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steves-on-a-plane · 2 years

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Fighting Dragons With You (Pt 4)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Words: 1954 Cast of Characters: Young!Leia, Obi Wan Kenobi & Reader Summary: Reader and Obi-Wan are trying to sneak their way out of the city and escape Daiyu. Things are looking hopeless until help comes from somewhere unexpected.

It didn’t mean much, this casual confession. You told yourself as Obi-Wan urged you and Leia further down the alley and away from the busy Daiyu street where you could easily be spotted. You followed him, lost again in your own feelings. You really had fallen far off the Jedi path, letting your emotions run through you like this. It was padawan behavior and amateur at that.

There was truth to what you’d told Leia earlier. You and Obi-Wan had been very good friends. You’d always wanted some day to be more than that. It was forbidden by the Jedi code, but you wouldn’t be the first to break from it nor the last. When the two of you learned the truth about Padme and Anakin you thought maybe that would be enough for him to see things your way. Perhaps it may have, had Anakin not fallen to the dark side, confirming his Master’s lifelong biases.

“What is that?” Obi-Wan asked. You followed his gaze to Leia. She was sitting on a stack of shipping crates inspecting her favorite droid. LOLA didn’t look good, but she could be mended. The Princess took small comfort in that. At least LOLA wouldn’t suffer permanent damage because of her.

“Her name is LOLA.” Leia explained sadly. “She won’t be any trouble. She’s hurt.”

“Good.” Obi-Wan nodded. His natural aversion to droids and his current fear of being discovered were satisfied. You made eyes at your friend over Leia’s head. He gathered from your expression that his response been inappropriate. He sighed quietly and tried again. “What happened to her, anyway?”

“She was ripped to pieces by the kidnappers.” Leia told him. “She’ll be alright though. She’s strong. [Y/N] and I have fixed her before.”

“I’ll let your parents know that you’re safe, Princess. You and [Y/N] will be back to normal by nightfall.” He assured her.

“Great.” Leia huffed. “Normal.”

“Leia much prefers adventure and playing with her droid over diplomacy and negotiations.” You told Obi-Wan.

“That reminds me of someone else I knew.” He nodded. “We should continue moving. The spaceport is not far.”

The back of the alley opened to a larger labyrinth of connecting side streets. Obi Wan seemed to know his way around so you and Leia did your best to keep up with his stealthy but quickened pace. After a dizzying number of twists and turns, you stopped short, nearly colliding with Obi-Wan’s outstretched arm. You’d reached your destination. The entrance of the spaceport was just ahead.

From where you stood a street’s width away, you could seat about a dozen stormtroopers mustered outside of the spaceport. It was your first time really seeing them up close. Living on a planet like Alderaan meant that troopers didn’t come around often. When they did it was because they were off duty or deserters seeking refuge. They were a far cry from the clones you’d fought alongside over a decade ago.

“What are they?” Leia pointed at two beings dressed in all black. They were standing just off from the storm troopers. They had fighter’s stances, waiting at the ready. You didn’t have an answer for Leia, so you looked to Obi-Wan.

“Inquisitors.” He explained. “Many were Jedi who turned to the dark side. Now they hunt their own kind.”

“All of this is for you?” Leia asked. You bit your lip and looked away to stop yourself from laughing. She really was your favorite youngling of all time. “Who are you?”

There was a commotion behind you. The three of you turned back to see a new Bounty Hunter fresh on your trail. You and Obi-Wan both stepped in front of Leia only to watch a blaster bolt erupt from the center of the hunter’s head. A new face stood just behind the Bounty Hunter. Obi-Wan seemed to know him. He stepped further forward, pushing you and Leia back.

“The bounty is for me.” He told the man. “Please let them go.”

“Listen carefully,” The man said, not coming any closer. “The entire city’s locked down. It’s done. You need another exit.”

He pointed behind you. Obi-Wan looked up and back as the man described a fully automated cargo port located not too far from where you already were. He stepped closer, better lit by the city lights now. His clothes were simple and could almost pass for those of a Jedi if one wasn’t looking close enough. But a tan tunic and a brown cloak did not make a Jedi. You wondered how and When Obi-Wan had met this man.

“They won’t be looking for you there.” He continued telling Obi-Wan. “Go to transport eight. They will be waiting.”

“What are you talking about?” Obi-Wan asked. “Who will be waiting?”

“There are people out there who can help you.” The strange man replied.

“You expect me to trust you? You’re a criminal!” Obi-Wan balked.

“And our best option of getting out of here with all three of us alive.” You commented, stepping forward. “Ben, if this is our way out of here, I think we should at least try. It must be safer than walking in there.” You looked back at the spaceport.

“Look,” The man gulped. “Have I made a few bad decisions? Sure. Do I feel bad about it? Sometimes. Do I like credits? Yeah. There’s so much stuff you can buy with credits.”

“Haja…” Obi-Wan sighed.

“You…remembered my name.” The man blinked. This seemed to surprise him. “I’m trying to make amends.” He assured Obi-Wan. “I got that other family safe and I’m gonna do the same for you. If I’d known what you were…”

“It doesn’t matter what I am.” Obi-Wan interrupted. “I just need to get them home safe.” He gestured behind himself to you and Leia. The man called Haja nodded.

“Go to these coordinates.” He handed Obi-Wan an information chip. “They’ll help you from there.”

“And how do I know this isn’t just a trap?” Obi-Wan wanted to know.

“What choice do you have?” Haja question back. “You’re not alone. Obi-Wan. I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” Haja drew up the hood of his brown cloak and sprinted off, blaster drawn.

“Look at you making, friends.” You teased. At least Leia giggled.

“Must you make light of every situation?” Obi-Wan demanded with exasperation.

“Only when the situation calls for it.” You promised. “Seriously, though, who was that?”

“No one.” Obi-Wan grumbled. “Certainly not a friend.”

He would say nothing more on the matter but continued to guide your group toward the coordinates. He reminded both you and Leia to be careful as you loaded onto the cargo port’s hydro-lift. His lecture about how dangerous it was for people to be at a fully automated cargo port lasted nearly the entire lift ride.

“If it’s so dangerous they won’t look for us here.” Leia announced. She’s never been one to simply listen to a lecture.

“Unless it’s a set up.” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“Did he always have these trust issues?” Leia looked to you.

“Yes, but this seems this seems extreme even for him.” You whispered back.

“You know I can hear both of you.” Obi-Wan smirked. He might not have the best relationship with Luke, and if it were up to Owen Lars he may never. At least he knew that Leia was in good hands with you. Just ten years old but she was already very much the Skywalker she was meant to be. There was just enough of Bail, Breha and you in her to take the edge off.

You heard a second hydro-lift reach the top of the cargo port. You immediately pulled Leia with you behind a large stock of crates. You knew you’d pulled a little too hard but to her credit she didn’t so much as yelp. Obi-Wan rolled behind a second stack of cargo just as a set of footprints entered the port.

You heard the unmistakable sound of a saber igniting. You fiddled for your own saber, making sure you still had it. Obi-Wan skid an access key soundlessly over to you. You handed it off to Leia with instructions on how to manually activate the transport ship. Only after promising that you and Obi-Wan would be right behind her did she take off. A small game of cat and mouse began after that. You and Obi moved around the cargo bay. Listening with the force as well as the very audible hum of the inquisitor’s blade.

“You cannot hide Obi-Wan.” The inquisitor called out. “I can feel you. Your fear betrays you.”

You nearly tripped on Obi-Wan’s cloak when he moved to the right, while you’d meant to go left. You bobbed out of each other’s way, just narrowly missing the inquisitor as she force pushed a barrel you’d been crouched behind.

“You don’t have to worry. You’re not going to die.” The inquisitor continued. “Today.”

You and Obi-Wan had managed to overtake a fair amount of ground. You’d gotten a little turned around, but he’d know exactly where he was going. He nodded to an opening not too far away. You could see the transport ship through the opening. Just a little farther. You breathed.

“I’m just going to take you to him. I know that you’re with him, [Y/N].” You looked to Obi-Wan trying not to emit the absolute panic you were feeling through The Force. Why did this person know your name? “Lord Vader will be pleased.” She added. “Oh.” She sensed something through the force. “You didn’t know. He’s alive. Anakin Skywalker is alive. And he’s been looking for Obi-Wan for a long time. I am going to be the one to deliver you both to him!”

“Third Sister!” The first inquisitor’s taunts were interrupted by another arriving on the scene. “I can stand the reek of your ambition no longer.”

“Grand Inquisitor.” Obi-Wan whispered in your ear. You didn’t need to ask further follow up questions to understand that meant this Grand Inquisitor was in charge. Rather than stand aside and allow the Grand Inquisitor to lead the search, Third Sister ran her saber right through the middle of him.

“We gotta go, Ben, we gotta go.” You gripped Obi-Wan’s arm and dragged him towards the exit. You held onto him tightly and ran as fast as you could. You managed to jump into the transport ship. Leia closed the door. Third Sister arrived just seconds too late. She was forced to watch as your transport ship undocked and took off.

#Obi-Wan #Obi Wan #Obi-Wan x Reader #Obi Wan x Reader #Obi Wan Reader Insert #Obi-Wan Reader Insert #Fan Fiction #Fan Fic #FF #Fighting Dragons With You

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libradusk · 4 years

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Ignited | Rex

Word Count: 8,388

Pairing: Captain Rex x Reader

Summary: After an unexpected crash landing on Felucia results in Rex becoming entangled within a particularly sticky patch of foliage, an even stickier situation unfolds between the pair of you.

Warnings/Content: Explicit smut, as in the longest smut fic I’ve written so far, Rex gets a face full of Sex Pollen tropes (and by extension, slight dub-con by virtue of that?), AFAB reader (though no gender is explicitly mentioned), oral sex (reader receiving), hintssss of cock warming + breeding kink because that’s what I’m here for baby, can’t lie there are clear feelings involved because I’m too soft for this MAN.

a/n: This is set during the events of “Bounty Hunters” from season 2 of TCW, except instead of fighting pirates the reader and Rex end up boning down.

I took some liberties (I guess??) with the writing of the ship and also Clone Trooper equipment for plot purposes but let’s be real that’s not why any of us are here rn.

I’ve had this + a sequel planned out forever so its such a relief to finally have finished part 1 of this behemoth at least.

And now, at last - have part 2

When the command that would reassign you to the Felucia Medical Base had first been issued, you were none too happy about it. You had become quite content with your duties amidst the 501st, as well as the closeness you had cultivated with its men, enough so that you were incredibly reluctant to see an end to it all. Despite the severity of the war currently plaguing the Galaxy, and their especially heavy involvement in fighting for the Republic side, the 501st always seemed to find a way to rekindle your optimism in a multitude of ways that were unique to them. It was refreshing. You considered yourself incredibly lucky to be surrounded by so many individuals, soldiers and Generals alike, who never failed to treat both you and each other as though you were each true individuals in their own unconventional family unit.

But alas, your luck had finally run dry. As instructed by the forces commanding both you and your unit of staff, you were now to stay at the base to re-establish its connections, as well as to provide a befittingly intricate report as needed.

Orders were orders.

Didn't mean you had to like them though.

You glare out into the darkness of space as that thought continues to swarm around your mind. The ship you’re currently situated upon cuts smoothly behind the one piloted by General Skywalker himself. You secretly thank the stars that you don’t have to share a vehicle with Anakin, considering how you’ve witnessed his reckless flying techniques numerous times over in the time you’ve known him. But even so, you can’t help but silently curse your own ship for being the object responsible for pulling you away from the only sense of true belonging you’ve felt since joining the army. All you can hope for is that the medical station isn’t too heavily damaged despite losing contact with the base of operations, and that by some miracle you can pull some strings to get reassigned back to your boys before your work within Felucia’s orbit threatens to drown you.

The dark expanse beyond the transparisteel viewpoint appears vast and inviting, as though beckoning you to sink into its velvet depths. You imagine the tenderness of the reprieve it could offer you in your fantasies, transporting you to a place where you could surround yourself with pleasant memories and little else.

Running away from your obligations would only ever get you so far, but for a moment it was blissful to relax into the thought of it. It made the ache of reality twinge a little less painfully in your chest.

You feel the warm weight of a pair of hands on your shoulders before your eyes unglaze enough to register them decorating your reflection. Captain Rex stands to attention behind you, the gentle hold of his palms atop your shoulders being the only aspect to break the picture of discipline his stance holds as he follows your gaze out to the stars. He allows his touch to linger for a moment more - to anyone else it would likely appear as no more than a colleague extending a gesture of camaraderie to a solemn looking comrade, but you know that to him it probably feels like the greatest of sins. His helmet obscures his expression, but you can hear the swish of his kama as he fidgets ever so slightly in place and you wonder if his thoughts are as overcast as your own.

This unspoken attraction, tiptoeing the line of propriety with each affectionate jest or brush of skin against armour in the corridor… it had all been going on for months now, to the extent where even Rex’s own men were beginning to whisper through the cracks in his resolve. Though now it seemed that this too would be forced to come to an end, snuffed out before it ever truly had a chance to bloom. The taste of that knowledge is sour on your tongue as you bite down on it to quash the sense of mourning that had suddenly washed over you.

It's exceedingly difficult to not take it as a form of punishment, even though you know that’s not the case. Really, you should be honoured to be appointed in charge of the station, but the fact that you had no way of knowing if it was even salvageable until you arrived there did precious little to alleviate the miserable affair this had all devolved into.

Your shoulders feel naked without his touch now and you realise that you’re yearning more than ever now that your hypothetical future with Rex is about to be torn away from you in less than an hour’s time. You find yourself wondering once more what expression graces his face beneath the visor, if his eyes lingered on you instead of the stretch of space beyond where his reflection could reach. You decide to indulge in your little fantasy for just a while longer, war was a tragic business, and you would continue to take what respite was offered to you while you still could.

“We seem to have lost you to the stars again, Officer.”

Rex’s low tone jolts you out of your starry-eyed daydream, your reflection’s gaze refocusing back at you in the windowpane as the void of space framing it fades out to a grey in your peripheral. The smile in his voice is obvious to you, even with the helmet’s barrier. It's familiar, warm but a little sad as it wraps the playful quip in a mask of enough stoicism for it to slip under the radar of the few troops that share the ship’s interior with you both. They’re mostly shinies, picked to accompany your team alongside the Captain as an escort, just in case trouble awaited your group once you reached the medical station itself. You already had the company of two Jedi Generals and their Padawan, but you weren’t about to complain about having Rex present alongside them either.

“We’re approaching the Felucia Medical Station now,” Obi Wan’s voice crackles through the ship’s communicator and closes the window of chance for you to quip back at the Captain. The Jedi’s usually calm voice prickles with an apprehension that rises the closer his much smaller ship gets to the seemingly derelict station, “something is wrong… brace yourselves- !”

Time appears suspended around you the moment the first flash of streamlined grey cuts through the darkness surrounding your ships. You have little chance to throw more than a glance towards the ruined medical station orbiting Felucia before the knife-like structure of several vulture droids cut dangerously close to your ship.

“We need to move and evacuate, now!”

You aren’t sure if it's Rex’s voice or your own that echoes against the blaring siren of your ship as it takes the first hit of fire. The durasteel beneath your feet threatens to distort with the force of it, and you feel your breath stutter in your lungs as you’re shaken violently. You stumble to cling to a nearby surface while simultaneously shoving a rather shell-shocked member of your team down towards where the ship’s escape pods are located, eyes squinting through the flash of crimson beating off the walls around you. Your gaze locks on to Rex as he stands by the doorway, ushering the last few stragglers through it with a determined wave of his hand. The dark visor of his helmet flashes dangerously with each pulse of the alarm light, bathing his white armour in a bloody glow that darkens and spreads in time with its screeching. It dawns on you then, that this might very well be the last you see of him after all, even without setting foot on the medical station itself - this, as bitter a circumstance as it is, seems much more twistedly befitting.

