pressure there now.

The Jedi performs a quick, final sweep of the room, shaking his head decisively. “No,” he says firmly, carefully picking up the briefcase. “We’re in neutral space, and she’s not a threat without that blaster. I’ll make a report, and the security stationed here can clean up once we’re safely away with the case - that is our priority.”

He makes his way over to Cody, placing a hand on his shoulder and giving him a concerned once-over. “Are you alright?” he asks, his voice soft with the worry he’s no longer trying to conceal. 

The Commander forces on a smile through the pain. “Never better.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t look particularly convinced, but regardless, they don’t have time to focus on that right now. He squeezes Cody’s shoulder before dropping it, gesturing for them to start moving.

“What was that about Barrek?” Cody asks him quietly as they slip out to the corridors once more, knowing it’s not quite safe yet to start running.

He glances at Obi-Wan as the Jedi sighs, running a hand over his beard. “I was trying to sense him throughout the altercation. I assumed he’d have been nearby, that he and Lia were betraying the rest of the buyers together.”

They pause for a moment, stepping aside to let a cleaner move past with a trolley. “They weren’t?” Cody murmurs, raising a questioning brow. 

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I could only sense the echoes of him. She killed him first.”

Cody blinks. “Oh.”

A silence stretches between them as they make it through to the foyer, trying to keep a low profile among the few guests awake at this hour. Obi-Wan passes Cody the briefcase as he saunters over to drop their keys off at the reception desk, sparing a few words of thanks to the staff.

Cody sees Obi-Wan suddenly tense, and moments later, one of the men involved in the deal on the beach steps in from the pouring rain outside, shaking out an umbrella. Cody swallows, shrinking behind two nearby drunk guests engaged in an animated conversation surreptitiously holding the briefcase behind him to keep it out of sight.

He barely dares to breathe as the man walks by, entirely oblivious to the two of them. Obi-Wan meets Cody’s gaze and nods for them to keep moving.

As soon as they’re outside and away from the harsh lights of the entrance, they begin to run.

Obi-Wan stays a few steps ahead as Cody covers his rear, keeping the case tucked securely under his arm and trying to keep an eye out for anyone who might be trying to intercept them - they’re so close now, but if Lia knew of their existence, then any of the others might, as well.

Thankfully, it looks like they’re in the clear, even if they do draw a few stares from the handful of resort guests who are still out in such conditions.

Cody’s feet pound beneath him, each step making his brain feel like it’s rattling in his skull, the splitting headache from earlier deciding to make itself as painfully known as possible. 

Stars, he can’t wait to sleep this off.

Through some miracle of the Force, they make it to the docks without interruption, Cody rushing up the ramp of the ship just as Obi-Wan makes it to the pilot’s seat, powering up the engine and punching in the coordinates to Coruscant with a practiced swiftness.

As soon as the ship begins to whir to life, they both let out a breath of relief.

Cody stands, as steadily as he can, as the door closes behind him. The world seems to be swaying almost dangerously about him as the ship takes off, retreating to the safe confines of the stars above. 

That’s strange, he thinks faintly - Obi-Wan’s piloting isn’t usually this erratic. 

Cody stumbles slightly, careful to keep as strong of a grip as he can on the briefcase to stop himself from dropping it - a task that’s harder than it should be, given the circumstances.

From his position in the pilot’s seat, Obi-Wan’s head suddenly whips around, his face pale. Cody watches as his mouth moves, but he can’t quite parse the muffled sounds that come out of it.

He looks… alarmed, Cody belatedly realises. Trying to get his thoughts together is starting to feel like wading through molasses. 

He tries to speak as the Jedi begins to rush over, but it’s a losing battle, hearing himself just let out a garbled string of noises. Logically, he knows that something is wrong with him, but he doesn’t quite have the brainpower to figure out what in the Galaxy it could be.

As soon as Obi-Wan is close enough, Cody instinctively shoves the briefcase into his arms for safekeeping, before he pitches forwards, only half-consciously registering the way his body comes to an unnatural stop in the air before actually hitting the ground, gently lowering the rest of the way.

The metal is cool beneath his cheek.

As his mind slips into nothingness, Cody’s last thoughts are of the gentle hands carefully manoeuvring him onto his side, and of the splitting pain radiating from the back of his skull. 

When the darkness finally overwhelms him, it’s more of a relief than anything.

______________________________

Cody blinks at the offered weapon in front of him, not entirely comprehending what it is he’s being asked to do.

“I… are you sure? General, I’m fine with my blaster, I really am.” 

Obi-Wan’s expression remains the same - almost unnerving in how unreadable it is. 

There’s an irony to be had in the fact that Cody can tell so much from how hard the other man is trying to hide.

Late afternoon has come and gone within the training room in the Jedi Temple, the two men considerably dishevelled and covered in a sheen of sweat after an hour of sparring already. Despite this, it doesn’t seem to have been enough for Obi-Wan today. It’s unlike him; the seasoned Jedi Master usually prefers short, intensive bouts of practice with Cody over longer, more sustained sessions. 

Outside, the clouds have gathered close, casting the room in that familiar dim, grey light that’s emblematic of the grim Coruscant winters.

“It’s necessary,” the Jedi insists, his eyes never once leaving the Commander’s. He frowns slightly, the motion breaking the mold of perfect stoicism he had been maintaining up until now. “Just take it, please, Cody. We have much to go over in little time.”

With a sigh, Cody finally concedes, reaching out to gingerly take the lightsaber that’s being offered to him. He rolls it in his palm, feeling the familiar weight of the hilt as he glances down at it cautiously.

He’s held the weapon countless times before; sheathed it at his hip even more frequently. But using it like this? It feels… sacrilegious, somehow. 

Obi-Wan nods in approval as Cody’s fingers close around the cold metal. 

��Very good. Right,” the Jedi says, his ‘mentor voice’ in full effect as he strides with a purpose across the room. He rummages around in a trunk full of resources for training Padawans - stun blasters and remotes for the training droids, mostly. Eventually, he pulls out two training lightsabers, activating the both of them with a scrutinising once-over. 

“These will have to do. Now, Cody,” Obi-Wan begins, gesturing to the other man. “Crouch slightly, like this,” he demonstrates. “No - more weight on your back foot - good. Bring my lightsaber over your head, like so, and point your other arm forwards.”

Cody does as he’s asked, feeling more than a little foolish. 

Fancy flourishes and footwork are a Jedi’s speciality, not his. For himself, Cody feels much more at home with a less aesthetically pleasing take on warfare. Blasters may be simple, but they’re also straight to the point - no need for posturing and intimidation if you’re going to just shoot someone in the head and be done with it.

Still, he tries.

“And…  now activate it,” comes the next instruction, spoken a little more softly than the last.

After only a moment of hesitation, Cody presses his thumb into the activator. 

The familiar light blue glow that emanates from the blade is oddly comforting to the clone, and  hearing the low buzz of the energy above him feels like a strange, forbidden thrill. 

He’s never seen anyone else fight with his Jetii’s personal weapon before, barring one time when Obi-Wan had fallen unconscious in the field and Anakin had grabbed it to dual wield with over his fallen body - even then there had been a moment of respectful hesitation.

Judging by the way Obi-Wan swallowed and cleared his throat when the weapon was activated, Cody suspects he might be one of very few to ever be granted the honour. He doesn’t quite understand all the intricacies of lightsaber etiquette, but he knows it’s a sacred thing to be involved with.

“This is… your way of doing it, sir?” he asks tentatively, trying to remain still and steady as the Jedi appraises his form. He offers what he hopes is a reassuring expression of sincerity, hoping to convince Obi-Wan that he understands - to an extent, at least - the trust that is being placed in him here.

“Yes, Form III, Soresu,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his tone quiet and more than a little distracted - he’s been lost in thought all afternoon, and Cody can’t ascertain why. It disquiets him. 

Obi-Wan is often a very quiet, internal person, but he usually doesn’t let stress affect him to any visible degree. He must be particularly off-kilter today.

“We’ll go over a few of the basic movements, and then we can move on to an actual drill,” Obi-Wan adds, rolling his shoulders as they stand across from one another. “Clear?”

The next half an hour is spent with Cody repeating Obi-Wan’s slow, deliberate, defensive manoeuvres, he and the Jedi walking through an unhurried version of a duel, their movements large and exaggerated to teach him the steps. It feels more like a dance than anything else, entirely the opposite of everything the clone is used to.

Occasionally, Obi-Wan corrects his form by stepping over and gently repositioning his arm or moving behind him to adjust his shoulders - always with permission. Each time, Cody feels his heart rate quicken, though he tries not to think about it too much. This is not the time nor the place.

When the time then comes for the real spar, Cody watches warily as Obi-Wan joins the ends of the hilts of the training ‘sabers together, activating them into one double-sided blade, the handle in the middle. 

A shadow passes over the Jedi’s face as he looks down at his own creation, but it’s schooled back into neutrality in seconds. Cody feels a sense of unease pass through him. He doesn’t like that expression.

“I’m… I’m not certain this is truly necessary,” he murmurs softly, wanting to give the Jedi an out from whatever it is about this that’s causing him distress. Obi-Wan’s gaze snaps up to meet his.

“‘Not necessary’?” he repeats, shaking his head in disbelief. “ Commander, you cannot defend yourself from an attacker with a lightsaber using your blaster, no matter how skilled you are. Blade up.”

Cody assumes the starting stance he’d been taught as Obi-Wan closes the gap between them swiftly, beginning to swing the dual lightsaber in earnest. Cody backs up, trying to put some distance between them with every successful block. He feels clumsy, awkward, and he hates it.

“I didn’t even have my blaster out when I jumped Greivous,” he reminds the Jedi, trying to keep his footing as the other man refuses to give an inch. Something in him doubts that he’d train Padawans this way, seeing that he’s barely getting a chance to put his earlier training into practice.

The memory in question, that usually never fails to make Obi-Wan smile or at least shake his head in exasperated amusement, serves to do nothing in the present moment but darken his expression.

“Yes, but that was Greivous, Cody,” he insists with a frown. “Not–” he stops himself short, letting out an uncharacteristic noise of frustration. “Arms higher, your left side is open,” he corrects in a snap. 

Cody knows that Obi-Wan’s clipped tone isn’t meant for him, but he can’t help the way he tenses slightly in response.

“Obi-Wan,” he starts, grunting as he deflects another powerful blow, attempting to redirect it to the side. “Not who?”

The Jedi doesn’t respond, and Cody frowns, worry clawing at his insides. Something is very wrong here, and he’s entirely in the dark. 

“If you’re defending yourself from Niman, Commander, you cannot rest,” Obi-Wan simply says through gritted teeth, ignoring the question. “One momentary slip of focus can be the difference between life and death.” 

The unmistakable sound of lightsaber clashing against lightsaber fills the small training room, Cody doing his utmost best to keep up with Obi-Wan’s relentless attacks - and if the General’s frustrated expression is anything to go by, he’s not doing a good job. 

He manages to get a few dirty hits in, taking advantage of the moments Obi-Wan expects a lightsaber swing to get a kick or two in instead. Usually, his creative thinking would earn him praise or at least an approving nod, but today it just seems to put the other man further on edge.

A few more minutes of duelling, of Cody desperately trying to keep up, and the Commander has made up his mind. The next time the Jedi approaches to strike, Cody deactivates the lightsaber in his hand, standing perfectly still. 

The blade comes right up to Cody’s neck and Obi-Wan freezes inches away from him, his hair dishevelled and breath coming out in heavy pants.

Cody tilts his chin upwards slightly, incredibly conscious of the weapon that's humming centimetres away, yet knowing implicitly that he will not be harmed. They hold each other’s gaze for what feels like an eternity, neither quite able to muster the ability to speak.

The clouds outside have coalesced, drowning the room in a darker hue. The threat of the inevitable break of thunder hangs over the Coruscant surface, the planet itself holding its breath along with it.

“I don’t know what it is that’s going on,” Cody eventually murmurs slowly, choosing each word carefully. He almost feels as if he’s trying to soothe a wild animal, with the wide, tense look in Obi-Wan’s eyes. “But you need to snap out of this, Obi-Wan. Now.” 

A year ago, he wouldn’t have been able to imagine speaking to his superior in this way, let alone with a lightsaber at his throat, sharing a single breath between them. 

The seconds pass, fraught with tension as neither man dares to even blink.

And then, all at once, the facade of General Kenobi fades away, and the Obi-Wan that’s left behind crumbles.

The training lightsabers deactivate as he sinks to the floor, putting his head in his hands.

“I’m sorry, Cody,” the Jedi murmurs, the sound pitiful and broken. “I’m so sorry.” 

Cody has never been the best at dealing with emotions, and he finds every word on his tongue dies at the sight in front of him. He crouches beside Obi-Wan, placing a hesitant yet supportive hand on his shoulder as his heart twists. He wants to ask what’s wrong, to offer support, but he doesn’t quite know how. So, he does the one thing he knows he can do. 

He stays. 

For minutes, the Jedi keeps his head bowed, staring at the floor with a distant expression. When the trembling that has beset his frame finally eases, he’s able to speak again.

“You do not deserve to be treated so callously. Forgive me, my friend. I have had… a lot on my mind.” His voice is low, ragged with exhaustion. 

Cody waits for the other man to continue, watching as he runs a hand across his face and lets out a long, slow exhale.

“I… found out yesterday that an old adversary has… reappeared from the dead, it seems.” Obi-Wan says quietly, gathering himself as much as he can muster and finally meeting Cody’s gaze with a weary smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“He took the life of someone very close to me, a long time ago. And now he has returned, I…” 

Cody swallows, hearing the words that have gone unsaid. A heaviness has settled itself over the Jedi, a weight he doesn’t usually let through - at least, not in Cody’s experience. 

“... You’re worried someone else is going to get hurt,” he finishes for him, his voice as soft as he dare make it. Obi-Wan frowns, his attention turned to the endless sea of grey outside of the window. 

“A Jedi should not be fearful,” he replies.

“That’s not a denial,” Cody points out.

Obi-Wan gives his Commander a rueful smile. “No. I suppose it isn’t.” His expression turns more serious, and he raises a hand to cover Cody’s hand at his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Both of their palms are sweaty, but neither of them care in the moment. “Cody, I…” 

Cody remains patient as Obi-Wan struggles to find his next words.

“Maul is… a very dangerous man,” he begins slowly, “with a personal vendetta against me. And I wouldn’t put it past him to…” he searches the other man’s gaze. “... attempt to cause you harm. In fact, I’m almost certain he will.”

Cody blinks at that statement, said with such conviction, and yet he is unable to fathom any reason why that would be the case. He’s well regarded within the GAR, but he’s not important enough to be a target - not like that, anyhow.

“Why?” he asks quietly. Something sad flickers across Obi-Wan’s features, before he slowly pulls back, standing and smoothing down his robes.

“The whims of the Sith are a mystery to us all, my friend,” the Jedi answers flatly. 

Cody’s brow furrows slightly as he stands too, certain that that isn’t the full answer. 

He knows better than to push. Obi-Wan has an irritating way of only half answering questions when he wishes to, and Cody won’t begrudge him some privacy after such a vulnerable moment. Still, it concerns him. He can always try and ask again later. 

“And you were right, earlier, of course,” the Jedi adds, his usual veneer of calm returned to him, settling over his frame as naturally as breathing. “All of this was entirely unnecessary. You are exceedingly proficient in all manner of fighting, and have put up strong matches against lightsaber-wielders before, even at a disadvantage.” 

He dips his head towards Cody, his expression regretful. “My deepest apologies, Cody.”

Cody feels some of the tension in his body ease at the return to normality between them. He chuckles quietly, removing the lightsaber he had stashed at his hip.

“I understand, Obi-Wan. Besides, with how often I end up with this old thing, it was a pleasure to actually get to use it for once.” He holds out the lightsaber hilt to the Jedi, a small grin pulling at his lips. He tries to inject as much dry humour as he can into his words, wanting nothing more than to put the other man at ease again. “But if it’s all the same to you, sir, I’ll leave the fancy twirling to you. I never much was one for acrobatics.”

