#the master and apprentice jedi council warned you about | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bb-eilish · 1 year ago

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Dirty little fantasies

pairing; master!anakin skywalker x fem!padawanreader

warnings; Fantasies, pinning, corruption kink, virgin reader, dom! anakin, sub! reader, nipple play, creampie, hand kink, dirty talk, praising, degradation, cunnilingus

a/n; i’ve never written for anakin before but i love star wars and i love writing smut so here u go!

Y/n was honestly surprised she ever became a Jedi apprentice. She was much older than the younglings, but Obi-wan and his own apprentice, Anakin, pushed for her training anyway. The council questioned who would be training her, as all of the masters already had Padawan of their own. Her hopes shattered when Master Yoda pointed out the obvious fact.

She was told the force was strong within her , not sure what that meant, y/n smiled and became excited anyway.

"Master, my Padawan is surely ready for his test. He has my full confidence. He will be able to train her." Obi-wan stepped forward, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin nodded, a serious expression scorched onto his face.

The council all had similar curious and questioning looks, but nodded anyways. "Alright, we will allow it." Master Windu sighed, putting his hand up. Y/n's eyes widened and every fiber in her being felt on fire, this is the most exciting thing she's ever experienced, and it hasn't even started yet.

The three of them exited the room and immediately a hurl of thank you's and smiles gush out of her towards the men. Their faces softened as they smiled.

—————

Y/n was now an adult, though, she wasn't very young when she became an apprentice, only several years had passed. Anakin was a great Master and she felt very lucky. The way everyone talked about him was fascinating, they praised him left, right, and center. They even became closer than she expected, being closer in age than other Padawan and Master pairs made that entirely possible.

"Master, wait up. Why are your legs so long." Y/n complained as she jogged up to Anakin's side once more, she swears he can take two steps and be a mile ahead of her. He chuckles before saying, "You ask that every time we walk together." Her nose scrunches at his teasing. But at the same time, her heart skips a beat and she swallows quietly. Though, she tries her hardest to keep down the way her body practically yearns for him. The hardest part is keeping the thoughts, the oh so delicious thoughts about him, to a 0 whenever he's near. The force is amazing in so many ways but a real pain in the ass when all she wants do is day dream about him.

"Great job by the way, the mission wouldn't have gone as well as it did without you. You're becoming a considerable Jedi." He looks over at her as she thanked him. He can't help but think about how much she's grown while being under his wing. In power and physically. Anakin was no liar, he couldn't possibly deny the fact she has matured into a fully fledged woman, Padawan or not, he couldn't keep his eyes to himself. He had to push down the thoughts as well.

Anakin was fully aware of her daily thoughts. It made his day whenever he could know what she was thinking before she even entered the room. They were always innocent and random, until recently. Y/n clouded her thoughts much more, and at random times of the day and night, the hairs on the back of his neck would stand up, goosebumps would frost his skin and he had no idea why. The thoughts he could read were innocent in nature, but all about him. What he was wearing that day, how he decided to style his hair, certain things he said to her. His ego inflated each time and it made him even more arrogant and confident.

But alas, Jedi's were not allowed to become attached. He wondered if he needed to remind her of that, but he decided against it. Having a crush on him wasn't a crime.

—————

Anakin waited for her at her door that morning, he always does when they train at this time, which is only a few times a week. As he neared the door her thoughts became more apparent, at first she was busy with brushing her hair, then it was her tying her robes, and then they drifted off to him. He could see she was thinking about the time he had to help her untie the small knot she made in her robes. It made him smile, it was almost impossible to untie it. But his smile slowly faded as he realized her attention, unwavering, was directed to his hand. Not him untying the knot in general per say, but the way his calloused hand and metal one gripped the fabric, and how his very visible veins bulged through his skin.

He could sense how hard she focused on it, and how the thought of his hands sent her spiraling into day dreams. He was about to knock to end his spying before something caught him off guard. The waves of want that echoed from her, he could feel the stuttered deep breath she let out as she thought about his hands on her. How they would feel to prod at her most sensitive areas as he spoke downright sinful words towards her.

He felt like the air was knocked from his lungs as she thought in detail about the things he would say. The hair at the back of his neck reacted first, the goosebumps came second. "You're my prettiest girl , aren't you?" "Such a slut for me." "Use your words, angel." "You're mine, only I can make you feel like this." Anakin roughly shook his head before he breathed in and knocked on her door.

The thoughts ceased and his shoulders untensed because of it.

Y/n's door opened and there she was, smile as bright as ever as she greeted him. "Good morning, Master. A bit late aren't you?" She questioned, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand.

He mustered up a smile as well as he answered, "Apologies, I was talking with Master Yoda." He patted himself on the back for not being suspicious as he lied through his teeth.

—————

Training was different today. No doubt it was about what he had walked in on this morning, but he tried his best to act like something wasn't bothering him.

Sparring was especially different, he was acutely aware of whenever he even placed a finger on her. She didn't seem affected at this but he knew. He knew the things she wanted him to say to her, say to her when his hands memorized her body, set her skin ablaze in their wake. It had a carnal desire simmering in his gut as he gazed at her sweaty form pant from the work she was being put through. So when training ended he made his way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water on his face helped the heat on his skin, but not the heat starting to grow in him.

Anakin fell pray to his desires, now instead of her imagining what it would be like to be underneath him, it was him imagining what it would be like to be on top of her. Looking down to see the look in her eyes as he touched her, made her his. The sounds she'd make as he stuffed her full. The mere thought had his pants tighten significantly. Would she cry as he stretched her out? Would she beg him to keep going? Better yet, would she submit herself to him, his mercy?

He manages, somehow, to collect himself before he leaves.

"There you are, Anakin. There is a last minute mission I need you and Y/n to do" Obi-wan told him as he lead him to the holotable. "Do not let him out of your sight, we suspect he's behind Senator Amidala's assassination attempts. He knows what you both look like though, so make sure he doesn't notice you." He explained further, Anakin nodded, going into serious Jedi-Master mode.

"I won't fail you, Master."

—————

After Anakin explained the plan to her she nodded along and followed his lead to his speeder.

"He lives in-" He pauses as he points to the apartment building they both come up to. "That building, there is two doors leading out, one in the back and one in the front. I'll take the one behind it." He parks the speeder where he could get in it quickly, but isn't suspicious. "We're close enough to speak through the force, so if something happens let me know immediately."

"Yes, Master."

He nods at her before speedily walking to the other side of the small apartment building. She pulls up the hood of her robe and tries to look the least inconspicuous as she possibly can.

—————

It's been radio silence for a few hours before the front door opens to the exact alien they're here for. She quickly lets Anakin know.

She watches the alien closely, walking behind him at a distance he wouldn't find strange.

Anakin catches up to her, both the Jedis watch the supposed assassinator from afar enter a bar. "I hate bars." She groans as he drags the Padawan inside the building.

"Uh, Master. Won't our hoods be kind of out of place in here?" Y/n points out, noticing the lack of clothes everyone is wearing.

"Oh, yes. Clever thinking, Y/n." He says, narrowing his eyes in search for the alien.

They both take a seat at one of the tables, eyeing the place until Anakin spots the alien, he's at the bar, downing what seems to be his 3rd shot. He stumbles a bit trying to get off of his chair. Both Jedi watch him go down the hallway that has the bathrooms, but also the back door. So, Anakin flags you over as he gets up. "Uh, Master. Isn't he just going to the bathroom?" She questions getting close enough to the hallway to peer down it. It's empty, aside from the usual couple making out on the walls. It brings a blush to her cheeks. No sign of the alien though.

They both walk further down the hallway until they both feel the door about to be opened, so Anakin does the first thing he can think of. He pushes his Padawan against the closest wall and kisses her. Trying his best to shield both of their identities, he pushes himself further against her and puts his hands on her cheeks trying to hide her face. She gasps in his mouth and her hands can't help but grip his robes.

She's never been this close to him, the feel of his skin on hers, his hands on her, feels like a dream. His intoxicating smell already clouds her mind. But the feeling is over before she knows it, the alien has walked back into the main area again. Anakin doesn't waste a second before following him.

Y/n stands at the wall still, hand coming up to touch her lips. That was her first kiss. Her first kiss was with him.

—————

The outcome of the mission was good, they ended up catching him and Obi-wan was happy.

The next day was training again for Anakin and Y/n. This time it felt so intimate, Anakin's touch would linger far longer than needed and he found any reason to touch her. It had her head spinning by the time they were done.

It apparently didn't stop at training either, Anakin would lead her everywhere with a secure hand on her lower back. He didn't comment on it so she decided not to either, in fear of him retracting the hand.

When he wasn't near, her thoughts were even more out of hand. Now, when she met up with him she was shyer than normal. A part of him regretted the kiss, he enjoyed it but he worried it bothered her. That night he made his way to her room, he wanted to talk about it without anything hearing.

And just like last time he heard her thoughts, here he was again. This time it seemed like she was already in the middle of her fantasizing. Before he could understand what she was thinking about, he knocked on the door.

It opened, the first thing he noticed was her big doe eyes staring up at him curiously.

“Master, what are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?” He asked, clearing his throat.

She nodded and he stepped inside.

The second he was all the way in he could feel the waves of want and desire once more, but this time they were all around him and it was hard to speak. Anakin swallowed, looking into her eyes as he began. “I wanted to apologize for what happened during the mission, I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

She shakes her head quickly, “No No, it’s not that it made me uncomfortable. It was..” She pauses as she sits down on the edge of her bed. “It was my first kiss.” She flinches, she was always teased for not having kissed anyone while she was there.

He gulps this time, he can’t deny the feeling of pride that grew in him.

He sat beside her, contemplating his words carefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take that away from you.”

She turns to look at him, the only light in the room shining from her small lamp on her nightstand brushed against his face, making his features soft.

“Don’t be sorry, I, um.” She stops herself before continuing, fearful of her words.

Her master eyes her, “You what?” He speaks through the force, gaze narrowing at her sputtering.

“I enjoyed it.”

They both stare at each other, his eyebrows furrow as he watches her face. Y/n watches the inner turmoil that’s present on his as a lock of his hair falls in front of his eyes. A hand comes up to her wrist, it glides upward, over her neck, and up to her cheek. It cradles her face as his resolve snaps. This kiss has purpose, he hopes she can feel it. The way their lips brush against each other is erotic and she can’t possibly hold in the small moan that’s threatening to spill.

The jedi pulls away slightly to eye her, his mouth is parted as he takes in everything she’s silently offering. His breaths fans over her face and it sets her nerves on fire.

The second kiss is full of lust and want, his gloved hand finds her hip before he decides they’re not nearly as close as he would like. The hand on her cheek slides down to her chest and gently pushes her to lay on her back, though, his lips never leave hers. He situates himself on top of her and pulls away farther than before. Gazing at her lidded eyes and soon the pout settling over her lips.

“My prettiest girl.” He sighs out, reaching up to run a nail up and down her neck.

“Master.” She begins.

“Anakin.” He corrects as the nail on her neck drifts down enough to pull her shirt away from her collarbones.

“Anakin..” She obeys, even if it feels foreign on her tongue. “I need you.”

“I know…you should really keep your thoughts to yourself yknow that, Angel?” The name has her eyes widening and a smirk gracing his face.

“How could you think I wouldn’t find out about all the dirty little fantasies you have about me?” He switches hands so his gloved one is pressed next to her shoulder on the bed keeping him upright, while the other one meets her hip again to push the fabric of her shirt upward, Anakin eyes the newly exposed skin and tugs at his lip.

“M’sorry.” She breathes as a fierce blush settles over her face.

“No need to be sorry…” He drags his blunt nails up her torso as he drags her shirt up, goosebumps tickle her flesh as a result. Even more so when he leans down to hover over her, now, exposed breasts. It doesn’t take long for her nipples to harden partly from being out in the open air, but mostly because of him.

The Padawan holds her breath as he nears the mounds of skin, it starts with dizzying kisses up the valley between them and then continues with him teasingly licking around one of her nipples. She gasps, her bottom lip caught under her front teeth harshly.

Anakin takes a full nipple into his mouth and sighs as the sounds he knew would sound so pretty, leave her. Especially the ones where she moans his name in that breathy voice of hers. Her back arches and it sends her breasts even further into his face. He removes his mouth for a moment, only to envelope the other nipple and graze his teeth ever so slightly against it, he takes in her gasps and whines and they all go straight to his ever tightening pants.

He pulls away again, this time to lean up and kiss her. Messily their lips slide together, he even experimentally brushes her lips with his tongue. But she pulls away, “What are you doing?” She asks curiously out of breath.

“Open your mouth for me, kay?” His gaze goes back and forth between her eyes to her lips as he talks.

They kiss again and he does the same thing, so, she opens her mouth. His skilled tongue licks into her unexpectedly and Y/n moves her hands to his clothed chest for stability, well, mental stability at least. Anakin then sucks her tongue rather harshly and it sends moan after moan into his mouth. He swallows all of them gladly as he feels himself become even more worked up.

He would love to keep kissing her, he honestly thinks he could do it forever, but they must keep going. She whines and chases his lips when he pulls away this time and it has his eyes darkening. The shirt she’s half wearing is thrown somewhere on the floor as he dips down to kiss her stomach, down her belly button and along the waistline of her pajama pants as he hooks his fingers along them, dragging them down slowly.

The pink underwear she’s wearing has a frilly bow on the top and he couldn’t handle it. It was like he was opening up his present on christmas, his little, angelic, present that wants nothing more than to have him degrade her. How could he possibly deny that?

“Such cute panties for someone who’s such a little slut for me. Tell me, Angel, would you let me fuck you anytime I asked? Would you let me fuck you in my speeder? On the holotable in front of everyone?” He skims his lips against the hem of her underwear once more as he eyes her like a predator.

“Yes, yes, would let you touch me wherever you wanted.” She panted out, gripping the sheets beneath her.

“You’re all mine, aren’t you?” He asks, pricking the waistband with his teeth and dragging the offending material down her legs. She couldn’t speak, the sight and the feeling left her speechless and unbelievably wet. As soon as the last of her clothing was gone the smell of her sex was utterly intoxicating, so he did the first thing he thought of. Prying her legs apart and pressing his face against her cunt. Y/n didn’t have time to worry about her being the only naked one, for that she was thankful.

Anakin truly believed he could die happily right now.

“Maker, you smell amazing. Bet you taste even better.” He practically moans into her, the vibrations send jolts of electricity up her spine and it causes her legs to almost close. But the iron grip he has on her didn’t allow for that. Even when he licked up the expanse of her heat and suckled on her clit, her thighs were begging to give out by then. The new feeling of his tongue was addicting, the way he licked into her clenching hole had her head spinning and heart pounding.

“You feeling good, Angel?” He pants against her, opening his eyes to gaze at her already fucked out form. A moan leaves her as she nods. His ungloved hand lets go of her thigh in favor of circling her cunt and pressing his fingers against her hole. She chokes out a moan at the action.

His mouth only leaves her clit to speak as he fills her up, one finger at a time.

“So tight.”

It has her clenching and he hopes he’s able to feel that around his cock. The fire consumes her from the inside out and all she can do is take it.

Y/n’s moans become louder and more frequent, that paired with the clenching she’s doing around his fingers, he assumes she’s going to come. So before she can, he sticks in another finger and scissors them inside of her, coaxing out an orgasm the best he can.

“Come for me, Y/n.”

Her limbs tense up as her eyes clamp shut, said fire is spreading through her, every finger, every fiber. The euphoric feeling is prolonged as much as possible because of his fingers and the mouth still sucking her pulsating clit.

When she comes back down he stands up, gripping his shirt and pulling it from his body. In her frazzled state, she eyes his stomach, his abs more specifically. His chest too, the way it heavily falls up and down from his deep breathing is hypnotic. His belt is pulled off, and soon he’s unbuttoning his pants, pulling them down and off. She can easily see the outline of him through his briefs and the fire that was just released in her seems to have come back.

Anakin watches her face closely as he slips down his briefs and kicks them off. Her gaze on his cock doesn’t last long he notices, her eyes fall to his hand that’s currently gliding up her calf. He can’t help but chuckle.

“You really like my hands, don’t you? Even the metal one?” He smiles at the end.

She nods shyly.

So he takes a detour, his hand comes up to her face, traces her jaw, then traces her bottom lip with his thumb. Her breathing changed almost immediately at that. He wonders something for a moment, so he trails his hand downward, ghosting over the base of her throat. She bites her lip again as he loosely grips her neck.

“So pretty with my hand around your neck. Are you ready for me, Angel?” He mumbles. She finds it hard to speak, the intense eye contact is quite distracting and intimidating.

But she finally gets out a “Yes, Anakin.” After he swats her thigh with his metal hand.

The hand around her neck doesn’t budge as he settles in between her thighs and wraps a leg around his waist. He watches his tip tap her clit and tease her until she’s whining. He can’t hold up the act for long though, he feels like he might explode if he doesn’t push inside of her soon. The initial stretch doesn’t feel good, even if Anakin is pushing in rather slow, it still has her flinching.

“It’ll feel good, Angel, don’t worry. Just wait.” He tells her, concerned. She nods in return, holding onto his waist loosely. He keeps his slow pace until he fully bottoms out, he’s sure he could come right now. Her walls latch onto him like a vice and she’s so, so, wet for him. “Fuck, Angel. So wet and tight for me.” He praises breathily.

She clenches at that and it has his brain short circuit. All he wants to do is move, move until he comes inside her, but he waits until she’s ready.

“You can m-move.”

The first experimental thrust is intoxicating for the both of them. He was right, it does feel good. Just him inside her feels good. Every vein and ridge is felt and she makes note of each and every one of them. Another thing she notes is how deep he is, she swears she can feel him in her stomach at this point.

It doesn’t take him long to set a good starting pace, one that isn’t too rough but still satisfying.

“Anakin, you feel so good.” She moans, hips absentmindedly raising to meet his thrusts. The hand around her throat becomes tighter as he groans out.

“Flip over.” He says all of a sudden, pulling out. Her reaction time isn’t very good right now so she furrows her eyebrows. Far too slow for Anakin, so he takes it upon himself to manhandle her onto her stomach. She lays flat against the bed as he forces open her legs again. This time when he pushes in, the stretch is delicious. It has her pushing her ass against him, “Already such a slut for me.” He mumbles as he hovers over her back.

One particular harsh thrust has a loud, pornographic, moan leaving her kiss-swollen lips. He narrows his eyes as his flesh hand presses into her spine, moving upward until it reaches the back of her neck. It swivels to the front, lingers over her windpipe, and drags up to her mouth, pressing firmly against her lips. So firm that her head is lifted into his shoulder as he begins to jackhammer his hips into her.

Leaning down to her ear, he begins, “Such a perfect cunt for me, Angel. Gonna fuck you any time I get the chance.” He groans, grinding into her before thrusting again. The moans leaving her vibrate his hand and he can’t help but thrust faster.

Her brain feels like goo and she hopes he doesn’t ask her anything right now. But, of course.

“Do you like my cock, Angel?” He asks as he moves his hand for her to answer. She only whines and nods, hoping that’ll suffice. But it doesn’t. He smirks as he leans in again, “Use you words.” His tone has goosebumps prickling her neck as she tries to muster up something to say.

“Mm, I- I love it, mm, Ani.” The nickname gets him where it hurts, he can feel how close he is. So, he abandons her mouth and moves his hand in between her body and the bed, circling her throbbing clit.

His metal hand grips the back of her head and pushes it into her sheets, keeping her quiet as he continues abusing her leaking cunt with his cock and fingers. Just as he begins to feel his orgasm coming even closer she babbles and moans, “Ani, I’m, oh my god.” As she clenches around him sporadically. “Good girl, come around me.” She does just that and it pushes him to the edge immediately, his hips stutter and his groans fill the room, he pushes to the hilt as he comes inside of her. Filling her up until it’s leaking out.