Another blast collides with your ship, this one buckling the wall directly behind Rex and warping the exit’s frame with the force of it. You hear Rex cry out, the sound shocking straight through you as he’s thrown forward in an explosion of sparkling wire and twisted durasteel. The sight of him struck down to his knees is enough to shoot another bolt of adrenaline up your spine, and you launch yourself towards him despite the unsteadiness of your own legs in supporting you. He’s still very much conscious, but clearly injured as you grit your teeth and drag him to his feet, all but throwing the pair of you through the sparking blast door and towards an empty escape pod as the remnants of your ship begin to hurtle further towards Felucia’s surface.

---

Your landing is less than graceful, with your pod catching its underside on a particularly sharp jut of rock on its decline and sending itself skidding across the swampy ground. The impact of the connection sends your head spinning once more, and you’re forced to take a few minutes to regulate your breathing and ensure that your vision is no longer swimming before you can open your eyes and dare to venture outside. You flex the fingers on both hands before stretching out each of your limbs on instinct, relieved to find that somehow, nothing appeared to be broken and at worse you had suffered a few mere bruises despite a landing that would have made Skywalker himself proud.

The humidity of Felucia’s climate hits you the moment you step out of the ruined pod, legs carrying you with all the grace of a baby Krugga deer. It clings to your clothes as you survey the damage dealt to what remains of your escape pod, though it chills down the back of your neck severely once it dawns on you that Rex is nowhere to be seen within the wreckage. In a burst of panic you jog forward blindly, calling out for him through a raspy throat even as you stumble into a particularly sticky patch of flora that coats your uniform in a sweet-smelling gunk. Your hands fumble across your torso before settling on the blaster strapped to your hip. You grip the trigger with clammy fingers as you force your eyes to focus completely and scan your surroundings, ears ringing with the calls of nature and unseen creatures around you.

Despite the bustle of the jungle-planet’s ecosystem all around you, you find yourself completely alone.

No troops, no supplies, no Jedi and no Rex.

Your blood suddenly feels cold despite the heat rippling across the horizon line. Each thump of your heart grows louder with every second that passes, drumming in your ears like a foreboding death march as the breath begins to skip in your lungs. It's just about drowned out the ambience across the clearing you’re frozen in when you finally hear it: a faint string of cursing in mando’a paired with the sound of very human struggling not far from where you are.

The sound of your footsteps pounding the earth reaches you before your breathing even has the chance to even itself out again.

“Rex! Oh thank goodness-”

You find the Captain entangled in an odd-looking shrubbery of fuchsia coloured thorns. The trooper’s helmet lays on its side, just out of reach as he struggles to free himself. The frustration is evident on his face as he attempts to contend with what is clearly an injured shoulder. Relief gushes through you all the same, and you waste no more time in helping him free himself.

You note the heaviness of the air around where he was trapped moments ago. The plant’s loosened pollen seemingly floats around its glossy flowers, its pinkish smog burning down your throat all the way to your belly as, despite your better judgement, you give in to your exhausted lungs and inhale too closely to it. The sensation is not unlike chasing a shot of Corellian whiskey, your head feels foggy just from the time it takes you to untangle Rex from the vines’ clutches.

Rex’s voice drawls out like his gullet is coated with honey as he groans in pain. His eyes appear largely absent even as he weakly gestures to his utility belt and the familiar prickle of panic begins to bite at you once more. You rummage through his pack and note the half-used tube of bacta tucked away within it, which you fumble to apply to the exposed wound on his shoulder. The gash glares angry and bloody from the tear in his blacks as it peers out from the gap between where his pauldron and chest-plate meet. You cringe as his entire body buckles at the touch of your fingers against his skin once you carefully tug off his armour, taking care to try not to jostle him too much in the process. Each swipe of your fingertips against his body, injured or not, has him reacting like he’s received a kick to the gut. The panic melts into a simmering worry once you finish seeing to his more obvious wounds. You take solace in the knowledge that the bacta will no doubt work on the worst of his abrasions, but the way he’s now shivering and clenching his jaw with that same hazy stare sparks a new sense of concern within you.

“... Are you sure you can stand? You still seem in pretty bad shape.”

He coughs into his fist a few times before pinching the bridge of his nose in an obvious attempt to clear his vision and mind. His eyes are heavily-lidded when his gaze drags over to meet with your own.

“... yeah, I-I’ll be fine, heads just still spinning from where I was thrown out the ‘pod.”

Your eyes widen at his words and your fingers flex with the instinctual drive to check over his heaving body for any signs of internal damage or fractures. Even through his discomfort, he seems to read your expression before the accompanying words can leave your lips.

“Nothin’s broken, can tell you that much. This… foliage, whatever it is, broke my fall. Though I dread to think how much longer I would’ve been struggling in it if you hadn’t found me when you did. Thanks, by the way.”

A sigh of relief rushes from you at his reassurance, though you can’t help but eye him sceptically as he grits through the pain to shake out the stiffness in his joints. You pat his back comfortingly as you look towards the distance, newly set on locating yourself a less obvious place of shelter for the night than what the remnants of the escape pod could offer to you both. The Separatists would pick the two of you off easily if they were to find you in such a vulnerable state, but Rex still needed a sheltered place to rest in order for the bacta to heal his wounds all the same. With another sigh and the exchange of a few words of encouragement, you urge him to walk forwards into the underbrush. You take care to keep him close in your peripheral as you bundle up his removed armour under one arm and keep the blaster raised in your other, eyes keenly trained on your surroundings all the while in case you were to spot another one of your separated allies, or in case of more insidious forces raising their heads.

---

Your prayers seem to be answered in record time, as the pair of you manage to stumble on a cave far enough away from your crash-point for you to consider it safe. It’s discovery couldn’t have come at an any more pinnacle moment, as Rex’s shivering has only worsened in the time that has passed, so much so that now you can’t even reach out an arm to support his heaving shoulders without the contact of your body heat against his own sending him spiralling into another fit of quivering, cold sweats. The situation is only made more daunting with the fact that you have yet to stumble on any of your lost allies, Jedi or otherwise, and at this point the ground itself feels as though it is pulsating under your boots with how high the heat has risen.

Quickly, you usher Rex towards a nearby patch of bushes as you step forward to survey the cave for signs of life, heart hammering in a combination of nerves and exhaustion drawn from trekking under the Felucian sun. Finding it satisfyingly empty, you beckon the Captain forward. No sooner does Rex gingerly set himself down with a grunt does his comlink finally crackle to life. Anakin’s voice sounds distorted and broken as it strains from the trooper’s wrist and you can’t help but fixate on the beads of sweat that trickle down Rex’s neck into the collar of his blacks as he lifts his arm towards his flushed face.

“-Rex, Rex! Do you read me, Rex?-”

“...Yeah General Skywalker, I hear you. Signal’s spotting something terrible, sir, but it's better than nothing.”

You hear a muddle of voices dancing amidst the static and move drop down to where Rex slumps against the cool surface of the cave wall. Your body brushes against his as you lean closer, and his breath hitches audibly despite it being the uninjured side you come into contact with.

“Everything ok there Rex? You sound in a bad way.” It’s Obi-Wan’s concerned tone that echoes across the cave space this time, and Rex shakes his head despite the General having no way to see his reaction.

“N-no I’m fine, just took a hit when the vulture droids took down our ship is all. I’ll be fine, I’m not alone.”

“I’m here with Captain Rex, General Kenobi. We still haven’t been able to locate the rest of the group we initially set off with, but we’re safe and sheltered for now.” You duck closer to Rex’s suspended wrist, doing your best to ignore the heat of his breath fanning over your cheek as you speak into the communicator. You can feel his eyes on your profile, but keep your own fixated on the blue lines decorating his forearm plating all the while. “Rex is… His shoulder is injured. I’ve treated it with what I have available, but the medical supplies perished alongside our ship and it might be at least a night until we can judge if he’s well enough to set off through the wilderness again.”

There's a thoughtful hum from the other side of your communication link and you can only imagine that Kenobi is currently cupping his chin in thought at your words. A voice you recognise as Ahsoka’s chimes in before the Jedi Master can speak once more, the volume of her voice indicating that she must have snatched Anakin’s wrist close to her face before anyone else had the chance to interrupt her.

“We have most of the others here with us! Your pod can’t have landed much further away right- hey!-”

“As I was going to say before Ahsoka here decided to interrupt, you’re hopefully not much further away from where we currently are. I’ll send over our coordinates so you can hopefully use Rex’s equipment to track to our location. We seem to have stumbled upon some kind of farming settlement, we’re going to see if we can get some help from them once we get a little closer.”

For the first time since your crash-landing, the weight sitting across your chest eases a fraction, and it manifests into a small smile of relief that brightens your face in the fluorescent glow emitted by Rex’s comlink.

“Amazing! I’m so relieved you’re all ok, I’ll admit I feared the worst once our ships began to go down.”

“Please Officer, you should know better by now than to doubt my flying skills after everything you’ve seen so far-”

“Really Anakin? I’m not so sure that's the most reassuring statement you could have given, considering your reputation... Anyway, stay safe you two and try to reconnect with us as soon as possible. I’m sending the coordinates over now.”

There’s a faint beeping sound as what you assume to be the coordinates in question sync themselves up with your own location, and it isn't long before Rex lets slip a low groan of frustration as he eyes flicker to the small display screen on the inside of his wrist. Your newfound optimism drops at the sound.

“What is it?”

“It's gonna take at least a full day and a half on foot to get to where Generals Kenobi and Skywalker are, and that’s with us both operating at full capacity.” Rex punctuates his frustration with another pained hiss as his shoulders lurch forward towards you. Your hands instantly jut out to support the weight of him, resting firmly on his chest so as to avoid latching onto his injured shoulder. The full body shiver that wracks through him is apparent under your palms, as is the way his breath catches in his throat as you move a hand to press against his clammy forehead.

He’s boiling. There’s no way you can allow him to move from the cave as his condition currently stands. This is no simple case of blood loss and fleshwounds, whatever toxin present within that plant is currently forcing itself through his bloodstream with a vengeance and is clearly the main culprit behind his discomfort. You feel somewhat lightheaded yourself, especially in such close proximity to him. There’s a creeping heat fluttering across your skin despite the coolness the cave offers. It's been slowly gnawing at your flesh since you first came into contact with Rex’s botanic prison, and you can only imagine the intensity of how it's affecting Rex in comparison.

“Don’t make that face at me, I’m gonna be fine.” He speaks through gritted teeth as he furrows a brow at your expression, attempting and failing to appear strict as he pants up at you from where he sits slumped against the wall.

“You need to rest at least. Come here and let me check your vitals.”

I need to make sure this isn’t affecting you as seriously as it seems. You choose your spoken words cautiously as you slowly begin to strip him of the remainder of his armour, leaving him in just his blacks and boots. He protests weakly for a moment before giving in to your careful touch, resigning himself to simply instructing you on how to undo the more complicated latches keeping the plating in place and watching the movement of your fingertips dance down his body.

Somehow he’s burning even hotter beneath the plastoid, his breathing becoming shakier with each layer that is pulled away from his body. When your thigh brushes up against his own when you lean across him to place his thigh-plate on the rest of the armour-pile, he throws his head back and groans. The sound shoots straight through you despite your attempt to resist it - guilt crawling in to join it in quick succession.

“...m’sorry-” he glances at you bashfully beneath heavy lashes, pausing to wet his lips between a shuddering sigh as his head lolls back against the stone behind him, “-I’m just, just burning up - my body is on fire and I don’t know how to stop it.”

You take a deep breath of your own before opening your dry mouth to speak again.

“I-its ok Rex, You’re going to be ok, I promise. Here,” you reach down to where his utility belt sits beside him, unhooking the small canteen of water and raising it to his lips, “drink, you need to get some fluids in you.”

He takes the flask from you with fingers that hint of a tremor ghosting across them. You watch his reaction as he chugs it down, noting sadly that it hardly seems to bring him any relief. With an inward sigh, you refocus your attention to checking over his vitals, alerting him before your hands make contact with his body once more.

His muscles continue to twitch under your touch, but you’re relieved to find that despite his elevated body temperature and sensitivity, there are no glaring signs of toxin poisoning or major threat in his system. You reassure yourself that his condition likely stems from his body’s reaction to an unfamiliar substance, but it being one that didn’t appear to have any threat of being fatal to him. Even so, you make a decision to set off in search of the others as soon as you were possibly able to so that he could at least receive more in depth medical aid, cursing once again that the medical supplies destined for the ruined base perished in the attack on your ship.

As soon as you pull away, a sound leaves him that's akin to a whine and the heat of your own cheeks intensifies almost unbearably.

“...I should go find something to make a fire with. Try and get some rest, ok? I won’t go far I promise.”

You shrug off the jacket you’d slung over your shoulder the moment the atmosphere had become too hot to handle, flicking it out to the side to shake off any loose pollen before draping it warily over Rex’s torso. It's less of an effort to keep him warm, his shivers are beyond any help of this kind now, but you hope it's perceived as a caring gesture all the same. Perhaps it could serve as some semblance of a pillow if nothing else. You try to ignore the way his fingers instantly ball up in the fabric like a lover’s grip on the bed sheets.

It's strange, seeing him reduced to this, a side of him that you’ve never even caught a glimpse of beforehand when you thought you knew the Captain so well. You aren’t entirely sure how to act around him at the moment, because he seems so vulnerable and so sensitive to each brush against his body, leaning towards you each time like he can’t bear to be without contact despite the heat licking across his bones.

So you run away, just for a moment, just to give yourself enough time to process what's unfurling before your very eyes and the reasons as to why it's occurring. The humidity in the air is still stifling, even now the sun has begun to dip lower in the sky. A shivering sigh you didn’t even realise you were holding in is knocked from your lungs as the evening air enters them. It twists across your audience of none and sounds impossibly loud despite the bustle of nature all around you.

You somehow feel even more lost now than when you had started.

---

By the time you’ve loaded up on enough wood to make a decent campfire the temperature has dropped considerably. It breathes over your clammy skin mercifully, but does little to quell the heated thoughts plaguing your mind still. You waste no time in assembling a fire at the cave’s mouth. The sweat clinging to the back of your neck has cooled to a shivering kiss at this point, it dips its fingers down your spine as a breeze edges by you and licks across the flames. Rex’s groans of discomfort have lowered in pitch now, and they creep out from between the stones to settle deep in your stomach despite your increased attempts to bat them away. The uncomfortable heat building between your legs threatens to shackle them next to the fire, but the concern in your heart urges you forward to check on your injured soldier despite the heavy hesitation standing in your path. A particularly loud yelp proves to be the final push you need to shove you forward to a stumbled sprint.

What you find causes the remaining firewood in your hands to clatter noisily around your ankles. It splinters off towards the darker reaches of the caves to sit broken and forgotten while you stand slack jawed at the sight before you.

Rex lays writhing beneath your jacket, the material now wrung between the whitened knuckles of his fist as he bites down on it to try and smother his whimpering. It's become less of a blanket and more of a crude gag of sorts to cage his groans against. His blacks have been shed, they sit crumpled and hastily discarded across the cave’s floor. Rex is bare to your eyes, a tangle of panting breath and glistening, naked skin that almost appears to glow with the faint light of the campfire in the near distance. It serves to bathe him in copper, gilding his taunt muscles in a way that only emphasises the pure heat rolling off every inch of his body.

Your eyes rake over the whole shivering mess of him before you can bear to strip them away.

Your name all but wails from his lips once you can finally focus on how his gaze has locked onto you with a hunger - expression strained and apologetic, yet clouded with wide blown lust all the same. There's an echo of guilt that stirs your guts into knots, it screams at you as it bubbles over.

You should not be seeing this.

And yet you cannot look away now, your eyes drifting further down the valley of his stomach to where he grasps at himself. His wrist curls with each desperate jerk of his fist around his cock.

The coil winding inside you snaps to something hotter, yet your voice still fails you. It remains useless with an even greater intensity as he raises the same, glistening hand to smear it over his abdomen in a sparkling trail. He groans out your name again, something intelligible stumbling along behind it. The words are as jumbled as your thoughts.

“Mm-sorry. I tried to fight it but - but its too hot, m’burning-” Rex’s words slur together in a gasp. “Can’t, just can’t… fuck… I need you, need this, always needed…”

He trails off with another shaking moan as his hips canter and buck, body once again reminding him of the heat crawling over every one of his nerves.