Before Obi-Wan can take his lightsaber back, a Jedi that Cody doesn’t recognise opens the door to the room. They quickly duck back out and apologise profusely for not having known the room was occupied.

In the moments before they disappear, however, Cody catches the way they hesitate, their eyes lingering on the lightsaber he’s holding out. 

Their glance drifts from his hand on the saber, to Obi-Wan, then back to him with something altogether uncomfortably knowing in their gaze. 

They slip away, and before Cody has the time to ask what that was all about, Obi-Wan is hastily gathering their things together and ushering the two of them away, back to the barracks.

Cody thinks about that strange look a lot over the coming weeks, as well as what Obi-Wan could have meant by his words about him being in danger from this newly resurrected Sith, but he never can seem to settle on an answer as to what either of them meant. 

It is best, he ultimately decides, to put it out of his mind.

_____________________________

The first thing that comes to his mind as Cody wakes is the sound of the ship beneath him, the unmistakable soft hum of the engines as they navigate through space. 

He feels a pleasant warmth shift over his forehead, migrating up to his scalp, and Cody’s eyes slowly, slowly flutter open. 

It takes a moment for him to get his bearings, which is admittedly not helped by a large shadow that’s been cast across most of his vision.

He’s laid out on the floor of the ship, he realises, his head comfortably propped up on something warm and slightly scratchy as he lazily blinks. Overhead, the shadow swims into focus, forming into the shape of Obi-Wan. The Jedi is leaning over him with his eyes closed, in a state of deep focus. He hums as Cody shifts his head, trying to move but finding himself unable to for the moment.

“Hold still for just a moment longer, Cody,” he requests in a soft murmur. “I’m nearly done.”

It dawns on Cody that his head is, in fact, situated on the Jedi’s lap, the other man’s hands resting atop his head as he channels the Force into him. 

Usually, this information would have been cause for alarm, but given the way the intense pain of his head has subsided to something altogether more gentle in response to the healing he must be receiving, the Commander tentatively allows his body to relax.

Cody watches Obi-Wan for a long moment as he works, quietly admiring the expression of peace on his face that he always has when in harmony with the Force, the small details that dot across his skin, the length of his eyelashes. 

Strangely, despite the anguish of this morning’s realisation, Cody feels a quiet sense of calm fill him, too, a certainty that he had lacked before. He smiles to himself.

He’s in love with the man leaning over him. It’s not something that can be acted on or returned, but perhaps that’s alright. He can live with that, treat it as he would any other immutable fact of his life. It feels almost… refreshing, to not be lying to himself anymore.

After a few more moments of peace, Obi-Wan opens his eyes, peering down at Cody with his mouth pressed into a thin line. 

“I’m not the most proficient at healing I’m afraid, but I did what I could. You must have been concussed from the hit earlier.” He winces, his expression turning apologetic. “I’m sorry. I sensed the rock, but didn’t have time to divert you.”

His touch lingers on Cody’s scalp, his fingers unconsciously tangling gently in the longer-than-usual hair there. It’s a pleasant sensation, and Cody has to fight from leaning into the caress as a shiver runs down his spine.

He manages what he hopes is a non-shaky smile to the Jedi above him, raising a brow. “To be quite honest, I’d rather have a concussion than no head left to be concussed in the first place.”

Obi-Wan chuckles at that, a gentle mirth lighting up his features. 

In a move that Cody has to remind himself is likely just absent-minded and meaningless, the Jedi slowly swipes his thumb over his forehead to brush away a stray curl of hair. 

“I suppose you are correct there, my friend.” Obi-Wan murmurs fondly. 

Cody’s heart gives a traitorous little flutter at the intimacy of the moment, and for a few precious seconds, the two just watch each other.

“Do you feel able to move?” the Jedi asks, eyes scanning Cody’s face, probably searching for any lingering pain or discomfort.

Cody nods, though he’s a little regretful to break the tranquil bubble of the moment. Slowly, he pulls himself into a sitting position, the dull ache of his head protesting at the movement, though it’s considerably muted now. 

“Thanks for the help,” he says, the words coming out a little softer than intended.

“Of course,” comes the equally hushed reply. 

Obi-Wan glances to the ship’s console across from them. “We’ll be back at the Temple soon. And then you can rest properly.”

Cody shuffles to sit against the wall of the ship, his eyes settling on the briefcase nearby. It’s been neatly stacked atop some datapads nearby, and the locks seem to have been sliced open with a lightsaber.

“What was in it?” he asks, glancing back to the Jedi curiously. Obi-Wan runs a hand over his beard absent-mindedly.

“Test tubes filled with an unknown substance. If I had to guess, a bioweapon of some kind, potentially one that could release a cloud of gas.”

Cody hums at that, stifling a yawn. It had been a long day, and it’ll be even longer by the time they’ve turned in all of their reports to the Council tonight. 

“Makes sense as to why they’d have been nervous to jostle it, then,” he comments.

“Indeed.” Obi-Wan watches his Commander for a long moment, his expression softening. “You should take the night off. I can get the reports turned in myself, Cody.”

Cody would usually scoff at the idea, but right now the idea of rest sounds incredibly tempting - his body is practically screaming for it after the exhaustion of losing consciousness and the subsequent healing. 

He evidently must not respond fast enough to dissuade Obi-Wan from the idea, as the Jedi breaks out into a gently amused smile.

“Good. I much prefer it when you don’t argue,” he jokes, and Cody can’t help but roll his eyes. “I’ll inform Helix to expect you when we land.”

Cody nods, murmuring a quiet ‘thank you’ as they slip into a companionable silence. The ship continues to drift through space as Cody feels his eyes droop, heavy and unrelenting in their quest to pull him to sleep.

A sudden thought occurs to him when they’re only five minutes out from Coruscant, the realisation causing him to groan softly in frustration. Obi-Wan looks over to him, a question in his gaze.

“... We forgot our suitcases at the hotel,” he grumbles.

Obi-Wan blinks in surprise, glancing around them to confirm the statement. In a rare moment of genuine irritation that’s not directed towards Anakin, he drops his face into his hands. 

“Blast.”

✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: First arc down, but so much still to happen! Thank you all for reading so far. I hope you enjoy what's coming next :)

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

[vaguely-concerned]

Thoughts upon finishing Master and Apprentice! A good double read with Padawan; the ending of that leaving Obi-Wan slightly hopeful about his relationship to Qui-Gon makes for a very sad yet hilarious ‘Local Padawan loses last little bit of hope he didn’t even know he still had’ sort of vibe to the beginning of this one, which is set one (1) year later and Obi-Wan is So Done with Qui-Gon’s whole deal by this point (correctly btw). Also if you can’t tell already I will not be objective or free from bias in this because I love Obi-Wan so much and some of the stuff Qui-Gon pulled made me incandescent with rage on his behalf <3 let’s go

- 'oh obi-wan, you're so mature for your age, I keep forgetting you're only seventeen years old,' qui-gon says, word for word, repeatedly, in master and apprentice, apparently willfully deaf to the industrial-sized warning bells about their relationship dynamic that should probably be setting off in his head. qui-gon believes in vibing with the living force and being in the moment right up until the moment requires him to pay attention to the kid he's raising for more than oh, one and a half minutes of self-effacing inner monologue and then he's like 'well unfortunately there is simply no time for that right now there are prophecies to be pondered'. (the fact that the admission that obi-wan has essentially been left to raise himself emotionally and the resigned reframing of that as 'and maybe that is a good thing!' is part of the olive branch they extend to each other towards the end... will my sadness never end)

- most of all it's so heartbreaking to me that qui-gon seemingly never understands just how much obi-wan as a person is rooted deeply in shame. I don't think that's a feeling that's particularly prevalent in qui-gon's own inner world so he doesn't recognize how central it is in obi-wan's psychology and completely misunderstands and misaligns with him again and again and again and then gets annoyed with obi-wan for that, thus making the shame even deeper. doubly painful because he does see the way rael lives so much of his life out of shame now and feels sad about it, but can't see the way he's contributing to obi-wan doing so. this is what fucks me up so bad about the generational trauma in star wars -- no one here meant to be cruel. for all his faults I do think qui-gon does love obi-wan and doesn't mean to hurt him. but the original sin of the prequels as far as I'm concerned is qui-gon tenderly drying away obi-wan's tears as he's dying even while completely failing to see him, his eyes too fixed on anakin's future to actually be with obi-wan, who's there right now and needs him.

these are simply very different people trying and failing to understand each other, and the harm that can still happen in that�� 'if you love me, you don't love me in a way I understand', all the way through the disaster line, even when the love is there, it is there, that’s what hurts the most, it just doesn’t reach where it’s needed, there’s a connection that doesn’t happen. (ironically I think ahsoka doesn't doubt that anakin loves her, it's just uh everything else that went down. so y'know family curse broken! new even more fucked up curse achieved now with more child murder. I mean there already was some child murder in this family but anakin upped the game exponentially) 

- a lil guy who's basically tarzan except the gorillas are replaced with protocol droids and then he becomes a jewel thief is one of the funniest star wars concepts I've ever heard and I hope pax and rahara get to pop up in more star wars media, they’re great fun. (also an idea I think would be super fun to make a character/campaign around in Edge of the Empire or something, everyone playing different droids and then one person being robo-parented lol) 

- was not prepared to have rael posit a theory of what essentially seems to be the jedi version of predestination in his despair, but I do love to see it haha. especially interesting since he, qui-gon and dooku must be among the people alive who've studied the prophecies in most depth, and they've all reached different conclusions -- dooku decides to join the war of light and dark on the side of dark for some reason, qui-gon (possibly the stubbornest fucker the jedi order ever produced) 'turns towards the light not to win some great cosmic game, but because it is the light', and rael in the middle falls into the depressed apathy of 'it doesn't matter what we do here, the outcome is already decided; for there to be true balance there has to be as much dark as light in the world so we're fucked'. but in the end he does take qui-gon's words to heart and turns towards the light rather than accepting dooku's offer, even if he might not believe it makes a difference in the long run. man I love rael. hobo-looking sonofabitch living in a castle for eight years will just suddenly fling out some deep jedi theology huh

- master rael 'I'm gonna make up for the big terrible mistake I made on accident by making an even bigger more premeditated mistake on purpose' averross (affectionate)

- the added layer to dooku’s fascination with prophecy after reading dooku: jedi lost — that his best friend in the world was a seer who couldn’t turn it off and it destroyed him……….. dooku you’re not getting him back if you just understand what he saw you know that right

- the more I read of master and apprentice the more I realize that the reason yoda and qui-gon don't get along is that they're two of the judgiest bitches the jedi order ever produced. They’re like two cats scowling judgmentally at each other from opposite sides of the room pretending to live and let live while going ‘you’re wrong tho’ internally. 

- I dunk on him constantly (not entirely without affection, however grudging), but Qui-Gon is genuinely a really interesting character. He’s so… he’s so. He’s infuriating but he’s infuriating in an equidistant sort of way. You feel me. He’s pissing everyone off equally and he just doesn’t care because again, he’s the stubbornest judgiest bitch around and thinks he’s right all the time. I would be free to just enjoy his ornery ‘no actually I’m right about this’ ass and the chaos he wreaks so much more if Obi-Wan didn’t have to live with the emotional consequences of it lol. 

- poor rael closing in on fifty with his puriteen middle-aged little brother clutching pearls about his getting laid once in a blue moon fhdskjahfas. again a really interesting insight into different ways of interpreting the jedi code, though, I love seeing the jedi not be an ideological monolith. to be fair to rael, having sex sometimes does seem to be the indulgence he has that causes the least conflict with his principles or loyalties so you know what honestly force speed you my friend why not. (and then there's qui-gon 'noooo sex is only okay if you're In Love (implied: like I was)!!!' jinn lmao. I wonder what he'd think of anakin and padme's relationship, would that pass the 'being sufficiently purely in love' test for him) I do like how consistently it’s shown that rael doesn’t mean to be cruel or unkind in anything he says, he always notices something landing too close to home and then pulls carefully back from it instead of pushing on. He seems to be the emotional intelligence powerhouse in this lineage (as long as he doesn’t have his feelings too tangled up in something, at least). 

Dooku: jedi lost also shows us that dooku absolutely knows rael is out there in the galaxy laying pipe and is, at worst, softly amused by it. So in this little family unit it’s only qui-gon losing his mind over it fjsdkafa I’m so used to having qui-gon be the wild card maverick compared to obi-wan ‘*in tears* but what are the RULES master’ kenobi, it’s so fucking funny that within the context that raised him he’s the stick in the mud 

I guess. the book also had a plot and it was not bad! some interesting insights about how the republic interacted with the big corporations and just how fucked everything already was by this point. I'm a pretty character-driven reader so that's what sticks with me for the most part

- obi-wan’s big teenage rebellion here being that sometimes. Occasionally. When he really loses his temper and gets hot under the collar. He’ll say something slightly passive aggressive out loud instead of keeping it contained inside his head. And qui-gon still can’t handle that gracefully AT ALL he snaps right back fdjskfhas. (I guess he also snitches on qui-gon to the council but well, you know, qui-gon was breaking republic law pretty brazenly at that point I think that moves beyond teenage angst and into ‘...master that’s a wholeass felony’ territory). Obi-Wan does go for a couple of low blows, but like. Nothing that’s not actually true, is the thing. And mostly he blames himself for not being good enough, because surely if he were qui gon wouldn’t treat him like this. Augh. hngh. Pain. suffering. 

- I am not one of the people who think everything would have automatically been just hunky-dory if only qui-gon lived and could have been anakin's master (in fact I would have given it a 50/50 chance of going exponentially worse way faster; being more similar as people is not always a guarantee that a relationship will go smoother and qui-gon is an incredibly difficult man to be close to for any length of time), but the way this book basically presents how the dynamic between dooku, rael and qui-gon could have gone on in the next generation too... it would have been incredibly unfair to obi-wan (as always I think that's just an universal constant lmao) but I think the odds of it turning out okay would have been better if you had him in the mix to run crisis control for both qui-gon and anakin, as he does for each of them individually as best he can anyway. at least he could have been free to be anakin's brother and friend purely in that scenario, without all the added mess of grief and having to take on a parental role there so young. he does basically fill that role in ahsoka's apprenticeship, after all.

- qui-gon finally hugging rael before he leaves the planet (and especially since when they were younger he wanted to, but held himself back from it)... that's still his big brother even with all the shit that's happened since ;_____; when someone teaches you how to swim (literally and symbolically) that shit stays with you I suppose

Relatedly: DOOKU getting hugged, and gladly. What the fuck. Are you all seeing this shit. I’m gonna cry or laugh I’m not sure which one why am I emotionally invested in the galaxy's most problematic grandpa now this sucks

[fatedsith]

“Regardless of how we feel about each other.”

Her words haunt him even as he returns to his bedroom, the one across from Padmé’s on the topmost floor of the Varykino Villa. It was chosen so he could watch over her more easily; sense any disturbances. Not that there would be, at this estate– Anakin is confident in her safety, as long as they stay here at the Lake Country. After all, Governor Sio Bibble had agreed with Padmé that the Lake Country was the most remote part in all of Naboo. Despite what Padmé seemed to think, Anakin did value her input, knowing confidently that she’s the smartest woman he’s ever met. She joined the Apprentice Legislators when she was only eight and attended Theed Royal Academy, being trained to be a public servant.

He’s always thought it was a good thing that Padmé chose to serve; she was kind-hearted without sacrificing her intelligence. She was wise, strict and soft all at once. Anakin didn’t like politicians or their often indolent and selfish whims. If it weren’t for the Senate’s refusal to act swiftly, Naboo’s blockade wouldn’t have ruined so many lives. The unlawful Trade Federation had claimed taxation disagreements upon Naboo, using their membership in the Galactic Senate to further delay action. If it weren’t for Anakin’s own actions destroying the Trade Federation’s control ship, Naboo’s forces might not have overcome the blockade.