They both pant as he pulls out and she turns around. Anakin places a kiss on her lips, once, twice, three times before speaking, “You did so good for me, Y/n. So proud of you.”

“Thank you, Master.” She lazily smiles.

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin smut #anakin x reader #star wars smut #star wars x reader #darth vader smut #darth vader x reader

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ddejavvu · 11 months ago

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Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.

Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.

“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”

“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”

“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”

The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.

“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”

The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.

You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.

Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.

Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.

You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.

The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”

“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”

Finally.

Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.

However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side.

Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.

Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.

“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.

“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”

“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”

Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”

“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.

“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”

“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”

“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.

“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”

“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”

Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”

“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.

“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”

“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”

“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.

“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”

There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.

“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”

Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”

You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.

“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”

“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”

“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.

“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”

“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”

The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.

“God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.

“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”

“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.

“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”

“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”

He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.

You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.

“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.

You freeze; you’re caught.

We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”

“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”

“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”

Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.

“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”

“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”

“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.

“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”

He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.

You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts.

“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”

“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.

“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”

“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”

“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”

“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”

“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”

“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”

“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”

“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.

“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”

You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.

You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.

Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for.

“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”

It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.

A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.

“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.

“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.

He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips.

“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”

“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”

“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”

“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”

“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.

“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”

“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”

“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”

You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.

“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”

“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”

Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.

You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.

“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors.

“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”

He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.

When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.

He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”

You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.

“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”

You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.

“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.

“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”

He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.

“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”

“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”

“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”

“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.

He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.

Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.

You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.

His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.

You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue.

His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.

“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”

He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.

That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.

“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.

His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds.

His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.

He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.

“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”

Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.

Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of.

He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.

A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.

Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?”

At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.

“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”

“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”

“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”

“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”

You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”

You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.

“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.

“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”

“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.

“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”

“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”

You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.

Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.

You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.

“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”

“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”

“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.

“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.

“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”

“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”

“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss.

Typical.

You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.

“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard.

He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”

His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.

“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”

“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”

“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.

“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.

“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.

“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”

The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.

“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Would have.

You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.

“But Anakin…”

“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”

He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.

“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”

Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.

You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”

“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”

You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly.

His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”

“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.

“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.

“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.

“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”

He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.

You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.

He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”

He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.

“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.

His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.

“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling.

You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.

“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”

In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.

You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.

Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.

“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”

You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss.

“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”

A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.

He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other.

The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.

“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.

“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”

He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.

You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.

“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.

“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.

He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all.

He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.

“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”

“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”

“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”

Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him.

It’s too meticulous.

After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.

“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.

“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”

His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.

“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.

It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock.

His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.

He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface.

You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.

Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.

“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”

He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.

“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.

He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.

“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”

“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”

You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.

You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance.

He comes undone.

His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer.

You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans.

All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.

“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.

“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”

“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.

He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.

You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.

If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.

He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does.

His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.

Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..

“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.

His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.

His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.

“Do you regret it?”

You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.

He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.

“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.

“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”

“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”

“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring.

“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety. “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”

You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.

“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”

A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.

“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”

“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.

“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”

“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”

Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.

“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”

“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”

“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.

“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”

“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.

“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”

“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.

“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”

“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”

Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.

“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”

The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.

Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like.

“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”

Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”

“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod,

“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.

“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”

You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.

“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”

Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.

“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.

“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.

He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.

“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”

“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in.

You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle.

There is a shirt on your bed.

It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.

The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.

You and Obi-Wan.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

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anakin-skywalker-always · 1 year ago

Note

Fluffy 🌸 with Clone Wars Anakin please? 🥺🥺 with maybe Ahsoka and Obi-Wan shipping them?

The Long Game

Pairing: Clone Wars Era!Anakin x Jedi!Knight Reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Nothing too bad, but due to the nature of the Clone Wars obviously there is potential mentions of death/loss/wounds etc. I am Australian and therefore swear words aren’t worth a warning for me, but I shall place a warning here regardless. As always, let me know if you think there should be something listed here.

Words: 1.5k - sorry its very short, I'm hoping a part 2 will be requested <3

Author’s Notes: ahhhhh! Thank you for the request @darthgloris I hope this is okay I had a brief idea and I ran with it, hope its still fluffy enough for you! 🥰 This was requested via my Emoji Request Prompts

Anakin was nothing if not arrogant, egotistical and, surprisingly talented to boot. As a youngling he excelled, as a Padawan learner he saved Senator and friend Padmé Amidala’s life more than once. Now, as General Skywalker, Anakin felt like he had grown into himself, grown into his power. It felt limitless, he was limitless. Anakin often had dreams of spreading himself thin, extending his power across the galaxy like a blanket, keeping everyone and everything safe.

He thought highly of himself, it wasn’t a secret. And, he didn’t think it was particularly a problem. He was the Chosen One, was he not? If anyone in the Jedi Temple was allowed to peacock a bit, it was him.

Well, that’s how Anakin rationalised it to himself anyway. Besides, Anakin did not like playing the long game. What was the point when he could sieze everything he wanted now?

Regardless, he had a sharp learning curve when it came to his own Padawan learner, Ashoka Tano. The snippy young girl challenged him more than most. He saw so much of himself in her, the power, the strength, the raw talent. Frustratingly, Anakin saw his faults in her too. Occasionally, the arrogance being something that Anakin couldn’t ignore. Like right now for example.

“Please Kestis the only reason you were moved from youngling to Padawan,” Ashoka paused, pointing her spoon at her young red-headed friend. “Is because the council wanted to try and mellow out your Master with the responsibility of a child.”

Anakin cringed as the young boy - Cal Kestis - pouted at the breakfast table. Anakin could sense Obi-wan’s displeasure from beside him, he saw his old master holding his tongue, allowing Anakin to take the floor in order to berate his Padawan.

Unfortunately, she had a point. And, embarrassingly enough, Ashoka’s argument came straight from the kitchen, so they say. Well, his mother, Shmi, used to say. Anakin remembered expressing the same frustration only a few weeks prior. Jedi Knight, Jedi Master, Council member and friend, Y/N L/N, was unable to join Anakin and Ashoka on a crucial mission in the outer rim, due to the passover of her new, young apprentice: Cal Kestis. It perhaps wasn’t the most fair or patient thing for Anakin to do, but he blamed the boy and focused all of his frustration on the twelve-year-old.

Fuck it, Anakin thought. He had to admit to himself, he was a little jealous of the boy. He could not help but want to be the center of your attention, at all times. Which isn’t a very Jedi thing to want. But Anakin wanted more. He always did. He always felt distracted, like he was slipping away from his mental fortitude the more he thought of you. You were playing some kind of long game with him, and he didn’t like it, the guessing, the pining - it all kept him up at night more than the war had.

Anakin supposed he was ought to be worried about it, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He pined after you, and all he wanted was for you to maybe, even consider him more than a work colleague.

“Ahsoka.” Anakin said sternly, as he pushed his Jedi mandated food around his Jedi mandated plate with his Jedi mandated fork, not bothering to look up at his young charge. “Watch your snippy mouth.”

“She’s not wrong, Master.” Meekly, Cal Kestis mirrored General Skywalker across the table. Anakin felt for the young boy then. Anakin looked up, finally taking in the boy. With his fiery hair and splattering of freckles across his face, he seemed inherently sad, with his lips held tight in a line. Anakin couldn’t help but remember the same expression on his own face as he made his way around Watto’s junkyard.

“Do you not like your Master, young Kestis?” Obi-wan sensed Anakin’s mind was far, far away, the anxiety rolling off him in thick waves.

Cal looked up, quickly, at the two Jedi knights in front of him. He felt like he was in shock, as if the air had been torn from his lungs. Of all the questions he expected to be asked, that was not one of them.

“No!” Cal defended, adamantly. “No! Well yes!” The young Padawan could feel the heat rise to his pale face, heating the back of his neck. General Kenobi quirked an eyebrow at the boy, urging him to continue. Kestis sighed, gathering his thoughts once more. He was embarrassed. “I am afraid I am too attached to Master L/N.” He started. Anakin felt his lip twitch, fighting a smile at the honesty from the young learner. Cal continued, “I don’t want to let her down, but my lightsaber skills are not where she wants them to be, I need more training but I am afraid to ask.”

From the corner of his eye Anakin watched as Obi-wan opened his mouth. He knew what his old master would say: Just ask, Padawan. That is what the master is there for, to teach. But Anakin knew what it felt like to want more.

“I would be happy to provide you with additional combat training, Padawan Cal Kestis.” Anakin leant back in his chair, both hands happily resting behind his head, left ankle at home on his right knee, lips comfortably in a smirk.

Long game it was.

Your eyes scanned the meals room in the Temple for your Padawan learner. You knew that you could use the force to locate him, if you wanted. But, your relationship with Cal was still so new, and somehow that felt like encroaching on the young boy’s privacy.

Besides, there was another presence in the large dining hall that almost overwhelmed you. Anakin Skywalker.

Arrogant, talented, intelligent, calculated, The Chosen One, handsome, flirtatious. You weren’t sure where you stood with Anakin. You longed to call him friend, but you were ultimately convinced he saw you little more as a colleague.

Despite all that though, he was a hard man to escape at the best of times. And now, since Cal and Anakin’s Padwan, Ahsoka Tano, were friends, you knew that Anakin would always be around.

You couldn’t help the schoolgirl flutter that it striked into you. It was exciting, you supposed, to finally have something a bit easy on the eye about constantly. It certainly made the war a little easier, to do missions with Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker.

Eventually, Cal’s beautiful bright hair shone like a beacon for you. You began to weave your way across the room. You couldn’t help to admit that you’ve become attached to him, you deeply cared for him, his wellbeing. As much as you loved the Jedi, you often thought of Cal playing, running free with kids his own age. Not becoming a soldier on the front lines of an intergalactic war. Perhaps that was why you slacked on Cal’s training. You simply wanted him to be loved, to be happy, to be a child.

All of the fondness you held so tightly quickly got packed away once you realised who Cal was sat with. Approaching the breakfast table you clocked Anakin’s relaxed figure. The effortlessly beautiful set of his lips, the way that his eyelashes curled upwards, you were convinced his demeanour was larger than life. And, maybe, perhaps, you let your eyes wander for a beat longer than what was socially acceptable.

Gently you placed your hand on Cal’s shoulder, perhaps it was because you were his Master, or maybe it was something deeper, something maternal, but you always felt more at ease when you had him close. With a slight bow of your head, you opened:

“Morning to you Master Kenobi, Ahsoka.” You took a moment to lick your lips, your whole mouth had gone dry, but you tried desperately to save yourself from Anakin’s piercing gaze. “General Skywalker.” The rest greeted you verbally, but Anakin said nothing, just a simple tilt of his head. You held Anakin’s gaze, his blue eyes held something else in them, you felt like he was playing some kind of game. You didn’t mind game, but only if you knew the rules, and Anakin was one to make up the play as he went along. You felt Cal clear his throat, his body lurching under your hand.

Finally, you broke the contact with Anakin, ruffiling Cal’s hair, and placing his braid behind his ear. “If you’d excusae us, my Padawan and I have much to do.”

Anakin waited for at least 30 seconds for you and your Padawan to start walking away before he turned in his chair to follow you out with his eyes.

Ahsoka watched as her usually oh-so-clever and suave and calculating Master watch Cal Kestis and his Master leave the dining hall like a Lothal Cat waiting for its owner to return. She couldn’t help but smile, Anakin’s pining was hilarious, and Master L/N was a good choice. She turned to share a look with Master Kenobi, and to Ahsoka’s delight he was chuckling softly to himself, coving his smile with his hand, playing it off as if he was simply stroking his beard.

Ahsoka knew Anakin thought he was playing some kind of long game, but it was going to be a painfully long pining. Not if she was going to have anything to do with it.

------

P.S This is a side account, my main is @mayhemories, so I will be answering any comments with that account but rest assured it is still me :) <3

Much love, El.

#anakin x reader #star wars #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin smut #anakin x y/n #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker fluff #star wars x reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #cal kestis #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #anakin skywalker clone wars #general skywalker

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stargirl-writes · 11 months ago

Text

safety net

pairing : force healer! jedi x anakin skywalker

word count : 1.2 k

masterlist | part two

summary

finding safety in a world deranged by war became a distant dream until your childhood friend, anakin skywalker, comes back to your life.

tags : fluff, comfort, friends-to-lovers.

warnings : mentions of surgical procedure/blood.

notes

happy holidays to everyone that celebrates !

as a present, here's some warm fluff that's been sitting in the drafts i wanna share with y'all 🤍

It began when Obi-Wan Kenobi, asked you to heal Anakin Skywalker.

The Jedi Master felt as though it was his responsibility to find the most competent healer in the galaxy after his Padawan lost an arm in a fight against Count Dooku.

And you didn't hesitate taking in the job the Jedi Council has entrusted you with. It was the most flattering, especially since you will be in charge of the care of their 'chosen one'.

You had just finished your apprenticeship in force healing, so you were determined not to let down the Council and the honor they bestowed.

"[Name]? You've grown" Anakin blinks when he realizes it was you. By the way he was smiling ear-to-ear, you realize he had been languid from the blood loss.

You were younglings together. The Jedi Masters had not fallen short in reminding Anakin that he was supposed to be the chosen one. That title, was not only known to him, but to all else.

It isolated him. As you had been. Your natural connection to healing made the Masters want to develop your skills outside the standard curricula.

Anakin was the one you sat with when no one wanted to. It was you and Anakin until you had to leave to pursue learning about healing through other force wielders.

"Yes, Anakin, I'm in charge of your care now" You answered, raising the syringe to his sight so he'd anticipate the injection.

"If it takes losing an arm to have you back, I'd have done it again" Anakin says thru half-lidded eyes.

The sedative was quickly taking its effect and you couldn't dare to look up at Obi-Wan.

"Well, at least one of us is happy about this" You answered.

Remembering your bedside manners, you proceeded with the protocol.

Send the patient to sleep.

Don't appear doubtful.

Don't make promises.

"Is there a color you'd want for your new arm?" You forced your voice to remain calm as you redirect his attention to the question. Both your hands are applying pressure on his severed arm to reduce the blood spilling.

Obi-Wan was pale with worry. You nodded to him hoping that he'd be reassured his apprentice would be fine. He looked like he'd pass out before Anakin.

Anakin leans back on the stretcher, the thought keeping him focused and away from the pain that was being dulled by the sedative.

"Definitely not gold— C3PO will never let it go" His nose scrunched, grimacing at the thought.

You let out a chuckle at his comment. "Alright, not gold"

The Med-Droid had finished preparing the materials and when you turn back your focus to the Jedi, he was already asleep.

You worked efficiently. Time was of paramount importance. The Jedi teachings hypothesized on midi-chlorians being stored in the blood, so you prioritized stopping the bleeding.

The lightsaber cut cauterized the tissues and vessels, making his blood coagulate and turn toxic. To your advantage, you were able to utilize both medical practice and force healing to fully save the nerves.

You can still make him a bionic arm that would be sensate.

By the time you were finished, the design you sent to bioengineering came. A silver arm with hints of red.

It still looked more skeletal than realistic. But that's only because you wanted to improve on it later. This was only a prototype.

Your hand coddles his cheek— this was the fastest way to sense how he'd been feeling.

His signature appears to you as a series of words.

Conflicted. In a state of stasis. Scared.

You took your hand back, deciding not to pry more into what he was keeping.

Hours flew and you found yourself in a loop debating whether electric signals in the nerves could fire using zillo skin. It would be the toughest replacement for skin, but it's not capable of transmitting signals for sensation.

Your mind was beginning to numb from the mental exhaustion. Your curious gaze lands on Anakin's bare torso. He was still unconscious.

You would have done your research in your quarters, but you wanted to be here when he wakes.

Your mind started drifting and you followed his breathing.

How is it possible for his skin to hug so tight against his muscles?

You blinked, startled by the thought that crossed your mind. Perhaps it was time to sleep...

"Eyes are up here" Anakin says in a singsong voice.

You look up through your lashes, cheeks firing up from the embarrassment.

He chuckles, then his attention lands on his bionic arm.

"How are you feeling?" You stood up, grabbing the charts and taking note of his vital signs displayed on the monitors. You pressed on the recline and Anakin sits up along with the bed.

"Mmmhungry?" He rubs his eye.

"I'll have someone bring something" You smiled. "Can I?" You asked before touching his bionic arm.

He nods and you continued. "Can you open your fist?" You asked, holding the bionic arm, guiding gently.

Anakin's eyebrows furrowed in focus. The arm abruptly closes. "What happened?"

"That's fine, your mind is adapting to sending nerve signals to the synthetic ones." You explained, your fingers unclenching his fist.

Anakin tries again and his fingers opens up in a more controlled manner.

You let out a breath of relief when you realized you have managed to save all those tiny nerves.

"Alright, now tell me how much you can feel" You instructed, running the tip of your pointer finger against his palm, you look up to see him already looking at you.

Focus.

Anakin was not at all subtle. It made butterflies run down your stomach.

"I can feel you, but I can't tell how much pressure your applying" He answers.

You nodded, noting it down.

Now, you need to test the receptors for heat.

Oh, by the force, why must he look at me like that.

You centered yourself on the task in front. You pressed the back of your hand against his palm. "And how does my skin feel? Can you tell if it's warm?"

Your heart was thundering inside your ribs, you were kind of scared that Anakin will hear how nervous he was making you feel.

Anakin tilts his chin, as if he was really trying to feel. "No, I can't feel the heat" He clasps his fingers against your palm as if testing more.

Of course, you couldn't have healed everything. "Alright" You withdrew.

"This is only a prototype, I'll improve its design after we do some more tests" You stood up, trying to establish some space between you and your old friend.

Anakin leans back after noting your action. "Thank you, [Name]" He kept his eyes fixed on you, as if he was still waking up from a dream.

You managed a smile. "I got you"

His eyes lingered on yours, you could not find it in yourself to look away.

A soft knock on the door snapped you awake.

"Well, don't you look well" Obi Wan comments with a wide smile

"Something's different" He crosses his arms, as if trying to figure out what it was that changed.

"Dooku really got you with that scar" Obi Wan nods his head as he waves a hand tracing the scar on his apprentice's face.

You couldn't hold back a laugh in surprise.

"I lost an arm" Anakin squeezes his eyes close.

"Come, no reason for me to be rude now." Obi-Wan winks at you. "But since you brought it up, how are you feeling?" He steps forward to Anakin's bed.

You leave the two to catch up on their own.

of course i'd seperate the angst on the next part so if you want more of that, head to the next one haha!

#anakin (ciella's ver)#anakin skywalker #star wars #sw #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars anakin #anakin #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin star wars #anakin fluff #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker fic #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine

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s-brant · 1 year ago

Text

Anything

Now that the council has been made aware of rumors regarding Anakin and his apprentice’s relationship, they’re put under the microscope of a careful investigation and must avoid rousing suspicion at any cost (or part three to teacher’s pet)

9k (18+)

Warnings: smut, p in v, somnophilia, dub-con due to the circumstance but they’re both very into it, choking, dom anakin, inappropriate relationships, unhealthy attachment issues, and strong language.

The ceremony itself was a quick, intimate affair.

How they pulled it off, neither of them knows, but they set their sights on a planet far away. Where nobody knew them personally or could know they were Jedi without their lightsabers visible. It wasn't a wedding most would've been satisfied with, but they were. It didn't matter that everyone they cared for couldn't know about it, nor did it matter to her that they couldn't exchange rings. What mattered was the fact that it was happening.

Dantooine ended up being the best option for them. On Naboo, he could be recognized by those who met him years ago when he was ordered to guard Padme's life, Coruscant was out of the realm of possibility for obvious reasons, and as easy as it would've been for them to go undetected in Tatooine, Anakin made it clear he had no fondness for his home planet and suggested Dantooine instead.