“...I can’t, Rex.” He looks almost pitiful, but you can’t help but answer in a voice that’s stern, yet also too small in that moment for an officer of your capabilities. You try to keep your eyes trained on his upper half as you step closer, unsure if it's a thinly contained lust or concern fuelling your steps in that moment. The heat in your stomach billows higher the closer you get, and fuck - the waves of heat swelling from him seem almost contagious now.

Rex whines into your jacket in protest, and you can't help but ponder if this is truly the same steadfast soldier you thought you had known for months.

Against your screaming better judgement, you kneel down to check shaky fingers against his forehead. He leans desperately into the contact, but as quickly as the relief can flash across his face, it dies - replaced by a furrow of his brow and the straining of his arms as he so clearly fights to keep them pinned at his sides as you inch closer. There’s a new ache twisting in your heart over seeing him attempt to cling to the last shred of his composure, you think you can even make out the sparkle of frustrated tears gathering behind his lashes now.

“Oh, Rex…” Your words are carried on a whisper. The absurdity of your situation would have made you laugh if you were to have stumbled upon it in some sleazy holo-vid or novel, yet seeing the outcome of it play out in real life with someone you care for is gut wrenchingly frightening.

How long was this going to plague him? The thought of him twisting with an agony you cannot relieve makes your heart ache defeatedly, posture slumping to further accommodate the emotion burdening your form.

You sweep your hand down the slope of his cheekbone in an attempt to soothe him. His pulse thrums in his temple as your fingers skim over it in their path from his forehead. Surprise jumps in your stomach as he suddenly cocks his neck in order to softly catch your fingertips with the plush of his lips, pressing against them in a kiss that seems far too soft for how evidently worked up he is. The gentleness of the gesture contrasts with the harsh sigh of air that expels through his nose when your touch drifts away.

Those newly dangerous eyes lock with yours again, but he remains completely still now aside from the occasional shivers fluttering over his shoulders and the laboured rise and fall of his chest. You feel like you’re going to drown in them, but your legs refuse to step away. His gaze begins to roam as you stand paralysed beneath it, raking over your expression before settling at last on your lips. His tongue darts out to wet his own before he opens them to speak again, the vibrato of his voice feels damp against your skin despite the fact you’re no longer touching him.

“Please.”

His eyelids droop as he pushes the top half of his body forward into a bastardised mock-bow in front of you. Amber eyes cling to your own once again, their pupils still blown but his voice now regaining the sense of clarity that had been lost to him before.

“Please, I want this, I need this so badly-”

Your resolve finally snaps and you all but bruise his mouth in a kiss that sings of longing as much as it does unbearable desperation. You grasp his jaw tight in a clammy hold as your teeth clash together with the force of it all. His growl carries over your tongue once you slip the appendage into his mouth, though you can only bask in the tiny victory for a short moment before you’re all but choking on your surprise as Rex pounces and drags you down to the cool floor alongside him. It's as though he’s become revitalised by your touch and taste, arms caging you beneath a look so possessive that it shoots straight between your thighs. You can feel just how strong he is as he leans down to kiss you once more, the press of his broad chest against your captured self stealing the air from you in more ways than one. It's a body that has been engineered to fight and kill, one that is genetically identical to the thousands of brothers that take to the field alongside him each day of the war. Yet now as you battle against the force of him to run your fingernails through the blonde buzzcut atop his head and over the uneven surface of his scarred shoulders, you note that it's decorated with parts that are unique only to him.

There is only one Rex, and in this moment, you are as much his as he is yours.

And you want to help him through this, you do.

Your hands have barely begun to skim over the constellation of scars painted across his back before they’re pinned above your head as Rex begins to clumsily strip you, his teeth now finding purchase in the curve of your neck. Your head begins to spin again as your shirt is torn over your head and flung across the floor, both your undergarments and bottoms soon following alongside it. A gasp slips from you the moment your newly bare flesh makes contact with the chill of the cave floor, it pulls a shiver across your naked shoulders that only intensifies further when the heat of Rex’s mouth attaches itself to your skin again and again in a delicious contrast.

It's maddening, the pace he’s moving at. It’s as though he can’t dedicate too much time to one specific area of your body before his lust demands he move on to taste another. His palms are wide and impossibly hot against you as he grips your thighs with a battle hardened grip before spreading them unceremoniously. You yelp in surprise and push yourself up on your elbows the moment he does, limbs beginning to shake the moment hot breath fans over your core. There's a flash of what you believe is concern that darts across his eyes then, but it soon hardens as he takes in the sight of your parted lips and the flush that has spread down your throat. Rex clearly tries to keep his eyes trained on your expression as he lowers his attention to your cunt, but the moment the taste of you hits his tongue he can’t help but groan in relief, eyes fluttering closed as they threaten to roll back into his skull.

His closely-cropped hair gives you little to nothing to grip onto as the first wave of pleasure stutters over you, and you resolve to bunch your fists into the fabric of his blacks beneath your hips for support. He’s a messy eater, just like his kisses were moments beforehand. His teeth even threaten to graze you a few times as he nips at your inner thighs between each lathe of attention he flicks against your folds. It causes you to yelp in mild alarm each time he does before the sound is buried beneath your moans once more as soon as he finds a rhythm that he can work against you. Despite the way he’s currently growling into your pussy, he’s still clearly lucid enough to squeeze your thigh in what you think is apology each time, though the indents his nails leave behind beg otherwise.

Rex lazily fucks up into his hand as he tastes you, each vibrating groan stretched from within his throat only shooting further into your core. The flush in his cheeks blooms deeper now, and it peppers across the top of his chest in a ruby hue that only burns darker in the low light of the campfire. He looks beautiful, even in such a state as this, and you can’t help but cry out his name as he switches between sucking at your clit and circling it with the rough pad of his thumb.

“S’good.” Rex’s voice slurs as he whispers against you, letting out another deep groan of his own as he pushes a finger into you and watches you clench around it, your head falling back with a broken gasp. You can hear him audibly swallow at your reaction, it melts into a purr as he pulls back to marvel at his handiwork after bestowing another lingering swipe of his tongue across your thrumming bundle of nerves. A thin strand of slick and spit trails breaks away with the detachment of his lips and you moan at both the sight of him and the loss of his mouth’s contact. His other hand comes to rub circles into the muscle of your thigh and you can feel the precum slicking his fingers smear across your flesh before quickly cooling across the heated surface.

“So, so good for me. So gorgeous.”

His tone is gentle, reverent almost. It contrasts sharply with the way his hand inches to squeeze your inner thigh as the other curls a finger experimentally within you. It truly feels as though the tables have been turned on you now, and it's your turn to muffle the sob that bubbles up your throat with your hand, back arching at the feeling of his thick finger stretching and rubbing the inside of your walls and the praise rolling off his tongue. The pace of his wrist is slow enough to have your toes curling, but not enough to push you over the edge to where you desperately needed to be.

He appears to forget his desperation for a moment longer, continuing to sit back on his haunches to admire your expressions with a hint of a lopsided smile as you all but fuck yourself on his hand. Another strangled moan leaves you then, and it's this one that finally seems to break whatever trance he has drifted off into, the hunger filling his eyes once more to take the place of the love-sick adoration that had graced them before. You drawl out his name needily, that all too familiar heat that you had first experienced when you found him on Felucia’s surface blazing over your nerves with a higher intensity than before. He finally snaps once again and lurches forward to bite into another kiss, hands now taking a bruising hold on your hips. Your chest hitches with the emptiness you feel once his fingers leave you, though the press of his body above your own makes quick work of ceasing your squirming. His skin is boiling, the full weight of him almost suffocatingly hot and heavy as he brands you into the cave floor. You find your legs hooking over his hips on instinct, hands gripping onto his biceps in an attempt to ground yourself from the sensations bombarding you. The ambience of the outside world has silenced itself to you now, all you can focus on are the wet sounds of your mouths meeting in a series of breathless kisses and the beat of your pulse in your ears.

You inadvertently bite down on his bottom lip as he begins to rut his lower half against you, resulting in another low growl and an increased force in the jerk on his hips. Both of you moaning at how the length of his cock slides against the slick of your sex with each grinding movement.

“Rex… please.” You are the one begging this time, uncurling your newfound grip on his shoulders to begin creeping it down his abdomen. He allows you the freedom to do this, but keens into the crook of your neck once your fingers wrap around his cock and begin to guide it blindly towards your entrance. “Please, please, please…!”

Your mindless mantra cuts off abruptly as he finally presses his hips forward and sheathes himself completely within you in an aching push. The action knocks the wind from your lungs and stretches your mouth wide in a silent scream, but your eyes never leave his own the whole time. Despite the sudden rush of relief and the cloud of pheromones threatening to blind you, beneath his wall of tightly wound muscle and feral lust you sense a tinge of nervousness still. Shakily, you reach a hand to cup his cheek tenderly as you attempt to adjust to the size of him all the while.

“Fuck.” It’s all you can manage to spit out as he slowly begins to withdraw from you, the head of his cock scraping against your walls in a way that has your head lolling back and vision spinning. He’s a stretch, but he slots so perfectly back inside you with each purposeful thrust in a way no other has ever done before. It’s a real struggle to catch your breath before Rex begins canting his hips forward with an instinctive fever, his hands pulling up your lower body to meet with his thrusts as you lay limp with pleasure beneath him. His cock throbs so intensely that you can feel it, even through the harshness of the pace he’s set. The pattern of his hips is largely uneven, jerking between quick, shallow thrusts to slower, deeper movements that sink his cock so deeply within you that your clit kisses against his pubic bone in a way that has you clawing at his shoulders once more. You can’t tell if this is due to inexperience or the overwhelming pleasure shooting through him as you attempt to grind upwards against him, but the way he sinks his teeth into your neck in such a way that you know he’ll leave a mark reminds you that you don’t care either way.

Rex’s entire body purrs against you as he releases a hand from your hip to paw at your chest, mouth trailing sloppy kisses from the quickly forming bruise on your throat to paint your collarbone in shades of puce and violet. Soon you’ve all but folded around him like a love letter, one that is signed with strings of mumbled mando’a painted across your skin with each thrust that shakes your body. You’re confident your nails are leaving their own angry red marks across his shoulder blades as you try to tug him even closer and arch up against him when he pinches a nipple between his thumb and forefinger. It’s all so messy and primal, with the heat of him crawling into your very lungs with each gasp he pushes out of you as he splits you open.

The wet slap of your bodies meeting is almost obscene as it echoes around the cave, the sound only punctured further with the whines and groans of the people responsible for it. Your head leans back into the cooling embrace of the stone floor once more, content to lose yourself to the hazy pleasure swimming in the air as Rex’s thrusts pick up in intensity.

You’re snapped out of your lustful fog when his palm cups the side of your face with an unexpected tenderness that conflicts with the fortified hold he has looped around your lower back. Your eyes snap back open to full alertness, and instantly meet with a gaze that is so focused that you feel it could cut down to peer into your very soul itself if it wanted to. Rex’s expression is almost predatory despite the tenderness with which he cradles your cheek, teeth obviously clenched along with every muscle in his jaw and upper body - and yet his eyes themselves look upon you as though you are the most beautiful being in the Galaxy despite your sweat-slickened face and the thick tears of pleasure that threaten to slip down your mottled cheeks.

The way his blonde tint of hair halos around his head and the shadows dance over the chiselled contours of his body make him look more myth than man, glowing and golden and impossibly powerful above you. But a strangled moan of your name as he brushes his thumb against your cheek reminds you that he is indeed as mortal as yourself.

You’re coming before you can even realise it.

Your orgasm is the type that whites out the world around you until only you and Rex remain, rolling over your whole body in waves that have you clenching around him so hard that his own movement is forced to still with the intensity of it, the weight of him locking you into place beneath him. Your legs quiver so hard that they border on aching as you throw your arms around his neck and scream silently into the crook of his shoulder, ears ringing in such a way that drowns out everything bar the sound of your lovemaking.

The spike of your pulse is so loud that you nearly miss the way he all but shouts your name as he reaches his climax right behind your own, the syllables encased within the stream of a low moan. His voice dips in a way you’ve never heard from him before as he releases deep inside of you in impossibly thick ropes that warm you from the inside out. It's choked on its own emotion as his hips give out a few weak, final thrusts that force more of his cum to pool out from your twitching cunt. He sobs something you can’t decipher into your neck as he loops both arms around your torso to tug you close, but you still feel the words humming over your oversensitive nerves with a vibration that bubbles into goosebumps across your shoulders and back.

The chill of the cave floor is soothing rather than biting against your spent limbs, and it only beckons forth your fatigue more as you relax against it. Your lower half remains practically sat in his lap, buried to the hilt even as your orgasm tapers off into a pleasant buzz. His cum continues to dribble down between you in syrupy trickles as you attempt to catch your breath, chest still heaving and hips burning in the most delightful way.

Rex’s head remains nestled in the crook of your neck even after you manage to raise a shaky arm to brush your digits across the fuzzy texture of his hair. He nuzzles against the particularly dark mark he had sucked into your flesh, panting words of endearment against you all the while.

“So perfect, just wanna keep you here - fuck - stay inside of you forever.”

It takes more strength than you would like to admit to raise yourself off the ground enough to coax him out from under your chin. You brush a feather-light touch across the line of his jaw before you steal away a kiss that’s the most gentle of the night, it's one that sings of untold feelings and creeping thoughts that sting when you pull back.

Even so, it's lazy and loving and Rex groans appreciatively into it, a sigh escaping through his nose as though you have breathed the life right back into him.

Lust quickly creeps back to cloud his vision once he props himself up to stare down at you again. His gaze openly flows over the sight of you splayed out and still stuffed full of him. A rumbled growl bubbles from behind his teeth as he worries them over his swollen lower lip, the sound shooting straight to your cunt once more and causing you to roll your tired hips against his without even thinking. An affectionate chuckle slips past his smirk and his face creases into something more familiar, more befitting of the Rex you had always known - though the fire in his eyes still continues to burn with the intensity of the man who had just fucked you senseless minutes prior.

“Sorry, Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice is thick and ragged as he speaks, his accent sharpening the words almost dangerously. Warmth blooms and spreads within your chest, the feeling sliding downwards in tandem with his hands against your sides before they eventually settle firmly on your hips with a familiar grip.

“I’m not quite finished with you yet.”

#captain rex x reader #captain rex x you #captain rex #rex x reader #clone wars reader insert #clone wars imagine #this took forever #it just kept going before i could stop it #mine #rex

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pretchatta · 3 years

Text

@obitine-week: stolen moments

this has been in my drafts for nearly a year, so i thought it was time to release it into the wild

rating: general || 1.5k words

---

The news of Onaconda Farr’s death hit Satine harder than she would have expected. He hadn’t always been a perfect leader, but in recent years he had very much been trying, and she’d admired how far he’d come. He had also introduced her to Padmé Amidala, now a good friend, and she knew how instrumental he had been in raising the former Queen of Naboo.

On board the Coronet on the way to Coruscant, she felt empty. It didn’t seem right to attend to state matters on this journey, but nor did she want to spend the whole trip wallowing in memories and sad thoughts. She ended up recording a holo-message for Obi-Wan; he was probably somewhere far away, fighting battles with his legion of clones and former apprentice Anakin Skywalker, bringing a mixture of salvation and destruction to whichever planet they were on. But sending it made her feel a little better, admitting how she felt out loud and sharing her burden with someone who understood her.

The funeral itself was short. She wasn’t sure Chancellor Palpatine did Ono justice with his words, but the fact that someone as important as the Chancellor of the Republic presided over the funeral at all held some meaning. She had made sure to give Padmé her condolences before the service so that she could leave immediately after, the port schedules not giving her much flexibility. It felt a little rushed, but Coruscant was a busy place and she couldn’t afford to leave her people on Mandalore for long, even for funerals.

Satine was feeling relieved that no-one had taken the opportunity to approach her during her visit. She had been half-expecting at least one Senator or political leader to sidle up to her before, during or after the ceremony, but as she left the crowd of mourners behind it seemed she had escaped that, at least. Her relief was short-lived; as she reached the entrance to the diplomatic spaceport, a Senate messenger waylaid her.