As much as he loved being of use to Padmé, he hated watching the Republic cause her such hardship, forcing her to go to even more extraneous lengths than she already would have. She was a good queen and now senator; wise and caring. Someone Anakin would trust with the universe itself, if the responsibility of it were placed on her shoulders. It was a shame all politicians couldn’t be more like her, and it was one of the many things about her that inspired him enough to keep her in his thoughts and dreams.

One of many things. There was also her beauty, and the connection they shared… the fact he can’t shake her from his visions. He would dream of her and in them they would talk and play, just like they had in the meadow. He felt as if he knew her more than he did; as if everything about her was also a part of him in some way. Lingering, even when she left him for ten years.

It’s why it leaves him in agony when she rejects him, telling him to come back to the real world as if his love was nothing but child’s play. He knows it’s not and it never was, even when they were children. He felt it— felt that they were meant for each other. Even the Force seemed intent on telling him so.

He returns to his bedroom with frustration and an aching sadness, discouraged. Why couldn’t she see they were meant to be? She wouldn’t even accept him when he tried to offer to keep it a secret. Didn’t she want him? She spoke delicately as if she did, dancing around the words. “Regardless of how we feel about each other,” she’d said, as if she felt it too.

That magnetic pull between them, like they needed each other. Or maybe only Anakin needed Padmé… Maybe he was a fool for coming here, thinking the senator still cared for him. Maybe Obi-Wan was right, as much as he hated even thinking the thought. But it had felt real to him, at the time– the way they kissed. She kissed him back; he’d felt it. The press of her soft mouth to his and the look in her eyes at the way his fingers trailed against her naked back.

He needs more– felt more. He swears he did, especially in the way she wiggled beside him, as if she was trying to put a lid on something she felt. Force it down, choke it out.

Or that’s what he tells himself as he starts to take off his robes, first the belt and then the leather overcoat. Pulling off the brown tunic with long sleeves, he rests the clothing on the end of the bed, leaving him shirtless.

The room Padmé gave him is adorned with the same golden curtains as in the sitting room, along with matching red velvet seats near the window. Everything is ornate; golden and beautiful, just like her and the rest of her world. Everything reminds him of her; the curtains, the intricate baroque furniture and expensive rugs. She’s like a princess, even though she isn’t a queen anymore. Maybe he thinks of her as one because she rules over his very heart and soul.

So he’s pulling his pants apart, sliding the loose dark fabric down. Jedi robes were so airy, which was good most of the time but not so much when he was trying to hide his arousal. How could he not be? Sitting beside her in a dimly lit room when she looked so beautiful, admitting she might feel something for him, just like in his dreams.

He had removed his shoes already because it was improper to wear them inside of the villa, especially up in this section of the castle. So he sits down on the bed, leaning against the headboard as his hand slips beneath the fabric of his underwear, his pants still half on his legs.

There’s a low fire crackling in the fireplace that they’d lit earlier; the one in the corner of his room. It illuminates his golden skin, making it easier to see his erection as he pulls it out. A soft frustrated sigh leaves him as his fingers close around his throbbing length, stroking gently and finding himself surprised at the force of pleasure that rolls through his body in response. It feels too good, thinking about her soft pink lips and the way they felt when they kissed on the veranda. It turns him on even more than her beauty does, knowing that she wanted him too, even if it was fleeting. Even if it didn’t mean to her what it meant to him.

How could she? “I will not give in to this,” she said, as if she wanted to give in. It’s all he can think about, almost obsessively, as he strokes himself a little harder. It feels like a betrayal of some kind, the way she rejected him after leaving him with the most incredible feeling he had ever experienced in his lifetime. All he can think about is the way her sweet mouth tasted, slotted against his. Frustration laces into the way Anakin touches himself, jerking off a little faster as his face contorts from the pleasure of it. He thinks about what would have happened if she did give in; if she would have had him on the couch. It’s enough to make him leak, getting his fingers wet as he touches himself, panting softly.

What he doesn’t expect is for the door to push open, hearing his name in her sweet voice. His head snaps up, looking for her in the dim light, hand still around himself. / @fatalqueen

[staycalmandhugaclone]

Star Wars Rant - Take 2!

Guys. Guys, I’m sorry. I had a thought on the way to work today… and now I’m going to force it upon all of you, too, so that at least I won’t suffer alone.

Kaminoans do not value emotion. They value perfection. In fact, the social demand for genetic perfection is what led them to cloning and thus gave us our lovely copy/ paste cornucopia of delicious potential for OCs, wartime angst, and brotherly shenanigans. We know each clone ended up developing a unique personality even as cadets, but imagine the first batches. They didn’t have older clones to look up to, to learn that becoming their own person was okay. They had asshole mercenaries, the legendary original source for their DNA, and, most abundantly, the Kaminoans to raise them.

Children learn through mimicry. They see their guardians interact with the world, and that’s the initial outline for who they become. If they spent most of their time around the Kaminoans, that means they would likely view emotions as a detriment, with some interplay offsetting that from Jango and the mercs.

Fast-forward a couple generations to the discovery and implementation of said clones, during which time the Kaminoans have likely done away with anyone who strayed too far from their ideal soldier, furthering the general understanding that emotions are dangerous and something to be stifled. Then, suddenly, here are these Jedi Generals who fall all over the emotional spectrum! Shaak Ti shows them compassion. Yoda shows them acceptance (and chaos, let’s be real). Anakin shows them fun (also chaos. So much chaos). Obi Wan, the biggest flirt in the damn galaxy, just completely upends whatever textbook definition of romance may have been briefly taught to “prepare” them as cadets.

What I’m really getting at, though, is that clones were brought up without love. They were created by a race that pretty much bred out any tendency toward affection, trained by a man who regarded them as lesser copies of himself, and *decommissioned* if they displayed too much independence (I know there are caveats to this, such as Alpha-17 and the CCs, but they had much less patience for the CTs). And here are these Jedi who love in such a blindingly open and overwhelming way. How do they cope with that? How do they not become insanely loyal to these kind, generous beings that don’t treat them like numbers for the first time in their lives??

And then there’s the other side: the squads that have the misfortune of being paired with Jedi less prone to  that innate goodness, the squads trapped with Krell and Ki-Adi-Mundi. They never get the chance to feel valued as anything other than a tool. They may have heard the word “love” but would never be allowed to experience it, platonic or otherwise…

I don’t have any grand ending thoughts here beyond the absolute tragedy that those men suffered, but I will say, it does tempt me with some utterly angsty and beautiful thoughts for emotionally crippled clone OCs and emotionally traumatized reader OCs accidentally find each other through various whumpee ways… be a shame if someone was inspired by this and tagged me in whatever may or may no come of it...

[binaryeclipse]

Demonstration

Their wrists are almost touching. 

Anakin focuses on his breathing as he and Obi-Wan circle each other in slow methodical movements. His pulse is even, beating in his neck in counterpoint to each inhale-exhale of his lungs. Their hands are poised in defensive positions between them. 

Hand-to-hand combat training with Obi-Wan has always been Anakin’s favourite. 

This close he can smell him. The musk beneath the fading smoky-sweet cologne his Master wears is growing thicker as perspiration builds over the course of their training. Sweat has darkened Obi-Wan’s hair near the roots, bringing out the rusty tones like old metal, the long fluffy strands gaining texture the more he runs his fingers through it between brief bursts of violence as they kick and strike one another. Strands of strawberry blonde are beginning to stick to his neck where Obi-Wan is growing it out, curling against his skin. 

Anakin’s arm aches with the memory of each block, bruises beginning to form like growing shadows under his skin. Obi-Wan’s touch imprinted upon him that lasts longer than the impact. He is developing a craving for them, the tender blooms of blood beneath his skin that he presses with hesitant fingers in the night when he is alone in the nest of his bed, wishing there was someone to hold him. 

He settles for this. 

Obi-Wan ducks fluidly beneath Anakin’s high kick, popping back up to deliver a strike just above the elbow. It hurts, Anakin is always tender there, but the adrenaline drowns it out and all he feels is the euphoric high of the brief contact of the calloused edge of his Master’s palm. 

Before Obi-Wan can pull away, Anakin grabs his forearm with his left hand, warm skin almost searing his palm, arm hair scratching slightly. He wants to trace the veins and arteries that are being crushed beneath his grip, follow their blue lines up to the sensitive hollow of the elbow, over the swell of strong biceps, along the sensual curve of his shoulder to the elegant column of his neck so he can pull his Master in, close and intimate. 

Instead he yanks, trying to unseat Obi-Wan’s strong stance, twisting. Obi-Wan springs, agile and acrobatic from his years of dedication to Ataru as a padawan, and flips when Anakin demands but under his own terms, landing light on his feet and reversing the hold until Anakin is at his mercy. It takes only seconds for his feet to be knocked asunder, falling out from under him so he drops like a stone. Anakin falls prone, Obi-Wan coming down atop of him, knees on either side of his body. 

Shameful arousal spreads like blood in the water between the cradle of his hips. How many nights has he spent, helplessly grinding into his mattress and imagining the protective weight of Obi-Wan pressed above him, pinning him as he pins him now but with the added fantasy of being split open around the width of his cock. Instinct screams for him to lay still, to let his Master grind into his ass, location be damned. 

He uses better judgment and struggles—shields keeping his riot of lust at bay—and trying to unseat Obi-Wan to no avail until his Master has effectively immobilized him with a powerful arm beneath his chin, forcing Anakin to bow his back as he’s pulled into an effective hold. The iron grip on his wrist that Obi-Wan pins to the small of his back is the final nail in the coffin of this fight.

“It is imperative that you do not block the airway,” Obi-Wan explains, not even out of breath, his voice intimately close to Anakin’s ear. His tone is clinical and instructing, but there is a twinge of a smile in the shape of his vowels. “We must always strive to do the least amount of damage to our opponents, whoever they are. Padawan Skywalker here is very well behaved but when you are on missions, many of your foes will not be so accommodating.” 

His Master is always so good at delivering backhanded compliments, the kind that make him squirm with both shame at the position he’s been forced into and the pride at being called well behaved. 

“But what if it’s a really bad person?” A small Mirialan initiate asks. 

Anakin’s skin burns beneath his clothing at every point where Obi-Wan’s body comes into contact with his own and he can feel it through his bones when his Master chuckles, the vibration shattering him to his core. His control over his emotions, his arousal, is fraying and he clings to keeping it contained to the shell of his mind.

“Well,” Obi-Wan considers, and Anakin can imagine his grin, all teeth and slate eyes bright. “I said no damage—I didn’t say it couldn’t hurt.” 

The initiates giggle and Anakin almost whimpers when Obi-Wan lets him go and stands up. Suddenly, he feels cold where he has been burning up like an iron planet core seconds before. Bereft, Anakin lays there on the mat a moment longer, missing the weight of his Master. His face flushes more at the thought of his shameful desires that were quickly beginning to invade every aspect of his life outside his lonely bed. He presses his forehead to the mat with a groan, willing away his impending erection.

“Anakin?” 

Polished boots appear before his eyes. 

“Surely I haven’t wounded your pride this much, my very young apprentice.” 

He pushes himself up, rising with cheer and enthusiasm to hop on his feet. After all, the demonstration was far from over, and Anakin would take small solace in the brief moments when Obi-Wan’s hands would hold him. “Never, my very old Master!” 

Obi-Wan sighs, rolling his eyes while running a hand through his hair, the light of the training salle catching on the red undertones. 

“What am I going to do with him,” he asks their tiny audience. 

The initiates giggle again, hiding happy smiles behind their hands. 

[padfootagain]

Stars in the Evening

Hello everyone! Just felt like writing a little something for our dear Obi, so here we go! (Quite proud of this one, btw, ngl...)

I hope you all like it! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Warnings: Mentions of warfare and grieving, sad, hurt/comfort

Summary: This war has taken its toll on you, but Obi-Wan is here to help.

Word Count: 2199

Obi-Wan Kenobi’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

You know that it shouldn’t hurt so much anymore.

You’re at war. It happens. Dying. Killing. Surviving. Death and life mingled like never before.

It’s everywhere, in every corner of the Galaxy, around every sun in the sky. It’s everywhere, after years of fighting, you should be used to it.

You’re not. It hurts. A lot. It hurts to see your friends dying, to see hope slowly vanishing from their eyes, to take lives after lives because it’s the only way, or so they say. You’re not sure anymore. You’re not certain of anything.

You were not trained for this, though. Jedi, these are keepers of the Peace. No generals. No commanders. No soldiers at all.

And now there you are, in the gardens of the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, sitting on your own on a bench, and you’re not sure of anything anymore. When you look down at your hands you’re surprised to not find them reddened with blood. When you look up at the stars above your head, you wonder if they’ll still be there tomorrow evening.

You did not expect this life, but there’s no choice, not any real one, at least. There’s the Force. There’s Life. There’s Death. And in between there are innocents to protect. That’s what you keep repeating to yourself; these are the words you believe less and less these days…

There’s one thing steady though, through the tumultuous current. One constant, as unwavering as the speed of light. A shame it’s a forbidden one…

You feel his presence before he appears. You always do. For a long time, you thought it was because of the Force, because of the peculiar way It moves around him. You’re no such fool now, after so many years.

You love him, it’s as simple as that.

When you look up, Obi-Wan is walking towards you, in his brown robes, in his beige clothes and his leather boots. He’s worried, you can tell. He’s got this frown of his, the one he wears when he is saddened or afraid. His beard and hair glimmer in the soft yellow lights of the garden, it’s warm and reassuring. You’re almost ready to smile at the mere sight of him.

Almost… not quite…

His pace slows down as he approaches, blue eyes fixed upon yours, like he’s afraid you’ll run away and disappear if he comes too close. And maybe he’s right. If he approaches, maybe you will flee. It’s easier than to face the truth.

You want him to hold you tight though. You want him to lie to you, lie to you with all he has in him. You just want him to claim that everything will be alright, just for a moment, before the world crumbles down for good.

He stops a couple of steps away from you, head slightly tilted to the side. You want to crumble. You want to let it all out, but you shouldn’t. You can’t. You’re a Jedi. You can’t let your emotions get the better of you…

He’s standing still, wrapped in his warm cloak and silence. No sound of pebbles rolling under his feet anymore. Just the distant buzzing sound of speeders crossing the gigantic city. The quiet whispers of the night. Your breathing, and his.

He lifts his hand to his face to run his fingers through his beard, his other arm crossed before his chest. He’s worried, thinking, weighing his options. You recognize the obvious sign.

“Can I do something for you, Obi-Wan?” you ask him, breaking the silence first.

He stares at you for a moment more before letting out a sigh, and letting his hands fall idly by his side.

That’s how he feels. Idle. Unable to help. He hates it with all his might.

“May I join you?”

You merely nod, scooting over to make some room for him to sit by your side. You look at him as he does so, movements slow and reassuring, soothing. You stare for a moment at his profile as he looks at the gardens before him. Dark blond hair and beard, blue eyes that seem sadder than they should be. When he looks at you and finally speaks, his voice is deep, warm, soothing. Not quite like a friend. Not like a Jedi. He speaks more like a man in love.

Is it so surprising, after all?

“I heard about what happened during your latest mission. I’m sorry.”

“It’s war.”

“Master Lios was a dear friend of yours. I’m terribly sorry.”

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Because there are too many conflicting thoughts in your mind right now, too many feelings you should suppress but you can’t.

You’re grieving a friend. You feel guilty for making it out of this mission alive when your friend didn’t. You feel relieved because Obi-Wan should have come with you to Tattooine, but he was called away to help Anakin at the last minute. And you feel so terribly guilty for being relieved, but you’re glad he wasn’t there, that it wasn’t Obi-Wan who came with you and died.

You shouldn’t feel like that, and yet you do. Because Master Lios was your friend, but Obi-Wan is…

You look up at him again, blue eyes catching your gaze, and the truth is engraved all over your heart.

Obi-Wan is everything.

He looks sad. Filled with pain. Infinite eyes to host a never-ending sorrow. You wish you could make it disappear, but then again, how could you? You feel just the same…

Because you’re at war. Because you’ve killed, because you saw your friend dying, because you love Obi-Wan with every fibre of your being and you’ll always be apart…

You’re a Jedi. But you’re human too. How much pain can a human take before it kills them?