Using clothes they had from a mission in which they had to pretend not to be Jedi a year or so ago, they concealed their identities and traveled as quickly as they could. And though she tried to refuse given the fact that they didn't have credits of their own, a lovely older woman working for the man who married them insisted Y/N wear the wedding gown that was passed through her family for generations. In the short time they spent with these people, they learned that her daughter passed away long ago, and though the old woman had no living children, she hung onto the dress since it was the one she wore at her wedding.

When asked about their lives, it was surprising how quickly the lies spilled out of them. It was mostly her speaking while Anakin stood beside her, delighting in the way he could touch her and stand near to her without having to fear being caught there. She spun a tale of forbidden love, of her father promising her to another man and her running off with Anakin for the sake of true love, so it wasn't too far from the truth.

"Are you listening?"

The sound of Anakin's voice snaps her out of her memory-induced daze.

They are tucked away in a corner of the library where no one can see or hear them, leaning against the shelves and standing face to face. He asked her to meet him here before he was needed in an emergency council meeting that Obi-Wan warned him of ahead of time. It was supposed to be a surprise. It was supposed to catch Anakin off guard, but his old master couldn't help himself. There would always be a part of him that looked out for Anakin the way an older brother would. The reason for the meeting, he said, had to do with a troubling slew of rumors regarding him and his padawan.

"I'm sorry, I"—she shakes her head as though it'll do anything to clear her thoughts—"I don't understand. Rumors?"

Anakin's eyes move to look past her shoulder, scanning the room both manually and with the Force to ensure nobody has approached the area before focusing back on her. He steps in closer and says what comes next quietly.

"Obi-Wan didn't tell me what the rumors were specifically, but his meaning was clear. Someone knows about it...about us."

Much like it does whenever Anakin takes her out flying with him at the helm of the ship, her stomach drops at this. Before she can even think of what to say, she's already shaking her head in disbelief.

She mutters, "That can't be true. Nobody has even suspected us, let alone caught us."

He has to fight the urge to reach out to comfort her. His hand flexes at his side as he forces himself not to cup her face in it the way he knows soothes her when they're alone together. It's too risky, especially now after Obi-Wan's warning. All he can do is meet her gaze and offer her a phantom touch through the Force. She feels the presence of an invisible hand brushing her cheek and breathes more evenly in response to it.

"You're right, nobody has caught us. We've made sure of that. But someone does suspect us. I don't know how or why, but they do, and with a claim like that, the council has to take it seriously regardless of where it came from or a lack of evidence," Anakin explains. His expression hardens the more he continues to talk about it. "This is a very big deal, Y/N. If they discover the truth—"

She is quick to interrupt him.

"They won't."

There's a long pause after this, and she takes it as her chance to breech the distance between them.

The feeling of the soft pads of her fingertips touching his arm makes him take a step back at first in retreat, but she doesn't allow him to stray far. With one last look over her shoulder, she moves in close to him and throws her arms around his broad shoulders in an embrace. A kiss would be too daring, but a hug doesn't necessarily prove anything. They've hugged before, albeit after near death experiences during the war, so it could be overlooked again. It isn't the smartest move, but it's necessary. Because as soon as their bodies meet, he lets out a heavy sigh.

As relieving as it is, she's quick to pull away after a moment has passed. Her arms remain locked around his shoulders to keep him close, and the arms wrapped around her waist squeeze tighter as though she'll disappear the second he loosens his hold on her.

Those pretty eyes, a more vibrant blue than the oceans on Scarif, darken the longer he looks down at her.

"I meant what I said before," he says softly, calmly. "Nothing will take you from me."

She remembers that day so clearly. He said it with such conviction despite it only being their second time indulging in intimacy together, and she knew he meant it. It was clear in the way he looked at her as he said it, but it's different now. Now, the implication behind it is laced with something predatory and possessive, not a soft-spoken promise in the aftermath of tender lovemaking but rather a threat and promise tied together with a steely-eyed stare.

Her fingertips play with the sandy brown curls at the back of his neck as she nods and murmurs, "I know."

Y/N isn't sure why she hadn't anticipated her presence being requested in the council meeting regarding the rumors of her and Anakin's relationship. Now that she sits in front of all the Jedi masters who make up the council, she can't believe she'd been naive enough to think they would only question her master on the subject and leave her be.

They left the library five minutes apart. First, it was Anakin who left and walked out with a book to make his sudden appearance in the area make sense, then it was her. She counted out the seconds until she was safe to leave. They typically didn't need to take such precautions to avoid rousing suspicion. They had the perfect excuse to spend time together, after all, with him being her master and she his padawan. But now that the nature of their relationship has been put loudly to question, they were better off being safe.

The sun is setting in the distance through the windows of the room, casting everyone in a warm, orange-red light, and she chooses to focus on the beauty of that sunset rather than the nerves that tie her stomach into knots. They've hardly begun, but what has been said is already damning in and of itself.

"This is ridiculous," Anakin says with a straight face, although he is unable to keep the annoyance from shining through in his tone. "Ask everyone we've worked with and they'll tell you that Y/N and I have always maintained a professional working relationship. I care about her as my apprentice the same way Obi-Wan cared for me as his."

Obi-Wan's eyes flutter shut, and a deep sigh escapes from him as he leans back in his chair before opening them again. When they open, it's Anakin they're looking at.

"You forget your place in this meeting. Allow Master Windu to finish speaking, young one."

The inherent condescension present in the choice of words makes Anakin's chest muscles tighten up involuntarily. There are few things that make him as angry as being treated like a child despite being a Jedi Knight with an apprentice and missions of his own. But, he knew deep down, that would always be how Obi-Wan saw him, and he resents him for it underneath it all. In a way, he would always be the reckless and tempestuous boy they discovered on Tatooine all those years ago.

Hidden behind the overflowing fabric of his robes, his hand clenches into a fist with enough force that his fingernails nearly break the skin of his palm.

He has no choice but to keep quiet.

Master Windu watches the interaction carefully, as do the rest of the council, and waits for him to break. He waits for there to be a crack in the facade, for him to look over at her and reveal it all, but he doesn't break.

"As I was saying," he starts, shifting a bit in his seat to look at where she's sat across the room from Anakin, "we got an anonymous report yesterday, but, to be candid, these rumors did not start yesterday. They've existed for a few weeks now, but none of us would've insulted either of you by entertaining them. Not until now."

Her throat is dry, a lump forming at the very back of it, when she asks, "What exactly were we accused of?"

The way she says it is soft and calm, as she always forces herself to be in the presence of her superiors, but Anakin knows her. He can sense the rage bubbling beneath the surface of her skin that begs to be let out, and he's sure the others can too, but they won't mistake it for anything other than anger at whoever accused them. Still, she is told by Master Yoda to calm herself down before they proceed, so she tries her best.

A second passes, then Obi-Wan says as tactfully as possible, "Allegedly, the person who reported this witnessed inappropriate behavior between the two of you outside of the temple recently. At night. We have footage to prove you were, in fact, where they said you were, but none to prove this accusation of inappropriate behavior."

The news settles like a heavy weight in her gut, dragging her down and down until she has no hope of climbing out of this hole they've dug themselves in. They were always careful when they left the temple. Anakin had a keen awareness of where the surveillance cameras were as well as their blind spots, so she knows straight away that the footage they have is nothing more than them walking beside one another.

As if on cue, the footage is projected in the middle of the room.

"None of us are saying we believe these accusations without proof, but the existence of them is concerning nonetheless," Windu says. "Why did you allow your padawan outside of the Temple so late?"

Anakin stammers a little at first, the only sign of his true feelings thus far, before pulling himself together. He holds his head high as he always does and doesn't balk from the intense eye contact with Master Windu.

"It was just a walk. I couldn't sleep, so I planned to go on a walk myself when I ran into her."

"So, you had no reason relating to your duty to be escorting your apprentice into the city at night?"

The retort is fired back at him so quickly, he hardly has the chance to take another breath before opening his mouth to defend himself again. His palm stings from how hard he digs his nails into his skin as he begins to lose his composure little by little.

"Well, not exactly—"

"So, you decided to go for a walk?"

Before Anakin has the chance to respond, Y/N cuts in.

"It was my fault," she says, diverting everyone's attention away from the growing storm behind Anakin's eyes. "He was already outside of the Temple when he spotted me, and when he told me to go back inside, I refused. He stayed with me because he knew I was going to go out by myself if he didn't and wanted to make sure I was safe."

And while it's a perfect defense in comparison to them admitting the truth, it makes Anakin cringe internally all the same because it makes him look weak. It makes him appear as though he has no control over his padawan. Just another reason to deny him the rank of master, he supposes. Another to add to the list of reasons why he's a problem to them.

This admission, still halfway true, causes everyone to pause for a second.

Then, Master Windu sets his attention solely on her, and she knows that what's coming next will not be worded as carefully as what Obi-Wan said. It's never been in Windu's nature to be anything other than honest and straightforward. He has always treated them with respect, but he doesn't harbor the same fondness for them that Obi-Wan does.

"I have to ask you directly, for the sake of addressing the severity of the situation, has Anakin ever acted inappropriately with you?"

She stumbles for a second, drawing out the time between when he asks and when she responds, but it's deliberate. If they're going to accuse her of it, she will make them say it and stew in the discomfort caused by it. Let them be tortured just as equally as she is by this.

":..Meaning?" she questions.

The bluntness with which he speaks next knocks the wind from her chest.

"Has Anakin ever tried to instigate a romantic relationship with you?" he asks it with a stony, unbreakable expression, abandoning any attempts at sugarcoating it. "The report itself said he was kissing you"—the discomfort of everyone else is palpable in the air—"and...touching you. They alleged that it happened in a dark area, so they didn't recognize you were Jedi until they came closer. As your master, if this rumor were true, it would be an abuse of his power. To take advantage of a padawan..." He trails off into silence for a second before taking a deep breath to steady himself. "He could never be trusted again."

She doesn't even dare to chance a glance over at where Anakin sits with his face hardened into a mask of neutrality, refusing to give them anything to use against him.

Obi-Wan, in a much gentler way, says, "I know you both well, so believe me when I say I don't believe this to be true, but we must take these accusations seriously. Not only would it be an abuse of power, but forming such attachments is not the Jedi way."

This time, she scans her eyes across the room as though she's looking for all of their reactions, but all she's truly looking for is him. And the small glimpse she gets of him makes her heart ache. He is completely shutting down. His eyes are fixed ahead of him at the middle of the floor, refusing to stray and meet hers. It's all he can do to keep himself under control.

Windu then says again, "Y/N, I need your honest answer. It needs to be shown on record that you both deny these claims."

Without missing a beat, she speaks.

"He has been nothing but respectful and supportive," she says. Instead of looking at it as a lie, she frames it as a performance. She imagines herself as a character on the stage of a theater and plays the part. "Yes, I messed up by sneaking out of the temple, but Anakin never touched me."

In the back of her mind, she sees flashes of their memories together one after the next. His lips smeared against hers, his prosthetic hand clamped around her throat, and his flesh hand slipping beneath the waistband of her pants to feel how wet she got for him. But she fights to keep it under control, to keep the others out of her head as he taught her to.

"So, to answer your question, directly, honestly, and on the record, no. He didn't do anything he was accused of."

For the first time since they've been dragged in here, the members of the council have nothing to throw at them. Without their confession, they have nothing, and she would sooner leave the order than give him up.

Almost in response to this, Anakin looks up from the floor to find her glancing at him. It lasts a mere second, but it strengthens his resolve all the same it reminds him what's at stake.

"Anakin?"

The sound of Master Windu's voice brings his attention away from her. A few seconds pass before he realizes what they're waiting for.

"No. I've never done anything of which I've been accused."

The silence that follows is tense.

Neither of them knows what to do with themselves in the next few moments or so as the council discusses their alleged transgressions as though they aren't in the room with them, but they know not to look at each other. They already got one glimpse already, anything more would be reckless and greedy. After a long back and forth between Obi-Wan and Windu, they seem to come to an agreement.

Master Windu says, "It's settled, then. Y/N, you'll be temporarily removed as Anakin's padawan until we're done talking to witnesses and investigating. In the mean time, Obi-Wan will be your master."

It was a disgrace, an outrage.

Anakin's thoughts became poisonous as he was forced to walk out of the council meeting without sparing a glance at her, watching as Obi-Wan whisked her away to speak to her privately as her new master. Maker, even thinking those words made him grimace. There was something inherently wrong with the notion of her belonging to anyone but him. She was his first, he thought, much like a spoiled child having to share his favorite toy. After all, she was his apprentice, his best friend, his wife. How dare they try to keep them apart?

He could hardly process what Master Yoda was saying to him as they walked a little ways behind Obi-Wan and Y/N. It was something about letting the process of justice unfold without harboring any anger for the situation. It was clear in the way it was said that neither Yoda nor the others fully believed the rumors. They all entertained the possibility of them being true, but no one, except maybe Windu, seemed too suspicious of them.

Unfortunately for him, Master Yoda stuck by his side for longer than he anticipated, so he had no choice but to leave her in the hallway with Obi-Wan. If he lingered to speak with her, it would only fuel the rumors about them. He opted for going back to his room to meditate instead, but every time he closed his eyes, his mind became flooded with thoughts of her. Of the meeting, of the night they snuck out, and who possibly could have recognized them.

She, however, was too preoccupied with Master Kenobi.

He walked alongside her at a leisurely pace, speaking freely with her, "I know how upset this whole thing has made you both, but believe me when I say I tried to tell them it wasn't true."

Whether it be willful ignorance or outright denial, she didn't know, but he was being truthful. Of all the council members, he was the least convinced that these rumors could be true, and that was by their design. They've always been extremely cautious in his presence due to his close relationship with Anakin. Her husband taught her how to control her thoughts, to keep from projecting them and allowing the other Jedi into her head, and she practiced it every time they worked with Obi-Wan.

Y/N refrained from picking at the skin around her nails as she often did when nervous and nodded along to what he said.

"If it had to be anyone but Anakin, I'm glad it was you they chose."

"I actually requested it," he says. Upon seeing the confused look on her face, he adds on, "I know Anakin cares for you. I thought that it may ease his mind to know I'm the one stepping in as your teacher."

She can't help but offer up a slight smile in response to this. It was sweet. How Obi-Wan always looked after him, even when Anakin thought everyone was against him or didn't care about his feelings. His old master would always care about him. Later, if she has the chance to see him, she'll tell him about how Obi-Wan defended them to the rest of the council and made sure she was placed under his command.

"I appreciate that greatly," Y/N says. "And I think Anakin would too. He'd probably benefit from a talk with a friend right about now if you're able."

"I'll talk to him as soon as I can, but they'll be questioning me about the allegations in a few moments, so I can't yet. You have my word, though. I will speak to him."

The thought of Anakin being provided with some form of relief is comforting enough to let her contracted neck and shoulder muscles relax.

"Thank you, master."

He simply bows his head to her and offers his goodbyes before turning back toward the council room. In the distance, she sees Master Yoda waiting for him, and all she can do to stop herself from losing what little composure she has left is breathe deeply as she walks the other way in pursuit of the kitchens. Perhaps a light meal will soothe her nervous stomach.

It's an hour past the curfew set for apprentices to return to their rooms.

She relies on the light of the lamp beside her bed to read the book Anakin gave to her a few years ago. Annotated in the margins by Yoda, Dooku, Qui Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin, she finds it helpful to read a page or so before bed each night to settle her mind after the events of the day and bring her focus back onto what's most important. Her duty.

Every time she comes across Anakin's sloping, cursive penmanship, her face lights up with a giddy little smile. The page is worn beneath the fingertip she runs over the spot where he signed his name, as though this book has been carefully handled and passed down from generation to generation. Her night clothes are little more than a thin, plain shift that falls down to her calves, so she doesn't feel too warm with the sheet pulled up over her body as she flips through the pages to read all of Anakin's annotations.

However, the joy she derived from reading his thoughts along the margins is quickly washed away by worry. Worry as she begins to wonder where he is and what he's doing. Have they continued to interrogate him? Hopefully he's been allowed a break from their incessant badgering at some point. Perhaps Obi-Wan has found the time to speak to him privately already.

She's so lost in her thoughts, she doesn't even sense his approaching presence until the door to her room opens without a sound.

Already, she's flipping the sheet off of her body and tossing the book onto the side table to meet him as he crosses through the threshold to her private dorm. But what he sees when he shuts the door behind him isn't a happy, smiling face, it's an angry one, and he's already being chastised before he has the chance to greet her.

"Please, tell me you weren't seen coming here? What if they find you with me? Then everything we did today would be for nothing—"

The last word dies on her mouth with a surprised "hmmpf" sound when he reaches forward to cup the back of her neck and pull her into a fervent kiss.

Her hands shoot out to grasp his arms reflexively as he traps her in his strong embrace, one arm around her waist and his other raised to hold her to him by the back of her neck, and kisses her the way a dying man gasps for air. As soon as their mouths meet, she knows where he's been. The taste lingering on his lips is that of his preferred form of alcohol, and she grimaces at how strong it is for a second before pushing at his arms to break the kiss.

You'd think she struck him. His brows furrow and eyes widen at the rejection.

"Why won't you kiss me?" he asks with a tired exhale, leaning forward and angling his head as though he's going to steal another from her in retribution.

"Because it tastes like you drank the whole bottle," she says with a chuckle and keeps him at bay for now. "Where did you go?"

He lets out a sigh, overdramatic as ever, and allows her to slip out of his grasp now that he knows he won't get any kisses until he answers her. The walk over to the bed is short for him with his long legs. All it takes is a few strides and he's collapsing onto the mattress with huff. The glove is already being ripped off of his cybernetic hand before he conjures a suitable response for her.

"Out."

A scoff escapes her.

"I gathered that."

"I went to a bar."

Her brows furrow at him.

His hands come up to allow him to rub his eyes as he says, "Not that bar, I went to a normal one."

The casual reference to that bar brings a searing heat to her face. "That bar" meaning the one they snuck out to go to the first night they were together, with the secret back rooms he led her into and had his way with her in front of a few of the sex workers lounging there. He felt it necessary to clarify that he would never go to such a place without her present for obvious reasons. The thought alone of her thinking he would do something like that, putting himself into a situation no married man should ever be in, made his heart ache a little.

She allows herself to smile at him just a little, even though he can't see it, and walk over to where he's laying with his legs hanging off the foot of the bed. Feeling the mattress dip beside him with her shifting weight, he drops his hands back down and looks at her. And even when he's drunk, angry, and worried, he still finds it in himself to look at her like that. Like she's more important than the Force itself.

In return, she gives him the same look. It isn't too hard to summon. It comes so naturally when he looks the way he does right now; effortlessly beautiful with his overgrown hair framing his face and looking up at her through his lashes with a pink-flushed face.

"What did they say to you?" she asks softly.

Her fingertips are feathery-light where they touch his hair, brushing it away from his face in a way she knows soothes him. It causes his eyes to shut in appreciation of it, then, once he's fully taken in the moment, he answers.

"Not much." His body starts to shift to allow him to roll onto his stomach, and he wraps his arms around her hips. In this position, he gets to rest his face on her thighs, placing tender kisses along the soft skin. "They repeated the all same questions just worded differently each time. When they finally told me I was free to go, they were bringing in others we worked in close quarters with."

"Did Obi-Wan happen to talk to you?" she asks. This piques his interest straight away. His head pops up from her lap, his arms unwrapping from her waist to help him sit up to face her. "He told me he wanted to speak with you. To let you know that he requested to be my master in your absence because he knows how much you care for me."