“Duchess Satine? Your presence is requested in one of the Senate reception rooms.”

So much for my departure slot, she thought drily. At least she had an excuse that she could try to use against any fines they might try to throw at her.

“Very well,” she sighed. “Lead on.”

Her guards trailed a step behind her as she followed the messenger into the building. They didn’t go far; it was one of the smaller rooms near the entrance.

“Your guards may wait outside, my lady,” the messenger said, giving a small bow as he opened the door for her. Her guards looked to her expectantly.

“It’s fine,” she reassured them, “this is the Senate after all. Thank you,” she added to the messenger, dismissing him before entering the room.

She had been expecting one of the many politicians who had an interest in Mandalore, or in joining the Council of Neutral Systems, so it was a shock to see Obi-Wan. He was standing in the corner of the dimly-lit room in his usual Jedi robes, his stance calm and relaxed. As she entered he looked up at her and his face broke into a smile, though a line of concern creased his brow.

“Satine,” he greeted her, walking towards her. “I got your message.” He took both of her hands in his, raising one to his lips.

“I didn’t realise you were on Coruscant,” she said, her expression breaking into an answering smile of her own.

“A rare day of leave.” His smile faded. “I thought you would appreciate the company.”

She nodded, and tried to say that he was right, but the words wouldn’t come. He wasn’t just right; he understood her, he knew her so completely that he’d figured out what she needed before she’d even realised it herself, and not only that, but he’d come. His only day off, and he’d come to her, because she needed him.

The weight of his actions unlocked something in her; the walls she had so carefully built in order to remain calm and level-headed vanished, and a tidal wave of emotions swept through her, released by him. Grief at the untimely passing of her friend; the stress of ruling a neutral system during a war, without trade or strong allies; powerlessness at being able to stop the injustices that were hurting all people in the galaxy. The pure, searing love she felt for the man in front of her.

Tears formed in her eyes. She wanted to bury her face in the folds of his robes, but the damned headdress she wore wouldn’t allow it. She felt his arms snake around her back, pulling her close, which only made the urge to cry harder. She ended up pressing her forehead to his while he held her, stroking her back as tears rolled down her face and her chest shook with sobs.

Eventually she decided that decorum could be damned, and reached up to drag the ceremonial ornament from her hair. Discarding it on the floor, she pressed her face into his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him. He only held her all the more tightly as she wept, clinging to him as if for dear life. She cried, letting every built-up emotion that she’d been holding inside herself out. She could release her feelings to him, and he would release his to the Force. Quite the pair they made.

She didn’t know how long they stood like that for. She was leaning on him, but he stood firm, strong and steadfast under his robes, holding her up while she broke down. When she felt that all the emotions had been drained out of her, washed away by her tears, she took strength from how he felt under her touch, firm and solid. She raised her face from his shoulder and saw the wet patch her tears had left on his robes.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, a small smile forming on her lips.

“You have nothing to apologise for, my dear,” he replied, moving his hands to cup her face and wiping the last tears from under her eyes with his thumbs. There was a tenderness in his eyes that made her heart swell with love; she felt completely safe in his arms, the one place in the whole universe where she could let her guard down.

She tilted her head up and pushed onto her toes to press a gentle kiss to his lips, which he returned.

“I should head back to my ship,” she said softly. “I’m already late for my departure.”

“Forgive me, Duchess, but you can’t go out looking like that.” He had a twinkle in his eye as he said it, and reached into one of the many hidden pockets in his robes to pull out a soft handkerchief. She knew he didn’t usually carry one; she was so lucky to have what little of him she did.

She let him dab gently at her face, wiping her cheeks and softly pressing at her eyes so as not to smudge her makeup. Her handmaidens had known she was going to a funeral today and so had used waterproof products, but even they could be prone to smudging. When he was done, she took the cloth from him before he could tuck it away again and caught the teardrop that was suspended in his beard from when she had kissed him. He chuckled lightly, and the sound warmed her.

“Thank you, Obi-Wan,” she murmured. “I think I needed that.”

She expected him to have a witty retort, but instead he was serious. “Anything for you, Satine.”

She retrieved the headdress from the floor and set it carefully back on her head. It wouldn’t be perfect, but it would do for the walk back to the port. She gave his hand a squeeze and tried to find the right words to say goodbye, but nothing seemed quite right.

She settled on how she felt, instead.

“I love you, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

His eyes burned with a mixture of affection and sadness. She knew how hard these words were for him.

“Kar’taylir darasuum.”

She pressed her lips together and blinked a few times. She would not start crying again. Instead, she gave him a farewell kiss – she saw him so rarely, she had to make the most of it – and turned to leave.

Her guards didn’t comment on the redness of her eyes or the disarray of her hair; it wasn’t their place. They simply fell into step around her, taking up their positions to escort her back to the ship.

She didn’t comment on the defensive formation they chose, one in front and one behind. It was usually used in more dangerous situations, where an attack could come from anywhere, and rarely somewhere she could run into a friend. The cover they gave her made it difficult for passers-by to see her properly, not practical in a place of politics like the Senate, but it warmed her heart to see them protecting more than just her physical safety.

She still had people she could trust. All was not lost; she would get through this. She was Mandalorian, after all.

#obitine #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #obi-wan kenobi #duchess satine #the clone wars #tcw #star wars the clone wars #star wars #tcw fic #fic #pretchwritta #obitine week

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theasexuwhalestuff · 3 years

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Din reacting to other droids from the SW Universe

I find Din's relationship with droids really interesting, especially how he changed his stance after IG-11's death.

Mans really went from this

To this

I'll probably make a more detailed post on Din and IG-11 after a rewatch, but it would actually be pretty cool to see pre and post-IG-11 Din's reaction to other droids from the SW universe. Sure he's met R2, but there was basically no interaction there so *shrugs*.

Although I think they would clash quite a bit, I'd really like to see him interact with L3-37.

She's headstrong, unapologetically snarky and a huge advocate for droid rights. While I don't necessarily see pre-IG Din having a problem with droids having more rights provided they stay away from him, he'd probably just grow even more distrustful and wary of them. He's just not the kind of person who'd want to put restrictions on others. Post-IG Din might get along with her marginally better, though I do think it would still be fun to watch. I mean, she does tend to have a snarky remark ready for every situation or decision you're making, also she doesn't always follow orders. I can see Din getting frustrated and muttering "The audacity," every 10 seconds.

Then we have K-2SO, with his endless sarcasm and cynicism.

K-2's the one I think Din would probably have the best dynamic with. When he was still distrustful of droids, Din would've hated him, esp since he's a reprogrammed Imperial droid. In fact, Din would probably shoot him in the first few minutes. Post-IG Din's relationship with him could get really interesting. K-2 takes a while to truly warm up to people other than Cassian, and while he's loyal, he will disobey orders as he sees fit, will be snarky, and will without hesitation tell you how stupid your plan is. I can see Din being endlessly annoyed by K-2's remarks, sighing every 2 seconds, but inside, he'd find the droid just a bit endearing--which of course, he will admit to no one.

K-2 would eventually die for him as well, though he'd cover up his fondness with sarcasm. He will most definitely comment on Din's taciturn nature, how talking to him is like talking to a wall and to look before he leaps and makes a dumbass decision. He'll calculate that Din has almost no chance of winning against an entire ship of Jawas and will then come up to stand beside an electrocuted Din lying in the mud, just to say, "I warned you, didn't I?" At some point he'll calculate the odds again, but Din being a Mando, will win, and K-2 will seem to be quietly impressed for a few seconds before walking away, like yeah, whatever.

Next we have ma bébé: BB-8

This adorable, loyal little bébé will do anything to help, but will also not put up with your bullshit. I don't think pre-IG Din would have much to say about this li'l one, since BB's usually minding his own business and rolling along with Poe. But I just know that post-IG Din would LOVE this ball-baby. Like how can someone not like BB-8?? He's adorable, obedient, friendly and child-like. I mean, we all know how this man is like with kids, so he would definitely fall for this li'l one and become protective of him. At this point I've seen all the sequel trilogy protagonists pat and hug this ball-baby, and I think that's something Din wouldn't be able to resist either. He'd most likely cuddle Ball-Baby in private though, with Grogu. Can't have people knowing he likes droids that much, after all.

Can't forget C-3PO, can we?

Out of all the droids I've mentioned so far, C-3PO is the most accomodating and obedient. He's charming and talkative, but ofc that's not all there is to him. He uses understated sarcasm quite a bit, esp if someone's treating him unfairly, and he gives out statistics no one wants to hear. In fact, I think he has some of the best and funniest lines in the prequel trilogy. Like, I'll be watching the prequels bored outta my mind and hating Anakin and rolling my eyes at a lovesick Padmé, but then Obi-Wan will say something hilarious, R2 will scream and 3PO will say something so funny that I'll have to pause to catch my breath and then replay.

I think pre-IG Din would find him a nuisance with just how much he talks, and 3PO will probably keep saying "Sir? Are you quite alright?" when he doesn't reply, since Din often doesn't answer ppl and poor 3PO's wondering if he's even alive under the helmet. Post-IG Din would give him a chance I think. He'd still be annoyed by the verbosity and statistics, but he'd make an effort to be decent to him, since 3PO is for the most part friendly and helpful. I think Din would also appreciate the occasional sarcastic comments the gold droid tends to make.

I've heard of Chopper's grumpiness and psychopathic streak, but since I haven't watched Rebels, I can't comment on that. But he kinda sounds like a droid Din would hate. I haven't watched The Rise of Skywalker either, so idk abt D-O, though if he's friends with BB, I think Din would be fine. I thought the gonk droid in The Client's stronghold was cute though.

#star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #ig-11 #c-3po #bb-8 #l3-37 #k-2so

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stellarstarwarsimagines · 3 years

Text

One More Night

Pairing - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary - While wandering around town with your partner, you run into an old flame, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He needs your help, and even though you have your reservations about helping the Republic, you agree. But when he lets slip the reason he hasn’t contacted you in so long, you can’t help but question everything you thought you knew about his feelings for you.

Word Count - 5,806

Warnings - Smut 18+ only!

It took you a grand total of about two minutes for you to realize that you were being followed. It would have been less time, but you had gotten distracted by a fight breaking out between a Togruta and a Rodian. The dark robes were unmistakable though after you had turned three corners, and they were still behind you. “So how long have they been following us?” You asked the blue Twi’lek walking with you.

“Oh, around five minutes. I was wondering when you’d catch on.” She said, smirking over at you.

“You could have told me.” You replied, rolling your eyes at her.

“What would be the fun in that?” She asked, her fingers tapping at the weapon clipped to her waist. “You take left, I take right?”

“Have fun.” You replied, winking at her before you darted left and took off at a run.

Your assailants hadn’t realized that the two of you had noticed them. That much was clear by the momentary panic and destruction they caused at your actions. You didn’t stick around to watch, but you could hear it behind you. You took off down the alley as fast as you could, dodging in and out of store fronts and trying to confuse the attackers. When you managed to get on top of a roof, you glanced down and discovered that the two that had been following had split up when Na’lona and you did. There was now only one that seemed to be tracing your steps.

You weren’t about to stick around and find out who it was though. Taking off at a run, you kept going, changing up your path every few corners so it was never the same until you were sure you weren’t being followed anymore. You took a deep breath, leaning against the wall of an alleyway. It was clear that you were getting way too old for this running around business.

That was when you heard it. The hum of a lightsaber. You didn’t even have to open your eyes anymore to know who it was, but you did anyway. After all, who would want to pass up the sight of looking at Obi-Wan Kenobi, breathless and disheveled after chasing you for the past ten minutes? “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes?” You said, letting your eyes wander his form, from the messy hair and rosy cheeks, all the way down to his heaving chest and powerful stance.

It was easy to forget about the lightsaber pointed at your chest. “Did you have to run?” He asked, ignoring your taunt and sounding exasperated.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Getting old, Obi-Wan? Last time I saw you, I seem to recall you having plenty of stamina. Of course that was about a year ago.” You took a great deal of pleasure at the sight of his composure faltering for a brief moment as his cheeks, already flushed with pink, darkened.

The hum of his lightsaber disappeared as he deactivated it, and instead of the usual quip back, you frowned as he took a step away from you. “A lot can happen in a year.” Obi-Wan replied.

“Ah yes, a War torn Galaxy, droids everywhere and Clones led by the former Peacekeepers now turned soldiers. Should I call you General now?” You teased him, biting your lower lip.

It had been so long since you had seen him, you had forgotten how captivating those vivid blue eyes were. You couldn’t take yours off them, not that you wanted to, so you didn’t miss the way they followed your movement. “I’d prefer if you didn’t, but it’s nice to see some things never change.”

“Master!”

Torn out of the bubble that the two of you had created for yourselves, you both glanced behind Obi-Wan to find the other brown cloaked figure running towards the two of you. At about that time, you caught sight of Na’lona on the nearby roof, everyone else oblivious to her presence. She sent you a wink, and you watched in amusement as the other Jedi that had been chasing her fell over a box that had not been there moments ago and crashed to the ground.

You couldn’t help but let out a snort as Obi-Wan shook his head. “Is that your Padawan?” You asked. “The Chosen one you’re always complaining about?”

“That would be him.” He answered, watching as the boy you remember being called Anakin stood up.

He looked back and forth between Obi-Wan and you, then at the ground where he had been moments ago. “Master, is she a Jedi? Is that why you didn’t want to tell me about her?”

A snort left your lips as you looked at Obi-Wan, trying not to laugh even harder. “He thinks I’m a Jedi? Na’lona, did you hear that? He thinks I’m a Jedi.” You called in the direction of your friend, watching as Obi-Wan’s expression changed at the name.

She appeared a few feet in front of you, landing with a delicate grace that left no doubt as to who was the Jedi here. “He’s not the brightest is he?” She asked, and then turning to the man in front of you. “Master Kenobi. It’s been a while.”

“It has indeed.” It was hard to describe his tone. There seemed to be many layers to it, regret, disappointment, and even a hint of intrigue. “How, may I ask, did the two of you come to meet?”

“Well, that’s a long story, Obi, and by the efforts you’ve made to talk to me so far today, I get the feeling you don’t have time for such a thing.” You had to admit, you were curious. It had been a long time since Obi-Wan had sought you out, and in the midst of a war, you couldn’t help but wonder what could be so important that he would have to take time from the battlefield to find you. “So let’s cut to the chase here. What is it that you need?” You asked, raising your eyebrows at him.

One of the things you liked about Obi-Wan was that he never attempted to beat around the bush with you. He never tried to soften any sort of blow because he knew how much you hated it. This time was no different. “The Republic needs your help, and if you refuse, I’ve been ordered to arrest you.”

Oh it had to be bad then. The Republic hated you, as they hated all smugglers. If they were in need of one, they must be very desperate indeed. Looking into Obi-Wan’s light eyes, you could see the pleading there, and you knew he was begging you not to make this any more difficult than it already was. If it had been anyone else they sent, you might have fought, attempted to escape, but it was Obi-Wan, and you had never been able to deny him anything. “It doesn’t seem as if I’m being given much of a choice then.”

The relief in his eyes was palpable, and his whole body seemed to relax somewhat as he turned to Na’lona. “You know, the Order could use someone with your skills again Na’lona. We need Jedi like you -”

“And return to the Order that abandoned my Master? Not a chance.” She replied, her face hard as she looked at Obi-Wan before looking at you once more. “You’re on your own for this.”

As much as you hated to be without your partner these days, you could understand her reasoning. The Jedi Order and her did not have a good history. In fact, it was so terrible that she had rebelled from the Order all together after her Master had been murdered, and the Jedi had done nothing about it. She wasn’t a Sith by any means, but she no longer believed in the ways of the Jedi, so going back for her would not turn out well. “Keep the ship safe for me?” You told her.

“You got it,” she agreed, thankfulness in her eyes as she took off down the alley in a sprint.

Obi-Wan moved to go after her, but you grabbed his wrist. “It’s me, or neither of us.” You told him, your voice hard. While you would do a lot for Obi-Wan, betraying your friend would not be one of those things.