Only when Obi-Wan brushes the tear falling down your cheek with his thumb do you realize you’ve been crying.

“I heard you were wounded,” he goes on, but you shake your head.

“Nothing serious. I’m fine.”

But you’re still crying, you can’t seem to be able to stop. Silent, salted tears you can’t bite back this time.

Before you can say anything else, Obi-Wan wraps his arms around you, holding you close.

He smells of candles, of leather, of warm tea. Linen. Quiet nights. Early mornings.

He smells like home.

You feel safer, all of a sudden. The lie works, and for a moment more, you believe everything will be fine. As long as he holds you close, you’ll be just fine.

He shouldn’t let himself run his fingers through your hair, shouldn’t hold you so tightly, but he can’t help it. Your eyelashes tickle his cheekbone as you close your eyes, your hair feels so smooth between his rough hands. You smell of candles, of koyo melons, of sweet soap. Cotton. Hidden whispers. Quiet dawns.

You smell like home…

“I’m not sure I can do this anymore, Obi,” you confess in a breath, shaky and fragile, words swallowed by the night as soon as they pass your lips. “It’s too hard. And I… I’m so tired…”

“I know. I know…”

“I wish we could run away,” you admit.

You feel him sighing, feel the warmth of his breath against your temple, the movement of his chest as he empties his lungs. When he kisses your forehead, you both know he shouldn’t.

None of you truly care though.

“I wish we could too,” Obi-Wan whispers against your skin, his beard tickling you as he moves his lips. “But we can’t. None of us could live with the guilt if we did. Not now, at least. Not when we are so desperately needed here.”

You nod, although you’re not as convinced as you usually are. You’ve had this talk before, the wise resolution is always the same. This time though, you wish he could change his mind, gather his things, and leave far away…

But then, the war is everywhere, in every corner of the Galaxy, around every sun in the sky. It would be useless. There are too many ghosts to leave behind. They would always end up following you. Besides, if you left, how many more ghosts would be born out of your absence?

He’s right. You know he is. It still hurts all the same.

You tighten your hold on him, fists grasping at the smooth fabric of his clothes. As if holding onto a lifeline.

“What if you’re the next one?” you ask, voicing this fear that’s devouring your heart, that’s keeping you awake at night. Your voice is so drenched with tears, so tight in your throat, you barely recognise it as your own. “What if you leave me? What would I do then? Obi-Wan, what would I do if you died?”

But he shakes his head, holding your face in both his hands, thumbs grazing across the smooth skin of your cheeks in a delicate caress. He smiles.

“I will not pretend that there are no risks at all. But it doesn’t matter, Y/N. I’m here. I'll always be here for you. Don't you know that by now? That I'll never leave? Not really, at least. Not the way it matters."

He takes your hand, guides your palm to rest on his chest, right over his heart, so you can feel its steady beating.

“I should not give it away,” he breathes, words that he shouldn’t say but they’re true all the same. “And yet, it belongs to you. Always have. Always will. Even if something happened out there, I would always look after you. Through the Force. I would always be there.”

You nod, and you don’t need to speak the words for him to know that you feel the same. That your heart belongs to him, that it has for what seems like forever, that it will always belong to him.

“I’m so scared,” you let out in a murmur. “And I know it’s not the Jedi way, but I can’t help it. I’m just… I’m so tired…”

“I know. I know…”

“And this… the way I feel for you… I simply cannot… ignore it. It hurts. It’s painful and maybe… Maybe I love you a little too much, and that's why it hurts sometimes."

You let out a trembling sigh, before leaning to rest your head on Obi-Wan shoulder. He rests his cheek against your hair.

“Do you think I’m weak, for feeling this way?” you ask him.

But he shakes his head, voice hoarse, his throat too tight.

“No, of course not. I think… this is war. And we were taught to love all. How can we fight a war if we’re meant to love and protect even those we must destroy? And we have lost so much already… I do not think you are weak. Not at all. I simply think you’re tired, and in pain. After all you’ve had to live through, it isn’t that surprising. But I also know that you are brave, caring, generous, and loyal to a fault. And I know that no matter how you feel now, tomorrow, when your help is needed, you will answer. Because you were born for this, just like I was. And it is not our way to let others suffer when we can help, even if just a little, even if we can’t save them all.”

You nod, because he’s right. Tomorrow, after a sleepless night, you know perfectly well what will happen. You’ll meditate in your chamber as the sun rises over the skyscrapers, setting their windows on fire. You’ll get dressed. Head for a breakfast you’ll barely touch at all. Laugh at Ahsoka and Anakin and their everlasting banter, because you always do. You’ll talk with Obi-Wan, trying to hide the way you want to kiss his lips every time they move. You’ll train for a while. You’ll wash up and you’ll head to the Council Meeting, and you’ll listen to the reports and you’ll tell about what happened to Lios. And then Master Yoda and Master Windu will turn to you with a new mission, a new village to protect, a new base to evacuate. And you’ll accept, with a bend of your head. Silent. Obedient. Because you know that if you don’t help, no one else will.

“I wish we could be selfish, just for once,” you plead. “I wish you could stay. Just this once. I wish we could both stay and be as we were before all this: a little more innocent; a little more carefree.”

“These times have passed. They are only memories now. But I am still here. I am still here.”

You let him hold you for a little longer. And you wish he would kiss you, but you know he won’t. Because you are both Jedi. Because it would hurt too much to believe in love when dawns are bathed in blood rather than hopes. Because it would hurt him too much if he let himself love you the way he craves to.

Instead, it’s better to hold you tight, and to pretend it’s enough; as if he were certain that the stars above your heads would still be here tomorrow evening...

[dai-bendu-conlang]

hi! i just recently stumbled across this project and first off, massive fan of what y'all are doing here! (linguistics <3)

but i was wondering if there was any particular reason you've only created the one pronoun for second person, as opposed to separating the singular and plural as you've done with the rest? it just reads a bit funny to me as an ESL speaker, so i was curious as to your thought process ^^

i hope you all have a good day! (and that i'm making sense, it is... rather late here oops)

Hi! Assuming you’re referring to “keel” if I inferred this correctly?

We chose this to be representative of community. I have a half finished essay on our pronouns floating around (but as you can tell, we’re all not really into Star Wars anymore) and the section on that is pretty much:

This sense of community is also mirrored in the use of the singular and plural second person pronoun keel. The reason why Dai Bendu has only one word for those two pronouns is highlighting the role a single person plays in a community. As a culture that abhors leaving people without support, and has made it their very mission to improve the galaxy, the idea of a person being alone is absolutely terrible. Their grammar reflects that. Addressing a singular you also always means addressing the plural you, the community they stem from. This is also something the Jedi practice themselves. In Rogue Planet, after Anakin got into trouble, it is not just him that has to attend a disciplinary hearing but Obi-Wan too.

Mace was unrelenting. "I ask again, what was your error?"

“I brought shame upon the order and the Temple," Anakin responded quickly now, his voice high and soft.

"That is hardly precise. Again, your error?"

"To break the laws of the municipality, and. . and..."

“No!" Mace declared, and his smile vanished, replaced by a stern expression, like the dark underside of a cloud heretofore painted by sun. Anakin flinched.

"Obi-Wan, explain to your Padawan his error. It does, after all, arise from the same roots as your own." Mace regarded Obi-Wan with a lifted brow.

Obi-Wan considered this intently for a long moment before answering. Nobody tried to rush him. Inner truth was a perilous journey, even for a Jedi.

"I see it," he said. "We both want certainty."

Anakin stared at his master with a puzzled frown.

"Explain to us all how you have failed your Padawan," Mace said, gently enough, considering the turnabout in the proceedings.

"He and I are far too young for the luxury of certainty," Obi-Wan began. "Our experience is insufficient to earn us even momentary peace. As well, I have been more concerned with his growth than my own, distracted by his obvious flaws, rather than using his mirror to guide me, so that I may in turn guide him."

Your actions and the way you behave reflect upon your entire community as they brought you up and raised.

From Power of the Jedi Sourcebook:

"When a Jedi behaves badly in public, an observer might think, 'If this Jedi is a representative of the whole Order, then plainly no Jedi is worth respect.' On meeting a second Jedi, who behaves better than the first, that same person might think, 'Does this say that half the Jedi are good, and half bad?' On meeting a third Jedi, who behaves as well as the second, the person thinks, 'Was the first Jedi an exception, then?' In this way, only by the good behavior of several Jedi can the public be certain that the poor behavior of one Jedi was unusual. Thus, it takes many Jedi to undo the mistakes of one."

When considering all these passionate notes, it only seemed appropriate to us that the value system for our pronouns is community based to give the Jedi a chance to express how much they love their Order via grammar. Encoding information about social categories into pronouns is also nothing new and can be found in various languages across language families.

So, in that sense, that but of Dai Bendu is rather artificial instead of following a natlang development, but we thought it was neat

[fionajames]

Favourite sw writer of mine could you please write anything including force ghost Obi-Wan and Anakin I miss them..

Sorrow and Solace.

aww im ur fav? YAY!

OFC YOU CAN!

Im not entirely sure of this is what you want but here you go!

I wrote this as though it were poetry, so read it in that tone.

Anakin watched as Ahsoka swung her lightsaber, eyes closed with focus. She’s been scouring the galaxy for traces of Thrawn but right now, she was training. He watched fondly as she repeated numerous lightsaber techniques. 

“How is she doing?” A voice called and he turned to see Obi-Wan, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes. It felt so wrong to see him with white-haired-features and he loathed looking into the eyes of the brother he killed. He killed Obi-Wan. He’d never forgive himself for that.

“As usual,” Anakin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Still reckless and still searching.”

“And she won’t stop until she does,” Obi-Wan smiled, staring at his former Grand-Padawan. He fondly laughed as he watched, and Anakin turned to him.

“What?” He asked, smiling as the happiness seeked through their bond. Although it was shattered moments later.

“I just realised,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “Just before the First Battle of Geonosis, I told you you were going to be the death of me, and look where we are now!” He laughed as though he’d made the funniest joke ever. Anakin wasn’t finding it funny. He shrunk back, shame eating at his insides at the reminder. Obi-Wan turned to him - still laughing - but upon seeing his brother’s shattered expression, he faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you have to bring that up?” Anakin choked out, a tear falling from his eyelashes. Obi-Wan’s heart shattered as he moved to wrap his brother up in a hug, sobs spilling from the boy in despair. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispered in response, running a hand through the boy’s brown hair soothingly. “It’s okay. You were manipulated, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I killed you!” He croaked. “I killed you and Padmé and almost killed Ahsoka and my own son and daughter on several occasions! I destroyed the Jedi Order and now the Galaxy are spending decades attempting to rebuild it! I kriffed up! Very badly! I’m a monster!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided softly, continuing to play with his brother’s hair as he wept. “You were manipulated,” he repeated and the brunette sniffled, burying his face in his shoulder. Anakin clung to Obi-Wan like he might disappear, like he was his lifeline, like he was a dying man and Obi-Wan were his last moments of peace and joy. 

“I’m so sorry,” the brunette repeated. He looked up to meet Obi-Wan’s swimming blue eyes with his own teary ones, storms of self-hatred and sorrow. 

The sorrow-eyed boy and his brother with the light.

“We’ve all forgiven you,” the light-eyed man spoke softly, words of velvet, honey and silk. Words of warmth and gentle jubilation, intertwined with comfort and laced in solace. 

“But have I forgiven myself?”

“You must learn to.” The sorrow-eyed boy looked to meet the light, searching for lies that could not be found. “We’ve all learned to for our own mistakes. Now you must too.”

“But the galaxy can not forgive me.”

“Maybe they won’t, but there is no hope for the possibility they will if you can not forgive yourself. That is the first step. The first step to the bigger and better future.”

hope you enjoyed!

dont forgot to request!

[tennessoui]

hanahaki au chapter 6 snippet

“Anakin, if you insist on coming along, you will have to get used to the idea of getting your hands dirty,” Obi-Wan tells him from the ground, and Anakin looks down at him reluctantly. Despite the fact that his master’s health has never been lower, he still insists upon his post war routine, one that involves restoring a series of Upper Level community gardens that had—apparently—been damaged by debris from the Invisible Hand as it crashed into the city.

His master blinks up at him expectantly, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. The day cycle has already increased so exponentially in the hours that they have been here that he has stripped down to his under tunic. Sweat beads at the exposed hairs of his chest, which is moving with more difficulty than it should given the fairly light labor Obi-Wan has thrown himself into.

“You’d think you’d be tired of digging trenches,” Anakin says with an unfairly dry throat as he bends down at the knees to sit at his master’s side. 

“Nonsense,” Obi-Wan tells him with a small, pleased smile. That’s another thing that Anakin has noticed in the last several weeks. Obi-Wan is freer with his emotions around Anakin than he has ever been before. Maybe he doesn’t think there’s a need to pretend to be the perfect Jedi master anymore, now that the war is over and Anakin is a Master of his own right. Maybe he’s just realized that there’s a day fast approaching when he will no longer be able to smile at Anakin again. Maybe he’s just exhausted, precious energy diverted to other tasks and none leftover to bite back and control his emotions.

“If anything,” he adds when Anakin accepts the trowel with his gloved hand, “I’d be tired of flowers.”

Anakin scowls immediately, heart flinching away and curling in on itself. “Don’t joke about that, Obi-Wan.”

His master at least has the decency to look a little shame-faced, but his regret does little to soothe the sharp knife of Anakin’s grief.

[ihathbenobiwankenobied]

all things cyclical

Summary:

Obi-Wan Kenobi spends his life dealing with visions that he never remembers. Or he thinks he did. During the first months of the war, Obi-Wan is instead diagnosed with narcolepsy and his entire life changes.

Word Count: 2,709

Chapter: 1/10

Obi-Wan shook the bottle again, starting at the single remaining pill sealed behind the orange plastoid. It had been days since he had taken one, saving the last remaining capsule for when he really needed it.

Blast– he had meant to get a new prescription the last time he was on Coruscant. Sure, Vokara Che would happily send them out to the Negotiator, but Obi-Wan hated to put her out like that, not when he could easily retrieve them himself. Nevermind the fact that to ship the pills to the Negotiator would take weeks, at best. 

Problem was, Coruscant was out of his way, and would be for some time. So what was the point anyway? 

There was only one pill left. 

Which meant…

Obi-Wan sighed, letting the list of symptoms and obstacles and embarrassments come back to him. The time before the pills had been unpleasant, if only for the times he had to deliver a small white slip of papers to his teachers, only to see their displeasure at having to accommodate him. 

“How can he be a Jedi if he can’t function in the classroom?” How many times had he heard those words whispered between his elders, the ones who were supposedly responsible to guide him in the ways of the Force and the ways to be a peacekeeper?

Somehow, despite him growing closer to middle age with each passing day, it still made his stomach twist with shame.

He glanced at himself in the mirror, noticing the way his skin was pale and cheeks had hollowed slightly since the war had begun. While they were only a few months in, he had already lost track of himself in the midst of it. Eating, sleeping, meditating. All of it had gone to the wayside, an afterthought to the ever-present need to be a General, and a leader.

His hand shook slightly, against his will, as he set the pill container back in the small cupboard. 

What was a few weeks without them? Surely the medicine would continue to have an effect for a few days after he stopped taking them. That’s what Obi-Wan hoped as he slipped on his tunic, and brushed his growing hair back neatly. He had no choice but to be fine, at least until there was a momentary break in the War long enough for him to return to Coruscant. 

With that, he left his quarters, lightsaber at his hip, and a prayer to the Force left in his wake.

  “What we’re looking at here is the potential for an incursion–” The words felt like bricks stacking in his mind, filling his thoughts but meaning nothing. Not when he felt so…

Tired. Obi-Wan was tired– exhausted to the point of confusion, apparently. Every word spoken by Mace was a burden to interpret, fading into useless syllables inside the cotton-lined outline of his head. 

Focus, he commanded himself. But it was a lost cause when he felt like this, like he could sleep for a hundred hours standing up.