In lieu of a response, Anakin starts to lean forward to nudge her face with his. Their noses brush as he captures her lips in a wet kiss, humming in satisfaction at how she instantaneously kisses back without thinking. Call him what you want for it, but he knows the effect he has on her and how to use to for his own gain. Right now, he's using it to redirect her back to what he wants. Which is, of course, to hold and kiss his wife. He doesn't think he's asking for too much.

She murmurs against his mouth, "Why won't you answer my question?"

His breath is hot against her skin when he pulls away to dip his face down into the curve where her shoulder meets her neck. All she feels is a soft pair of lips caressing her skin followed by the sharp hip of his teeth. He finds a way to shake his head through it all, not faltering for a second throughout the process of kissing her neck and nudging her slowly onto her back.

"I don't want to talk about Obi-Wan right now," he whispers.

With his body now laid flush atop hers, hips nudged between her parted thighs, he brushes his lips against hers softly. It's a sweet, gentle kiss. One she hadn't been expecting with how eagerly he was crawling on top of her seconds ago, but no amount of sweetness can make her forget that he's not in his right mind at the moment. So, she lets him kiss her for a few more seconds, giving him the chance to revel in what he so clearly wanted all night while he was out drinking, before looping her fingers through the soft hair on the back of his head to pull his face away from hers.

He winces at the slight pain caused by having his hair pulled, but they both know it's something he enjoys. His lips curve down into a slight frown as he realizes what's happening.

"Why are we stopping?"

She chuckles a little and cards her fingers through the hair she just pulled to soothe his mortally wounded ego.

"Because you're very drunk, and I'm also quite tired so I won't let you do it until you've sobered up."

His brows furrow.

"You won't let me?"

Her head shakes, a coy smile teasing at her mouth, and this causes him to stop as though in consideration for a second before groaning and rolling off of her. He ends up flopping onto his back on the mattress beside her, causing her to laugh a little at his dramatics before scooting closer to him and cuddling up next to his body. Her arm wraps around his slim waist and pulls tight as though she fears he won't remain here if she doesn't.

Sensing this, Anakin turns his head to look at her. His eyes soften the moment they land on her, and he reaches out with his flesh hand to brush his thumb over her lips.

"Sleep," he says quietly. A command, not a request. "I'll be with you. Always."

It takes a lot less time than it usually does for her to fall asleep once she burrowed beneath the sheet and rested her head on his pillow, right beside where his was laid. Part of it is due to him. Not only because his presence is soothing but because he breaks into her mind. She's so used to having him in there that she doesn't notice or care when he encourages her to sleep. For her body to relax far quicker than it usually would due to the soothing presence of his force signature.

For the first hour or so after she goes unconscious, he stays to ensure she doesn't wake. But, then, the boredom gets to him. Not to mention, he reeks of liquor and sweat, so he doesn't see any issue with temporarily leaving her for the sake of freshening up in the bathroom. The spray of the water hitting the floor hardly makes enough noise to reach the door, let alone beyond it into her bedroom, and he keeps checking, using the force to sense if she's still sleeping. By the time he is toweling himself off in front of the bathroom mirror, he no longer feels as impaired as he was when he first arrived.

The substance is still present in his system, yes, but he doesn't feel like everything is fuzzy around the edges anymore. Another hour has passed once he emerges from the bathroom with the towel wrapped low around his hips and his hair damp. What he sees when he lifts the sheet to slip into bed with her, tossing the towel to the floor on his side, halts him for a second.

She must have taken off her thin shift in the time he spent in the bathroom. It isn't uncommon for her to do this, rousing herself to a dazed state of partial consciousness to rip the bedclothes from her body due to the heat causing her to sweat in her sleep.

With the shades pulled shut over their windows to keep the city lights from invading the dark sanctuary of her bedroom, his eyes have adjusted to the darkness enough to see her beside him.

A quick glance at the time projected onto the ceiling in faint red light proves he has been awake far too long, and it's hard for him to not huff in frustration as he rolls onto his side. Facing her...

The curve of her hip juts out in an exaggeration of its usual shape from her laying on her stomach with one of her legs bent up near her side and the other lying flat against the mattress. With the sheet pulled up just enough to cover her ass, looking at her is cruel torment for him. How else is he supposed to react when his wife insists upon sleeping in the nude right beside him? He refuses to feel shame for how his cock stirs to life at the sight of her nearly every night.

Anakin's left hand slides up from his side to grasp the thin sheet between his fingers, gingerly pulling it down until it only covers the lower half of her legs.

At first, his only intention is to touch her. To caress her soft skin, hairless and smooth for the first time in ages now that they're back on Coruscant where she can groom herself, and relish in the fact that she's here with him. There's something so intoxicating about watching her sleep. It occurs to him that that thought, if spoke aloud, would probably creep her out, but it doesn't feel wrong to him. It's nice to see her without worry for once. So much of their time together is spent fearing that someone will catch them, but when she's asleep, she's at peace.

His hand ghosts over the back of her thigh, climbs up the curve of her hip, and keeps going up until he finds her neck. So delicate, so pristine in the way he only finds women can be. Men are so rash, harsh, and unsatisfying to look at to him. Himself included. She, however, is a work of art. Everything about her, from the way her hips sway just so when she walks to how her hair blows around her face in the breeze, is beautiful. He has always preferred them as a sex. After all, everyone he truly cares for, aside from Obi-Wan, has been a woman. His mother, Padme, and, of course, his beloved apprentice and secret wife.

He thinks to himself as he allows his hand to dip down to cup her breast, They make more sense. Everything about them was designed with careful thought. In a way, he envied them. In other ways, he didn't. As his hand grazes down her navel in search of the apex of her thighs, he can't help but stare at her in awe. His fingertips dip into the delicate folds of her cunt. So warm. Soft. Inviting. Begging him to delve further and give her what she desires.

She has done this to him a countless amount of times—woken him up with her mouth around him, sucking hard into the back of her tight throat—so he has no qualms with returning the favor.

It becomes clear to him very quickly that he won't be satisfied with merely touching her. While it is invigorating to see her subconscious response to his touch, her thighs pressing together and trapping his hand there as he rubs her clit, he knows what he truly wants right now.

He wants to take back his ownership of her.

What happened today was nothing short of traumatizing for him. He isn't stupid, he knows what they're trying to do. If he isn't careful, the council will try to take her from him, just like every other woman he's loved has been taken from him. When he was assigned to protect Padme just before the start of the Clone Wars, he lost his mother. Shortly after, he lost Padme too. She refused to be with him in the end, saying she couldn't lie to the senate and the council. He refuses to let the same thing happen with Y/N.

Soon, he begins to feel a wetness seeping out of her. His fingertips dip down to collect it from her hole and spread it over her throbbing bud, rubbing faster. A soft, muffled sound escapes her lips at this, and that's when he loses whatever scrap of patience remained in him.

Anakin slips his hand out from between her thighs to stroke himself a few times. Although he's already hard, he takes it as a chance to spread her slick arousal along his cock to make it easier when he inevitably fucks her. With the stimulation now withdrawn, she begins to fuss a little. It isn't anything like it would be were she awake and aware, but she does writhe ever so slightly in her spot upon the mattress as if instinctually searching for the pleasure that evaded her.

He's careful not to wake her just yet. Since she was so tired, he thinks she should rest for as long as she can before she's woken up by him. So, he's gentle in how he guides her into the easiest position to allow him access. She remains on her side, but he brings her legs up closer to her chest, forcing her back to arch and offer up her soaked pussy to him.

From there on, it's too tempting.

He guides the broad tip, messy with precome, of his cock into her first, waiting a moment to listen to her deep breathing to assess if she's waking before nudging further into her inch by inch. Being inside of her is serenity itself. It's like coming home, and he delights in how responsive her cunt is to him even while she sleeps. Her walls clamp down around the thick girth of him only to relax a second later to allow him in the rest of the way. His mouth drops open in a quiet gasp at how good it feels to bury himself inside of her, pushing and pushing until he bottoms out with his tip nestled close to her cervix.

The hand that isn't devoting it's time to rubbing her clit reaches to cup one of her breasts. It squeezes softly at first, but, as usual, it isn't enough. With the first thrust he makes back into her after he pulls almost all the way out of her, he grasps her breast harder and rolls the nipple between thumb and index finger. Having both of his hands on her—one on her chest and the other anchored between her thighs—gives him better leverage to fuck her how he wants to.

"Feel so good," he murmurs into her bare shoulder, not caring that she cannot hear him say it.

He loses control of himself quite fast. It's all too easy to allow the pace of his thrusts to speed up little by little, but, more importantly, he can't help himself from going harder. He enjoys going slow sometimes, but he never goes easy on her. If he ever did, she would scold him. Most often, she has the control between the two of them when it comes to intimacy, and that's the way he's always preferred it. But now...He finds that he likes having total control over her more than he thought he would.

His lips press gently against the curve of her shoulder to help suppress the load moan that threatens to leave him in response to her squeezing down around him.

The haze of sleep has a strong hold over her still when her eyes begin to flutter open.

At first, she's certain it's a dream. Trapped in the space between consciousness and unconsciousness, her mind has yet to realize that she's slowly but surely coming back to consciousness. Her dreams have always been incredibly vivid, especially when they concern Anakin, so no alarms are raised at the feeling in the pit of her abdomen. It isn't until she feels his teeth graze her skin that she realizes that it isn't happening inside her head.

The light beyond the shut curtains, the only source of light at this late hour, illuminates just enough of her face to allow him the pleasure of watching her react to what's happening. Her brows pinch together, a crease forming in the skin between them, and, then, her eyes open slowly.

Y/N wakes to the overwhelming pleasure of him touching her, kissing her, fucking her—essentially doing anything he can to feel closer to her—and the first thing she thinks to do is reach being her to grab onto him. Her hand lifts from where it laid on the mattress to reach back for him, sliding down the side of his bare, muscled abdomen until it reaches his hip. There, her nails dig into him.

She says, evidently confused, "Ani?"

The second after she says the nickname, a particularly harsh thrust causes her to whine in both pleasure and sensitivity, head tipping back while he finishes sucking a mark onto the back of her shoulder. Even through the fog in her mind, she's thankful that he's only leaving marks behind in places she'll be able to cover. It wouldn't be wise to meet with Obi-Wan tomorrow morning with a love bite visible on the side of her neck.

He pulls his face from her neck to press his cheek against hers, lips pressing a tender kiss to the corner of her mouth.

"I'm not intoxicated," he says as explanation for the euphoric wake-up call. "And when I came out of the shower, I noticed you ripped your clothes off in your sleep..."

This brings a sleepy grin to her face, and she can feel him grinning back at her with his cheek pressed to hers. The fingers toying with his clit continue at that perfect, toe-curling pace that increases the bliss she feels tenfold. That, when combined with how consistently he hits the sweet spot inside of her, is almost too much for her to handle so soon after coming back to consciousness.

"You're acting awfully brave. Aren't you worried I'll have to punish you for it sometime?"

Every word is punctuated with a panting breath as he drives into her harder and faster, her breasts bouncing with the force of it now. The palm he had molded over one of them slides up to grasp the very top of her neck, just beneath the jaw, in a possessive act of claiming.

He shakes his head, pushing hers a little further into the pillow it rests on.

"No," Anakin pants, "no, you won't be punishing me for taking what's mine. You forget that I'm your master."

Knowing how angry it will make him, she says, "Actually, Obi-Wan—"

The hand around her neck squeezes impossibly tight before she can dare to finish the sentence, and his pace becomes nearly brutal in a way it's only been a few times before. After a loss on the battlefield or a man leering at her in front of him. But this is...this is different. She can feel it—his anger, the possessiveness, the jealousy.

A second later, he releases his grip on her neck.

"Take that back," he mutters, seething, and pulls her hair taut from her scalp, eliciting a sound that's a strange mix of a moan and a wince. "Or I won't let you finish. You can do it yourself if you're so quick to betray me."

The mere thought is enough to make her brows pinch together in displeasure, and she starts to shake her head frantically. How cruel of him to wake her like this and threaten not to see it through to the end. Although, it does arouse her even more to think that he's simply using her for his own gratification now that she's "betrayed" him. The tension brewing within her, readying like an asp about to strike, seems to enjoy the notion of that.

And, worried that he'll stop, she cries out, voice breathy and soft, "You own me, master. Just you"—the next rut he makes into her is hard enough for her to gasp—"There's only you, Anakin."

"Yeah?" he asks, turning her face with the hand that choked her a moment ago to force her to meet his gaze.

The eye contact is so intense, she doesn't know what to do with herself when she's pinned beneath him like this. And, of course, everything is heightened by the vitriolic feelings roiling inside of him. He projects them at her without a second thought, letting her in to hear every thought that is practically shouted at her. She can't deny to herself that some of them are quite...disturbing. It's nothing too outrageous, but it's obvious to her that he perceived what happened today as a threat. A threat he will not take lightly.

She nods her head a few times, their noses brushing with the frenetic movement, and he can't help but smirk.

"Good girl," he mutters.

He keeps his lips as close to hers as possible without breaking eye contact with her. The urge to kiss her is heavily outweighed by the power he derives from looking into her eyes as he pounds into her. The whole day, he has felt helpless, mad, and scared, but it's all mended by her. By this moment. Not only due to the physical intimacy, but the emotional as well. He can feel how much she loves him. It's a feeling he wishes he could bottle and keep in his possession forever. He'd get drunk off of her if he could, but he can't, so this is the next best option.

When her eyes flutter shut in appreciation of her impending release, building inside of her like the swell of the sea, he says, "No, I want you to look at me."

Seeing that he holds the power regarding whether or not she'll come, she obeys his command immediately. When her eyes open to find his face so close to hers, the sight of him hits her like a punch to the gut, and that overwhelming feeling of love he felt emanating from her increases tenfold. She takes this time, the few, never-ending seconds before she's pushed over the edge into oblivion, to commit every detail of him to memory. The hair that falls in his face, the healing scar slicing through the outer edge of his eyebrow, and, most importantly to her, those sultry eyes of his.

Even outside of the bedroom, he has a way of looking at her that makes it obvious to anyone who looks too closely that he's undressing her with his eyes, but it's far worse when she's actually undressed and at his mercy. It makes her inevitable peak come on stronger and faster than either of them expected it to, her nails digging into his hip so hard that they break the surface of his skin.

She says breathlessly, looking up at him with wide, teary eyes, "Promise you won't let them keep us apart."

And though he's already reassured her countless times that they'll remain together no matter what, he surges forward through the small gap left between them and kisses her with a hunger that'll never be satisfied. It only lasts a second or so, but it's all she needs to reach her climax.

"I'll do anything," he whispers, kissing her deeply as she begins to tense around him. "Anything."

It's such a powerful, explosive surge of pleasure, she cannot do anything but tense in his arms and surrender herself to it.

The noises she makes are borderline pornographic, and if he weren't so in tune with her, he would probably think she's faking it. But there's no way of faking her body's natural response to him. As he guides his cock in and out of her at a brutal pace, the sound of their bodies colliding and how wet she is filling the room, he feels every spasm and twitch of her around him. There's no avoiding those guttural sounds, the slack-jawed expression on her face, or the tight cunt milking him with every unyielding wave of her climax.

Anakin's mechno-hand squeezes around her neck with just the right amount of force to restrict her gasping breaths and provide himself the amount of control over her as he loses himself in it all. His thrusts turn sloppy the closer he comes to his end, and he buries himself in deep one last time before spilling into her.

His face falls into her neck with a whine, teeth biting down on her shoulder to stifle the sound. Her constant clenching and unclenching helps him ride out his orgasm, and he continues to fuck into her in small, dying thrusts until every spurt of his release is trapped within her.

Y/N goes limp on the mattress beside him.

Her head has fallen back into its original place on the pillow, and all she can hear is him breathing heavily into her neck. Behind her, his chest rises and falls at a rapid rate against her back. The hand that was around her neck has slid down to rest against her stomach, holding her close as he always does in the vulnerable moments following his orgasm. All the excitement and emotion turns him into a clingy, needy little thing.

They lay like this for so long, limbs entangled in the sheets and racing hearts beginning to fall back into a normal rhythm, that she can't tell if it's been five minutes or ten when he finally speaks up. Sometime in between him collapsing onto the bed with her and now, he pulled out of her and repositioned himself against her. Both of his arms are snug around her waist, and his face is no longer buried in her neck but rather right beside hers. His cheek presses against hers as it had when they were in the midst of fucking, savoring the closeness shared between the two of them.

"I love you," he says softly.

It isn't the first time he's said it, but she always gets the same fluttering sensation in her stomach as though it is. As quickly as the anger and jealousy took control of him, turning him into a demanding and domineering lover, he shifts back into his usual nature with her. It's as though his mind goes on autopilot after having sex with her, exposing the true motivators that drove the anger. Insecurity. Fear of abandonment. Worry.

Knowing this, she doesn't hesitate to say it back.

"I love you more."

The feeling of his chest moving against her back with a soft huff of laughter brings a smile to her face.

"Believe me, that's not possible."

She then starts to shift around in place, forcing him to loosen his hold on her for a second or two until she has flipped over to face him. Those strong arms are quick to wrap around her waist and pull her in again, their bodies flush against one another.

"And why is that?" she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice.

He answers it so quickly, so sure, she cannot take it as anything other than honesty.

"I was made for you," Anakin whispers, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face. "There's no purpose for me in this life without our love."

Her brows furrow in concern.

"That's not true. You have purpose regardless of whether or not I'm here."

He shakes his head, just once, and when she cups the side of his face in the palm of her hand, he leans into the touch. The tip of her thumb caresses the scar cutting through his brow, moving down until she brushes his bottom lip.

He says, "I don't want to know what it's like to not have you in my life. It was easier before. I didn't know what was waiting for me. But, it's different now. If I lost you, I'd lose myself."

Her other hand moves to hold the other side of his face, leaving him with no choice but to look into her eyes and hear every word, every thought, and every feeling that passes through her.

"You aren't going to lose me."

The soft look in his eyes transforms into determination at this, and he allows his forehead to rest against hers as he repeats what she said in his mind over and over again to reassure himself.

A/N: It's been a long time, but here's part three! I hope you all enjoyed it.

Tag List: @juniebugg and @riley12.

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction

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split-spectrum · 1 month ago

Text

Water and Rock

Chapter 16/17

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: angst

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Obi Wan wakes ten minutes before his alarm. As always.

He resets the chrono for tomorrow, silently eases from his bed, and prepares for morning meditations. Coruscant's sun won't rise for another hour. He prefers to meditate in the dark whenever possible, leaving the least opportunity for distraction. When he passes the mirror in the main living space of his quarters, only the shadows look back.

Settling himself into a seated position in the middle of his floor, Obi Wan's hands find their places at the tops of his knees without any guidance from him. His body fades into the background, making space for his mind.

He normally doesn't tend to use mantras, but today Obi Wan's mind is fixed on words from long ago.

"You must allow the Force to guide you, my apprentice. Never presume to know the path that lies ahead."

He turns them over and over in his head. He listens to them, inspects them, considers them, until the quiet hour has ended.

He's still picturing the day Qui Gon said them as he steps into the refresher, steam filling the air.

"To be a Jedi is trust in the Force, above all else."

"Yes, Master."

"Sometimes, the Force may lead us to unexpected places. But it will never lead us astray."

"I understand."

He'd received a kind smile. "Do you, Obi Wan?"

A tilt of Obi Wan's head. "Master?"

As Obi Wan finishes dressing and clips his lightsaber to his side, he wonders what Qui Gon would think of him now.

"One day, you may find yourself in a position to follow the wisdom of the Jedi order, or the will of the Force. And you must never confuse the two."

Obi Wan had done his best to maintain a neutral expression, despite yet another lesson in defying the council. "Are they not one and the same?"

He'd tried to hide his frustration when Qui Gon had given a sly smile. "Many believe so. But you are much wiser than that, my young apprentice."