He stared at you for a moment, and you had that feeling you always got when he was gazing into your eyes, as if he was reading the deepest parts of your soul. After a few moments, he nodded, and you couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Of course that turned into a frown as you heard a clicking noise, and looked down at your now bound hands.

“Is this necessary?” You asked, rolling your eyes as you held them up.

Obi-Wan smirked at you, looking more like himself than he had the whole time he had been standing there. “Appearances of course. I’m sure you understand.”

You scoffed.

____________________

It was impossible not to stare as you made your way onto what must be the largest ship in the Republic Fleet. As a Smuggler, you had come across your fair share of large transport ships, but this? This was like nothing you had ever seen before. Gleaming silver metals, smaller ships, clones in white armor with various other colorings running around and checking systems . . . it was a whole different world.

“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you speechless.” Obi-Wan’s amused voice said behind you, his hand a soft pressure against the small of your back as he urged you forward.

His words pulled you out of your trance, and you turned around to grin at him. “Come on now, Obi-Wan, don’t settle yourself short. I seem to recall a few times when I was speechless around you. Most of them involving that talented mouth of yours on my -”

Obi-Wan pulled you against him so fast, you lost your train of thought, the smile vanishing from your lips as his presence took up every one of your senses, his eyes once more locked on yours in an inescapable grasp, his scent of sunshine and linen filling your head, his sturdy body pressing against yours while his voice silenced the rest of the ambience in the room. “I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t be so callous speaking about our history in front of everyone.”

You attempted to regain control of yourself, but it was hard to do when he was standing so close to you it took over every thought you were having. When he spoke though, it reminded you of why it would never work between Obi-Wan and you in the first place. “Ah, of course, wouldn’t want anyone to know that the great, handsome, General Obi-Wan Kenobi had lowered himself to sleeping in the bed of some Smuggler.” You said, some of the fire being taken out of your tone by the breathless quality of your voice.

If you hadn’t been so caught up in looking at his eyes, you would have missed the flash of disappointment in them. “You know that’s not the case.” He insisted, but before you could make another response, he had turned you back around and led you along the ship.

Almost immediately you were rushed into a hologram meeting with Obi-Wan, Anakin, some clones, and several members of the Jedi Order. You didn’t say much, observing instead of butting in with questions to annoy them. Obi-Wan’s words had intrigued you, and you couldn’t get your mind off them and their possible meanings. For the past year, the only conclusion you had been able to draw from Obi-Wan’s lack of contact after your week together was that he had been embarrassed it had occurred in the first place. It had hurt, but you were a strong person and had gotten over it. Now, it was as if your galaxy turned upside down, and you had more than a million questions for the Jedi who stood in front of you, regal and elegant, but with a tenseness in his back that you couldn’t ignore.

Obi-Wan had said a lot could happen in a year. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to him.

“-you’re responsible if anything happens, Obi-Wan.” The words caught your attention and made you look up to see a hologram of Mace Windu lecturing Obi-Wan.

His gaze shot over to you, lingering there for a moment as you looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He then turned back to the hologram with a nod. “Understood,” was all he said.

“Then the plan begins tomorrow. May the Force be with you.” Obi-Wan nodded, and the hologram ended. He gave a couple more orders to some of the other people in the room, and then he turned to you. “I’m afraid we don’t have much in the way of quarters, but there is a small room we’ve made available for you to sleep for a few hours until we reach our destination.”

There was a quip on the tip of your tongue, but your mind was still too filled with trying to come up with reasoning for Obi-Wan’s actions for you to say it. Instead you nodded, and let him lead you out of the chambers, and into a small room with a tiny bunk.

“There’s a refresher through that door.” He pointed out to you. “If you’d like to get cleaned up.”

You nodded, not saying anything, and your lack of words seemed to confuse him.

“You’re being uncharacteristically quiet.” Obi-Wan said, raising his eyebrows at you.

Shrugging your shoulders, you sat down on the cot, frowning at the uncomfortableness you could already sense, “thinking.”

“Ah,” you expected him to inquire what about, and it seemed as if he wanted to, but then he pulled himself back with a slight shake of his head. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.” He started to back away, but you reached out, grabbing a hold of his hand.

“What you said earlier, that being embarrassed of me wasn’t the case . . . what was the case?” You asked him, unable to keep the question inside of you any longer. You had to know. It would haunt you until you did.

For a moment, it almost looked as if he wanted to reach out to you, and your mind flashed back to a memory of him doing that very thing a year ago, the brush of his fingers, the pressure of his body against yours and those blue eyes lighting a path to some of the best pleasure you had ever known to this day.

But he resisted, and you watched as he took a step back. “Jedis aren’t supposed to form attachments, and I was already far too attached to you.” Obi-Wan told you, and while you had no Force abilities to know otherwise, truth rang in his voice.

His words rendered you speechless, every word that you had told yourself to get over the time the two of you had together crumbling around you like a ship had blasted right through it. He used your silence as a means to leave, a small, sad smile on his face as he did so, shutting the door behind him and ending the conversation.

It wasn’t fair, not when you still had so many questions for him.

You waited about three minutes before you decided to follow him. It took you an embarrassingly long time to discover where he was staying on board, but after a plea to one of the clones, you found yourself knocking on the door.

He answered, and not only did he answer, but he answered while wearing nothing but what you assumed were his sleeping pants. Seeing him like this once again threw you back into memories that you had such a hard time trying to forget. When he called your name though, it threw you out of your daze, and you shook your head to clear your mind. “What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan asked you.

“You can’t walk away after saying something like that. Not after spending a year avoiding any and all contact with me.” You told him, crossing your arms over your chest.

For a moment, it looked as if he wanted to argue, and indeed, that’s what the Obi-Wan you had known would have done, but instead he sighed and moved away from the door, giving you enough room to pass. “Would you like anything to drink?” He said.

But you didn’t respond. When he had turned away from you, you couldn’t help but glance at his muscled back, and gasped in shock.

It was covered with scars all in various degrees of healing. It was the type of scars you had seen on the backs of slaves that you had given passage to. It was whip marks.

“Obi-Wan . . . What the hell happened to you?” You finally managed to speak, hurrying towards him and reaching out to touch the scars, but stopping at the last moment. You didn’t want to hurt him if they were bothering him.

His tense shoulders dropped somewhat as he turned around to face you. It was clear that he was attempting to reassure you, but nothing he could say could do that after you had seen the marks marring his beautiful skin. A small, insincere smile formed on his lips. “It’s been a long year.”

“Don’t give me any of that cryptic mess. Those are marks I’ve seen on slaves. Who did this to you?” You found yourself growing a mixture of angry and worried. Obi-Wan had said earlier that a lot could happen in a year, and you were now beginning to realize how much.

“It’s none of your concern.” He replied, shaking his head at you.

“Afraid I’ll find them and kill them?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Obi-Wan’s answer was quick. “Yes, and I don’t want any bloodshed on my behalf.”

The two of you stared at each other, stubbornness on both of your faces as your eyes looked into the others. Eventually the resolve in his made you sigh and drop your arms. “Do you have tea?” You asked.

He seemed a little startled by the change in subject, but nodded. “Yes, I’ll start the kettle -”

But you shook your head. “Not to drink.” You walked over to his cabinets until you found the box and began creating a mixture you had learned years ago. “It’s to help you. Some of those still look irritated.”

“That’s unnecessary I have -”

“If you won’t tell me who did this to you, it’s the least you can do.” You told him, not leaving him any room for argument. Which he normally wouldn’t care about, but it was a testament to how much he must be hurting that he didn’t. The thought of anyone hurting Obi-Wan made you so angry your hands shook as they stirred the mixture. You knew the man could protect himself, and that he didn’t need you defending him by any means, but the fact that someone had hurt him to this degree made rage boil inside of you. Obi-Wan was such a good and pure man . . . how could someone ever do harm to him?

It was times like these that you were reminded of how you never would have made it as a Jedi. You let your emotions get the best of you way too often.

Focusing back on the task at hand, you finished the mixture and instructed him to sit down in front of you. “Why haven’t you gone to the Medbay to get these healed? Doesn’t the Republic have enough funds to heal their saviors?” You asked him as you scooped some of the ointment into your hands and warmed it up with your hands.

You watched as Obi-Wan gripped the chair in front of him, and though you couldn’t see his face, you knew that his jaw was tense. “Some scars are worth remembering.” He answered.

Almost as if you had no control over it, your eyes drifted down to your arm where a small scar ran across the front of it in a horizontal line. A scar that Obi-Wan had been with you when you got. That was a memory you had no desire to forget any time soon. “I guess you’re right.” You answered in a soft voice as you laid your hands on his back and started working the balm into his skin.

As soon as your hands touched the top of his shoulders, he tensed, and you froze, wondering if you had done something wrong, and you yanked your hands away. “I’m sorry,” he said, glancing back at you for a moment. “Your hands are cold.”

Except you knew that they weren’t. You didn’t point that out, nodding instead and as soon as he turned back around you got to work once more. Taking a glance at the scars, you decided to start towards his lower back where the scars had begun to fade and work your way to the top where they were the darkest. Your hands were gentle as you studied the marks, and the more and more you looked at them, the more certain you were that they were from whips.

What had the Republic been sending him to do?

“Obi-Wan -” You said, not wanting to break the quiet of the room, but unable to hold it in anymore.

But he stopped you, and you watched as his hands tightened on the chair in front of him. “I don’t wish to speak about it. Please.” He added on, a pleading to his voice that you couldn’t ignore.

You wanted to argue. You wanted to make him tell you, but you were no Jedi, and there had been a time when he had respected your wishes of not wanting to tell him something. The least you could do was return the favor now.

So you got back to work, your hands working the balm into his skin, and you noticed with every passing second Obi-Wan became more relaxed, sinking into the chair in front of him, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

While you emptied the last of the bowl onto his back, you couldn’t help but notice his reaction, and almost without you noticing, your hands began doing less of spreading the ointment, and more of massaging it into his skin.

His reaction was immediate. Obi-Wan’s head dropped forward, resting on his hands as his shoulders slumped. You felt his back rise and fall under your fingertips with a shuddering breath as you continued a path from the small of his back up to his shoulders.

You let your eyes trace the length of his back. Overall, everything looked the same as it had before. He had a few more scars, but mostly, it was as you remembered. Except this time you were seeing it in the light of his room instead of in the moonlight.

It had been as electrifying then as it felt right now.

“What do you remember about that night?” You whispered, not wanting to break the moment, but desperate to know if he was feeling the energy, the tension, rising in the room like you were.

It took him a few moments to respond, and for a brief moment in time you thought he might have fallen asleep under your fingers, but then he spoke. “I remember everything.” He replied, as quietly as you had spoken. “How bright the moon was . . . How hot and humid that planet got . . .”

Yes, you remembered that too. It had been a full moon lighting up the sky, and you also remembered stripping out of as many layers as you could, hoping for a little relief. Not to mention it had the added benefit of making Obi-Wan blush, which you now knew, wasn’t from the heat alone.

He hesitated for a moment, and you felt him take a deep breath, as if unsure whether to say the next words. “I remember thinking how, despite the circumstances, I was the luckiest man in the Galaxy to be trapped there with someone as intriguing and beautiful as you.”

His soft spoken words had your heart pounding. From any other mouth, you wouldn’t have hesitated one moment to believe they were a line, but . . . Obi-Wan didn’t have that ability. You leaned forward, your lips so close to his ear, you saw shivers erupt across his skin. “What are your thoughts now?” You asked him, desperate for his answer.

“They haven’t changed,” Obi-Wan replied, this time without hesitation. “That’s why I’ve avoided -”

You distracted him by placing a soft kiss against the spot beside his ear.

He murmured your name, almost like a plea. “This isn’t a good idea.”

“Well, I’ve never been a fan of good ideas. Especially when it involves Jedi.” You teased, leaving even more kisses on his neck, all the way down to his shoulder.

In a move that left you breathless, Obi-Wan spun around, his hands gripping your wrist that were in the air from moments ago when they had been placed on his back. “I’m not supposed to form attachments. You know that.”

“So don’t,” You said. “We’ve done this already, why can’t we do it again? You didn’t form an attachment last time.” You, on the other hand, were a different story.

He was shaking his head before you had even finished your sentence. “I was . . . I was naive then. I believed as long as you didn’t have any genuine feelings for me, I could avoid my own.”

Obi-Wan thought you didn’t . . . How could anyone be with a man like Obi-Wan Kenobi, see the kindness in his eyes, feel the gentle reassurance of his touch, the softness of his lips and not develop feelings for him? “Obi-Wan, I’m afraid if the only reason you didn’t develop an attachment is because you thought I didn’t . . . We’re both doomed.” You whispered, your eyes drifting to those full lips for a moment.

His head reached out, resting under your jaw and tilting your chin up until you looked him in the eyes. You could see the war raging there in those deep blues as he stared at you. You wished you could be a Jedi in that moment, seeing what was going on in his head. “So be it,” he said, and in a sudden movement, tugged you into his lap by your hand and leaned forward to capture your lips in a deep kiss.

There was no hesitation in your response. You kissed him back with a year’s worth of tension, memories and dreams that had built up since the moment that the two of you had separated. Never did you think there would be something that would have such a profound impact on you as Obi-Wan Kenobi, but here you were, melting and longing for everything he could give you.

His lips were as soft as you remembered, though the ferociousness in his kiss would make you think otherwise. He was as talented in his kiss as he was at sweet -talking the most stubborn of politicians, thorough and persistent with the perfect amount of pressure. When he pulled away, you were breathless, chasing his lips for more, but he shook his head.

“I want to see you,” he whispered, his fingers tugging at the buttons of your loose shirt, his eyes begging for permission which you gave readily.

Once again you were amazed by the composure he was able to keep while he rid you of the rest of your clothing. You were nothing less than a panting mess under his touch, and his fingers were steady as they could be until he made you stand up so you could remove your pants and underwear with them. You started to move back into his lap, but he stopped you with his hands on your hips.

You felt heat rushing to your face as you watched him take you in, his eyes moving over every inch of your exposed body, almost as if he was searing the image of you into his memory. Finally, he leaned forward once more, pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. “As beautiful as I remembered.” He whispered against your skin as his lips traveled up your stomach and to your chest where he enclosed your nipple in his mouth dragging his tongue across it.

Gasping out his name, your head fell back in pleasure because the talents of this man’s mouth could not be overstated. “Obi-Wan . . .” You gasped out, your hands finding his hair and giving it a sharp tug.

He let out a grunt, and tugged you once more into his arms, this time standing up and depositing you onto his bed as if you were made of glass. You licked your lips as you watched him finish undressing, as gorgeous and . . . large as you remembered, if not more so.

He didn’t make you wait, climbing on top of you with his lips resuming their previous position on your breast. Maker he was so . . . good. He had ruined you back then, and you had no doubts in your mind that he would do it again tonight.

You couldn’t wait for it.

Your whole body began to tingle as you felt one of Obi-Wan’s hands moving from where it had been on your other breast, down your stomach until it slipped inside of you. He looked up when he realized how wet and eager you were for him, sliding up your body once more until the two of you were face to face. “Maker, you’re incredible.” He said, and leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss.

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you let him set a slow rhythm as he added another finger inside of you, your hips moving in time with him. You couldn’t control the whimpers you left against his lips as he teased you with his pace, never speeding up and leaving his fingers inside of you just long enough to want more. It was the most pleasurable torture that you had ever been through. “Obi, please,” you murmured when he pulled away, your fingers digging into the sheets surrounding you.

“What do you want, darling?” He whispered, his nose nuzzling against your own, his fingers slipping all the way out of you.

You groaned at the loss, your hips arching up to try and catch his fingers again, but he kept them right out of your reach. So you decided that two could play at that game. You reached down with one of your hands and took him in your grip, brushing him up and down your wet slit. “I need you inside of me,” You murmured, watching his face as his eyes closed at your manipulation. “I’ve been thinking about how it felt for months, Obi-Wan.” You told him, moving your hips once more so nothing but the tip slipped inside of you, causing him to let out a groan. “Do you remember how amazing it felt? Nothing’s ever felt as good since -”

Your words ended in a loud moan as Obi-Wan took matters into his own hand once more and sheathed himself inside of you in one smooth motion. “Your fingers?” He murmured, pressing kisses down the side of your neck for a moment before whispering in your ear. “Or someone else?”