“What are your thoughts, Kenobi?” There was Mace’s voice again, as unwelcome as it was to Obi-Wan’s current state, there was no avoiding it. This time it wanted him. 

Come on, Obi-Wan, pull yourself together. You can sleep in just a few minutes.

Obi-Wan looked up to first find Mace’s imploring face, as serious as always. His gaze then drifted to Cody, who stood diligently off to the side of Mace, seemingly composed in his posture. Upon a closer look, he appeared to be concerned. He was always so hardened and solemn, but never like this. Obi-Wan had never seen his eyes so soft, and his lips downturned into something like a sincere frown.

“Oh–” Obi-Wan’s voice started before his mind could prepare. How was he to finish the sentence now? 

Think. Think. Think.

But thinking wouldn’t exactly fix the situation, no amount of it would replace his pills he’d now not taken since three days ago. The pills that kept him sane, alert, and most importantly, upright.

“Uh– Sir? Everything alright?” Obi-Wan went to look at Cody, but everything was dark– he had just noticed; his eyes must have closed. Not good. Bad, actually.

Then he was falling, air cascading around him as he drifted downward, movement unbearably slow before his knees crashed into the metal floor hard. Pain exploded through his knees, but there was nothing he could do to resolve it. No one part of his body cooperated with his orders to stay standing. 

For a moment, things were dark, and the noise around him cut out for half a second.

Then just as suddenly, his eyes were open, and the pain in his knees had faded into something like a dull throb. The conglomerate of voices around him broke apart into separate distinguishable tones. 

“For fuck’s sake– someone get Skull on the line. Now!”

Obi-Wan wanted to tell them no, tell them to leave the medic alone, but the words didn’t come to him in time.

While Obi-Wan would have expected Mace to be the one crouched down in front of him– he was aware of Obi-Wan’s condition after all– but instead, Cody’s face hovered in his field of vision, expression on his face no different than it had been minutes earlier.

“Sir! Is everything alright? What happened?” He was frantic, words breathless and the wrinkles across his forehead so distinct. 

“I’m al– I am alright.” He said, words almost catching in his throat. Obi-Wan worked up a smile that probably fell flat, but it was the best he could muster. 

Without hesitation, he crawled to his feet, already annoyed with the ache in his knees. They were surely bruised, but significantly less painful than the prior injury he had sustained on Zigoola; no pain could live so freely in his mind like that pain.

“Banthashit– you just– you passed out.” Cody’s hand was on his arm, pulling him toward a chair that hadn’t been there before, forcing him to sit below the intrigued glances of the surrounding clones and Mace’s hardened gaze. Disappointment and intrigue mixed together, probably, but something Obi-Wan could only let bother him once he was finally back in his quarters when he had time to loathe himself. 

“It wasn’t– I didn’t pass out, Cody.” Obi-Wan answered, trying to catch his gaze. He felt it was true– it wasn’t more than a second he had been unconscious, and that was barely enough to qualify as fainting.

Cody looked at him, unmoving. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing, but hedged his bets on his Commander being offended. Perhaps even angry. Cody crouched to his level.

“Then what in the hells just happened?” Cody asked in a harsh whisper. Sobriety swept across his face, highlighting the concerned indents that formed around his mouth. 

Obi-Wan hated it, the distress. Of all people, he did not want Cody to worry. 

“It’s– not quite so easy to explain. I don’t fully know myself.” He let the words hang in the air, not bothering to launch into an explanation detailing his numerous mostly unexplained sleep issues. His tumultuous relationship with sleep had been blamed on the Force for as many years as he could recall. Vokara Che had once thought them to be some type of undocumented vision, a type not even Obi-Wan could remember when he had regained his consciousness, but she had since changed her mind, still unsure of what to call Obi-Wan’s issues.

Frankly, Obi-Wan thought it was better that way– he had medication that worked more than half of the time, and the war wasn’t conducive to normal sleep patterns as it was. Not to mention, if he had no formal diagnosis, he could prevent the waves of pity his contemporaries would throw at him. 

Force, he hated pity. It was condescending. 

“You don’t know?” Cody asked, clearly unconvinced that Obi-Wan was telling the truth. 

“Not– not precisely.” Obi-Wan answered, but didn’t want to continue, not now. He was already tried again, his limbs beginning to feel too heavy, like magnets pulling him toward the ground. 

“Care to explain, Sir?” Cody’s question, however, became the least of Obi-Wan’s concern when a figure loomed over the Commander’s shoulder. 

Skull. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not, but at the very least, Skull would keep Cody from berating him with more questions. Skull would ask them, but he never pried more than he needed to. 

“Cody, he can answer that later. Everyone– get out, give the man some space to breathe.” The surrounding clones and thankfully, Windu, trailed out the room. While Cody hesitated, watching him for a moment, Skull nodded at him which sent him out of the room behind the others.

  Stim’s comlink never stopped blinking at him, he would swear. Night and day alike, unless he turned it off, it kept going, incessantly informing him of all the pain and suffering that required his help. 

Really, it was his fault; he had chosen to be a medic, and no one had manipulated him into it, but sometimes it weighed on him. 

He sighed, staring at the blurry text comm before forcing his eyes to focus on the message.

General passed out. Left wing– briefing room.

Skull blinked at his screen. What the fuck?

He had only known the General for a few months, but it had been long enough to realize that the Jedi, or more likely this one specific Jedi, were absolute shit at taking care of themselves. General Kenobi had a particular tendency to ignore self-care, opting to burn himself out completely before he considered the positive effects of sleep or eating a nutritious meal. 

Skull plucked a few small containers of fruit juice and a ration bar from his stash at he desk and sighed loudly enough for Oxy to hear him where the other medic stood searching through his own desk for something. 

“What now?” Oxy asked, looking up.

“The General– again.” Because it had become something of a regularity for Skull to be called to the scene when Kenobi was involved.

“Are you surprised, Skully? What did he do to himself this time?” Oxy shook his head– like Skull, he had his own experience dealing with the General’s preventable health scares. Only a week earlier, Oxy had practically been in tears over a head wound that just wouldn’t stop bleeding. Come to find out, the General had been pulling at the stitches after he accidentally took an extra dose of painkillers. 

Skull was starting to think Kenobi needed a minder.

“He fainted, Cody didn’t say anything about injuries. I’m thinking low blood sugar.” Skull shrugged and sighed as he started down the maze of hallways.

As he approached the door of the briefing room, he noted the crowd of clones and Jedi alike, all in circle around the General. Kenobi sat in a chair under Cody’s scrutiny, head tipped downward and hands just slightly trembling. 

Almost unnoticed, Skull slipped between his brothers and approached Cody from behind. Getting closer to the General revealed his wide eyes and hunched shoulders. He looked– well, he looked bad. Drained. 

Cody asked the General something, but it came out more like an accusation than anything, and Skull cleared his throat. The General didn’t need a flood of questions and room of prying eyes. 

“Cody, he can answer that later. Everyone– get out, give the man some space to breathe.” Skull ordered. Everyone followed his order, save for Cody who spent an extra few seconds glancing at the General, something like worry hidden in his eyes. Skull knew that look– he had seen it too many times to count.

Once Cody had followed the others out of the room, Skull dropped his bag to the floor, already fishing out the ration bar and juice box he had packed away. “I was informed you passed out?” Skull said, waiting for the General to protest. He always did.

“Not– well, not exactly.” Kenobi was sheepish, cheeks slightly reddened. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, tugging at his sleeves with the tips of his fingers.

“Did you lose consciousness?” Skull asked, poking the top of the juice box with the straw.

“Erm– for only a second, I–” Kenobi’s protest was weaker than usual, masked by something like anxiety. 

“You fainted then, Sir. Any dizziness? Chest pain?” He asked, knowing the answer would be no. It seemed cut-and-dry, it was almost certainly related to a lack of self-care. Too little sleep, not enough to eat, dehydration. 

All three applied to the General at any given time. 

“No.” Kenobi answered simply. His hand trembled as Skull placed the juice box in his fingers. Obi-Wan drank, albeit hesitantly, but Skull was happy to get a few calories in him.

“Have you been eating all three meals? Drinking enough water?” Kenobi grumbled as soon as Skull finished, confirming what the medic already knew.

“No– I suppose not. But I believe… those things are unrelated.”

That made Skull pause from where he had reached for his stethoscope. He turned around, eyes catching with the General’s blue ones. The man in question swallowed and looked away after a brief second. 

“Unrelated?” Skull asked, not masking his irritation. “Is there something I’m missing here, Sir?” 

Absolutely, there was absolutely something he was missing. 

“It’s– it is possible this is related to the Force– a vision.” Kenobi seemed less confident than Skull had imagined, and the idea of the Force being related seemed like a stretch. Sure, Jedi were different from most other natborns, but they were not immune to normal dysfunctions of the body. The Force couldn’t be an excuse for all irregularities. 

“...do you– are you having visions while unconscious?” Skull asked, wondering if his course he had taken on the Jedi had incorrectly identified what visions would look like. They had never been described as brief moments of lost consciousness. 

“Not that I can remember. Vokara Che thinks it’s possible I just… forget them.” The General seemed too casual about this assumption, and frankly, about the whole kriffing situation. 

“Have you passed out before while having one?” Kenobi’s statement had implied there had been many times before. This wasn’t an isolated incident. 

Skull’s heart rate sped up against his will, skyrocketing with every second.

“A number of times– like I said, it could be visions.” Skull hardly wanted to believe it, honestly, didn’t believe it. 

“Sir, if you can’t remember the visions, I’m hesitant to believe that’s what’s happening.” Skull said, hoping the General wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss him. “Here.” He handed Kenobi the ration bar, watching as the man took it, but kept it in his lap rather than eating it. “Eat.” He said, nodding. Kenobi did, after offering an unamused frown to Skull.

“What do you suggest might be the problem then, Skull?” Kenobi said after taking a tiny bite of the ration bar.

“I suggest you come by the medbay for an exam, and possibly some tests.” Skull answered. As much as Kenobi would hate the idea, it was the only way Skull would be able to accurately assess his symptoms.

“Oh– well, I’ll see if I can fit that in.” Skull didn’t believe that for one second. The General had evaded his initial medical assessment up until this point, always excusing himself from the appointments because he was needed elsewhere.

“Sir, it’s not– It’s not an option. I’ll ask Cody to schedule it, if that would be easier.” Skull watched Kenobi’s eyes grow wide and he shook his head. The General stood, cheeks dusted with pink, and pursed his lips.

“That will not be necessary– I will comm you.” Kenobi smiled with his mouth, but it didn’t quite make it to his eyes. 

“Please do.” Skull said, then pressed a gentle hand on Kenobi’s shoulder. “If you feel like you’re going to pass out again, please comm me.”

With that, Kenobi brought himself swiftly out the door, leaving Skull with a growing amount of questions. If anything, Skull felt less comfortable than he did before he had come to help the General. 

The unease prickled through his veins as he turned to make his way back to the medbay. 

Now, to research.

[aspentreewrites]

and when all the flowers are rotten and all the cannons shot

Chapter 3

Pairings: Codywan

Tags/Warnings: (for current arc) slow burn, fake dating, only one bed, general angst and pining, realising feelings, Cody is having a breakdown, AO3 rating is E for future chapters

Link to read on AO3 here!

Description:

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

(or: an account of the relationship between one Marshal Commander and his General from in the midst of a war.)

✷✷✷✷✷

A/N: Oh, Cody, we're really in it now. Happy holidays! It's been a tough end to the year, but everyone who's been so kind and left such lovely comments on here and on my AO3 have really been keeping me going :') thank you so much for reading so far!

As always, thank you so much to @whenyourfavouritedies (their AO3 link here) for beta reading!

Wordcount: 8.9k

Prev chapters: 1, 2

✷✷✷✷✷

The General and the Commander get a good deal of work done together that evening.

Their first order of business is checking in with Gregor about the state of the files they’d sent across - it seems they’re encoded, which isn’t much of a surprise, and will take a little while to fully decipher. A few select members of the 212th who can be trusted to keep quiet are already on it, and expect to have it cracked within the week.

Next comes the important affair of discussing the follow-up steps of the mission, particularly how they’re going to proceed with information gathering after facing Barrek directly, in a… less than subtle encounter. They aren’t able to come to a definite conclusion this evening.

Finally, they once more go over their guesses on what the deal they’re here to disrupt is actually likely to be. Knowing that it’ll be weapons related helps narrow it down, but not by much.

They trade dry comments about the state of things, about how much they’re already looking forward to getting back to normality once this is over. Obi-Wan makes a few comments about the state of the room’s provided caf machine - though he’s quick to mention that it’s still above the standard of some of the GAR-supplied requisitions.

The one thing they don’t speak of, is the kiss. 

A few times throughout the night the odd, thick tension rears its head. Cody catches the Jedi’s eyes lingering on him with a strange expression more than once, always glancing away when their gazes meet. 

Each time, it makes Cody wince. White, hot shame crawls across his skin before he has the time to shove it down, prickling beneath his collar. Cody knows - Force, how he knows - that Obi-Wan sensed more than he should have, earlier. To call it ‘mortifying’ would be an understatement.

It’ll pass, he tells himself. A lapse of judgement and concentration that he can make up for by performing professionally and exceptionally in the field, as often as he can from this point onwards. 

With any luck, his General will have pity on him and forget about the whole thing.

Rather robotically, Cody finds himself getting ready for bed that night. He goes through the motions of getting changed, all the while trying very, very hard to not think back to the feeling of Obi-Wan’s mouth on his. 

Stars above, he’s never been kissed so carefully, so gently. 

Because it wasn’t real, the voice in his head reminds him, sounding particularly bitter. Because it was a strictly professional necessity.

The thought makes his stomach twist, his heart aching with a longing that he knows, intrinsically, will be incredibly tricky to sate. It’s one thing to have feelings for someone, knowing they can never be acted upon… it’s another thing entirely to experience a taste of what could be, if only everything were different.

If not for the fact that Cody is certain that it’s unrequited, if not for the war…

Cody can’t help but let out a heavy sigh. If not for the war, he wouldn’t exist at all. The reminder is a lead weight upon his soul, albeit an old and familiar one. 

He’s a man whose hands were engineered to be bloody, he’s come to be at peace with that.

Despite it all, sometimes he can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be nat-born. To exist for the sole purpose of living, not for taking life.

To be someone that could be allowed to love, and be loved in return.

Perhaps that version of Cody, unburdened by the war and the weight of expectation, would have the courage to go after the things he wants.

To tell Obi-Wan how he feels…

Cody wrinkles his nose. He’s being far too sentimental and dramatic over something that doesn’t need to be such a big deal. They’re just… feelings. He can live with that.

The two men settle in to attempt sleep that night, firmly keeping to their opposite sides of the bed. An unspoken rift of tension has opened up between them, and Cody doesn’t quite know where to start in broaching it. 

Perhaps the morning will bring clarity. It usually does.

With a deep exhale, the Commander closes his eyes, willing himself to shut off his mind and rest. 

The moons have risen high enough in the sky by now that their light permeates gently through the thin curtains of the hotel room, creating a uniquely soothing atmosphere. 

Cody, like most of the vode, is far more used to the artificial darkness of a sleeping pod than natural moonlight. Some of his brothers struggle to relax under the light of the real stars, finding it far too bright, but never him. In his mind, no fluorescent recreation is ever a substitute for the real thing.

He focuses on that light, on the repetitious sound of waves lapping at the shore outside, and allows himself to let go, as much as he is able.

When the morning comes, Cody isn’t afforded the luxury of a gentle awakening.

Rather, the sound of a scream startles him into consciousness. His hand moves without deliberate input, closing around the blaster on his nightstand even before his eyes have fully opened. When they do, his gaze is sharp, deadly - a trained killer, alert and hunting for the enemy. 

… The enemy that appears to be a distressed child outside who’d dropped their ice cream. 

With a slow exhale, Cody’s grip on the pistol loosens, setting it back down as his shoulders slump, just a little. 