Obi Wan grimaces, thinking back on his own arrogance. He'd always hated when his master had talked like that. It had seemed to him that he'd been speaking from a lack of respect. Maybe even a lack of discipline. But in truth, Qui Gon had been preparing him to understand not only that the council wasn't infallible, but that the Force didn't require him to be a perfect Jedi in order to be good.

He runs a hand through the running water of his sink, then flicks it through his hair, combing it back into place. If only he could ask his master whether the council was following the right path now.

As he looks into the mirror, though, he knows given the chance, he would only have one question to ask. And it wouldn't be about the council. It would be about you.

Since your return to Coruscant, you've been all he can think about. He'd known he would inevitably gravitate back to you.

No - not just since your return.

The truth had been buried inside him since Ilum. Even as he'd left you standing there in the snow, he'd felt it. He'd known it wouldn't be the last time. The burning ache he'd felt that day had been branded into his bones. It's a part of him, now.

But had it burned brighter than the revolutions of a thousand subjugated star systems throughout the galaxy? Did it ache deeper than the pain wracking through the Force from those who suffered and died at the hands of the Separatists?

He known the answer then. And he'd known the answer as he'd held you in his arms, breaking his own heart along with his sacred vows in this very temple.

And as he smooths the collar of his robe, sunlight beginning to spill through the edge of his window, Obi Wan knows the answer still. He knows it clearly. He knows it will not change.

"You may open your eyes."

The man you know as the brother calls you back from the abyss, and you return to him, emerging from deep meditation. The Force is thick, syrupy-sweet around you, and it softens his voice in your ears.

"You have made a strong connection with the Force. For the final step, you must remain open. Do not close yourself off; do not be afraid of what you feel."

Your answer stays at the tip of your tongue. You want to answer that Jedi do not fear. But you know better.

It's been a long night, drifting in and out of consciousness; of reality. You're exhausted in every sense of the word. He's pushed you to what you'd thought to be your limit, and surpassed it many times. And now, as the sun begins to crest over the temple, you sit at the feet of your guide, feeling like a padawan again, and letting his words penetrate you deeply, ready for whatever comes next.

Slowly, he reaches out and touches the pad of his finger to your forehead, between your eyebrows.

Instantly, you have the feeling of going over a steep drop, your stomach rising and your breath leaving you. Your chest flutters, then begins to heave, feeling full to the point of bursting. Your eyes fall closed again as you concentrate on keeping your connection to the Force open while the channel of energy seeps out of your chest and starts to fill the rest of your body.

You feel like a vessel that had never known it was empty. There are spaces inside you that you'd never known existed, and now they're awakening, burning, thrumming with life. It's at once liberating and terrifying. It's almost too much to bear.

You look back up at the man standing over you, watching with curious eyes. You want to beg him to ease your pain - to take some of this power from you before it overwhelms. But you know that's not how this works. Slowly, you start to come to grips with yourself, feeling the energy coursing through you in waves, and you manage to break the surface, controlling it more than it controls you.

"That's it. Good," he coos. "Tell me, how do you feel?"

"I..." You swallow. "I feel..." Struggling between keeping your focus and trying to find the right words, you catch your breath for a moment before you finally answer.

"Whole."

He grins broadly. "Yes. Now you see."

You nod, not really able to hear him clearly. But he's right. You do see. For the first time, you finally feel what has been promised to you all your life: You are at one with the Force.

"Our work here is complete. Now you may rest, and prepare yourself for the task ahead."

Coming back to yourself, you shake your head, looking at the ground. "No, I- I can't. I have work to do."

"Your work will soon come to an end, when you discover the identity of the Sith lord."

All at once, your mind is focused, sharpened to a single point. "A Sith lord?"

He nods once, tucking his arms behind his back. "He is the true danger to your master, and indeed to the Jedi themselves. And he will reveal himself soon enough."

Reeling, you still can't take it in. "How... how can I know that what you're saying is true?"

He raises one eyebrow, as if he'd expected the question, and suddenly before your waking eyes, a vision appears.

Obi Wan, bent backward, hand at his throat as a shimmering, hazy being presses a lightsaber down, down, down.

Obi Wan, choking on the fumes of molten lava, sweat pouring down his face as he fights off blow after blow, desperately trying to stay on his feet despite the raw power of his opponent.

Obi Wan, anguished, screaming into the darkness...

You pinch your brow, turning away as you watch tears fill his eyes. When you look back, the image is gone.

Somehow, you know that it isn't fabricated. Just like Utapau, you just know it's real. You felt it. And just like Utapau, it cannot be allowed to happen.

"Who is he?" you ask, all of your previously rampant, unrestrained power squeezed down, pressed inside yourself as you hold your breath for his reply.

His easy expression hardens, glowing red stare going cold and empty.

"That is not yet clear to me, my child. You must wait. We must both... have patience."

"Master Kenobi."

Ki-Adi-Mundi greets Obi Wan amicably as he takes his seat for the council meeting. Obi Wan bows his head slightly and begins to greet him back, but the conversation ends before it starts. Yoda's opening remarks are already beginning as the other masters quickly take their seats.

Meetings over the last few days have been short and urgent, but the immediacy suits Obi Wan just fine today. He has no desire to exchange pleasantries; his thoughts have been distracted by Anakin from the moment he'd seen him this morning.

Since his appointment to the council and subsequent dispute over his failure to attain the rank of master, Anakin's mood has seemed darker than ever. He's quiet, his expression is blank, and his eyes are hollow. Obi Wan fights the urge to bring the back of his hand to his lips and drag it along his mustache. He couldn't be more obvious about his concern for Anakin, and he doesn't need his nervous tic to set him off.

As the discussion goes on, Obi Wan feels a strange unease settle over him. Master Windu mentions that a speaker is needed to represent the Jedi for a special session of the senate. A request has been made to share the Jedi perspective on the Outer Rim sieges. Obi Wan tenses, though he doesn't know why.

"This is a voluntary duty. If you have any interest, please speak with Senator Bail Organa."

It's a simple task that could be delegated to any experienced Jedi Knight. But since the battlefront has expanded swiftly in recent months, it's unlikely any experienced knight can be spared, and likely that no one - master, knight or even padawan - will volunteer to step away from the fight for a series of speeches.

Yet, it's an opportunity to stay on Coruscant for at least the next few days, to stay close to Anakin and Palpatine, and possibly, to abide the only thing you've ever asked of him: To stay away from Utapau.

"I will go." Obi Wan finds himself speaking the words, as a surprised silence holds the council chambers suddenly still. "I will speak with Senator Organa this afternoon."

The holo-image of Master Yoda raises a brow and lets out a humph. "Feeling well, are you, young Obi Wan?"

Suppressing his unease, he lofts his chin and answers steadily, "There are several senators who have been hesitant in providing aid where it is needed, and I would like the chance to speak with them."

Anakin's eyes had been following each speaker looking somewhat detached, up until now. Obi Wan can feel the younger man's gaze sharpen, suddenly boring into him from across the room. He shifts a glance out the transparisteel window, then looks back at Yoda, avoiding Anakin altogether.

"Very well," Yoda acknowledges, bobbing his head just once, slowly. "To the senate, Master Kenobi will report. Concludes local assignments, this does. Now, young Skywalker, news to share, have you?"

Flicking his attention back to the rest of the room and finally away from Obi Wan, Anakin straightens up a bit. "Yes, Master. Chancellor Palpatine has informed me of a possible location for General Grievous."

Now it was Obi Wan's turn to look surprised. Why Palpatine would have such knowledge before the council was beyond his understanding.

Master Plo seems to share the same thought. "Our reports on Grievous's whereabouts have been vague and inconclusive. How has the chancellor come into this new information?"

"The port administrator of Pau City sent out a call for aid after his entire administration was taken hostage."

Master Mundi's bushy brows flare upward. "Palpatine thinks General Grievous is on Utapau?"

The sound of the word forms a fist that grabs Obi Wan's insides and twists.

"A partial message was intercepted in a diplomatic packet from the chairman of Utapau," Anakin explains.

A logical reason for Palpatine to have first access to the information. But Obi Wan can hardly focus on the reasoning for anything right now.

Grievous.

He'll be weak. Especially with the demise of Count Dooku. Obi Wan feels a sudden wellspring of hope despite the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He would never have committed to staying on Coruscant if he had known.

"Act on this we must," Yoda's glowing visage asserts. "The capture of General Grievous will end this war. Quickly and decisively, we should proceed."

"The chancellor has requested..." Anakin's eyes dip away briefly before he seems to brace himself. "...that I lead the campaign."

"The council will make up its own mind who is to go. Not the chancellor," Master Windu is quick to respond.

"A master is needed," Yoda affirms, "with more experience."

"I concur," Ki-Adi-Mundi adds. He almost glances in Obi Wan's direction but seems to remember himself, turning toward Mace instead. "Master Windu should go."

Mace nods solemnly, and Obi Wan nearly opens his mouth to respond. But to say what? To do what?

Is this the will of the Force? Or his own desires fighting it?

No - the question is more simple than that: Does he trust you?

The moment passes.

"I agree," comes the slightly tinny, electronic sound of Yoda's voice.

"Aye."

The response is unanimous.

"Very well," says Master Windu. "Council adjourned."

Obi Wan can feel the shroud of fate enclosing the room as Mace stands to leave, likely to prepare for his departure. But nothing is sealed, yet.

"Master Windu," Obi Wan calls after him, the older man turning back to meet him in the long hallway outside the council chambers. "Please; a moment."

Mace regards him with a look of urgency, and Obi Wan can't blame him. This is the final break in the war they may all have been waiting for. There isn't a moment to spare. He'll have to convince him that this is worth the time.

"I believe you may be headed into grave danger," he says, lowering his voice as they step off to the side. When Mace lifts his eyebrows, as if to say 'what gave it away?' Obi Wan presses his lips into a firm line, resetting his approach. "More danger than can usually be expected from Grievous."

Mace drops his sardonic expression. "What makes you say that?"

"My former padawan. She's been having visions of Utapau."

When Mace responds by saying your name questioningly, Obi Wan tries to ignore the way his heartbeat quickens at the sound of it, and simply nods. "Yes. She was not able to share many details with me, but the Force seemed to be warning quite strongly. I think you should speak with her before you go."

Releasing a deep sigh from his chest, Mace seems to consider it. But they have known each other well, for many years. He knows Mace can feel his insistence, and the trust he's built with the man throughout their long friendship prevails.

"If you believe it will make a difference, I will see the Commander after I ready my troops."

Breathing a little easier, Obi Wan gives a respectful, grateful nod. "Thank you, Master."

Mace returns his nod, clasping his hands at his waist and adding as he turns to leave. "Though I can imagine she might be busy." He slides a look to the chambers just as Anakin exits alone, his dark form stalking off in the opposite direction.

"I assume your old padawan is hard at work keeping surveillance on mine."

"Right," Obi Wan concedes, eyes following Anakin as well. "For this, I am sure she will find the time."

Your commlink chimes. A light flashes against the wall where it sits, out of reach.

You trade a look between your teacher and your commlink, and he gives a vaguely permissive tilt of his chin. You stand, pressing the button to answer.

"Did you know?" comes the immediate question, Obi Wan's voice strained. "Did you know who was... there, when you asked me not to go?"

His emphasis tells you what he's talking about, and reminds you that no recorded line is currently safe. So you keep your answer short and to the point, after a second's hesitation. "No."

As you turn back to face the man in your quarters, you see nothing. He's dissipated beyond your eyes and your senses. You're alone again.

"You're certain?"

"No," you answer more firmly, glad you can be honest with him, about this much, at least. There's a pause on the other end. "Obi Wan-"

"Is there anything at all that you aren't telling me about your visions?" he talks over you. "Were there any details you left out?"

Gripping the commlink, you find yourself leaning your body toward his voice. Despite the urgency of his question, hearing him helps you ground yourself. Refocusing, you concentrate on his questions. You desperately want to ask him who it is that's caused this sudden renewal of interest, but you know he can't give you a name at the moment.

"Why are you asking me this now?"

"Please, answer me."

You exhale, your pulse suddenly quickening. "Are you planning to go there?"

You can sense his frustration with you. He pauses again before giving in. "Not me. Master Windu. He plans to leave... very soon." A beat, as he presumably holds back further details. "But before he goes, I asked him to speak with you. Anything you can share might make a difference."

"I... see," you reply, carefully keeping the relief out of your voice.

"So, if there is anything you can remember, no matter how insignificant it might have seemed, you must tell him. Do you understand?"

"Yes." A sickly sweet feeling of alleviation, almost elation, flutters through your chest. "Yes, of course."

Someone is about to die on Utapau. And with your help, it won't be Obi Wan.

"I promise."

Before you had even ended your conversation with Obi Wan, there had been a knock at your door.

Your discussion with Master Windu had been short. You'd told him what you'd needed to.

And now, all that's left is to try and forget about it.

You try to forget the way he'd smiled at you, brown eyes soft and holding more hope than you'd seen in a long time.

You try not to think about the lightness in his step as he'd left your quarters, possibly for the last time.

Mace Windu's face as he'd thanked you for your guidance is only a distraction, now, and you need to put it out of your mind.

Besides, it's not hard to shift your guilt. You're in the midst of betraying another friend's trust at the moment, as you press a button to activate the sound on a live feed of a dingy little storage unit on one of the lower levels.

You'd snuck down there shortly after leaving the temple the previous day, knowing immediately that Anakin's speeder would provide one of the best locations for unfiltered information.

It had made you sick, punching in the code that you wish you hadn't memorized to a rusted-out keypad and invading what he'd probably believed to be his last private sanctuary. You shift in your seat, testing the sound quality of the feed as you remind yourself that this is all in an effort to prove Anakin's innocence. He'll understand when you tell him. Someday.

You refresh the connection to a few other feeds strategically placed in Anakin's ship and personal quarters. Normally, for a target with a possibility of multiple conspirators, you would use cams, too. A visual feed could be critical in identifying suspects.

But Anakin isn't just any target. He isn't one of the scheming Separatist traitors you're used to tracking, and putting cams in his personal quarters is a violation you aren't willing to commit. Not yet. Not unless absolutely necessary.

You check your commlink for the fifth time in as many minutes. It's not quite showtime yet. Anakin had spent the remainder of his morning in one of the tactical planning rooms with Rex, monitored at all times, and had met his master directly afterward, to see him off. Mace will be notifying you once they go their separate ways. For now, cycling your feeds is the only thing to do.

That, and wonder when - or if - your visitor from last night will return.

A new knock at your door almost makes you jump, pulling your thoughts to the present. You silence your equipment, dimming the screens to black and pulling a compartment built into the desk closed. Cautiously, you answer the door, making sure to keep it cracked only enough to see you, and not enough to seem like an invitation to come inside.

"I thought we might have some time to talk."

Obi Wan stands on the other side.

Your hand releases its grip on the door, letting it open. When the door closes, you turn to face him. You should have been expecting this. After all, he'd told you that you'd talk as soon as time allowed. You just hadn't wholly believed it.

"You kept your promise."

You don't know why your voice holds a slight note of bitterness. Perhaps you're still struggling to control your emotions, trying to get used to your new relationship with the Force. Perhaps it's just lack of sleep. But he gives you a curious look, then smiles faintly. "I always do. Even the ones I've promised not to make."

You bring your eyes up to his. "That's true."

"But I would still like to know why."

You glance down, taking a few steps away to unlock the compartment again and take your equipment back out. You should have known better. That's why he's here; he wants information.

"What do you mean?" you ask, sitting down.

He crosses room to look into your eyes. "Master Windu stopped by to speak with you, did he not?"

You nod along with the question, not willing to bridge the gap and give him more detail than he asks for.

"Then I imagine he told you the significance of Utapau. That General Grievous is rumored to be there?"

Your chest tightens. "Yes, he told me. I shared with him everything that I could. Which wasn't much, unfortunately."

"Is there anything you can tell me that you already haven't?"

You take in a breath, pretending to mull it over despite already knowing the answer you'll give. Then you shake your head. "Not really. The only thing I can say is that the same feeling doesn't seem to apply with anyone but you."

"The same feeling? What feeling?"

"Of... failure," you lie, steeling your nerves as he stares down at you. It wasn't failure you'd felt. It was death.

"And with Mace, this sense of failure is not there?"

"No," you lie, to protect him.

"You're certain there's nothing more you can tell me?"

"I'm sorry," you lie, putting out of your mind the dozens of details you could easily share. Location, weapon, angle of attack...

"No. There's nothing. I wish there was more."

His shoulders drop as he regards you a moment longer before sinking down onto the edge of your bed. He drags a hand down his face. You don't remember ever seeing him look so tired.

"I'm sorry," you say, catching yourself sounding more sincere this time.

His eyes soften, the dull ache behind them subdued while he looks at you. "No, don't be. You've done nothing wrong."

He seems to think for a moment, gazing through you.

When he doesn't speak again, you turn back to the screens in front of you and re-activate them. To fill the silence, you mumble, "Everything is in place, now. For Anakin, I mean. Audio recorders practically everywhere he goes."

Obi Wan blinks, as if coming back to the present. "'Practically'? You didn't place one on his person?"

You shake your head. "Too risky. In his robes, it could be left behind. His clothing changes. And in his lightsaber, I'm sure he would find it. I don't know how, but I just feel he would... know."

Obi Wan nods. "Yes, you're right. So where did you place them?"

"His ship and his personal quarters, of course. The chancellor's office. And..." You trail off suddenly, realizing you'd almost let it slip.

He tilts his head, reading you carefully. Then his eyes seem to sparkle when it occurs to him what you're holding back. "And his speeder?"

For an instant, you're speechless. Then you remember who you're dealing with, and wonder why you ever doubted that he would know. You give in, a smirk surprising you by easing its way out. "He said he never told you."

Obi Wan lifts his eyebrows. "Some time ago, I heard engines in the background of one of his calls. I thought he might have returned to the underground racing circuit again, and I followed him down to the storage levels. When I saw that he was only working on a speeder and not some... customized monstrosity, I decided to leave well enough alone."

Your smirk turns into a smile, thinking back to Anakin's younger days of sneaking off to the races, much to Obi Wan's dismay. You'd both agreed never to tell Anakin's master, so long as he never went there again. You had your suspicions that he'd never been caught there again, but he'd probably never really stopped until the war started monopolizing his free time.

"Well, you're right," you admit. "I have a tracker there, too. So now, it's just waiting. He's with Mace at the moment, but it shouldn't be much longer."

Obi Wan nods, watching your smile fade. He leans forward. "You are right to do this, you know."

Again, the tightness in your chest returns. You stare at him, not quite sure how to respond.

"The situation is..." He glances away. "Complicated."

You read his real meaning: The council is wrong.

"But," he continues, "you are the right person for this job. If someone must be responsible for finding the truth, as well as protecting Anakin, I am very glad it's you."

With the last of his words, he leans over and places his hand on your knee. In spite of the heaviness of the moment, you feel like you're glowing. But you can't bring yourself to reach out and touch his hand back. As much as you want to, it doesn't feel like something you deserve.

Obi Wan clears his throat, gently pulling back to stand up. You're both quiet - not because you don't want to speak, but because there is too much to say.

After a moment, he starts to gaze around the room, taking in your simple decor, and it occurs to you that this is the first time he's set foot in your quarters in years. The same thought seems to be playing over his features as he slides his palm along the top of the dresser near your bed.

"Do you remember moving that in here?" you ask.

He doesn't exactly smile, but his gaze lightens. "Remember? How could I forget?"

The dresser is far too large and takes up more space in the room than is practical. It had held all your toys as a youngling, and when you became a padawan it contained all your most precious belongings - clothing, books, and even a few pieces of jewelry. Your dresser had been one of the only constant items to follow you into adulthood.