“Either,” you answered without hesitation, letting out a gasp as he began grinding his hips against yours so he could hit that special spot inside of you. “Nothing’s as good as you.” You gasped, nothing but truth in your words as Obi-Wan met your gaze once more.

“You’re going to get me in trouble.” He murmured, looking down at you with a tender look.

You returned his look with one of your own, your hands slipping back into his soft hair. “From what I know about you, Obi-Wan Kenobi . . . You love trouble.”

He shook his head at you, that pretty smile on his face, and leaned down to capture your lips once more, silencing your moans somewhat as he began a much faster pace. It was almost relentless, the way that he pounded into you now, as if he had built up so much tension he had been waiting to release it. You weren’t going to complain because with every passing second you felt yourself get closer and closer to the edge, doing your very best to keep up with his pace, and by the tension in his arms and stomach, you could tell he was feeling the same.

Unlike any other lover that you had, that cared about that of course, he did not have to ask if you were close. It was almost as if he could read your mind, and part of you wondered if he did a little when his finger began rubbing that pleasurable little spot, knowing how much pressure to add to make you topple off the edge into an oblivion of pleasure, shuddering and shaking while he silenced the moan of his name with his lips.

His hips kept up their relentless pace, though they were much gentler now, chasing his own release. After a few more thrusts, you could feel him to start to pull away from you, but you stopped him. While it wasn’t smart, you wanted to feel him inside of you for as long as you could. You half expected him to deny your wishes, but he was as far gone as you were, and with one last snap of his hips, he buried himself inside of you, groaning against your lips as he let go inside of you.

Satisfied. Completely and totally satisfied were the only words you could think to describe yourself as Obi-Wan caught his breath and began pressing kisses down your chin as he recovered. You let out a few noises of contentment as he did, enjoying the soft touches as he pulled out of you and headed to the refresher, returning with a wet cloth that he began to clean you up with. His touch was so gentle, as if you were so delicate, much different than a few minutes when he had been pounding into you with a pace you were sure would leave you sore tomorrow.

Oh tomorrow.

Obi-Wan tossed the cloth aside, sliding back into bed as you turned on your side and wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

You couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh as his beard tickled your skin. He squeezed you tight for a moment at the sound before pressing a gentle kiss to your skin. “So . . . you haven’t lost your stamina after all.” You teased.

This time it was his turn to laugh.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi imagine #star wars imagine

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strangerobin · 3 years

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Rue: Chapter 6 (Jasper Hale x OC)

Just know that, in another life where I was free of lies and deceit, I would move heaven and earth just to stay alongside you. To spend a lifetime with you. Body and soul.

Stolen away just nights before their wedding, Jasper had mourned the loss of his lover, Adeline, for centuries. Until a similar face showed up one day out of the blue, just as beautiful and just as youthful.

Part 6

A plan of sorts that leaves neither parties thrilled.

She was still waiting for a sign.

On occasions, Adeline felt watched and the unease in her heart refused to subside. Something was about to happen to break this faux peace, she was sure; but just what it was she had no clue. And the more time had passed, the more on edge and paranoid she got, going so far as to snapping at poor Loreen for the smallest of things. She hated herself more than ever.

In the end, the sign she had been waiting for came in the form of flowers.

Cornflowers to be exact.

A bouquet was left in the early morning on the doorsteps of their little shared house. No one had heard the deliverer. Anakin and Teddy were away, engaging in their own businesses. Loreen was still tucked safely in her little fort of plushies and rag dolls. Adeline had merely opened the door to enjoy some fresh air and was instead met with a bouquet of cornflowers arranged with utmost care.

Your eyes are the colour of cornflowers.

A man she loved once told her. So she was reminded of.

Holding the bouquet as far away from herself as possible, she chucked the bouquet straight into the trash and went about her day as if nothing happened. As if she wasn’t bouncing her leg non-stop while watching reruns on TV, or how distracted she was, or how Loreen kept shooting worried glances at her. As if she wasn’t practically vibrating anxiety off her being.

The flowers never stopped. Every morning a fresh batch was laid on the doorsteps, Loreen even managed to steal some and displayed them in a pretty little vase in her room. Out of spite, Adeline thought. She tried to stay vigilant and stand guard at the door, but then they would only appear elsewhere around the house. She knew then that there was no running from this.

Adeline would bet good money on who her secret admirer (stalker) was. She did not remember him as a stubborn man; but from the persistence of his action she had gathered what game he was playing at. This was an open challenge issued to her, a taunt, he wouldn’t confront her upfront. No, he was patient with his schemes and would strike only when the hour was ripe; he was the predator and her the prey now. And she was so so tempted to rise to the bait. But she must keep her cool, and not loose her mind. He might loose his interest in her yet.

In a century or two. Her treacherous mind taunted mercilessly.

Oh but how wrong was she.

The next taunt came the next day in the form of a book, Frankenstein.

Specifically, the exact copy of the cheap paperback edition she had left behind in Whitehorse months ago.

In a fit of hysterics, she threw open the front door and went all the way up to the front yard and bellowed into the empty countryside. “Leave me the fuck alone you sick bastard!”

Only later did she start to question.

How did he find her? How did he manage to track her down from Whitehorse to Minnesota and now Colorado? She was confident of her concealment ability.

So then, how?

From a distance, Jasper watched the girl sitting at the front porch, lacing up her roller skates. The child turned her heard, seemingly to answer someone inside the house before finishing up the rest of her laces. Then in trepidation she tested water with the first few step, before gaining confidence and propelling herself forward into the open road.

In her flowy sundress and a light cardigan, seemingly not minding the alpine chill, the child spread out her arms and laughed with her head thrown back, as if she were soaring amongst the wind instead. She seemed like any other child, if it weren’t for her scent, and that luminous skin in the morning light.

Jasper casually got out of his car and leaned against it, unsubtly observing the girl. That seemed to catch the child’s attention as she eyed him suspiciously while zipping past the first time; before turning round at the end of the drive and passing by again. If she was scared then she hardly showed it. After a few back and forth, she finally slowed a few meters from Jasper and regarded him cooly.

“Who are you?” Her asked in a sing-song voice. “If you’re here to sell cable or insurance or fire resistant something, we’re not interested.”

“Ah I see so you are the Madame of the house then, little lady.” Jasper chuckled and watched as the child pouted and crossed her arms, petulant at the name. Yes, she was like one of those children too smart for their own good, sharp witted but quick to anger. And much too trusting. “Fear not, I am only a friend. Tell me, do you live here with family?”

“Half siblings.” The child corrected.

“And is not your half-sister called Adeline?”

“And you are?”

“A long time... friend.” He hesitated after a second.

“Oh?” Now her voice was laced with suspicion.

Jasper smiled charismatically and exerted an air of reassurance over the child. “Do you think you can send a message from me to her?”

The child frowned, clearly reluctant. “Couldn’t you do it yourself? If you really are her friend. She’s in a mood these days and I don't want to cross anymore than I need to.”

“I don’t think she’d like to see me for now.” Jasper shrugged nonchalantly, as if he was not in fact stalking the said person, but simply had a disagreement with her over a conversation during bar night.

She narrowed her eyes at him again.

“What’s in this for me?”

Jasper bowed his head respectfully. “Of course there will be payment on my part. I shall be forever in your debt.”

She pursed her lips and pondered on the request thoughtfully. “If I am to be messenger,” She began slowly. “I’d like a year’s worth of Ben and Jerry’s. And a year’s subscription of Netflix!” She looked so haughty then, so proud of herself for striking a deal that he had to chuckle.

“Oh little lady.” He said in between laughs, somehow adoring the sweet innocence of the child. “You drive a hard bargain don’t you? Yes of course I promise.” He put a hand over his heart and bowed. “Cross may heart and hope to die.”

That seemed to satisfy the child and she grinned cheekily at him, no doubt pleased with her little bargain of free ice cream and Netflix films.

“Here.” He produced from his pocket a single map. And handed it to the girl. She eyed it suspiciously before taking in gingerly, their hands briefly touching. If she noticed his ice cold skin then she did not make a remark.

Instead her eyes flickered back to him and she chewed on her lips thoughtfully before finally opening her mouth. “I hope... I hope whatever it is between the two of you, all will be well soon.”

Momentarily caught surprised, Jasper straightened his stance and looked to the house in the distance with longing and tenderness.

“Yes I hope so too.”

“Oh Lorie you’re finally back. Fun time roller skating?”

Adeline was sitting on the sofa, in a bathrobe with blankets wrapped all around herself up to her head flipping through the channels at top speed.

“I met a friend of yours down the street.” Loreen announced.

“Friend? What friend-”

“Jasper.”

She froze at the name.

“Come again?”

“Jasper was here and he wanted me to pass on a message to you.” Loreen stated as-a-matter-of-factly and handed over the old map. She scrutinised her sister; watched as her face blanched before being replaced by red hot fury.

“What is the meaning of this?!” Adeline bellowed, crumpling the map into a tight little wall. “Where is he? Is he still out there now?!”

Loreen shrugged, trying to convey the message that she was just as clueless as the other was. “I’m sure he’s only just left.”

Adeline bolted out of the doors at once.

“Jasper!” She yelled like a lunatic, and searched frantically, not giving a fig what the neighbours would think. She had other pressing matters to be concerned of.

How dare he! How dare he approached her family, especially her innocent sister! He had already shattered her little peaceful life! That she could tolerate, and she supposed to some extent, she was reaping what she had sowed years ago. But preying on her young sister like that! He had no right! Absolutely no right! How dare he!

Hidden under the shades of the woods she took off in a blur, trying to locate the man. But the faint smell she caught whiff of indicated that he had long since been gone.

Still livid, she stomped her way back to the house.

First the flowers, then the book and now this map. Jasper; yes she was finally going to acknowledge this, that he was the same man she had met all those years ago, and that yes he was a fucking vampire now! And one with no fucking sense of boundaries! His message was clear and simple.

Don’t think that you’ve been forgotten. I know where you are and I will find you, whatever it takes. Or you can come to me, on your terms. You know where to find me.

She spread the crumpled map out.

Washington.

It was a state map of fucking Washington!

Like a flame being doused with ice cold water, she finally realised her mistake all those months ago. The hybrid child she had met in the clearing… That was how he had come to know of her. There was no doubt of it now. The child must have told her coven of their meeting, and either he was part of the coven, or he was on intimate terms with them. Either way, she had damned herself that day when she had decided not to trust her instincts to stay inland. And like dominoes, a little push had unknowingly caused the whole system to collapse on its own, the shockwaves continuing to reverberate in the aftermath of the disastrous meeting.

Adeline cursed and screamed in frustration.

Stupid! Stupid! She was so stupid! What was she to do now?! Engage? And she would be falling right into his laps without a fight. Run? But for how long? He had proven himself more than capable of tracking her somehow, it would be all for naught. He had a coven; and she had only her siblings. Siblings whom never got involved with her affairs, nor did she wish to involve into the mess. And especially not her youngest.

Frustrated, she flipped the map to find an actual written message penned in impeccable cursive handwriting. Which got her blood boiling immediately.

Do you have what it takes?

Self-righteous bastard! Well she’ll show him!

Adeline was in and out of the house in a flash, clothes changed. “Addie where are you going?” Loreen was by the door, obviously concerned.

“I’m going.” Her reply was short, clipped.

“At least wait for Anakin or Teddy.”

“No Loreen. I have to go. You’ll be fine on your own right?” Adeline tried to smile to relieve the tension, but evidently the tight-lipped smile only succeeded in agitating her sister more.

“I suppose yes. But-"

“Stay safe dear. I’ll see you in a bit.”

And she was out.

She refused to address her other concerns; like what did he want by actively seeking her out, or how did he even find her when she had made sure all her tracks were concealed? What did it mean for the two of them now that the other was all along alive and well? What would it entail for either parties from here on? What would father even do should he learn of this?

All of the what ifs and hows and whys were all overshadowed by her high-strung emotions. Her action was spurred into motion and further fulled by her fury at her former lover. Really, she lacked even a concrete plan of engagement which she seemed to be forgetting repeatedly in favour of the raging anger within her.

One she had not felt in years now.

“Are you sure she’ll come?” Edward asked.

“I’m sure.” Was Jasper’s curt reply, even if the doubt was weighing heavily down on his heart. He was back in Forks, back with his family where there was still some semblance of safety and control.

For nights, he had sat outside of Adeline’s little house in his car, just thinking and formulating, the best ways to engage her. He could knock on her door right then and there, and no doubt she would lose her shit, and everything would be fucked. Or he could catch her attention and lure her out back to where he felt safest, and should she decide to come along with then he would engage accordingly. At that time it felt like a decent plan, but now that he was home, the plan seemed stupid. Either way seemed like it would end pretty badly. In the end, he had made his escape early, had not stayed to see Adeline’s reaction at his subtle message. For fear of rejection, for fear of being unable to bear the disappointment.

He was such a coward.

And now he watched as his brother grimaced and frowned, clearly hesitating whether to speak his mind out or not, before finally making his mind up. “It’s just… are you sure about this?”

“About what?” Jasper said feigning ignorance.

“You’re taunting her.” Edward stared him straight in the eye, somewhat sternly. “Is this any way to court the girl you like?”

“Well, says the man who stalked his then classmate in her bedroom every night.” He shot back with barb, clearly annoyed.

Edward’s face soured and immediately stalked off the other way.

Offended.

Jasper sighed and ran a hand absentmindedly through his tangled hair, emotions all over the place. He knew he was an unwelcome presence in the house lately, practically vibrating off anxiety within a mile radius and affecting anyone within. It made the others nervous, stressed even. And everyone avoided him like the plague.

Bella and Edward had taken Renesmee to their little cottage so that the little one would not be affected. Carlisle had taken to working long hour shifts at the hospital and God knows where Rose and Emmett were.

And Alice... Alice was distancing herself from him.

She had taken to avoiding him, bluntly. She was never in the same room as he was. Had stopped being affectionate like she used to. Their interactions were reduced to light pats on his shoulder, fleeting hand touches, tight-lipped smiles that never quite reached her eyes. She was clearly hurting regardless of what she proclaimed. And to make matters worse, it was fracturing the family.

Emmett’s the-devil-may-care attitude can be reassuring, but Rosalie’s disdain at him was dully noted. Bella was torn and Edward was still suspicious of Adeline but somewhat more understanding of his predicament, although apparently he had just pissed off his last comrade. Carlisle and Esme were only concerned for the two of them, no doubt wanting the best for the pair of them.

And there was nothing he could do.

Alice had made the decision for the two of them.

But it tortured him as much as it killed her. She was the light in his pitiful life for years, his beacon in the dark night. She would never forgive him for all his betrayals just as he could never forgive himself for being the one to hurt her,

And now it pained him just as much to think of Adeline, of his plan to lure her out. He had known her like the back of his own hand then. Though what an irony that felt now. The one he had meant to share his life with, ended up being the one he had known the least.

While she can be sweet and lively, her temper seemed to have a mind of its own. And her heart always dominated in any decisions she made. She was open to persuasion, but would never bend to anyone’s will by force. Would react badly and lash out if forced.

And he had forced her hand.

Adeline would come, she must. Because if she did not, what then? He could go back to Alice and begged for her to take him back or he could continue hunting Adeline down, but then what? He could not force her into anything against her will, he would not. While he was no saint, he certainly was no monster to force himself onto her. She had only need to say the words, with steel in her resolve and he would begone as she requested, forever.

And should she have changed?

It had been more one and a half century since their parting, he had changed much. How did he expect her to remain the same? How did he expect her to remain steadfast in their love? Or its lack thereof?

He was torn between being content with simple ordinariness, or pursuing something more, something all encompassing and consuming, but also elusive which might end up being a gamble for nothing.

Either required him to make a blind leap of faith, though one was certainly more perilous than the other.

"I don't... I don't know what to do." He finally admitted aloud to Edward's retreating form, watched as the man turned to look back at him with narrowed eyes. "I have the choice... I have the choice to move on like she did, or I can continue to pursue her to the ends of the world, like some psychopathic stalker vampire..."