He glances around the room as his heart rate calms, his eyes settling on the source of the sound - the open balcony door, much wider than they’d left it last night. That’s odd.

His gaze automatically shifts to Obi-Wan in concern - or, rather, where Obi-Wan should be. Instead, he finds himself staring at an empty side of the bed. 

The Jedi being up before him explains the balcony being open at least, though Cody can’t deny that the smallest flicker of disappointment that wells up within him at the sight. 

He tamps it down swiftly.

Cody has kicked himself into his normal alertness, showered and dressed for the day by the time the Obi-Wan returns. The other man is as calm and steady as he always seems to be, balancing two bowls in the crook of one arm and two mugs of caf in another as he steps through the threshold of their room. 

For the briefest of moments, Cody stills, quietly remembering that he doesn’t quite know how to approach today. 

And then Obi-Wan turns to face the door behind him with a scrunched brow, and any hesitation in Cody is immediately overridden by the sight of his general in need of rescue.

“Had a trip to find breakfast?” he finds the words to ask, heading over to offer aid for the precarious crockery situation. Obi-Wan hums appreciatively in response, gratefully allowing the other man to take a bowl and both mugs from him, slipping the door closed with his now-free hand.

“Thank you. Yes, I bought some fruit from the kitchens downstairs. They were supposed to be complementary, apparently, but they still somehow weaseled some credits from me. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Ah, so they’re pretending that nothing happened last night. Cody finds himself considerably relieved - he can work with that.

“Beats ration bars,” he returns with a shrug, eyeing the offerings with cautious interest. Even if the rest of the food here was definitely over-complicated and over-priced, they surely couldn’t go too wrong with preparing fruit. He sets the mugs on the sideboard to better investigate.

“... How did they get you to give them money?”

Obi-Wan grimaces. “The staff said it was a ‘charitable donation’.”

Cody can’t help the way his mouth twitches into a smirk..

“Uh-huh.”

“... To go towards their Life Day bonuses.”

“There it is.”

Obi-Wan frowns, looking defensive even as he pops a grape into his mouth. 

“If they say it’s for charity, I can’t very well go ignoring their request,” he protests, waving a hand in front of him as if to illustrate his point. “And they’re likely being underpaid anyway, so it’s simply good manners–”

Cody snickers, shaking his head and giving his Jedi a fond grin. “Mm, no, absolutely,” he agrees, a hint of teasing in his tone. “Which reminds me, sir, I have a bridge to sell you on Corellia, actually–”

Obi-Wan does his best to not look impressed, though his eyes betray him as they always do, lighting up in mirth. “Oh, hush, you.”

Cody can’t hide his amusement, even as he attempts an imploring expression.  “It really is a fantastic piece of architecture, though. And at such a reasonable price…”

He trails off as he sees the fond exasperation painting Obi-Wan’s features. It’s one of the other man’s signature countenances, and one he’s been on the receiving end of many times over the years. He doubts he’ll ever get sick of it.

“So,” the Jedi starts pointedly, steering the conversation to more practical topics. “The finalised agenda for today.”

Cody nods, taking a bite of a piece of fruit as his expression turns more serious. It’s one he’d seen growing on the native trees here during his excursions through the grounds yesterday - bright pink and not dissimilar to an apple, but decidedly more sour. He thinks he likes it. 

“Right. We’re hoping to intercept Barrek at 1030 hours,” he recites easily, shrugging slightly at the Jedi’s request to go over all of this again.

Cody is a man who prides himself on his strategic prowess - it’s entirely good practice for he and Obi-Wan to cover the mission details whenever they have downtime, he’s aware of this.

… All the same, this isn’t a battlemap with three chokepoints, a hundred enemies, and countless potential flanking positions to watch out for. This linear-style of plan is as simple as it gets.

“While he’s booked a slot on the local tour,” Obi-Wan adds, stroking a hand over his beard in thought. Cody’s eyes track the movement idly. 

“For some reason.”

The Jedi hums. “It seems as if he’s treating every moment that he’s not involved in intergalactic crime as a legitimate holiday.”

Cody huffs at the thought. It doesn’t seem particularly likely to him that someone preparing to take down the Republic would be so relaxed as to go around sightseeing like a normal tourist - but then again, he supposes he’s not really got an insider look on the proclivities of terrorists. 

“Perhaps,” he responds, though his tone is doubtful. “So we tag along on the tour to watch Barrek, see if he tries to slip away, or takes any extra notice in concealed coves or hideaways. What comes after that…?”

Obi-Wan finishes off his bowl of fruit, placing down the dish on a small side table. “Lunch, I suppose,” he says evenly, checking the chrono on his wrist.

Now it’s Cody’s turn for exasperation.

“I meant with Barrek,” he clarifies. He reaches for a cup, taking a sip of his caf. The warmth of the mug in his hands is a grounding sensation, the same here as it always is during their morning meetings, wherever they may happen. It’s a pleasant constant to be drawn back to.

“Well, I imagine he’ll be eating lunch too,” Obi-Wan muses, “perhaps we might be able to do so together, hm?”

Cody raises a brow.

“You’re certain that’s wise? Won’t he remember, well… everything from last night?”

Obi-Wan smiles. “I daresay I’m counting on it, Commander.”

Now that catches Cody’s attention. He gestures for Obi-Wan to continue, and the Jedi steeples his fingers together, a plan already put together in full, it seems.

“We introduce ourselves with an apology for our drunken impropriety last night, and tell him that we recognise him from previous Pyke dealings. He’ll be irritated by us, but intrigued. Play up the oblivious angle and he might just spill something about the deal tonight.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Cody’s brow pinches in a frown, already going over the thousands of ways that such a direct ploy might backfire. “Wouldn’t announcing our intentions like that be an incredibly suspicious move?”

Obi-Wan shrugs, clearly an old hand at this social game by now.

“Then he writes us off as oblivious and unsubtle smugglers - they’re a credit a dozen in a system like this. A spy would never be quite so direct.” He finishes off his own mug of caf, glancing at Cody with a sly twinkle in his eye.

“Never,” Obi-Wan starts, his tone indicative of an incoming lesson, “underestimate the value of someone believing you to be a harmless fool.”

Cody can’t help but chuckle. “That’s usually Skywalker’s gambit, as I recall.”

“And just who do you think he learned it from?” Obi-Wan responds lightly, giving Cody a friendly pat on the shoulder. The Jedi taps his chrono, before turning to grab his coat from the nearby hook. “Now, we’d best be off, my dear. I believe we have a tour to catch.”

Cody nods, rolling his shoulders as he slips on his own jacket. Once more into the fray by each other’s side. 

The lingering nervousness of the need to uphold his alias remains, though with the success of last night, Cody has to say his confidence has grown, just a little.

He offers Obi-Wan a small smile as they step out into the corridor, offering him his arm to take in a moment of boldness. 

He knows he probably shouldn't indulge like this, and it'll likely only serve to make his predicament worse, but he can't find it in himself to care as he feels Obi-Wan's arm slip into his own, the Jedi's warmth steady and reassuring.

“It seems we do.”

______________________________

The tour of the curated grounds outside of the hotel ends up being as much of a waste of time as the both of them had suspected - not that they’re here to sightsee, but the Jedi and Commander still can’t help but make muttered comments to one another under their breaths with every egregious claim made by their guide.

The worker giving the tour has a veritable litany of diplomatically worded stock phrases about the history of the planet that they cycle though, obscuring the planet’s history as a corporate bidding ground and making it sound more like a ‘paradise’ that happened to be discovered by their company’s founder. The word ‘colonisation’, in particular, is very carefully tiptoed around.

At least some of the views are worth appreciating.

From their position at the back of the group, they maintain a watchful eye on Barrek, noting anything he seems to be paying particular attention to, any moment that could possibly give him means to slip away unnoticed.

… And Cody has to begrudgingly admit that it does, in fact, seem like the man is here to enjoy himself - it looks like he’s genuinely interested in the things the tour guide is saying. Force knows why.

As the event is wrapping up and the group is beginning to disperse, the two men share a glance and a subtle nod. Now or never.

Obi-Wan and Cody make their pre-planned approach, catching up to their target before he can disappear out of their sight. The Jedi clears his throat.

“Atashe Barrek?”

The Rodian’s shoulders stiffen, and the man turns, eyeing the two warily. Obi-Wan puts on a bright, easy grin, offering a friendly wave as he steps over. “It’s Renne. From that party for the Syndicate, back on Oba Diah? I knew I recognised you when we talked last night!”

Bold, bold move. Barrek lurches forwards as Obi-Wan says just the right amount of ‘too much’, the Rodian’s hand reaching out to grasp him by the lapel of his coat. Cody tenses, but taking his cue from his General, doesn’t move to intercept the attack. Still, he feels his shoulders draw up, body coiled like a spring even as he tries not to show it.

“Keep. Your voice. Down,” Barrek hisses, his fist tightening in the fabric. Cody makes note of the four different ways he could break the Rodian’s wrist from this position if things get ugly, his entire focus narrowed down to the threat currently being presented. It’s a nice fantasy, if nothing else - the sight of someone manhandling the Jedi like this irks him, and he itches to act.

Obi-Wan can handle himself, Cody knows this, but it’s his job above all else to handle things for him so he doesn’t have to. 

During a particularly intense confrontation, Ventress had once referred to him as Kenobi’s trained attack dog. It was meant to be a disparaging comment, he’s sure, something intended to deny him of his agency - Obi-Wan’s eyes had flashed with something uncharacteristically dangerous at the comparison -  but in the moment, Cody couldn’t find it in himself to disagree.

So he’s an attack dog, then - good. Obi-Wan is his charge, and it’s his duty to go down fighting with bloodied claws and teeth, ensuring that he takes the hits in the other man’s place. 

The small thrill he gets from the thought is probably not wholly borne from the loyalty trained into him since decanting - though Cody finds it easier to pretend that’s all that it is.

There’s no Commander Cody without a General Kenobi to protect. It’s simply the way of the Galaxy.

The Jedi placidly smiles as Barrek’s grip loosens and eventually lets go, Cody’s hackles lowering reluctantly as he does so. A small, irrational part of him almost wanted the Rodian to push, just for an excuse to put him in his place. It would certainly be more comfortable than playing nice.

“Ah, of course, of course. Secrecy, got it,” Obi-Wan murmurs, the vacant grin still plastered on his face as he taps the side of his nose conspiratorially.

Cody forces on a smile too, though his gaze is probably still a little too sharp on the man who’s far too comfortable with putting his hands on Obi-Wan. 

He sucks in a quiet breath as he feels a foreign, yet soothing rush of calm entering his mind, no doubt courtesy of his Jedi sensing the tension that runs through him. 

Cody allows it to seep into him, relaxing his shoulders and reminding himself that even without their usual access to their weapons, they still have the advantage here. His eyes meet Obi-Wan’s for the briefest of moments, silently thanking him for the assist.

Barrek takes a step back to brush himself off, though he’s still clearly irritated. He glances around rather conspicuously to check no one else is listening in, before shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Good. Who are you and why do you know me?” he growls, voice low.

Obi-Wan blinks, managing an incredibly convincing look of offense. “You don’t remember? Really, Atashe, I would have thought you would.” 

At Barrek’s ensuing blank stare, he elaborates, “Renne and Vidarr Emerin. We were at the Pyke Palace - the soiree last year? We were speaking to Lom himself when you were passing, and I said–”

At the mention of the leader of the Syndicate, Barrek pales. 

Cody holds his breath. If their words are being believed here, then Obi-Wan has made them out to potentially be incredibly important. This could all come tumbling down terrifyingly easily.

“Right– right,” Barrek interrupts, nodding vigorously. “I, ah– I remember now,” he lies. “Yes, at the, uh, mid-year party, right? I had drunk a lot, so that was why I didn’t immediately…” he trails off, eyes darting between them, evidently trying to put together pieces of a puzzle, unaware that the two men in front of him are playing chess instead.

“Of course, of course,” Obi-Wan returns brightly, clapping a hand on Barrek’s shoulder. “Now, you were on your way to the buffet before I interrupted you, right? How about we join you for lunch?” 

The Rodian isn’t quite as adept at concealing his grimace as Cody imagines he intended to be.

“I… already arranged for company,” he says with a frown, his discomfort palpable. Obi-Wan’s smile grows brighter, clasping his hands together in delight. 

“Well, more colleagues to meet sounds perfect! Lead the way.”

There’s not really much Barrek can do with that level of social ineptitude. As frustrated as he clearly is, Obi-Wan has done a skilful job of getting across that ‘Renne’ does run in the same circles as him, and the Rodian has no way of knowing how important they are to the Pykes, meaning he has to play nice just in case.

Barrek blinks, bewildered, not quite realising that he’s been expertly backed into a corner.

“... Uh, fine. It’s… Yeah, this way.” 

Cody and Obi-Wan share a glance behind the Rodian’s back as he begrudgingly gestures for them to follow him inside. The Jedi has a distinctive triumphant gleam in his eye, but Cody suspects it’s a little too early to call victory just yet.

The real work starts now.

______________________________

Barrek leads the two of them through to a small table at the resort’s pop-up buffet for today’s lunch, awkwardly introducing the two of them to an apparent girlfriend, a Togrutan woman named Lia. 

It’s admittedly strange that their intelligence hadn’t mentioned her at all, and from Cody’s memory, there was no hint of a second person staying in Barrek’s hotel room last night. Not enough reason to outright be suspicious, but definitely something to keep track of.

Despite his reservations, he offers her what he hopes is an easy smile as they settle down to eat.

Obi-Wan takes a seat across from Barrek, wasting no time in starting conversation about their ‘mutual’ line of work. 

Cody is content to let the Jedi take the lead in conversation, his eyes tracking the lunch hall around them as subtly as he can. It’s not particularly busy in here right now, but they’re not exactly in the most secluded of spots… if someone were to attempt to listen in, they’d find it all too easy.

He’s startled out of his thoughts by Lia reaching across the table and tapping him lightly on the arm.

“The two of you are together, then?” she asks with a smile, inclining her head towards Obi-Wan.

It takes Cody a moment to register what she’s asking. Ah. Here they go. Time to actually play the role he’s been preparing for for the past few weeks.

He glances to where Obi-Wan is still very much engaged in conversation with Barrek, wincing internally. Looks like he’s on his own.

“Ah, yeah,” he replies, finding a tone that feels too light and airy to be natural to him. “Married, actually,” he adds, gesturing to the band on his ring finger. 

Lia seems to be expecting him to say something else in the ensuing pause, so he offers a small smile. “We’re… here on our anniversary.” 

Lia actually sighs at that, resting her head on her hand and smiling dreamily.

“Oh, how sweet. I figured it must have been a special occasion for the two of you,” she practically coos. Cody raises a brow.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I saw you the other night. The two of you are just so…” she shrugs, eyes sparkling. “... In love, really.” She leans in, giving him a playfully conspiratorial nudge. “I wish Barrek would look at me like that.”

Cody lets out a strangled laugh, the sound more one of a desperate need to cover his surprise than anything else. He takes a sip of his drink, trying to stall out the need for a response. How had they been looking at each other, exactly?

“I, uh, I suppose we got lucky,” he manages to say after a moment, hearing the way his voice comes out a tiny bit strained, though luckily Lia doesn’t seem to pick up on it. Keep talking, Cody, Vidarr would not shut down on this topic, he reminds himself, trying to keep his calm as much as possible. “Closest thing to soulmates someone could get, I’d say.”

“Yeah?” Lia prompts, twirling the end of one of her lek around her finger. She’s enraptured, which Cody is grateful for, because it means he’s being believable enough - but it’s also absolutely terrible, because it means he’s going to have to improvise more.

“Well, y’know…” Cody starts, glancing sidelong to Obi-Wan, who’s currently leant back against the chair lazily as he talks shop with Barrek. He finds a strange sense of sureness wash over him as he takes a moment to just… look. Talking about being partners with someone. He thinks he can do that. He turns back to Lia with another smile, this one more certain than his previous attempts.