When you'd moved out of your padawan's quarters to join the rest of the knights, you'd found your new quarters much smaller. Seeing how much it meant to you, your master had spent an afternoon disassembling the dresser and piecing it together in your new room. He'd helped you shuffle it into the corner where it sits now, resulting in no small number of bumps and bruises along the way. You might have used the Force to slide it into place, but the risk of damage to the dresser outweighed the benefit of protecting your shins.

"I walked with a limp for a week, as I recall."

With a tilt of your head, you smile. "Only because you wouldn't listen to my instructions."

"I shouldn't have allowed it in the first place. Jedi Knights are meant to use standard-issue furnishings."

You step beside him, crossing your arms and looking down at the dresser as well. "I'm grateful you did. It made me feel at home, when everything else had changed so suddenly."

"Perhaps feeling at home wasn't what you needed," he says, still staring down. "Perhaps it would have been better to teach you a lesson in attachment."

He looks so serious that you're suddenly overcome with the idea of cupping his face in your palm and kissing him. Instead, you just tell him quietly, "You were never such a cruel master as to teach me lessons I wasn't ready to learn."

He turns to look at you, but says nothing.

"You knew how to teach me, and met me where I was. I always appreciated that. And I think it was why you succeeded where others had failed me."

Your words don't seem to cheer him up. In fact, they seem to have the opposite effect. His eyes are so full of sorrow he looks ready to collapse where he stands.

"Obi Wan," you ask, worry starting to set in. "What is it?"

He seems to consider a long time before answering. Then, it's as if you can see a decision being made.

"If Master Windu succeeds," he begins slowly, "If Grievous is captured, the war could end in a matter of days."

It's a possibility that up until now, you've hardly let yourself conceptualize. But his words make it seem closer to the truth than ever before.

"There will still be much work to do, of course. But the transition to peace could be handled largely by the clones, once an agreement is reached. And the Jedi would no longer be an integral part of the military."

You nod, following his logic but unsure as to where he might be going.

"Yesterday, I came to realize something: I had been thinking of myself as two beings: One who walked the path of the Jedi, and one who..."

He trails off, staring intently at you, gaze steeped in emotion. You try to read him, but you can't. There is no opposite you can imagine to finish his sentence.

"One who longed to know another path."

Your breath stops. This can't be real.

"I had thought I could leave that part of me on Ilum, until... what happened between us yesterday showed me how wrong I was."

You swallow, shame fighting to burn as hot through your blood as the euphoria of hearing his confession.

"Yet, in a war, it made no difference. The right thing to do would be to-" He falters. Then he clears his throat and the words come out slowly and evenly. "To leave the Order. But I could not. Not when so many suffered."

"I..." Your voice cracks as you try to piece together what he's really saying. "I don't know what you're trying to tell me. You're leaving the Order?"

"The longer I stay, the more irresponsible it becomes to keep these secrets. If the fighting ends, I will tell the council I am no longer fit to serve."

There's a high-toned echo reverberating in your ears, as if you're crawling out from the rubble of a bomb being dropped.

"And- and go where? And do what?"

"I don't know," he admits. "I don't know what comes next. But there is a place on Saleucami - a small farm. I've always thought it was rather well-priced. I would not be disturbed, and could try to reconnect with the Force in peace."

You're quiet for a long beat. You don't want to ask the question, for a myriad of reasons. But you have to.

"Would I ever see you again?"

He smiles, very faintly. "If I am to find out what sort of Jedi I am, I must no longer turn away from these feelings. You would be most welcome to see me whenever you like."

Your heart seizes, pierced with a sudden joy so deep, so impossible, that it's painful.

He would welcome you. You could forge a new path, together, and away from everything that had ever kept you apart.

He's holding you gently in his gaze, waiting for you to respond, and you can only whisper, "And... when I come to see you..."

You close the distance between your bodies, trading shimmering glances between his beautiful, sorrow-filled eyes, his warm breath drawing you in.

"...yes?" he asks softly, encouraging you. It's half a question, half an invitation.

You brush your lips over his, feeling him open up and lean to the side. His mouth pushes back, his hand sliding up your cheek to rest behind your ear, his thumb at your cheekbone.

In the kiss, you can feel everything. The past and the future. The years spent at his side. The longing, heartbreak, and uncertainty. Disagreements, distance, and every other obstacle that had been placed between you. The thought of a life together. Warm sunrises spent in his arms. Time that's no longer stolen, but yours for the keeping.

When the kiss ends, you're left staring at him, breathless with unbridled happiness.

"If I were to-" you begin, about to spill everything - to tell him that without the war as an obligation, you would have left the order long ago. You want to tell him that if he invites you to visit, you'll never leave his side again.

But low voices begin to fill the room, and reality crashes down on you, forcing you to remember that everything is, right now, still hypothetical.

There is no certainty the war will end tomorrow. The only thing that is certain is that the war is still very real, today.

As Anakin's muffled voice comes through the recorder, you close your eyes, pulling back from Obi Wan's touch and exhaling through your nose. You still have your parts to play. For now, there's nothing more to talk about.

Obi Wan gives you the space to step away, blinking down at the floor and back up again, mask firmly in place once more as you pull up the screen to see which feed is active.

Glancing down at your commlink, you see that Mace had sent you a message several minutes ago. You hadn't even heard it. Anakin left the temple a long time ago.

You check the active feed. It's his speeder, and there is a softer, lighter voice joining his.

"Ani, it's perfect. But, you realize we already have mine? We have all the transportation we'll ever need, and in Naboo we'll have my parents-"

"On Naboo you'll have everything," Anakin interrupts. You turn your head for Obi Wan's reaction. He doesn't give one.

You've both gone stiff, frozen in place. It's one thing to suspect, but another to confirm with your own ears: Anakin is with Padmé. And within the simple exchange, it's already blatantly clear this is not a professional consultation.

It's surprising, certainly, but not a complete shock to either of you. Anakin's feelings toward the senator have been clear to both of you for a long time, and Obi Wan has told you Padmé hasn't seemed to rebuff his interest since their capture on Geonosis. But a bit of flirtation is one thing; a clandestine meeting is another.

"You've made it clear how much you'll have," Anakin goes on, "but this - this is from me. It's something I wanted to do for you. For us."

There's a short silence, and the sound of shuffling. Your breath goes shallow; tight. They're probably kissing.

"You do enough for me. I don't need things," she tells him. "I just want you."

There it is: undeniable. You chew the inside of your lip, tense and uncomfortable.

Anakin's response is soft, yet insistent. "Let me take you for a ride."

You can hear the smile in Padmé's voice. "Do you think it's safe? You know..."

The lilt at the end of her question is odd. So is her question, really. You've never known her to show fear of anything.

"Of course," Anakin answers, and you hear the closing of doors signaling that they're getting in. "Don't worry, I'll go slow." Another strange thing for him to say. Perhaps this is him flirting. "We can't go very far anyway. I have a meeting with the chancellor in an hour."

"I can't be long either," Padmé says over the whir of the engines. "I'm still in the middle of drawing up that document. I promised to have it finished by the end of the day."

Anakin makes an annoyed sound. "And I suppose that means you're having another 'working dinner' this evening?"

"Ani-"

"You promised me that you would take it easy. You should be resting."

"I feel fine, Anakin. You shouldn't worry so much."

Is she sick?

"It's my place to worry," he insists. "And it's your place to do as I ask."

She's quiet for a moment. You want to throw a glance at Obi Wan, but you don't want to compound your concern along with his, yet.

Padmé replies quietly, with a forced lightness in her tone that's almost apologetic. "You don't need to be so protective of me, Ani. I can rest when we leave for Naboo, and the baby and I will have all the help we need back home. I promise."

It hits you like a punch in the stomach. Obi Wan is absolutely silent, his jaw rigid. A permanent false picture of control is plastered over his features. You can't even begin to imagine what he's feeling beneath it.

"Obi Wan, it's-"

"Don't," he bites, the low word hanging between you. "I don't wish to discuss it."

He knows you too well. You can feel the anger and sadness rolling off of him within the Force, knowing he's contained as much of it as he can. He knows you would have tried to help him understand Anakin's position, comparing it to your own mistakes. But this is different. Decision after decision had to be made to place Anakin here. This is not impulse. It's a choice. A dangerous, foolish, and deliberate choice to which he's repeatedly committed himself.

You listen to the rest of their conversation, and soon Anakin drops Padmé back off at her apartment. There's a length of time where Anakin is on his own again, dropping off the speeder and returning to his ship, presumably heading for his meeting with Palpatine. During the interim, one of your screens lights up with a message from the council - Master Windu has located Grievous. The fighting on Utapau has begun. You squirm in your seat.

When Anakin enters the chancellor's chambers, Obi Wan's blue stare is fixated on the screen as you both listen. You can feel how tense he is. He's waiting for the very instant the meeting ends.

"Chancellor," Anakin greets. "We've just received a report from General Windu. He has engaged General Grievous."

"I only hope Master Windu is up to the challenge," Palpatine answers readily, the timbre of his voice as withholding as ever.

"I should be there with him," responds Anakin, quietly. It's an inappropriate comment for him to make, but he knows that. He said it not with the tone of a General speaking to high office, but as someone confiding in a friend.

"It's upsetting to me, to see that the council doesn't fully appreciate your talents. Don't you wonder why they won't make you a Jedi master?"

Your pulse quickens. It's long been suspected that the chancellor encourages Anakin's disagreements with the council. You hold your breath for Anakin to correct him.

"I wish I knew. More and more, I get the feeling that I'm being excluded from the council."

Your heart sinks, and you can see the sting on Obi Wan's face, though he tries to remain impassive, listening intently. Anakin goes on, adding fuel to the kindling Palpatine has given him. "I know that there are things about the Force that they're not telling me."

"They don't trust you, Anakin. They see your future. They know that your power will be too strong to control."

You're deadly silent, briefly checking that the recording is being stored as you turn up the volume.

"You must break through the fog of lies the Jedi have created around you. Let me help you to know the subtleties of the Force."

Eyes wide, you turn to Obi Wan.

"How do you know the ways of the Force?" Anakin retorts, sounding as stunned as you feel.

"My mentor taught me everything about the Force. Even the nature of the dark side."

A sick chill runs through your bones, and suddenly your stomach is halfway up your throat.

"You know the dark side?"

"Anakin, if one is to understand a great mystery, one must study all its aspects. Not just the dogmatic, narrow view of the Jedi. If you wish to become a complete and wise leader you must embrace... a larger view of the Force," Palpatine explains, ever the benevolent leader; ever the kindhearted guide. "Be careful of the Jedi, Anakin. Only through me can you achieve a power greater than any Jedi. Learn to know the dark side of the Force, and you will be able to save your wife from certain death."

"What did you say?"

"Use my knowledge. I beg you."

The sound of a lightsaber exploding to life. "You're the Sith lord."

Obi Wan is running for the door, closing the distance in two bounding strides.

"Wait!" you call after him.

"I've heard enough. Send a message to the rest of the council and tell them where to find me."

"I'm coming with you."

"No," is his reply, as he throws the door open. "Do as I say. Anakin and I will handle this. He's too powerful for you."

"I can help," you insist, almost begging. This is what you trained for. He doesn't understand how powerful you've become. He doesn't know that it was all for this; leading to this moment.

"You can help by making sure that recording goes on file in the records department immediately, and by remaining safe inside the temple."

There's a pause as Palpatine's low voice interrupts, freezing you both where you stand.

"Are you going to kill me?" he asks.

Anakin's blade hums. "I would certainly like to."

You and Obi Wan stare at one another, all your concentration fixed on the tiniest of decibels coming through the recorder.

"I know you would. I can feel your anger. It gives you focus. Makes you stronger."

The galaxy stands on a knife's edge.

The blade extinguishes.

"I'm going to turn you over to the council."

Obi Wan's robe snaps in the rushing air.

"Stay here," he calls over his shoulder, sprinting directly into the maw of fate.

You don't bother to close the door after him. Already transferring the recording to the archives, you're dashing out a few moments later.

A/N: The final chapter and epilogue will be posted tomorrow! Sorry for any confusion - this turned out much longer than expected!

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch @immajustvibehere @thegreatwicked @marrily @millercontracting @littleredwolf @b0xerdancer-writes

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blushing-in-space · 8 months ago

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Deception

-> anakin skywalker

Summary: [Based on Clone Wars; S4 Ep15] As a Jedi Knight, it’s part of your duty to follow the orders of the Jedi Council, no matter how taxing or dangerous the task. You are given a highly classified mission that not only may end in your death but requires complete secrecy from everyone- Even your lover Anakin Skywalker.

Warnings: ANGST, Death, murder, blood, slight gore, loss of loved ones, grieving process. Probably inaccurate use of the force and force healing

-> I looked at the message before me, brows furrowed. No, this couldn’t be right… Would the Jedi Council ask this of me? Something so classified sounds like it should be a mission of a Jedi Master, not a knight like me.

Mace Windu’s face was all the answer I needed. His eyes were slits as he looked down at me, face set seriously. His fellow council members had a similar expression.

“It is of the utmost importance no word spoken here leaves this room. Is that understood, [name]?” Windu repeats to me.

I have no choice but to nod my head. I serve the Galactic Republic, I cannot let my relationships meddle in my duties as a Jedi Knight.

I bowed my head, “Yes, masters. It will be done.”

——

“What’s the big rush?” Anakin smirks as I carry myself hastily down the dimly lit alleyway we always take when returning to the Jedi Temple from the port.

Ahsoka trails behind us both, thankfully oblivious to Anakin’s wandering hands. I did not agree to her being here and had suggested she take the shuttle home, knowing it would be safer for the young padawan. But like her master, Ahsoka was stubborn and determined to join us for the meeting I had lied about. I feared for her safety- I hope she will not be there when the time comes.

I glance over at Anakin, forcing a playful smile to adorn my lips as I would have in normal circumstances. “I’m not rushing. I’m just trying to get to the council meeting on time.”

I ignore Anakin as he rolls his eyes. “I can see it now- another boring debate I’ll sleep through,” he sighs, though his eyes linger on me and I can’t help but notice it.

We fell for each other when we were just padawans, and have remained loving by one another’s side for almost four years. While I was fairly good at hiding stolen looks and the brush of our hands, Anakin on the other hand doesn’t seem to understand the strategy of hiding our relationship.

He struggles more than I do with our relationship. It frustrates him so easily when he cannot pull me into a kiss after not seeing me for weeks, or to just wrap his arm around me as we walk as I can tell he wants to do now. I’ve known from the start about Anakin’s unusually strong emotional side for a Jedi. That is what makes me especially nervous for tonight.

“Luckily I’ll have you to keep my company,” Anakin mutters to me in a quiet and husky tone, his hand reaching to touch the crease of my waist.

I shoot him a look of warning, glancing over at Ahsoka who was just a few steps behind him. He’s lucky she happened to be looking away and had not looked too deeply into his words.

“If it's so boring for you, would you rather them call you in to train younglings?” I look smugly over my shoulder to Anakin, who grimaces at my comment while Ahsoka huffs a light laugh.

“I think you would enjoy that, master,” Ahsoka quips sarcastically as she steps to Anakin’s side, and he scuffs and looks away from his apprentice.

“As I thought.”

I try to keep up a high-spirited mood while with Anakin before my time comes to act. I see Anakin smiling, his lips parted to make another smart-assed comment. I give him a cheeky smile. After tonight I won’t see him again for yet another long week. And I know that week will be devastating for him.

He doesn’t hide anything from me. He’s told me how he held his mother in his arms and watched the life drain from her eyes. I’m aware he fears the same fate will reach another of his loved ones. Every time I leave for a battle I promise to him I’ll be safe and will return safely to his arms. Now I have been gagged by the Jedi Council from telling him the truth of what I must do. The guilt is almost unbearable having to keep such a secret from my own lover.

Anakin’s blue eyes search mine, I feel him wield the force to poke into my mind. I raise a brow at his perceptiveness. Does he know? I shake him, cutting off his access to my mind through the force. I don’t like it when he does that and he knows it. His brows furrow as he feels the loss of our connection, but he does not pry at my barrier. I nod to him in a silent already broken promise that we will talk later.

Our unspoken words distracted me so much that I almost wouldn’t have sensed the blaster shot coming toward me if Ahsoka had not warned me.

I roll to the side, taking cover behind the nearby crates. I whip my head around to see Anakin and Ahsoka have done the same, both of their backs pinned to the crates opposite of me. My blood pumps furiously through my veins. I should have let the shot take me down. The first and undeniable worst part of my mission would already be over.

“Where’d that shot come from?” Ahsoka yells, voice riddled with panic as she looks from me to the roof of an apartment building in the distance.

I show no concern as I peek my head over the crates, catching a glimpse of the bright blinding light of the sniper who had tried to kill me just then. Who I should have let kill me. My heart would be pounding in my chest if it weren’t for the drug I had taken before leaving that would suppress my heartbeat.

I shake off any fear. I won’t die today- I’m following my orders. My duty as a Jedi comes before anything else. Anakin will understand that when I return. I glance over at him and Ahsoka behind the crates opposite of me, and single them to follow my lead. Neither of them questioned my plan for us to split up over on the rooftop.

I feel Anakin trying to push into my mind as I roll behind the next set of crates, another blaster shot barely missing me. I feel his anxiousness about the situation, either for me being in danger or his padawan, I’m not sure. I just feel guilty for what I’m about to put him through.

I climb to the rooftop, keeping my cover as I deflect a shot back at the assassin to not rouse suspicion. I see Anakin has done as I asked him, for once in his life, and spot him heading to flank the shooter. Ahsoka jumps from rooftop to rooftop, taking the back approach to the shooter. I realize my time is running out to start this mission.

Anakin races on the rooftop across from me, taking cover at the same time as I do. He catches my eyes, blue eyes blazing across the darkness of the Coruscant alleyway. He’s going to dart around to get the shooter. I know he is.

“He’s behind the building!” Ahsoka coms to both me and Anakin, and I know this is where I must end this chase.

Anakin’s head whips around to the building across from us, eyes narrowed and his hand goes to grip his saber. I suck in a breath, closing my eyes as I prepare for the pain. I pray to the Maker the blaster-proof vest will be enough to save me from the real threat of death.

I block Anakin completely from my mind before stepping into the wide-open space as a red light hits my chest.

“[name]!” I hear Anakin scream as the assassin's blaster finally hits me, unexpectedly knocking me so far back I fall from the edge of the building and into sudden darkness.

Ahsoka’s heart sinks seeing Master [name] fall from the edge as she rounds the corner. She looks up to see her Master immediately trying to follow [name], attempting to run from his cover but having to soon duck as a blaster shot flies past his face.

“I got her! Go!” Ahsoka called out to Anakin, hiding the fear in her voice as she looked up at him.

Anakin’s eyes widen as he looks down at her, and his face seems to drain of color for a moment. He’s afraid. Ahsoka so rarely sees real fear on her master's face. No matter the battle or injury. His demeanor never falters. His expression is always lax and words smooth, even as he’s faced with danger, but in this moment Ahsoka does not see that familiar bravery in her master now. That is what scares her the most.

She doesn’t watch long enough to notice how Anakin hesitates for far too long before he chases whoever shot [name], she has no time to do anything but rush to the Jedi Knight's side. [name]’s body is completely limp in a pile of boxes and trash, left arm twisted unnaturally. There’s no blood, but a black mark is burned into the knight’s white-robed chest.

Ahsoka pulls [name]’s body from the rumble, panicking when she does not awake. She lifts the knight's head into her lap but freezes her finger above [name’s] neck to check for a pulse. She fears she knows the answer. Ahsoka has watched people die. Despite her age, she’s a commander- she sees death every day. But never someone so close to her. Someone she regarded as a friend. As a sister.