"But you don't want to be neither." Edward sighed sympathetically.

"No."

"And yet you don't want to let her go either."

"No, I don't either."

Jasper shot his brother a bittersweet smile before lapsing into silence. It felt embarrassing to tell Edward of his inner most thoughts, but at the same time there was something cathartic in finally sharing with someone what he thought.

"If there's anything I learnt from being with Bella," Edward said after a moment of thought. "It's that every relationship requires the investment of both parties. It's useless if she doesn't reciprocate your feeling."

Jasper quirked his lips ruefully. "Alice seems to think otherwise."

"Alice can't see the hybrid's future."

"No but I told her we might be soulmates."

"Well are you?"

"I don't know... I think so."

Jasper looked up to see Edward with a smug smirk aimed at him. "Well what do we have here? The cold and calculating Major Whitlock stumped for once because he's confused what to do with his lover-"

"Edward!" He protested loudly.

Ed laughed with mirth before holding up his hands in surrender. "I digress." Then his demeanor turned serious again. "Like I said, it requires two people to be in love. A soulmate bond doesn't automatically make her fall in love with you and vice versa. At the end of the day, it's just a bond. It ties the two of you together in this life, you can feel her, might even need her. But at the end of the day, it's for the both of you to decide if the both of you want to purse a more serious relationship, no?"

Jasper looked away, not wanting to meet his brother's intense gaze.

Had he considered what she wanted?

He loved her, still. But did she want him in the same way?

"I... tell me what I should do then?"

The proposition pained him physically and mentally and Jasper closed his eyes and swallowed harshly.

But Edward only looked at him with a tenderness and pity in his eyes.

"Do what's right, brother. Don't make it a regret of yours for eternity."

#jasper hale #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale imagine #twilight #twilight imagine

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hellowkatey · 3 years

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angstpril day 16: silence

Only a Moment Later

"Status, Anakin?" Obi-Wan's voice crackles through the commlink with a pointed pitch Anakin knows well. High-speed pursuits are probably his master's least favorite activities, even though on Coruscant it's difficult to classify this as "high speed". Medium-speed at best.

"He's keeping his distance, master. Not exactly trying to lose us."

"Not everyone knows those fancy maneuvers you like to do so much,"

"I hate to break it to you, but turning is not considered a fancy maneuver."

"I didn't mean-- you know what I meant."

Anakin smiles at the quiet sigh beneath his tone. Jabs at Obi-Wan have gotten so much more satisfying now that he's a knight and can't get lectured about "respecting your master". Maybe if they ever put him on the council he will get to recite the classic speech, but for now, he can get away with a few snide remarks before suspiciously getting assigned to babysit the younglings.

"Yeah, yeah, but this is different. He's just... staying in his lane. Just far enough ahead these kriffing temple speeders can't--"

"Language, Anakin,"

"Are you really concerned about--" he sighs, shaking his head. "These lousy temple speeders can't keep up with that new model City Runner 5000."

"Ah yes, the new model City Runner," Obi-Wan's voice is dripping with sarcasm. "So much stealthier than the 4000."

It is actually, Anakin thinks to himself. Superpowered thrusters they usually put in ships fit for hyperspace. "Point is, it's like he wants us to follow him."

"Perhaps he does."

Anakin glances over his shoulder where Obi-Wan's fighter glides on the outskirts of the Coruscanti traffic lane. He hopes he can see the look he's aiming in his direction, even though he knows that is physically impossible.

"I hate that tone."

"Tone? What tone?"

"You know the one."

"I don't think I have any--"

"The let's-spring-a-trap tone."

He hears Obi-Wan click his tongue, but through the commlink, it just sounds like a burst of static. "I don't think that's a real type of tone, Anakin."

Smug bastard. "And you say I'm reckless."

"You are. Now instead of putting your energy into being cheeky, how about you work on catching up with this spy before he gets away a drive full of battle strategies."

Right, the mission. Anakin grits his teeth and reroutes the backward shields into the thrusters. Obi-Wan will cover him. His ship surges forward, pressing his back into the seat. He weaves through the traffic, doing a few barrel rolls in the process. His former master's sighs are picked up through the commlink, which only makes him push harder.

They reach a six-way junction, and to his dismay, he has to slam on the brakes to avoid colliding with a school transport. Moments later, Obi-Wan's ship comes cruising by his, and he can actually see his smug look across the few meters between them as he passes.

"So much for fancy flying," Obi-Wan says dryly, and Anakin jets out from his momentary backtrack with a new determination. He won't lose this guy.

It doesn't take long to catch up to Obi-Wan. The spy has led them into the shipyard district, and the landscape free of the usual barriers of skyscrapers gives him a whole new playing field to utilize. He presses past Obi-Wan's fighter, leaving him in his exhaust. Anakin accelerates close alongside a shuttle, the spy only a few speeds ahead. If he reroutes the rest of his power from the forward shields-

He only has time to gasp between the moment the Force prickles along his spine, and the moment a fiery explosion erupts from the warehouse located on the other side of the shuttle. His ship dips and is thrown away from the blast, the belly slamming into the side of the shuttle with a force that makes his entire body fold in half and then feel as though it's been torn apart.

And he's rolling, or so it feels like. The shield of his ship has become so cracked it's hard to tell what is outside of the cockpit-- if anything. When he finally comes to a skating stop, he runs his hands down his body, shocked that besides a ringing in his ears and an aggravated welt where his seatbelt held him from flying out of the ship altogether, he seems unscathed.

Then comes the shuttle. Somehow he managed to slide across one of the ship runways ahead of it, but now the massive ship barrels at him with unbridled momentum. It's last-ditch, but he reaches out with every ounce of the Force he can, concentrating on the massive ball of energy surrounding the shuttle. He can slow it but not stop it.

His windows, previously only cracked, now blow out completely, and he grips the handholds of his pilot chair for dear life as he's slammed another few meters.

And then, all is still. Anakin finally senses things have come to a standstill, and he unbuckles from his seat. Standing is iffy at first-- he has to grasp onto the wall of the ship, which he comes to discover is covered in broken glass. As he stands on the dashboard so he can see over the entire area, he wipes the newly shed blood on his robes.

A large fire blazes in the place of the warehouse, and the entire area is filled with the smell of ship fuel. The building itself has been completely decimated. He stares in awe at the various ships that were thrown out of the road, their passengers stumbling out of the wrecks with the same bewilderment as he has, but also mixed with some appropriate hysteria.

And then his heart drops.

Obi-Wan.

Anakin jumps out of his ruined ship, the spy completely forgotten. He starts running, not entirely sure where he's running... where he supposes Obi-Wan's ship would have landed. He was right behind me.

"Obi-Wan!" his voice is hoarse and his voice cracks from the smoke filling the open air.

He was right behind me.

Behind him seems to have caught the brunt of the blast, and Anakin kicks up piles of ash still hot from the explosion as he jogs desperately through the carnage. It's here he stops, turning around in circles continuously in case his former master will suddenly appear in the next rotation.

He's here, he's alive. He has to be here.

Anakin can feel their bond, prominent and frequently used within his mind. Though it's obviously the most logical way to find Obi-Wan, he is hesitant to reach through it.

"Obi-Wan!" he screams again. His voice is accompanied by the sirens quickly approaching, and the screams of the other people mirroring his confused stance. It's too loud. Too busy. I need... I have to--

He shuts his eyes, opens the bond as wide as he can. 'Obi-Wan?'

Silence. Anakin feels like he's choking.

'Obi-Wan, answer me. Tell me where you are, where your ship landed. I know you're okay, I can feel... you have to be okay, Master.'

There is still no reply. No gentle strum along the bond, their usual quiet indication that yes, I'm here and I hear you. Nothing.

So he runs again. It's the only thing he can think to do. He runs, his head on a constant swivel as he takes in the faces of those who survived the crash. He runs through his legs are aching and his body is sore and stiff and his lungs are screaming for him to stop and rest, but he can't because Obi-Wan is here somewhere and he can't say anything but he's here--

He's back near his own ship, which has since erupted in its own flames. How he did a loop, he doesn't know, but for the first time, he notices a darkness a few meters from where he skidded to a halt.

As he walks closer, everything in him tells him to turn around. To walk away.

He doesn't listen.

When Anakin peers over the edge, he peers straight into an aeration vent-- a seemingly bottomless pit that goes all the way to the first level of Coruscant. The ringing in his ears amplifies, feeling as though the air around him is being sucked out by a vacuum.

"Obi-Wan?" he says aloud, barely a whisper as he drops to his knees at the edge of the vent.

There is no response. Only silence.

#angstpril2021 #fic #day16 #silence #major character death #?#kinda #sorta #up to you really #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #kate writes in an alcohol-induced burst of inspiration

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cinna-wanroll · 4 years

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Obi and Ahsoka being an iconic duo for however long it takes you to read this

Long hyperspace journeys could stretch on for days, with nothing but the white noise and the whir of the ship’s engines to keep the occupants any company.

But eventually, there reached a point where the giddy anticipation was lost into a stagnant period of waiting.

And so there sat Obi-Wan Kenobi four days into hyperspace, waiting.

He was usually a very patient man, years of training a young, rambunctious Anakin Skywalker had required that much of him. And he was still patient. Yet something inside him was stirring, the nagging doubts not leaving him alone. So while The Negotiator tore through warped space, his window of time to figure things out was closing.

And here it was, his great doubt; how much longer he would be able to save those he was assigned to protect. His ship was hurdling at a speed faster than even light could travel towards a world in turmoil, and he- a mere man- was expected to fix it. The hopes, dreams, and futures dreams of an entire civilization depended on him.

He shivered and wondered how the lives of innocent people could constantly pour across his hands and slip away if he wasn’t careful. The knowledge that he was responsible for them was sometimes too much of a weight to bear alone- another reason why he valued his battalion so much. Their support was always constant, their determination and reassurances making him stronger.

But that still left the question; why was he responsible? His chest tightened as he knew he shouldn’t be, but it wasn’t his place to decide, and he would never leave any being to suffer.

A deep breath calmed his mind as he sat upon his bunk with crossed legs, letting the cool airflow help guide him into a deep state of meditation. He rested his palms against his knees, instantly falling into the stance he’d practiced since he was a boy.

In place of his worry and fear came a tide of clarity that the Force provided- a place where all things had an equal purpose. He smiled softly and sank into that familiar peace, deepening his connection to the Force with every moment.

About five minutes into his practice, the door to his room zipped open without warning, quick footsteps following after. He didn’t get up, but he did open his eyes slowly, consciousness slowly returning to the Jedi master.

He’d expected to see Anakin, perhaps even Cody on a busy day where he forgot to knock, but not Ahsoka. He blinked in surprise as she entered his quarters with a friendly smile.

“Hey master,” she greeted, joining him in his bunk.

He raised an eyebrow, “Padawan Tano,” he nodded as she sat down, “I don’t suppose you’ve forgotten how to knock?”

She blushed slightly, dipping her head in embarrassment, “Apologies master, I didn’t mean any disrespect. It’s just Master Skywalker-”

Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched into a slight grin as he finished, “Hardly ever follows any basic courtesies, I know.”

She returned his smile shyly, nodding.

“So, what can I do for you, padawan?” He turned to give her his full attention, uncrossing his legs and putting himself into a more relaxed position.

She sighed, laying back on the low bed, “Master Skywalker’s been having me review these stupid holos for hours now-” she brought her hands to the side of her head in exasperation, “and if I see one more blasted star chart I think I might just defect to the CIS.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, “I can’t say I blame you- Master Qui-Gon used to make me study every map of every planet of every system until it felt like I knew the layout of the entire galaxy.”

Ahsoka giggled, sitting up and resting her head on her knees, expecting him to continue the story.

“What’s more- I used to have to write every single report on every mission because the council wouldn’t stop complaining about Qui-Gon’s versions.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief, “What? Why?”

He tipped his head slightly, giving her a conspiratorial look, “Something about them being too full of,” he adjusted his tone until it was just slightly more regal sounding, “personal ideals and passionate phrases not appropriate to include in professional documents.”

‘Well,” she shrugged, “that does sound like the council.”

He ignored the slight offense and continued, “Yes, but I gave them all a run for their money. My reports were all no shorter than fifty pages each, detailing every breeze that blew while we traveled,” a mischievous spark lit his eyes as he finished.

“Ah, so that's why it takes you forever during mission debriefs,” Ahsoka grinned, “you developed some bad habits.”

“Hey,” he chided while she laughed, “at least I don’t exaggerate, hmm?”

“What's the fun of an adventure without stories to tell, Master?” She countered, crossing her arms in mock-defense.

“Certainly stories are plenty exciting without all the extra flare you add?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Eh, I like to give them my personal touch.”

They both smiled, Ahsoka laying back down and Obi-Wan resting his back against his bedpost.

They fell into a comfortable silence before Obi-Wan confessed, “I’ve been quite bored as well, trapped in here without anyone to talk to. Everyone’s just so-” he searched for the right word.

“Preoccupied? Distant? Distracted? Absent?” Ahsoka filled in for him.

He nodded, surprised, “Precisely. I suppose I shouldn’t be complaining about everyone finally doing what they’re supposed to. But it makes me wonder- should I be taking this more seriously? Do I have a right to stay in my room, waiting aimlessly to arrive? Or should I be doing something?”

She paused before responding, “Well, what can you do?”

He opened his mouth as if he already knew the exact answer to that question before he realized that he didn’t at all.

“I- I’m not quite sure.”

She nodded and sat up, resting a hand on his shoulder.

“I think sometimes in war, you have to accept the fact that there isn’t anything you can do at the moment. You can worry and stress, but in the end, it only serves to hurt yourself and those around you than save anyone else.”

He looked over at her, studying Anakin’s young apprentice as though he hadn’t seen her in a while. It made him feel- weird, to see how much she was growing. But a thread of warmth came with it, a sense of pride he hadn’t expected.

“That’s a very wise observation, Ahsoka,” he said finally, nodding to her.

His praise made her perk up a bit and smile, as eager to please as ever, “thank you, Master Kenobi.”

He nodded and returned her look, deciding he wanted to get away from his shadowed room for a bit, “Do you feel like playing a friendly game of sabacc, padawan? I’m sure we've got a deck of cards around here somewhere.”

She got to her feet swiftly, stretching as he followed suit, “Sure! Although, Master- I don’t think there’s such a thing as a,” she held up her hands in air quotes, “friendly game of sabacc. People always have ulterior motives.”

He chuckled as they walked towards the entryway into the corridors beyond his room, “A common-found truth, yes,” he began as they stepped out of the room, “your master has taught you well.”

She shrugged, “There are also some things that have to be learned on one’s own.”

“Oh?” He asked, “And how would you have learned such a thing?”

She grinned and shrugged, “But Master, I thought you said my stories had too much flare.”

“Oh no, now I’m far too intrigued to care. Please elaborate.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you- but only if you beat me.”

He grinned, “You’re on, padawan.”

When they entered the main quarters, they were greeted with an almost eerie silence and empty space, all furniture and objects long since neglected.

“Wow,” Ahsoka mused, “I never thought this room could be so- quiet.”

“Me neither,” Obi-Wan agreed, looking around for a drawer or any sign of a compartment for a deck of cards.

“I know we have a deck,” she added as Kenobi walked over to the small shelf of datapads they kept from previous missions, “I just saw Crys, Wooley, and Kano playing last night.”

“Hmm,” he said, fingers tracing along the backs of each pad carefully, checking to see if anyone had decided to place the deck in between some of the holos like they usually did.

“They might’ve put them in one of the holo chess compartments,” she suggested after he stood back and shook his head.

He sighed, knowing she was probably right, “But I’ve asked them not to put the deck back in there at least five times now.”

Ahsoka shrugged, unbothered, “Maybe they forgot.”

He looked back at her disbelievingly, “Five times?”

She threw her hands up, “I don’t know. Have you met Wooley? I don’t think he ever fully recovered from that concussion.”

He laughed and pressed the holo chess compartment gently, frowning as sure enough, the deck of cards appeared.