“We just… fit, I suppose,” he says with a shrug, his voice soft, thoughtful. “A good duo. Not just the, uh… romantic stuff. We’re close friends, allies first and foremost.”

He pauses to take another sip of his drink, feeling his heart ache slightly, tugged on by some invisible (but far too familiar), force. For once, he thinks, it could be helpful. He doesn’t push it away.

“It’s what makes it so special, you know? I know there’s nothing I can go through that he wouldn’t have my back for, and he feels the same about me. It’s…” Cody looks down at the band on his finger, his expression turning more pensive. “It’s only been a few years, but I can’t imagine anyone else being by my side. Being that… primary person that I turn to when I need advice, or… just company, really.”

He falls quiet for a moment, reflecting on the truth of the words. How much of this is him trying to play as Vidarr, and how much is real? It’s all tangled up in his mind, an inextricable knot of uncertainty.

“... That’s love,” Lia responds softly, giving him a warm smile.

Cody blinks. “Is it? I–” he meets Lia’s gaze again, scrambling to not blow his cover. “It– it is, I mean. Love.” 

He lets out a steadying breath, focusing on making a recovery, and not on the way his heart has picked up its pace violently.

Is that what love is?

 “I think I just forget that not everyone has something like this,” he says, forcing on the smile again. “It becomes so normal after a while. Background noise.”

Lia offers him a wry smile, her eyes landing on Barrek briefly, something like sadness etched there for the briefest of moments.

“Would that we all could be so fortunate,” she murmurs, her finger idly tracing the rim of her glass.

She smiles something bright and fake as Barrek turns back to face her, slinging an arm over the back of her chair.

“Ready to go, babe,” the Rodian announces, and the two ‘couples’ stand from the table, bidding their goodbyes. Obi-Wan goes in for a hug, which Barrek uncomfortably rebuffs.

‘It’s not laying it on too thick if it works’, Obi-Wan had told Cody earlier, blatantly enjoying the idea of playing the fool a little too much.

The man was right, Cody concedes, watching the way Barrek rolls his eyes as soon as they think they’re out of sight. ‘Renne’ seems to have been relegated to ‘harmless idiot’ status in the Rodian’s eyes, just as they’d planned.

Obi-Wan takes Cody’s arm once again as they head outside. The Commander forces down the distracting, odd feeling in his chest that has been lingering from the conversation with Lia, pushing it away to deal with later. Much, much later, if he has anything to say about it. His deathbed, perhaps, when he’s old and only has half of his memories left anyway.

… Although, Cody imagines he’s kidding himself with the notion that he’ll get to live that long in the first place.

“Success?” he asks the Jedi, attempting to shake off his persistent discomfort as the two head to the resort’s gardens to speak privately.

Obi-Wan nods. “He was incredibly resistant to saying more than he needed to, but all the same…” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, looking considerably self-satisfied. “They’ll be meeting at 9:30pm tomorrow. I’m not certain where, but we can trail Barrek if we’re careful.”

Cody lets out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

“I don’t know why I was worried. Good job.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head. “It was purely luck, I assure you, but I appreciate it nevertheless.”

They pause for a moment to watch as a sparrow flutters overhead to land at a nearby birdfeeder. A small moment of peace after the emotional chaos of the last twenty minutes.

Beside him, Obi-Wan’s head tilts a little, a warm expression gracing his features.

“And you did excellently, too. Not that I could pay attention to the entirety of your conversation, but it looked like you dealt with Lia confidently,” he compliments. Watching Cody’s response carefully, he adds, “I do not, of course, wish to patronise. I only mention it as I knew you were nervous about the ordeal.”

Cody feels himself flush a little under the praise. He can take commendations about his prowess in battle - he knows he’s good at that - but it always feels harder, somehow, when it’s something he’s unsure about.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs, eyes still tracking the small bird ahead of them.

Obi-Wan nods, and the two fall into a companionable silence.

Cody allows himself a brief reprieve from the stress of the last hour, quietly letting himself just enjoy the moment in the here and now. A gentle scent from the flowerbeds around them diffuses through the air, the sunlight peeking through the sheet of clouds above to softly make itself known.

Obi-Wan turns to fix him with a faux-earnest look, his eyes twinkling with what can only be described as mischief. 

“Though, speaking of that chat you had… Soulmates, are we?” He asks innocently.

… Well. Cody was enjoying the moment. He feels his cheeks flush even brighter.

“Not. Another. Word,” he mutters, frowning over at the other man. Obi-Wan simply grins in return.

“No? Not one?” he presses, clearly delighting in the huff of annoyance that draws from his Commander.

“You’re incorrigible,” Cody grumbles. “I’m not going to encourage it, I know you too well.”

Obi-Wan hums at that, expression softening ever so slightly to reveal a genuine affection underneath his smirk. He gently nudges the Commander’s shoulder with his own, glancing back to the resort behind them.

“You certainly do, my dear. Come, we should be getting back to get our further agenda in order.”

Cody sighs, unable to keep from returning the fond smile.

“Right behind you. As always.”

______________________________

Obi-Wan had always been good at flirting.

Flirting, flirting, flirting, with anything that moves, anything that breathes.

He particularly has an aptitude for flirting with the enemy.

That doesn’t mean that Cody is good at listening to him do it.

The Commander sighs, fiddling with his comm-unit to give him something to occupy his hands with, focusing on getting the signal as clear as possible.It’s fairly clean already, but he’s desperate for something to do.

The smooth tones of his General drift out from the small device, serving to make the crease of his brow deepen.

“What’s gotten into you?” Rex asks from beside him, glancing sidelong at his oldest friend. 

Cody grumbles under his breath, keeping his attention on the damn comm-unit. The tiny thing is vexing him more than it probably should. 

For a brief moment, he fantasises about crushing it.

“Nothing,” he responds irritably. 

Even through his vod’s helmet, he can practically feel the raised brow this earns him. 

“Nothing,” Rex repeats, sounding skeptical. “Sure.”

The two drift into a silence once more, keeping an ear to the unfortunate conversation they’re listening in on over the comms. Once General Kenobi says the codephrase, the 212th are going to rush in, the 501st backing them up.

It’s just… taking longer than they expected.

Stars, why can’t they just get on with it? The Commander feels twitchier than usual, some unknown force making his usually endless patience wear thin. 

His General throws out a casual line about the target’s eyes pleasantly matching the shirt they chose, and Cody rolls his eyes. At this rate, his scowl will be permanently etched onto his features. 

Rex once again notices his tension.

“He’s just stalling until Skywalker arrives,” the Captain tries, but it doesn’t do anything to abate Cody’s prickly mien. 

“Then he should get there faster,” Cody huffs, trying not to let the words come out in as much of a snap as they seem to want to. He’s aware he’s being irrational, but he can’t seem to shake it off.

Rex doesn’t respond. 

After Skywalker comms in to inform them that he’d be at least another ten minutes (because of course he will be, Cody thinks to himself), the two hunker down in their small, temporary bunker (if it can even be called that - it’s more of an empty shack that they’d squeezed themselves into to keep out of sight while awaiting their next orders). Rex removes his helmet with a sigh, running through a routine check of his blasters to give himself something to do in the meantime.

A soft, charming laugh fills the room, a little fuzzy from the distortion of the comm signal. “You’re too much, truly. But I would be lying if I said it doesn’t intrigue me,” Obi-Wan murmurs - or, perhaps it would be more accurate to say he purrs. 

Either way, it irks Cody considerably, making his chest feel oddly tight. He can clearly imagine the look on the Jedi’s face as he speaks, that sultry glint in his eye that comes to him so easily when he’s making eyes at the enemy.

“... It’s not about the mission.” 

What? Cody startles as Rex breaks the silence, having apparently been watching him carefully for the last few minutes. Cody looks back at his vod like he’s grown a second head.

“Of course it’s about the mission,” he objects, absolutely baffled by his suggestion. “We’re wasting precious time, and the men are sitting ducks out here. I’d rather not do most of this firefight after sundown–”

“Sure, Codes, but difficult odds never phase you this much,” Rex counters, raising a brow.  He continues to watch Cody, his gaze searching for Force knows what. The Commander is suddenly very grateful he never took his own helmet off. 

“In fact,” the Captain presses, “I’ve never known you to be so off your game in the field. You usually do best when you’re backed into a corner. So it’s not about the mission.”

Cody doesn’t really know how to respond. He doesn’t particularly want to delve into all of the reasons behind his uncharacteristic distractions today.

“Just drop it, Rex’ika,” he insists, his voice a little weary. “I’m just feeling a little off today. It’ll pass.” 

Something like sympathetic understanding crosses Rex’s features. Cody watches him hesitantly try to find his next words. 

“... Is it about what happened on Cato Neimoidia a few weeks ago?” he asks. “How’ve you been sleeping since then?” 

Cody shakes his head quickly. “No, I– I’m fine. I’m sleeping fine.” Or - as fine as a man whose life has been spent at war is capable of sleeping, but Rex knows well enough what he means. His last mission had been… messy, to put it lightly, but he’s dealt with worse. He can compartmentalise.

His brother looks a little relieved to hear that, though Cody can tell he still wants to push.

Another comment from Obi-Wan that implies he and the target are imminently about to go home with one another makes its way through the space, and Cody grumbles quietly under his breath. Something seems to click for the Captain. Something that seems to amuse him greatly.

“... Ah,” Rex says. The corner of his mouth twitches up into a smirk. Cody wishes it didn’t do that.

“What?” he responds, tone clipped and making it clear that he is absolutely not in the mood for whatever the other man is about to come out with.

“Just connecting some dots.” If Rex looked any more smug right now, Cody might consider walking right out of the shack and eating his blaster - it would ultimately be more dignified than sitting through this inevitable conversation.

He does not want to talk about this, not now, not ever.

“Rex…” he murmurs lowly, a clear warning bleeding into his tone.

A warning that, of course, goes unheeded.

“You’d be unfazed trying to take down a kriffing rancor. And jealousy is what throws you off?”

If looks could kill, the 501st would need to hire a new Captain after this.

“I’m not jealous,” Cody rebuts without hesitation. He spoke too quickly, he knows immediately from the look on his brother’s face. Damn it all.

“No? Then why is every flirt he makes causing you to sound like Fox on that day the caf supplies ran out?” Rex looks practically triumphant in his discovery. “Oh, Force. That also must be why you got all touchy when that Twi’lek came onto Kenobi that time in 79’s. I thought it was about the other guy, but it wasn’t, was it?”

Cody sputters for a moment, trying to come up with a viable defense. 

“That’s not– I–”

As far as Rex is concerned, that’s a veritable confession. He offers his friend a wide grin, returning his focus to the comms.

“Your secret’s safe with me, ori’vod. I won’t tell a soul,” he says, far too brightly for Cody’s liking.

Cody considers continuing to argue, but he knows that it’s a lost cause. With a heavy sigh, he deflates, slouching in his chair.  

“If you were one of my men, I’d have you court-martialed for insubordination,” he mutters darkly, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’ll add that to the extensive list of reasons I’m glad I’m not one of your men, then,” Rex returns easily, giving Cody a playful nudge.

The Commander snorts, shaking his head. A wry smile finds its way onto his face, despite everything.

“Yeah, yeah. I still outrank you.”

The comm crackles with murmurs of conversation, and the two share an alarmed look. The codephrase.

“I’ll harass you about it later,” Rex chuckles, pulling on his helmet as the two rush out of the bunker.

“Just worry about surviving long enough to do that first, vod.” Cody mutters. “I could still shoot you in the back before this is all over.”

His brother only laughs.

______________________________

With the knowledge that the deal was set to be happening the following evening, the Jedi and Commander had spent the rest of their day at a fairly leisurely pace. After much persuasion, Cody had even let Obi-Wan buy a dinner for them both.

(“We usually split at Dex’s,” Cody had protested, not wanting the Jedi to pay out of pocket for such an expensive outing. He was aware that Obi-Wan had access to much more money than he did, but it was the principle of the thing.

“Yes, but I want to do something nice for you,” Obi-Wan insisted, gently placing a hand on Cody’s, staying his hand from reaching for his wallet. “I asked you to join me here on the mission in the first place, so let me repay you in kind.”

Cody had raised a brow at that. “I’ll be getting paid by the Republic for agreeing to come, regardless.”

Obi-Wan’s expression didn’t falter. “You might be, yes, but not nearly enough. Allow me this, please.”

Cody always had been bad at denying him when he used that tone.)

They’d both fallen asleep quickly that night, having stayed up to trade stories - a familiar ritual from when they first began working late together to get their mountains of paperwork turned in on time.

Obi-Wan tells Cody of planets he’d visited before the war, and promises to take his Commander to see some of them once this is all over - to give him the holiday and time off that the Jedi says he deserves. Cody regales his Jedi with tales of his childhood on Kamino, telling him of the books Shaak-Ti had helped smuggle to them to help the tubies sleep at night.

The following morning brings with it a quiet sort of strangeness.

Something urgent, but not necessarily dangerous, tugs at the edge of Cody’s conscious mind, gently drawing him to wakefulness.

He’s warm, warmer than he’d usually like to be, and he can’t quite shake the feeling that there’s something important that he needs to be paying attention to.

He dozes, trying to figure out what, if anything, is different about today.  

Obi-Wan lets out a soft murmur behind him in his sleep, pressing his nose closer against Cody’s back and– 

Oh.

Well, that would certainly explain the warmth.

Cody doesn’t move, doesn’t even dare breathe as his mind works overtime to process the situation. 

Obi-Wan is pressed directly behind him, one of his arms slung lazily over his torso. For want of a better word (and Cody is desperately searching for one), the Jedi is… holding him.

An explosion of conflicting emotions bubble in Cody’s chest, his mind still far too fogged from sleep to make sense of any of it.

With each breath from Obi-Wan, Cody can feel the rise and fall of his chest against his back, and in a brief moment of delirium, he finds himself wishing that he’d forgone his undershirt too, just to feel the touch of skin against skin.

It’s a thought he immediately admonishes himself for, wondering just where, exactly, he’d gained the audacity to think such an unprofessional and objectifying thing about his commanding kriffing officer. 

Cody’s breath grows progressively more shallow as he continues to draw a blank. How had this even happened? Cody is firmly stationed on his own side of the bed, meaning it was the Jedi who had to have shuffled over - but that means nothing. He’s asleep, and pressing close is a normal sleeping instinct when you’re in bed with someone else. Right? Perhaps Obi-Wan was just cold - though, that would hardly make sense, given that they’re on a tropical kriffing island.

Cody’s face, he’s sure, is flushing deeply, his heart hammering against his ribs at the contact. It’s fine. This… can be fine, and not existentially mortifying - as long as he extricates himself from the hold before Obi-Wan wakes up.

He doesn’t even want to imagine how awkward this would be if the other man was aware of what was happening.

He tries a very, very gentle shuffle towards the edge of the bed, but Obi-Wan lets out a quiet groan of protest in his sleep, curling himself around the clone even tighter.

Cody desperately tries to ignore the way that the sound goes straight to his groin.

Shit, shit, shit. 

He doesn’t see another solution, though he wishes he did. Cody once again shifts, a little more firmly now, peeling Obi-Wan’s arm off from him as carefully as possible.

The second he sees a hint of freedom, the Commander bolts, rolling out of bed and rushing to the ‘fresher. 

His Jedi, thank every star in the sky, does not seem to stir.

Safe inside the refresher, with the door locked behind him and his mind buzzing, Cody thinks faintly that his legs might actually give out under him.

Between the feeling of Obi-Wan pressed close against his back, and Lia’s words from yesterday still unsettling him, he feels like he’s losing his mind.

It all adds up to a great cacophony in his head, one Cody has absolutely no idea what to begin to do with. It’s too loud, too insistent, and his heart is still fluttering like a caged bird attempting escape.

A shower, he decides, is a good first step. He could probably do with a shower.

Shrugging off his sleepclothes, he numbly makes his way to the cubicle, determined to do something, anything, to calm his racing thoughts.

Cody presses his forehead against the cold tiles as the scalding water runs down his back. Neither of the contrasting sensations serve to ground him in reality the way he wishes they would.

He… wants.