“Master?” Ahsoka whispers as she finally puts her fingers to the soft spot on [name]’s neck. She gulps as she feels nothing, then tries the curve of her wrist. Then feels nothing again. She sucks in a breath as her eyes become glassy at the sight.

Ahsoka hears Anakin drop from the roof and run down to her. “How is she?” He pants, wild blue eyes looking down at them.

Ahsoka can barely move her head to look up at him, and when she does, she nearly lets tears fall. She doesn’t know if she has the words to say it. She knows Anakin and [name] were padawans together. She knows how close the pair are. She only pretends to be blind to her master’s deep attachment to the other Jedi knight for his sake. That’s why she can hardly hold it together when he crouches down to see [name] completely unresponsive.

“[name]?” Anakin says, voice rattling.

Ahsoka doesn’t fight him as he takes [name] from her arms and holds her in his. He brushes her hair away from her face to reveal her eyes closed with death. Ahsoka watches her master's eyes fill with grief as he clutches her body to him.

“[name]!” He yells louder this time, desperately shaking her shoulders. He puts his hands over the black mark on her chest and continuously presses down on it in a failed attempt to start back [names] still heart. Ahsoka can’t look anymore. She can’t watch her master hopelessly revive a dead woman.

Ahsoka stands and runs away when Anakin calls out her name again, tears now falling from his eyes as he stares at his lover's dead body.

He had to hand her body off to the authorities when they arrived. He had to explain what happened all while pretending he didn’t just lose his wife.

The hardest challenge of his life wasn’t fighting Count Dooku or leading the largest battalion in the Republic Military- it was returning to the Jedi Temple with nothing to show for his lover's existence but her blood on his robes and her lightsaber.

[name] was supposed to come to his quarters tonight after the meeting. They hadn’t seen each other in two weeks, each being assigned to different planets, but each immediately returned to the other, as always. His fears of her usually vanish once he is reunited with her after their respective missions. He always assumes she’s safe when she comes home. He’d never thought of the possibility of her dying on his watch.

He wished he could have been with her body longer, but as soon as he saw the flash of red and blue lights he had to wipe his tears and place her body on the stretcher and watch as the medics pulled the sheet over her. Once the door to his quarters hissed shut he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

He sat at the edge of the bed, and unclipped [names] lightsaber from his belt. He ran his flesh hand along the customized hilt and ignited the saber of his lover. He could almost picture her beautiful face behind the [color] glow, a smirk on her lips before she jumped into battle. His eyes filled with tears as he un-ignited it and the color vanished.

It felt like when his mother died all over again. Again, he failed to protect someone. Again, someone he loved died in his arms. The only difference was there was no one he could get revenge on for the needless death. The assassin had retreated like a coward after firing the blaster. Anakin’s not even sure if the assassin killed her instantly. Perhaps it had been the fall that took her life.

Anakin’s heart ached when sleeping alone that night. He had been looking forward to feeling the warmth of [name] beside him since he had first been sent to Krios. Now he’ll never feel [name] again. If he had just got to the assassin in time she’d still be here!

Anakin’s eyes burned with tears of fury. He had no idea who the shooter was but he would hunt the bastard down after [name]’s funeral. To hell with the Jedi Code- revenge was the only way Anakin could bring himself and Eria peace!

Anakin felt himself slipping, but he had no motivation to crawl back toward the light when [name] wasn’t there waiting for him.

Eria thought she had severed her connection to Anakin, but when she finally woke up she felt the overwhelming grief and anger of her husband. It was so strong for a moment she confused it as her own. Those emotions were quickly replaced by the ache in her chest and the pain of her defiantly broken arm.

Her tears were gulped down as the medical droid healed her wounds. The droid asked if she was experiencing emotional pain, and she had to lie and say it was just her arm. All she could think about was when she fell. She heard Anakin’s scream and felt his tears on her as she played dead in his arms. It took every part of her being to not open her eyes and apologize for what she had done.

The door to my medical room hissed open, and I glanced over to see Master Windu and Master Yoda in the white light.

“I hope my funeral went well,” I mutter as the door slides shut behind them.

I see Master Windu’s eyes narrow at me as I quickly cover my emotions and dry my tears. I had been specially chosen for this classified mission out of everyone else in the Jedi Order, and I wanted to act professionally with the Council member who picked me. Especially because Master Windu was known for his intense belief in the Code.

“A great performance, your corpse played,” Master Yoda says.

I well as funeral can go, I want to add, but am silence by the medical droid sticking a numbing substance into my arm. I looked at the deep bruise on my twisted arm and for a moment wondered if this would even work. I was sacrificing so much just to learn information that may not even be true. Will Anakin even forgive me once this is all over?

“Will go well, the plan will,” Yoda says, sensing my doubt.

“I fell from the top of a building- It better go well,” I huff in pain and remove the blasterproof vest that saved my life.

“Survived worse, you have,” Yoda comforts, and though I know the Jedi Elder is right, it doesn’t help much when my back has turned into one massive bruise.

“Young Skywalker knows this,” Windu says in a firm voice, arms crossed and eyes looking down at me. As if testing to see my reaction.

I breathed deeply and held strong. I wanted to beg for them to let him assist me in the mission or ask how he handled the funeral, but most of all, I wanted to beg to just see him. But it was vital to the integrity of the mission that no one knows- Especially Anakin, who would flare up in anger if he knew I would be walking into the role of a bounty hunter and disguising myself among them, armed with nothing but a blaster.

I know that Master Windu is testing me with his words. Though he picked me for this, I was quickly made aware of his doubts in me when he had to clarify Anakin to me in private not even Anakin may know.

“I took the vital suppressors, you instructed of me, Master. When Anakin moved my body… I was dead to him. It’s impossible that he knows I’m alive,” I assure both of them, though it was clear in my tone it weighed heavily on me to do so.

Yoda hummed in agreement, “Yes- but sense he will, that something is not right.”

I wanted to add that Anakin will have no contact with me as I understand how important it is he is left out of this, but a Jedi Healer enters the room and bows his head, interrupting the conversation. The healer comes to my side to mend my broken arm, and I nod to the Jedi Masters.

“Anakin’s reaction sold the sniper of my death. What has been done is done, and I will carry out the mission as has been asked of me,” I say to Windu with no hesitation and my head held high. He seems surprised for a moment but turns to leave.

“What’s done is done,” he repeats as the healer snaps my arm back into place.

The healer seems to also understand this meeting should remain in confidence. He bows, then leaves soon after I am healed. Finally alone, I begrudgingly accepted it was time to put on the masked disguise of the assassin I will be taking the place of.

I reach down to remove my lightsaber from my belt but feel nothing of the familiar grip I built myself. I look down to see its holster empty but find for the first time since my fall, I feel an absence of worry. I let a sad smile curve my lips as I realize who took it.

I know it’s safe with Anakin.

Notes: Part 2 coming soon! I'm sorry this is a little confusing if you've never watched the episode this is based on 😭

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dearanakin · 1 year ago

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Embers of Affection - Anakin Skywalker x Jedi! Reader | Chapter 1

Summary: Both you and Anakin have been fighting the battles next to each other for years. He breaks your heart in a moment of rage and you decide to pull away from him. The Jedi tries insistently to apologize, realizing he had built up feelings for you.

Warning: None, mentions of fighting, cursing, angst

Word count: 2.2k

Your partnership with Anakin Skywalker on the battlefield was rooted in a deep and enduring friendship that had developed over many years. Your connection was not merely professional; it was a bond forged through shared experiences, trust, and a profound understanding of each other's strengths and weaknesses.

The Jedi became your Master and, alongside him, the two of you created a different relationship, as you both always had a mutual connection. Fighting side by side, you and the blonde managed to take down enemies, in addition to strengthening the Jedi Order, which pleased the Council.

Recently, Anakin has seemed to feel like he hasn't been in the same orbit as you. Married to Padmé, at various times he felt frustrated about maintaining a romantic relationship with a member of politics. His idea, however, was not to let the Senate intervene in his marriage, but it was apparent how much he was bothered by the opinions of third parties.

He had been changing relatively little by little, he felt more moody, irritated and out of patience. When you were together, he was able to control his temper to a limited extent, because he always put an obstacle in the way of reversing the situation.

You, with your back pressed against his, fought against the Republic on your own planet. The only advantage of that was that, in the worst case scenario, you were already home. The two of you quickly moved your lightsabers against your rivals, while using your blasters against the more armed attackers.

Until then, you couldn't understand much of what he was muttering, but he seemed to be building up anger, which showed in the way his shoulders seemed to stiffen his body. The way Anakin fired at them and used more force than usual seemed to say he needed to breathe.

Anakin, renowned for his impulsive nature, began to feel the pressure mounting. He had always been driven by a relentless desire for victory, and the frustration of the situation was getting to him. As the blaster bolts intensified, Anakin couldn't contain his emotions any longer.

"(Y/N), are you even trying? It looks like you're doing a nonsense job out here!" Anakin starts yelling above the noise of the battle.

Deeply committed to your role as a Jedi and hurt by Anakin's harsh words, you were momentarily stunned. You had always strived to do your job and be a valuable member of the team. The accusation from your partner was unexpected and stung like a blaster bolt.

"Anakin, I'm doing my best! We're overwhelmed here! We need to focus and work together!" You hear your voice almost breaking.

Anakin, fueled by frustration and his obstinated desire for victory, continued to lash out, seemingly heedless of the gravity of your situation.

"Your best isn't good enough right now! We can't afford mistakes!" he retorted. The way his words were thrown made you cringe.

Your resolve was shaken but your determination was unwavering as refocused your efforts on the battle, deflecting blaster bolts with a renewed intensity. You knew that your lives and the mission depended on your unity and cooperation as Jedi.

When you were still an apprentice, every time he taught you that a Jedi would never abandon their partner during war. He never left you alone even when he needed to face more dangerous things to defend you. There, seeing you walk away, he growled in anger at himself.

He was never a toxic friend, he never mistreated you, although he was often angry and annoyed when things didn't work out. He never stopped supporting you.

But you've noticed that, even though you're close, he's been moving further and further away, and every time he seems a little distant. The anger and uncertainty that things were going right for him were consuming him.

Yoda had spoken before, but you didn't want to think about the possibility that Anakin was beginning to let himself go to the dark side because he was consumed by anger and fear. God, you would do anything to take him out of this suffering.

At the end of the battle, you followed with the others to return home. You didn't expect to feel Anakin's presence close to you, with a calmer appearance, but extremely tired and sweaty. He removed the heavy armor from his shoulders as he looked at you.

"I'm sorry, (Y/N)! I know I need to improve this, but I can't control it. I don't want to hurt you, I would never do such a thing". Anakin tried to get closer, but you made it clear that you didn't want to talk to him at that moment.

"If you're not satisfied with our work, Anakin, I think it's not by being an asshole that you'll improve the situation. This isn't the first time you've rebelled and I can't continue to put up with your attitudes!". You kept your serious gaze on him, and he tried to get closer.

In a more extensive exchange of glances, the Jedi read your face and discovered that you were more hurt by him than by any wound. He felt that you couldn't measure the pain for hearing such harsh words spoken to you, even after the years you spent together.

"Look for me only when you stop being a dick, I'm done" you didn't want to have to walk away from him like that. It was difficult having to stay so far away from him because of his completely radical attitude because he doesn't know how to deal with his own problems.

You were there the whole time, you offered as much help as you could. He denied it, he withdrew and he didn't realize how important it was for him to follow this path, but he preferred to accommodate himself with his own situation.

When he tried to call your name and get closer, you weren't ready to lower your guard just yet. You continued to use the Force to manipulate the battlefield debris, keeping Anakin at a distance. It was painful to have to leave the battlefield alone, without the company of that man who was always by your side.

Inside the Jedi Council's accommodation, C-3PO accompanied you by your side, as you made your way to the meeting room, where you would report on the mission. It was impossible to avoid Anakin at the meetings, as he was always the one who liked to lead the missions. Before, it was a common thing that you enjoyed because the two of you were always together, but after a while you started to notice that the missions started to revolve around him.

It was always him, him, him. Something that wasn't supposed to be bad, but now, seeing it differently, it was impossible not to notice how much he was seeking power.

As soon as Master Windu sat down in the chair next to Anakin, he asked for the report. You didn't know if in all your anger you would give a hint to your partner, or if you would talk about the mission. But there, they respected women above all else, and you were the only one there.

"Ah- the Separatist droids were searching for heavy weapons hidden in one of our planet's ships. The groups were divided and each was given an order, which was clearly followed" you began. Everyone present was paying attention, but Skywalker had his head down, the look you felt receiving from him was almost imperceptible.

"In any case, I would like to resign from my position of supporting Master Anakin. As he said before, it has been clarified that I'm doing a nonsense job and that my best isn't enough". When mentioning his previous speech, Anakin lifted his head minimally. Surprise was written all over his face.

The council members let out a murmur of indignation. "Miss (Y/L/N), in no way do we believe you need to retrain as an apprentice. I'm sure what the Jedi Knight meant is that he's a complete idiot" Master Windu reinforced his gaze if reproach to him.

Anakin, eager to make amends, began speaking, his voice filled with sincerity. "(Y/N), I want to apologize again for what I said during the battle. I was frustrated, and my words were unjustifiable. I deeply regret my outburst."

Your expression still reflects the hurt from your previous encounter. You cautiously responded to his apology. "Anakin, I appreciate your apology, but words spoken in anger can leave lasting scars. I'm not sure if I can simply forgive and forget."

His determination was unwavering, and as he leaned forward, his eyes locked onto yours. "(Y/N), I understand how deeply I hurt you, and I'm truly sorry for that. But I don't want to lose you as my partner. We've been through so much together, and I value our teamwork more than anything. Please, don't resign from your position as my partner on the field."

Master Windu interjected, his wise presence commanding the room.

"(Y/N), Anakin's apology is sincere, and it is in our Jedi nature to forgive and strive for unity. But it is also essential to address the root of the issue and ensure that we have a plan moving forward. How can we work together more effectively in the future?" He asks.

You then took a moment to collect your thoughts, your gaze shifting between Anakin and Master Windu.

"I want to believe in the strength of our partnership, but trust needs to be rebuilt. Anakin, we need better communication and understanding on the battlefield" You explain.

You expected Windu to defend Anakin, or even tell him he was wrong in other words. But he never failed to demonstrate that certain things are not as they really appear to be.

At the end of the meeting, the Master dismissed all participants, except your best friend, who stayed behind. It was likely that he would receive a warning for treating you so poorly during a delicate moment.

C-3PO walked the same route as you, as he dropped you off at the door of your dorm. He was the Droid you most trusted and socialized with in that compartment. It was nice to have someone to help you.

Usually, it stayed nearby, checking for any sign of attack or ambush. What the Droid couldn't do, until that day, was manage not to be hacked by Anakin, who was slowly knocking on his door.

Feeling his presence, you were irritated by the way he could turn a simple thing (like feeling the force and presence of other Jedi) into something completely unnecessary.

"I don't want to talk to you today. And I would like you to stop hacking C-3PO" You grumble quietly as soon as you open the door.

The man in front of you was wearing a simple white t-shirt and sweatpants. You couldn't even think much about his physique, because he was your best friend and he was also married.

Looking down, he held one hand on the doorframe. "I want you to consider forgiving me. For the sake of our friendship. For everything we've been through together. I need you and you know that."

“Huh” you quipped. "For the sake of our friendship? And you didn't even think about not belittling me for the sake of our friendship?".

He was silent. He knew better, he knew that what he said was often on impulse.

"You need to stop being irrational and impulsive. We are dealing with a years-long friendship, not just any relationship." You used your index finger to point against his defined chest.

"I don't have the right to take my frustrations out on you, (Y/N). Please think of both of us" he asked lovingly. His heart didn't seem to be beating at the same pace.

If you forgave him, you would be letting him go back to the way he is. Anakin needed to take care of himself and control his feelings and moods before it was too late.

"I won't think about anything for now. You devalued me after years of being my Master. I worked very hard to become who I am and gained recognition from the Council". Your teary eyes left him astonished.

He should have thought a thousand times before saying anything. He still needed to think a lot before acting like an idiot.

"It's late and I want to sleep. Please fix C-3PO or I'll tell the Council that you use your hacking skills to take down the Droid".

You slammed the door shut in his face, but you managed to hear when Anakin mumbled against the room. It wasn't easy for you to need to distance yourself from him because of something he did.

He had come with the intention of making amends, of bridging the divide that had grown between them, but instead, he had been met with rejection. Anakin's frustration grew as he paced back and forth in the corridor, running his hand through his hair in agitation.

He knew he had made a mistake, and he was trying to make things right. But now, it seemed like you wanted nothing to do with him. As he stood outside your door, the weight of the situation settled heavily on his shoulders.

He realized that repairing your fractured relationship would be more challenging than he had anticipated. The frustration he felt was compounded by the uncertainty of whether he would ever be able to regain your trust and friendship.

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theatrelove3000 · 2 years ago

Text

You’re On Your Own, Kid

This is the first Obi-Wan fic I have posted, let alone let someone other than two close friends read. It took me three months of no time, energy, or inspiration to finish this, but it’s finally done, and I am actually really proud of it. I am thinking about expanding this, depending on the time I have and the inspiration as it comes. Let me know if you like this and want to see more!

Sith! Obi-Wan x former padawan reader

Warnings: I suck at warnings. Uhhh, dark side, mentions of death, maybe manipulation, kissing but only a little, canon violence (dude gets an arm cut off), lightsabers, Sith! Obi. I think that is it. The reader was his padawan but they didn’t start training together until she was already an adult. The reader wears a dress but I don’t think I used pronouns? Lmk if I missed anything else.

Summary: When your master suddenly falls into the darkness, you are left alone to be subject to the watchful, judging, mistrusting eyes of the Jedi Council. It’s one thing to lose a master, you’ve lost one before Obi. It’s something else to lose the man you love. Especially when you can still hear his whispers.

Inspired by Taylor Swift’s You’re On Your Own, Kid! Recommend listening while reading this

Three months, two weeks, and six days.

That's how long it's been since you last saw Obi Wan. He'd go on missions that could be that long, or longer, but this time stretch was harder because you know he isn't coming back. Obi Wan is gone. He left the order. He abandoned you.

At least, that's what you keep telling yourself.

You try to stay upset and hurt about it but it's becoming more difficult by the day. Watching your master walk away from the only home and family he ever knew was a major shock to everyone. He always preached about how the Jedi Order was good, right, and peaceful, yet suddenly, he was gone after causing quite the stir in a council meeting.

He had come back to your shared apartment and marched right over to you, grabbed you by your elbow and drew you into his chest. He was always more physically affectionate with you but this was something different. Something unsettling. He had wrapped you in a tight hug, breathing in the scent of you before dropping his head and whispering one thing in your ear.

"My chains are broken. The force has freed me."

And then he was gone.

It was explained to you later that your master had fallen and you were to be reassigned to complete your training. You had been set to take your trials for your knighthood in a few weeks but due to Obi Wan's sudden switch to the dark side, they feared you harbored the same beliefs he revealed he had to the council.

Your new master is… for lack of a better word, an ass. She is your third master. Your first one, who had selected you at a young age, died a few years back. Obi Wan decided to complete your training, since you were just three or four years from knighthood, already an adult. This new master is short and cold and uncaring. You had just been through a rapid and difficult transition and she held no compassion in her eyes, only wariness and dislike. She didn't trust you.

No one did now. All the friends you had no longer speak to you because they fear you are unstable and dangerous. You never showed signs of leaning into the dark side but because Obi Wan fell, you also must be dark. His apprentice. Only Anakin still speaks to you. Occasionally, Master Yoda invites you to meditate with him as well, though you suspect he is doing so to check on your signature. Master Yoda is a kind and gentle soul but he must be wary. You understand. Sort of.

It isn't until the heat of summer fades and cool winter winds start to blow that you start to hear him.