No, that’s not quite right.

Wanting is ephemeral, malleable. It’s intense, burning, but it doesn’t stick around too long or cut down quite to the bone. 

It usually, in Cody’s experience, is something that can be ignored, temporarily or not, with enough focus and discipline.

No, Cody does not want. He needs.

He raises his head from the tiles, closing his eyes as the water trickles in too-hot rivulets down his face.

Of course. Of course. He should have known, should have seen the signs… perhaps then, he could have done something to stop it.

Cody lets out a quiet, strangled groan. It echoes off of the tiles of the small shower back to him, sounding pitiful even to his own ears.

The truth of the matter burrows deep into Cody’s skin, settling into the home it’s long-since made for itself there, nestled tightly amongst the other secrets he harbours that are too shameful to ever speak aloud.

He digs his fingers into his temples, breathing in heavy lungfuls of the steam-drenched air as if it might reverse the realisation that now weighs upon his heart like lead.

This is no longer just some passing infatuation.

He’s in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Force.

This whole mission has been a cruel play by the Gods. By even stepping foot here, he’d opened the lid on something he could have gone the rest of his life ignoring, and Cody is afraid - no, terrified - that there’s no going back now.

Passion, desire, infatuation - he can deal with those. They’re to be expected for anyone, even someone of his station trying to navigate living through wartime. Love, on the other hand… 

… What the fuck does a clone do with love?

From the other room, he hears the front door of their room close, feels the slight shake of the walls. Obi-Wan has left, no doubt waking and deciding to pick them up breakfast like he did yesterday.

Slowly, Cody slides down the wall of the shower, sitting with his knees drawn to his chest and his gaze unfocused as the water pools around him.

His thoughts drift back to the words his Jedi had said to him two evenings ago, just before their kiss. 

‘This… isn’t ideal.’

No, General, Cody thinks to himself, more than a little miserably. He drags a hand over his face, doing his best to stop his teeth from grinding together in frustration. No, it is not.

______________________________

The effort required to pull himself together for the evening is gargantuan, but then again, the Commander has always thrived under impossible odds.

They’ve been trailing Barrek from afar since 9pm, waiting for him to make his way to the site of the deal, wherever it may be. It’s almost a relief when, at 9:25, he finally takes his leave from the resort’s main building and slips out into the night. 

“Showtime,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his eyes locked on the Rodian from their vantage point in the gardens. 

“So it seems. We should be careful.”

“Ah, but we’re simply two lovers going on a nighttime stroll,” the Jedi responds lightly, giving his companion a gentle, friendly nudge. “Nothing suspicious there.”

Cody isn’t certain he’s up for their usual banter tonight. 

Still, he forces on a small smile. It begrudgingly becomes genuine when he takes in Obi-Wan’s expression. 

“You’re sure you’re alright, Cody?” he asks quietly, worried eyes searching Cody’s.

Obi-Wan had noticed his distraction earlier - of course he had. Cody had told him, not entirely incorrectly, that he was simply feeling a little ill.

A mistake, he immediately realised, as that meant that he’d been unable to avoid the Jedi’s fussing for the rest of the day.

A situation that had, unfortunately, not helped Cody’s heart after his earlier discovery. If he had to feel the gentle press of the back of the other man’s hand upon his forehead one more time…

Cody sees the familiar concern in his friend’s eyes, and nods. 

“Can’t be too wrong by your side, sir,” he murmurs, a little more truth in the statement than he imagines Obi-Wan will ever know.

The Jedi’s expression softens further, and he reaches out a hand to squeeze Cody’s shoulder, sparing a quick glance over to Barrek’s retreating form in the distance. “Good. Let us go save the Galaxy once again, then, Commander,” he murmurs, smiling gently.

Cody allows himself a quiet chuckle, even as his stomach does a somersault at the gesture. “It does seem to fall on us often, that.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkle in a combination of fondness and amusement that he seems to only reserve for those quiet, between-mission conversations.

“Then it’s a good thing we’re always fit to answer the call, I suppose.”

It begins to rain a little ways into their excursion, the two pulling the hoods of their cloaks up as they follow Barrek from a safe distance. 

He’s jumpy - though for good reason, Cody thinks, considering he’s being tailed - repeatedly checking over his shoulder and keeping a twitchy hand on the blaster at his side.

Rodians have considerably better night vision than humans, so Obi-Wan is sure to breathe a soft word of warning for them duck out of sight each time he senses the other man is about to turn. 

Cody silently gestures for the two of them to take a path up the side of a nearby cliff as they see Barrek wander down to the shoreline of one of the many nearby beaches - less chance to intervene, perhaps, but a better, more secure vantage point.

The wind rushes past them as they find a place to properly set up, their cloaks billowing out behind them as the waves crash against the shore below. Cody frowns as he removes the blaster clipped to his back, fully extending it out to become a sniper rifle.

Yesterday he had been out of his element, but this is his arena. He's run countless stakeouts before, and the Commander is confident that today’s won't be particularly more difficult than any other.

“Wind’s in a bad direction, gonna affect my aim,” he gripes, glancing down to where Barrek is waiting around on the beach with his hands stuffed in his pockets. They have time, but the others will be arriving any moment. “Stand there,” he orders.

Obi-Wan raises a brow, though he steps over to where Cody had pointed without question. 

“And kneel,” the Commander directs firmly, his focus dedicated to fiddling with the scope. 

He belatedly realises that that is perhaps an incredibly inappropriate request to make of your commanding officer when he glances up to see Obi-Wan, wide eyed and a little red in the face.

Before he can open his mouth to apologise, rectify the situation, Obi-Wan nods, clearing his throat quietly. He arranges the cloak below him, settling himself down on the damp grass below.

Usually, the Jedi would make a joke out of the whole thing, or gently needle Cody for making such an order. For whatever reason, though, he stays quiet.

“Might I ask why…?” he eventually responds. Cody could swear his voice comes out a little strained, though he quickly dismisses the thought.

“Didn’t bring a stabiliser,” Cody answers with an apologetic smile, crouching in front of Obi-Wan and setting the body of the rifle down on the Jedi's shoulder, checking the scope and adjusting it minutely.

Cody tries not to think too hard about the way Obi-Wan's gaze burns into him as he hovers just over the other man, face to face and barely inches away between the cold metal of the blaster.

… But now is not the time for such distractions.

His attention zeroes in on the task at hand, the importance of it all providing a welcome reprieve from the pressure of being so close to his friend.

“... Slightly to the left,” he murmurs, and Obi-Wan dutifully shuffles himself over bit by bit until Cody, keeping close, breathes a quiet ‘stop’.

A few moments pass while he fixes the focus, feeling how tense the Jedi is.

“You can breathe, you know,” Cody says, unable to hide the amusement that slips into his teasing tone. “This is just a glorified telescope, I don’t need it steady enough to take a shot.” 

It takes Obi-Wan a long beat to respond.

“... Right. Of course,” he says, letting out a quiet, shaky-sounding exhale. Cody frowns in worry, nearly commenting on how strange his General is being, but his attention is drawn first by three more figures moving into the scope.

“It’s starting,” he whispers, pulling back briefly to meet the Jedi’s gaze. “Tell me anything you sense.”

Obi-Wan nods, his eyes fluttering closed in that peaceful way that tells Cody he’s reaching out to the Force. “I will. Tell me anything you see,” he requests in return. 

“I will.”

The General and Commander fall quiet as they settle in to work, their world narrowed down to the four people down on the quiet beach below.

The wind, though still strong, ceases its howling, as if holding its breath along with them.

It’s now or never, Cody thinks, watching as conversation on the beach begins. Time for them to save the Republic.

✷✷✷✷✷

next chapter

Taglist (let me know if you'd like to be added!): @mitth-eli-vanto

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi: Part Four

Satine: Two transmissions came in to the Mandalorian embassy. Call the Council and whoever necessary. They’ll want to see this.

There were many things Mace enjoyed about being Master of the Order, but being at the beck and call of Republic politicians was not one of them. Except this politician was technically not even a part of the Republic. Or should be alive for that matter.

But he called a meeting for two hours later, staying in one of the seats and reviewing flimsiwork from the last campaign that had been completed by his system army. It was a tedious task, and he was relieved when the members started to file in. 

Quiet chatter started to fill the room, familiar voices overlapping each other. Mace glanced at the time and rose, beginning to stack his materials. He gave a nod when he saw Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine walk in, about to say something when he froze.

The room quieted, everyone staring at the addition. 

“Evening Mace.”

“...Ahsoka.” Mace bowed his head quickly, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck. He thanked the Force that Anakin hadn’t shown up yet. “Dare I ask?”

Satine sighed, walking to the projector table while she spoke, ignoring the surprised faces. “If we’re going to war - and the odds of that occurring are high,” she sighed while putting the chips into the projector. “I need an aide-de-camp, and it doesn’t make sense to have a Jedi General as one if he has a larger war to fight.”

“And a Jedi padawan is somehow better?” Mace asked with the raise of his brow, aware of the scowls shot his way. “Former padawan.”

“I don’t know about you, but having the Jedi that - “

“‘Snips?!” Anakin stood at the entryway, frozen, the light of the hallway on his back. Padme and Aayla were behind him, both of them staring at young woman. It was not a situation anyone anticipated a week ago, but here they were. Looking between everyone, Anakin frowned and stepped down a few. “What - Obi-Wan - what - “

Rolling her eyes, Aayla pushed her friends away and hopped down the steps. She wasted no time, gathering Ahsoka in her arms. The younger woman melted in a way that she hadn’t yet, tears falling down her cheeks. 

Mace watched the scene, the two woman whispering, the quick glare shot at the Chosen One, the reunion taking place. Though he’d been hesitant once upon a time about allowing Aayla into the Order at the ripe age of six years old, and then being the padawan of Quinlan Vos… but in his opinion, Aayla was everything that Anakin wasn’t. Powerful in all the ways her friend wasn’t, holding all the ideals of the Jedi code close and so good at negotiation without sacrificing her virtues. She was good at all of it while maintaining so many loving relationships - platonic, romantic… everything. 

If he had his way, Aayla would be the next Master of the Order. He desperately hoped so.

Yoda cleared his throat, the attention of the room shifting to him. He forced a smile. “Heartwarming this reunion is, but move forward, we need too. Duchess?”

“...right.” Satine sighed heavily, her finger hovering over the play button. “The Mandalorian embassy received two transmissions this morning. One from my sister Bo-Katan, to the system… and one from Death Watch.”

Bo-Katan shimmered into existence, covered in armor, on a podium, surrounded by her people, somewhere in the mines on one of the moons and planets of Mandalore. Exhausted, fiery…

“Mandalorians! I stand before you not as Death Watch… but as your princess. As my sister’s advocate…and I know you all don’t care for me… but we love our Duchess - you love our Duchess - and they have our prince… and that is unacceptable!” 

“They’re fine if you’re captured but they draw the line at Korkie?” Anakin muttered while the Mandalorians cheered and hollered. 

“We love our children,” Satine whispered. She didn’t resist as Obi-Wan tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. The gesture was so intimate, so…

…oh. 

“He’s your son.” Mace wasn’t surprised as they both nodded, and turned back to the Holo. 

“We are Mandalorians! We do not cower when outsiders mess with us! And Pre has messed with the wrong clan! We have tasted peace - and no more fighting!” There was more cheering, and Bo shouting in victory alongside everyone.

She froze, the video stopping. 

Had he known what would have occurred that morning, Mace would have stayed in bed. He had a headache already, watching the video play in the classroom turned war room and and rubbing at his temples. 

“...not good, this is.” Yoda leaned heavily against cane, shaking his head. 

“It gets worse,” Satine muttered as the first Holo shimmered away and the second appeared. It was Maul and Visla… and Korkie in the background, bound on the steps of the throne. Beaten, bruised, staring levelly into the camera. A small smile on his face like he had a plan up his sleeve.

“Goddesses…” Padme whispered. 

Pre smiled at the camera, looking at his partner briefly. 

Maul stepped back, igniting the Dark Saber and putting it by Korkie’s neck. 

“The Dark Saber? That’s been lost for centuries…” Mace whispered.

“...Duchess. I’m sure this needs no discussion.” Pre smiled. “I have something you want. One hundred million - “

“Surely I’m worth more than that.” Korkie scoffed, barely reacting as Maul turned the saber around and jabbed the hilt into his temple. He went sprawling, fingers loosening and moving as he struggled to regain his balance.

“One hundred million credits Duchess - your bastard for the throne… and your life.”

Maul stepped forward, stabbing the saber through Korkie’s leg and smiling at the hisses of pain. He twisted the blade around before removing it, pointing it again at Korkie. “Tick tock Kenobi… my patience is wearing thin.” 

*

I'm thrilled to have this chapter finally written! it took forever to drag out of my brain, lol. I'll add the Ao3 and Tumblr chapter links some other time - enjoy! Let me know what you think!

[impossibleprincess35]

Asphodel | ch 19

[Excerpt:]

Anakin lowered his head and the anger in him seemed to have dissipated, replaced with a genuine sadness. The young man looked broken, confused, and hollow. His usual bravado and boldness was replaced with insecurity and hesitation.

Obi-Wan took a few steps in his former padawan’s direction as he said quietly, “I’m sorry for the hurt that I caused you, but Anakin, I would implore you to consider the burdens that are upon my shoul-”

There was a scoff and then a remark under Anakin’s breath as he interrupted to muse sarcastically, “Burdens? What kind of burdens could the perfect Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi have?”

A heavy sigh washed over Obi-Wan as he appeared defeated in the moment. He took a deep breath and then blurted out passionately, “Only the ones caused by you and your padawan spreading gossip in the Temple that I have a son in Mandalore! Perhaps those burdens. Have you no shame? While I’m undercover, Satine’s nephew’s privacy is being violated as the Council looks into his parentage because your padawan lacked the discretion to keep her mouth shut!”

Anakin swallowed hard and closed his eyes in a moment of recognition. He had become so consumed with his thoughts about Obi-Wan’s death being a farce that he had purposely avoided handling the mess that was unfolding in the background. The rumors had seemed harmless at first, but his and Ahsoka’s careless jokes about Korkie Kryze’s parentage had spiraled out of their control.

“Do you know what kind of wrath I will face from Satine when she learns that not only am I alive, but that Korkie has been a topic of discussion in Coruscant?” Obi-Wan hollered, the veins in his neck throbbing as he spoke. “You have no idea what you’ve done! And yet, you come here and you accuse me of imaginary betrayals that exist only in your mind!”

“Obi-Wan, I didn’t realize,” Anakin muttered, hoping to downplay the impact of his and Ahsoka’s indiscretion.

--

Chapter 19 is up.

*singing Alice in Chains quietly to herself as she posts*

[ladyxskywalker]

Hey there!! 🫶 I hope you’re alright. 🥰 Look the whole moodboard thing is literally so welcoming for me right now because I’m going through such a rough time at the and this feels like a blessing. Thank you so much for doing these. So, here it comes.

I also feel confident enough to come off 🦝 anon, but I’ll still add the emote if you don’t mind.

Urgh I have so many favourites it’s kind of rough to pick one, but Obi Wan during ROTS is high on the list. 🥺

My favourite colours are so hard to pick as well 😭 I guess, white, orange and beige are my favourites.

The whole Star Wars books are giving me comfort even though I’m just getting started. I don’t know if video game music is a genre itself, but I’m specifically talking about the music of The Witcher games. Music like that is my jam.

It’s a shame Jedi robes aren’t socially acceptable on a daily basis otherwise they’d be my favourite thing to wear. The whole dark academia clothing style from Pinterest lol is my stuff I just love it. Also, tattoos are giving me a lot of comfort? I designed my own last night and once I’m through the whole stress I’m going through right now the studio will get a call should I still like it. 👀

- 🦝

upon his return to the endless skies of coruscant, he found peace in the light;

an air of newness with every breath of setting sun surrounding his eyes;

& the promise of you waiting for him

so solemnly gleaming over,

as though you never thought he'd ever truly arrive. ✨️

hope you liked this my friend ! 🦝 xo