My darling.

Little dove.

Sweet one.

Angel.

The terms of endearment your master used to call you whisper through your mind, as though he were right behind you. You feel his presence when you're alone and see him in your dreams. You'd thought if you dreamed of him, they'd be nightmares but they aren't. They're sweet dreams. Almost memories but with slight changes.

Mornings after nightmares when you'd wake in his bed wrapped in his embrace, though he lets his hands wander more. Presses kisses to your neck and shoulders. Messing up on purpose during training so he'd have to wrap his arms around you to fix your form but he stands far closer, holding you tightly to his body.

You knew you loved him before he left but he never showed signs of returning the feeling. It wasn't until he was gone that the signs appeared. For a while, you thought it was just your mind grieving the loss of him. That is, until he comes to you.

~~~~~

Anakin manages to convince the council that you need to get out of the temple, take on a mission again. He's always been persuasive, though at first the council wasn't inclined to grant his request. Through many meetings and solid evidence that you're not like Obi Wan, they allow it on the condition that he keeps you in his line of sight at all times. He agrees readily and tells you to pack a bag.

After explaining the mission, he takes you to Padme so she can help you find a dress. You're attending a gala the senate is holding in order to ease tensions, though with the way the galaxy is now it will only raise them.

That's how you find yourself standing in a big ballroom wearing a long sleeve, floor length dress. Despite the dress still being modest compared to the other women around you, you still feel exposed. Your Jedi robes leave everything up to imagination but this dress does not. It's more form fitting and accentuates certain parts of your body in a very flattering way, while still being conservative.

"My, my. What have we here? Did you lose your way, Little dove?"

The voice makes you freeze. You spin around, looking for the owner but see no one. You shake your head, hoping to rid yourself of the panic and hope that had appeared with the voice.

"Did you stray too far from home? Do you need help finding the path?"

You know his voice better than you know your own. He's here somewhere. You can feel his eyes on you even if you can't see him.

You turn slightly, searching the crowd for Anakin. He's talking with some of the senators, Padme by his side. He's occupied.

You start walking.

Letting yourself out of the ballroom, you wander through the halls of the massive building the gala is being held in. You had seen a terrace when you first arrived and been escorted in. There it is. You open the doors and step out into the cool night air.

You don't hear him as he follows you or as he shuts the doors to the terrace. You don't hear him take the last few strides necessary to stand behind you, closing the distance between you. The only sign that you were correct is the feeling of his hands on your hips. They're warm and strong and certain, just as they always were.

"My Little Dove." His greeting is whispered into your hair just above your ear.

"Master-"

"I am not your master any more, my darling." He interrupts you, his voice sending goosebumps down your arms. "I am simply a being you meet in your travels as a pawn in a game your side can't win. I am only a man who has missed you very dearly."

You take a deep breath, praying your voice won't shake as you respond, "you wouldn't have had to miss me if you hadn't gone."

The hum he gives in response is deep, seemingly coming from low in his chest. "It was time for me to go. I hope you can understand. Places to be and people to see, you know."

"You left me. You abandoned me like everyone else."

He tightens his grip on your hips, fingers digging into them. "I did not abandon you. I never left you, Little Dove. I was always there, always watching. It may have been from a distance but you were never alone."

You try to control your emotions, keep your cool, "Your leaving the Order has shown me I have always been on my own. I didn't choose this life, Obi Wan. It was thrust upon me before I was at an age that I could understand it. I don't remember the sound of my mother's voice. I don't know my father's name."

"I didn't choose it either, darling. Very few of us did. To be entirely honest with you, I dreamed of leaving and yet I stayed. Do you know why, my Little Dove?" His fingers are tracing up your sides delicately, never straying into areas he has not gained permission to touch.

Your voice cracks a bit as you respond, "Why, Obi?"

"I stayed because I needed to be around you. Your presence is my vise, your signature is, simply put, addictive to me. It was inappropriate for me to have the feelings I do for you while you trained under me so I kept them at bay as best I could." His nose grazes your temple as he speaks, the edge of his beard lightly scratching your cheekbone as he speaks, "I didn't do as good a job as I thought. Those around us began questioning our relationship. They said horrible things that I will never allow to reach your innocent ears. I could have killed anyone who ever said anything nasty about you. I still can. All you have to do is ask."

Your breathing falters, though you can't tell if it's from fear or shock or something else. If he catches it, he doesn't say a word. "I don't want that. Murder is still wrong, no matter where you stand politically."

"Ah, but don't you see, my Little Dove? I don't wish to kill for political reasons. I kill for you. Anyone who ever hurt you deserves to go."

"You're frightening me, Master," you whisper shakily. He responds by wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

"I do not wish for you to fear me, my love. I only want to protect you, to keep you safe. I can continue to do that from afar as I have been these three months. Or… you could come with me." He keeps his voice low, fingers stroking your sides delicately.

"Where? Where would you take me?"

"Home, Little Dove. I will take you home."

You close your eyes, feeling your resolve beginning to crumble. Suddenly the warmth of your former master against your back is gone. You turn and he's nowhere to be seen. The only sign that you did not imagine it is the phantom feeling of his hands on you.

"All you have to do is call for me, my Little Dove. I'll come to save you from your golden cage."

Suddenly you hear your name being called. It takes you a moment to register that it's Anakin's voice. He sounds a little worried. You turn all the way around for the first time since stepping onto the balcony. You use the force to open the doors.

"I'm here, Ani"

His head snaps to face you at your voice and he quickly makes his way over to you, "I've been looking everywhere for you! What the hell are you doing out here?"

"It was a little stuffy in there. I just needed some air. I'm sorry if I worried you. I didn't think I'd be gone long." You let him lead you back inside. Instead of taking you back to the ballroom, he escorts you outside where Padme is waiting.

"It's fine. I'm just glad I didn't lose you. That… would not have looked good on me." He laughs a little, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly, "it's time for us to head out. We're going to be escorting the senator to her suite in the hotel and then going to our room."

"Yes, Master Skywalker," you bow slightly dramatically, tone dripping in sarcasm.

He laughs, rolls his eyes at your playfulness and shoves your shoulder as you start walking, both of you flanking Padme.

~~~~~

And that's how it began.

You start answering him when he whispers into your mind. You didn't even see him that night but you know it was real. Even if it wasn't, you hope that you continue to hear him. You start feeling him as well. You even catch hints of his scent from time to time. Always when you need him the most.

Those moments became more and more common. The weight of arms around you in those few blissful moments between sleep and wakefulness make you think of him. He whispers encouragement as you train with your new master, even the occasional reminder to help you correct your form or a suggestion to make a motion easier for you. He's still helping to train you. Apparently your four years with him didn't make him sick of teaching you.

It's your next off-world mission that starts to cause your foundation to crumble.

Anakin had convinced Master Windu that he could take you off-world with himself and Ahsoka instead of being with your own master. It was a simple mission. Get into the separatist base, steal the information, get out.

When is anything ever that simple?

Your cover was blown quickly and it doesn't take long to realize this was a trap. You are separated from Anakin and Ahsoka somewhere in the crossfire between your troops and the battle druids. You find yourself in an empty hallway alone, not even a clone behind you.

Looking around, you move back towards the way you came, only to realize you are more than a little lost in this base. You reach out your signature to find Anakin but are met with a different signature. Another, more familiar one.

Obi Wan.

Before you can take a moment to think it through, you're running towards it. You chase the warm, blue signature you've grown oh so attached to deeper into the base. When you reach a door that you can feel him behind, you pause. Pressing your palm flat against the cool metal, you reach out again. Reaching for him. He responds by tangling his signature with yours, but doesn't open the door. You hear a click and realize it's the lock. He unlocked the door. The door still doesn't open. He's giving you the choice. It almost makes you cry.

He is giving you the option to reach him. He isn't forcing you into anything, simply waiting to see how you decide. The Order never does that. All they do is command and demand and give expectations to meet. It's exhausting. You're tired. You miss him.

"Obi?" You whisper to the door. As a response, you hear a small thud on the door as he presses his hand to it where yours is. You can feel the pressure of his power through the door. He whispers your name back to you.

"I'm frightened," you feel your eyes start to water, voice breaking softly, "I just want you."

"I know, my darling. It's alright if you are not ready yet. I'll wait for you. I'll wait an eternity for you." His voice is louder than yours, but not by much. You want to open the door but can't bring yourself to do it. He can feel it. You know he can. His signature brushes over yours gently again, soothing you. He was always good at that.

"I have to go, Master. I'm sorry. I need to find Anakin."

"It's alright, Little Dove. I'll be with you. Always."

You nod and take another moment of weakness before pulling away and running the way you came. It takes you twenty minutes to find Anakin and Ahsoka again. As you reappear, Ahsoka crashes into you, hugging you tight.

"Are you okay!? Your comms weren't working. We've been calling you and sent troops to find you but we couldn't! What happened? Where did you go?"

You push Ahsoka back to look her into her eyes, holding her shoulders. "It's okay. I'm fine. I got lost in the hallways. The droids were coming from that way so I handled it. I just got confused on my way back to you. All the halls look so similar."

You try cracking a joke as you notice Anakin watching you cautiously. He knows something. Looking over, you cast what you hope is a charming smile in his direction. He nods and gives a small smile in return but still looks concerned, though you can't tell if it's for you or because of you.

When you return to the Temple, the council convenes to be briefed on the mission. Anakin credits you with destroying a majority of the Droid squadron within the base. The council seems to be a mixture of impressed and put off by this news. You're not surprised.

You feel nothing for them anymore. They don't do anything but cause more problems for you and those around you. Most Jedi would say the most dangerous feeling to have is hatred. Some say anger. Others will tell you that hope is the worst thing to feel, especially in this war.

No. The most dangerous thing a Jedi can feel is indifference. Indifference causes one to not have loyalty to those they have been sworn to. With anger or hatred or even hope, it shows one still feels attached to something. With indifference, it is not so.

Your indifference is what Obi Wan was waiting for.

~~~~~

The next mission you are sent on is the one that sends you over the edge.

It's another gala you are to attend, this time undercover as a senator's aid. The moment you arrive, you reach out for Obi Wan. You search the room with your eyes and your signature, praying to the Maker that he is there.

As the evening progresses, you stop looking for him. You become distracted by doing your job, working the crowd and getting more information you've been sent to collect. Though the council has seemed to develop more trust in you over the last couple of months, they don't trust you entirely. You have another Jedi with you to keep an eye on you. You don't remember his name, and it doesn't particularly matter to you anyway. He's just a security measure to protect the Order.

"Pardon me for interrupting, Senator Gunray. I was hoping I might ask this lovely young lady for this dance." His voice drips across your ears like bacta over a burn. Your posture relaxes as the senator you were speaking with bows out gracefully, promising to speak with you again later.

You turn and finally see the man you've dreamt of for five whole months, though if you're honest, it's been longer than that. He looks dashing in his white suit and cape. As your eyes trail up from his chest, you catch the hairs of his auburn beard lift as he smiles at you. You see that smile next, the shining and slightly arrogant one you grew used to throughout your few years of training with him.

He reserves this smile for you. The one that shows his pride but also a glimmer of praise for you. He softens whenever he sees you, even if it's isn't noticeable to anyone else. It always was to you. He was a good and kind master, but a better friend. In this smile, you see your friend.

You raise your eyes to meet his and your breath catches. The cerulean ocean you are used to seeing is gone, replaced by molten gold, framed by dark lashes, which seem darker than they used to. Maybe it's just your imagination.

"Remember to breathe, Little Dove. I fear you will pass out if you don't."

You let out a small huff of a laugh as you smile and glance down to your feet. You see him lift his hand to under your chin, raising your eyes back to his. You can see him searching your face for something. He must find it or you are imagining it because he draws away again, offering you his arm to take.

"I believe I offered you a dance, my love. May I have one?"

"Yes, my lord." He leads you out onto the floor. A waltz starts not long after he pulls you into position. As you dance, he keeps you closer to his body than the other partners on the floor. You don't mind, letting yourself melt into his arms for the first time in several months.

Obi Wan was the one who taught you to dance. He had been trying to help you learn to make your movements smoother, more choreographed as you dueled. You kept making jagged, uncoordinated movements that caused you to lose your footing or leave an open spot for someone to strike. Obi had taken your Saber, tossed it and his own to the side, then pulled you in gently. He kept a respectable amount of space between you as he placed your hand on his shoulder and his own on your waist, holding your opposite hand. And he taught you to dance. Slowly, you got the hang of it and he moved back into the forms you were learning. You never lost to him in a duel again.

The dance sessions became almost a regular occurrence. He'd hug you when you were upset and slowly rock you, letting it turn into a silly little dance to make you smile and giggle. He'd kiss your head and twirl you just to make you squeal or blush. Those are his fondest memories of being in the order.

"I have a question for you, Darling."

"I will answer anything you ask of me, Darth Nighte," you respond without hesitation.

He grins widely and lets out a laugh. "You always have, haven't you? My good girl."

You blush slightly and look away from him to hide it. He doesn't like that. He lifts your chin again and raises an eyebrow, warning you not to look away again.

"Did you pick this gown to get someone's attention?" He says it in a teasing tone but you know what he is asking. Is the dress for him?

The dress you selected for the gala was bought with what little you had saved over the years. You had gone out into the city on one of your rare days off to buy it. It was in the shop window and you'd asked to try it on. It was a long sleeved, dark blue dress with tiny gems to make it appear as though you were a part of the evening sky. It's a bit lower cut in the bust than you thought you'd be comfortable with but seeing the way he admires it, you know it was the right decision.

"I must confess, my lord. I fear I am no longer a good Jedi. You see, I find myself disagreeing with the rules and growing agitated trying to suppress my emotions. It feels like I'm being pulled down a different, new path. I can't stand the rule against attachments. I have found that attachments only make you stronger. Maybe that is what they are afraid of…" you trail off as you realize how much you spoke but he holds your eye contact and nods for you to continue. "I have found myself deeply attached to a lord at this very party and I had hoped he'd find the dress pleasing."

"I'm sure he does, my darling. Do I know this lord, do you think?" He knows. He always does.

You smile and glance around as though making sure no one was listening, "I think you know him very well, my lord."

"Then I suppose I'll leave you to him." He starts to release you but you grip onto him tighter. He laughs again, a sound you truly and sorely missed.

Together, you and Obi Wan danced for several more songs. You talk occasionally but mostly bask in the comfort you bring each other. As the night dwindles on and draws to a close, you know you have a decision to make. A path to choose.

Obi Wan senses your panic and turmoil. He searches your eyes again before leading you off the dance floor to a little alcove on the side of the ballroom. He presses you back against the wall and lets his body tower over yours.

"My angel, you do not have to do anything you don't wish to. I don't intend to steal you away and hide you from the galaxy. It is your decision. This is your life. Lead it how you wish to. No matter what you decide, I will always love and support you. Even if I must do so from afar." He leans down and presses his forehead to yours. You can feel the love in his signature. True love. Pure love. How can a feeling so pure be so bad?

Lifting your chin slightly, you let your nose brush his and hear his quick intake of breath. He leans further into you slowly, giving you time to pull away from him. To say no.

You never will.

He lets his lips brush yours. It's gentle, simple, peaceful. He lets you decide how to proceed. Slowly, your hands move from where you had pressed them to his chest up into his hair to pull him closer. He hums in pleasure and pushes you further into the alcove. He kisses you the way you imagined he would. Gentle but dominant. Kind but leading. Persuasive. The Great Negotiator, indeed.

You pull away first, needing to breathe. He lets you go but keeps his forehead against yours.

"Obi?" You whisper to him.

"Sweet One?" He responds.

"Am I ready now?"

"That, my dearest little dove, is not a question I can answer for you."

You nod, feeling the tears form. His hand is holding your cheek and jaw on one side. He can feel when they start to fall. He coos gently and pulls you into his chest, whispering reassurances and words of love.

"I don't want you to go again. It hurts when you go, my Obi." You mutter through the tears. Obi Wan pulls away enough to hold your face with both hands.

"I don't have to. You can come with me, Darling. I have a place for us. It's safe and quiet and peaceful. It's perfect. I made sure it's perfect for you. All you have to do is say yes. Little Dove, you can stay with me. Come with me."

His voice isn't commanding or ordering you. It's… begging. He's begging you to stay with him.

Sniffling and wiping your eyes, you look up at his eyes. They're no longer gold the way they were before. They're darker now. Green. Your breathing picks up as you kiss him again. It's a soft, quick kiss. He reciprocates, waiting for your decision.

"Home?" You ask him. He smiles against your lips and nods.

"Home."

"Obi Wan. Take me home."

The burst of joy in his signature is more than enough to convince you that this was the right decision. He kisses you fiercely before retreating and standing up straight. A lord once again. Offering you his arm, he leads you back into the public eye.

As he escorts you through the front doors of the building and towards the hanger, you are stopped by a voice yelling your name. Your Jedi babysitter. You forgot about him. Obi Wan stiffens as he hears it as well, turning his head just enough to see the man behind you. You try to keep going but Obi Wan has stopped. Your panic is beginning to rise again. You'll never be free.

"You are to return to the Temple with me immediately, Young Padawan. This is not a debate."

"I-"

"My apologies, Jedi, but I believe she has made her decision." Obi Wan's voice is calm but there is a hint of a threat in it. He's daring the man to oppose him.

"I'm sorry, Senator, but that will not be happening. She has been asked to return to the Temple."

"Senator? Do you hear that, my darling? Senator. The level of disrespect tossed about by the Order is truly insulting. He doesn't even know my name."

You keep your eyes on Obi, pleading with him through your signature to just take you and go. In your bones, you knew it wouldn't be this easy. If only.

Obi Wan turns and the Jedi recognizes him. His eyes, now returned to gold, are a dead giveaway. The Jedi draws his weapon and beckons you over, holding his hand out as he calls your name again.

"This man is not who you think he is, Padawan. Come with me." He reaches for you again but you take a step back, closer to Obi Wan.

"Maybe I'm not who you thought I was, Master. Or… I think perhaps I am." Glancing up at Obi, you see him watching you with curiosity and… hope. You haven't seen hope in so long you almost don't recognize it.

Your Obi nods at you, just once, and takes a step back. The Jedi is gazing at the both of you with confusion and horror as you look at Obi Wan.

"I told you already, Little Dove. This is your decision. No one can make it for you." His voice calms you. There's no malice in it when he directs it at you.

"He's trying to trick you, Padawan. It's time to go now." The Jedi got close enough to grab your wrist and begin to pull you away. The moment he touches you, your lightsaber is in your hand and the Jedi is screaming. You open your eyes and see the man's arm on the ground between you. His lightsaber falls from his other hand and Obi Wan comes to pick it up. You feel your hands shaking as you watch him replace the Jedi's Saber on his belt before reaching a hand out to you.

"Are you ready now, darling?"

You look between Obi's hand and the man's arm and then at the blood on your gown. You take Obi Wan's hand and leave the Jedi kneeling on the ground of the hanger as you're taken onto your love's ship. He sits you down and pulls off his cape, draping it over you. It's heavier than it looked. He helps to strap you into the co-pilot seat before getting into the pilot seat.

As the ship lifts off, you catch a reflection in the glass of the cockpit window. Your eyes are surrounded by a ring of gold.

You feel Obi Wan take your hand as you reach hyperspace and let him smooth his thumb over your knuckles. You glance up at his beautiful eyes and see they are the blue you missed. You realize something that nearly brings you to tears again. You've been on your own for most of your life, especially when it got hard.

You don't have to be alone anymore. You have your Obi Wan.

~~~~~

@meshlasolus @vi-does-stuff @star-whores-a-new-hoe @turtlelover59 @lowkeyorloki

#sith!obi wan #sith!obi wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi x reader #dark side of the force #apparently I suck at tags and warnings #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x padawan reader

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