“It appears you’re right,” Obi-Wan said, sitting down on one end of the table and unboxing the cards, “sixth time’s the charm.”

She took her place at the opposite end, grinning, “I’m sure they’ll get it this time.”

“Do you know how to shuffle?” He asked, looking up at her.

“Do we have to?” She asked, surprised.

“Yes. It appears they were playing Mahaa’i Shuur- all of the mistresses are next to each other, I haven't looked at the rest of the deck yet.”

“Okay,” she said, reaching her hand out for the deck.

He sat back while she focused on shuffling, watching the cards shift around almost hypnotically.

“Master, you don’t know how to shuffle?”

The question caught him off guard, and he was forced to admit he’d never really thought about it before.

“I suppose not- everyone usually did the shuffling for me,” he ticked each person off on his fingers, “Master Yoda, Qui-Gon, Master Tahl, Bant, Quinlan, Satine, Anakin, the Clones-”

“Hold on,” Ahsoka interrupted, suddenly looking very amused, “you’re telling me you’ve played cards with Master Yoda?”

He nodded while she dealt out two cards for each of them, and the game began.

“Yes, many times. He always used to come to visit me in the crèche quite often, and we’d play cards or watch a holo while the other younglings went out to wrestle or play senators.”

He drew a commander card.

“You two always seemed close,” Ahsoka commented as she took her turn and drew, a slight frown forming on her face, “do you have any idea why?”

“Why what?” He asked distractedly as he drew the queen of the darkness.

“Why he would come to visit you.”

Obi-Wan tipped his head, trying to think, “Actually, now that you mention it, no. He used to come to visit me when I was a small infant, I still have memories of him from the age of three.”

Ahsoka wrinkled her nose and teased, “does that mean Master Yoda used to change your diapers?”

Obi-Wan returned her disgusted expression, “I don’t know, and I have no intention of finding out.”

She laughed, moving part of her hand to one side.

She organizes her cards by value, he realized, narrowing his gaze.

The door to the room opened, letting in two familiar faces as they both continued to draw.

“And that’s why I was-” Anakin stopped mid-sentence as he saw Obi-Wan and Ahsoka, concentrating on their game. Out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Rex salute.

“General. Commander.”

“Hi,” Ahsoka looked up at him briefly, “we were just talking about how Master Yoda used to change Obi-Wan’s diapers when he was a youngling.”

Obi-Wan’s face reddened, and he stared at his cards, not brave enough to look up.

“We were not.”

Ahsoka shrugged, moving another card to the left of her hand, “I don’t know, sounded that way to me.”

Anakin crossed his arms at Ahsoka, “Yeah, well it sounded to me like I told you to study those holos earlier.”

“I did,” she protested, “but you gave me so many that my head started to swim!”

“Those holos are important,” Anakin persisted, “and that doesn’t excuse why you’re out here playing cards with Obi-Wan instead of doing your meditations.”

Ahsoka sighed, laying down her hand, “Yes, Master.”

“Come now, Anakin,” Obi-Wan chided without looking up from his hand, fourteen away from winning, “surely after all those times you used to whine at me about even basic form, you can allow your padawan a break.”

Ahsoka looked up at her master hopefully, who had turned his glower on his old master.

“Fine,” he determined finally, “but as soon as you’re done, you go straight back to those holos, understand?”

Ahsoka smiled gratefully, “Yes, Master.”

Anakin walked up behind her chair, gazing at her hand. Obi-Wan looked up to scrutinize over what Anakin’s expression was like, but to his disappointment his former apprentice’s face belied nothing. He frowned, wondering when Anakin learned to become such a formidable card player.

A voice in the back of his mind reminded him that Senator Amidala was an esteemed and practiced Sabacc player, but he quickly banished the inkling, drawing another card.

The Star, blast.

Rex did the same as Anakin, coming up and watching over Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

After a few more rounds, Obi-Wan had almost forgotten he was there. So when he drew a card that let him win within -17 points, the Jedi almost jumped when Rex said, “I’ll bet one of my pistols Kenobi wins.”

He repressed an eye roll, only shaking his head and drawing the idiot, zero points.

“Which one?” Asked Anakin, looking up at Rex.

“Eh, the good one.”

“Hmm- how about, whoever loses the bet gets shiny training duty for a month, and your pistol?”

“Deal.”

Obi-Wan held up the idiot card as though he were comparing it to Anakin, and Rex chuckled softly.

“What?”

“Nothing sir.”

The game continued, with Obi-Wan just -2 points away from winning when Ahsoka slammed her cards down enthusiastically, calling “Idiot's Array!”

Obi-Wan looked over her cards and smiled, setting his hand down, “Well done.”

“Thanks,” she said, high-fiving her master.

“Gah,” Rex exclaimed, clapping Obi-Wan on the shoulder, “you let me down, general!”

Obi-Wan put up his hands defensively, “Hey, I’m not the one who told you to bet, Captain.”

Anakin walked up to them, grinning like a fool, “Yeah, but now someone has to train all the new shinies for a whole month! Ha, that’s for making me walk around the temple in my bathing suit last weekend.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up, “Wh-”

He was cut off by the beeping of his comm. He gave Anakin a death glare before opening the transmission with a tap, mouthing the words this conversation is not over.

“Yes, Commander?”

“We’ve arrived, sir.”

“Very good Cody. We’ll be right down.”

He cut the transmission and started towards the door, the others following closely behind to the bridge.

Ahsoka did a merry little skip, coming up to walk beside Obi-Wan and Anakin, smirking.

“Looks like I won’t have to do those map studies after all,” she boasted.

Obi-Wan resisted the urge to groan- you shouldn’t have said anything, Ahsoka.

His old apprentice smirked right back at the young Togruta, “Don’t worry padawan, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time on the surface for you to do some analyzing.”

She groaned and turned towards the hallway that led to her room, “I’m going to pick up my shoto.”

“Okay,” Obi-Wan said, cutting off Anakin before he could start to argue, “but be prompt- I expect we’ll be departing within the next ten minutes.”

She met his gaze and nodded happily, before running off to grab her lightsaber.

“Now,” Obi-Wan began, rounding on Anakin, “what is this I hear of you strutting around in your bathing suit around temple grounds last weekend?”

#obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #crys #wooley #star wars #cinna1fic #anakin skywalker #commander cody #master yoda #kano

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panharmonium · 3 years

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@captain-jaybird @solo-by-choice - i love you guys XD

So, the fic in question was originally a collection of ten location-based vignettes following the development of Obi-Wan and Padme’s friendship from AotC to RotS. I wrote it seven years ago and only ever showed it to my sister and @dyingsighs, so unless I fall hard back into Star Wars at some point, I probably won’t ever post it in its entirety, because I don’t think I have quite enough energy to do the kind of rewriting it would need in order for me to feel like it meets my current standards. HOWEVER - given your replies, I pulled the only two vignettes from it that I do actually still like, because I know it has been literal years since I made any Star Wars-related work for you, and I feel like this is the least I can do to thank you for your many years of fandom friendship! 😊

@all my old Star Wars peeps: Ancient fic snippets under the cut! Consider this an affectionate “hello there” from me - I hope you guys are all doing well out there! <3

-naboo-

Anakin is insistent.

“Come on, Padmé,” he cajoles her. “Just a little walk. I get to be here without breaking any rules for once and you want to just sit inside?” He flings open the embassy’s balcony doors and gestures out over the city. “Look at this day!”

Sunny skies or not, Padmé can’t quite wrench her gaze away from the festival itinerary in her hands. However many times she’s been over it, she can’t help but feel they must have missed some small detail, and in a situation as precarious as this one, the slightest slip could be deadly. “I can’t, Anakin.”

Anakin’s carefree expression starts its rapid but familiar descent into a scowl. “Why not? No one’s going to bust a Senator for showing one of her Jedi guests around. We can just walk the perimeter of the Festival platform – ”

“Anakin – ”

“You can pretend to show me the security arrangements or something – ”

“Anakin! You’re supposed to be here to prevent an assassination attempt on the Chancellor. This isn’t a social call.”

Anakin lets out his breath in a huge gust, waving a hand dismissively. “That? We’ve got that under control, Padmé. Don’t even worry about it.”

“I am worried about it.” Anakin opens his mouth as if to make another placating remark, but Padmé cuts him off. “This is serious. I can’t leave the embassy right now. I’m not going out for a stroll. I’m not doing anything until the Festival is over and done with tonight.” When Anakin’s scowl does not subside, she sighs and makes a passing attempt at smoothing things over. “I’m sorry, but the Festival of Light is enough of a headache without adding assassination threats into the mix. I’m just a little tense right now.”

Anakin comes extraordinarily close to signing his own death warrant by rolling his eyes at her, but he stops just short of an irrevocable mistake. “Yeah, you and everyone else,” he says instead, a very particular brand of irritation edging into his voice. “But whatever. Go ahead and read that thing again. I’ll just come back when everyone’s got their bad feelings under control.” He sweeps out of the room with the type of stormy bluster only he can manage.

Wrestling down a surge of irritation of her own, Padmé tosses the itinerary onto the desk. Anakin, for all his moodiness, is partially right – she has the elegant program memorized back to front, and poring over it further is only going to make her feel worse. And, come to think of it, there are a few other security measures she needs to double check with the rest of the Jedi task force.

Pushing back her chair, she sets off in search of Anakin’s derisively referenced “everyone else.”

Most of the embassy’s guests, including the recently arrived contingent of Jedi knights, appear to have vacated the premises – emulating Anakin’s shining example and enjoying the day, perhaps, or, in the case of the Jedi, probably walking the security perimeter in preparation for tonight’s festivities. After making inquiries, Padme finds a staff member who directs her to the rear of the ornately decorated building, where she discovers Everyone Else in the courtyard, boots and cloak discarded against the wall, dappled sun playing over his inner tunics.

She hesitates on the steps. It’s bad form to interrupt a Jedi in meditation, not that she has much opportunity to commit such faux pas. Anakin rarely meditates, resorting to the ancient art only when he has failed in his attempts to outrace or outright beat his troubled thoughts into submission.

But this doesn’t seem like meditation, exactly, not the kind she recognizes. Obi-Wan is performing what looks like some kind of kata with a ritual slowness, pivoting and stretching with unhurried grace, flowing smoothly out of one stance and into the next, like liquid filling a clear vessel. He holds himself suspended for an interminable count between each position, bare feet rooted on the sun-warmed flagstones, the only thing moving around him dust motes drifting through heavy beams of sunlight.

She doesn’t really mean to stay and watch, but there’s an almost hypnotic quality to the rhythmic motion – exertion of the body, sun and warmth and muscle and bone intertwined with stillness of the mind, an empty calm space, peace in the eye of the storm.

He sinks into a low stance with his back to her, head bowed, upward-facing hands loosely fisted, elbows bent and tucked in at his sides. Then, after a long, still stretch of time, the calm murmur of his voice, rippling with something like amusement. “Good morning.”

She blinks. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s quite all right.” He seems to come back from some far place, and straightens, turning to address her. Holding her gaze for a moment, searchingly, he draws some private conclusion. “You are disturbed.”

She presses her lips together by way of response, grudgingly impressed yet cursing Jedi perception to the lowest pit of Chaos. “It’s not important,” she says. “Just the festival.” She changes the subject. “What’s that you were doing?”

Obi-Wan paces over to the courtyard wall to retrieve his footwear. “One of the alchaka forms,” he says, pulling on the soft nerfhide boots. At her blank look, he adds, “It’s...a type of moving meditation. One of the oldest known to the Order.”

“It looks relaxing,” Padmé says. Would that she could expunge her own anxieties with such artfulness.

He shrugs slightly. “In theory.” He bends down and scoops up his cloak with an easy physicality. “The intended goal is to clear one’s mind. To...release troubled thoughts.”

Something about the crease in his brow seems to belie this statement. Thinking back, she remembers suddenly what Anakin had said earlier, and, surprised, frowns. “Are you worried about the festival tonight? About the assassination attempt?”

He blinks at her for a moment, as if she had only just reminded him about the possible catastrophe. “No. No, I don’t think so. Even if the intelligence we’ve gathered is accurate, I doubt the Separatist forces will be able to achieve much when they must first go through six Jedi. And Naboo’s finest,” he adds, glancing up at the overhead balconies, where far-away security personnel stand sentinel, their uniforms smears of dark red across the golden walls.

“But you are worried about something.”

A beat. Then, “No. Merely practicing good habits.”

She laughs humorlessly and sinks down onto the steps. “Tonight could be a disaster.”

Obi-Wan thinks for a moment before responding. “If so,” he reminds her carefully, “it is one which all your worries will be completely unable to prevent.”

“I know. But when it’s my people concerned...and the Chancellor, obviously...” She ticks things off on her fingers. “Public support for Queen Neeyutnee...the well-being of the Republic...”

“Fate of the galaxy.”

“Little things.”

They exchange almost shy grins, private smiles. Padmé feels one tiny knot of tension uncoil inside her, and she breathes out an exasperated sigh, ineffectually commanding the rest of her anxieties to untangle and be gone. “I need some of that alcha-whatsit business, clearly,” she says ruefully. “I’m a mess.”

Obi-Wan takes a step back and looks her up and down. “I agree,” he says.

Excuse me? Padmé suppresses a surge of indignation.

“You will forgive me for saying so, but a senator is no good to her people preoccupied. She must keep a cool head about her at all times.”

“I beg your pardon –

“Therefore,” Obi-Wan plunges ahead, and Padmé suddenly sees the glint of humor starting in his eyes, “I feel it is my duty in this case to help you attain such calm.”

She narrows her eyes at him in mock severity, but inside, she feels her mood beginning to lighten. “By insulting my competence?”

“By exposing you to some of that alcha-whatsit business,” he says. “If you like.”

Padmé hesitates. This is Jedi business for sure, far outside her arena. But Obi-Wan just smiles reassuringly at her and extends a hand.

“Not to worry, Senator. I have it on good authority that I am a reasonably competent teacher.”

Padmé eyes his hand for another moment, then slaps her own lightly into his open palm. “Very well then,” she says. “I submit myself to your reasonably competent tutelage.”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t think this is for me.”

Padmé looks down at her bare feet, torn between luxuriating in the warmth of the sun-soaked stones and fretting over the ever-widening stance Obi-Wan is asking her to assume.

“Patience.” He sticks his own soft-booted foot against the inside of her ankle and slides one of her feet out to the left.

“Obi-Wan – ”

Still applying a gentle pressure against one foot, he pushes the other further away.

“I don’t know how to do a split, Obi-Wan,” she warns him, tamping down on a little flare of alarm.

“That’s far enough.”

Thank goodness she’d worn a relatively uncomplicated dress today. Senatorial garb was nowhere near so flexible as the Jedi’s simple tunics.

She looks up at Obi-Wan, who, by virtue of her lowered, bent-kneed stance, is now slightly above her. “What now?”

“Now,” he says placidly, sinking into the same low stance beside her, albeit with considerably more familiarity and ease, “you do as I do.”

All right, then. She waits for him to begin, but the only thing he does is close his eyes, and she can’t close hers if she’s going to follow him, so she waits, doing nothing. Her legs begin to protest the prolonged exertion in this unfamiliar position, but the trace of fire starting to bloom in her muscles doesn’t bother her. It’s...ferocious. It burns the way she does inside, sometimes.

Obi-Wan cracks an eye open and looks at her. Padmé doesn’t flinch. “What?” she challenges. “You aren’t doing anything yet.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I am breathing,” he says.

“So am I.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he says, and in the span of a moment, he seems to grow in authority before her. His voice shifts into the calm certainty of a millennia of tradition, the well-worn tracks of an ancient, unbroken line of instruction. “Attend.”

He closes his eyes again, and this time she watches the slow rise and fall of his chest, the slight shift of tunic as his ribs expand. “All meditation begins with the breath. You breathe in life, I breathe in the Force; without either of those things both of us are nothing.”

What a strange thing to say. “I’m not Force-sensitive, Obi-Wan.”

“It does not matter. You are not Force sensitive, but the Force is in you nonetheless. We are all of us full of it. Your people are full of it. Your planet is full of it.” He breathes in, slow, and she attempts to follow him. In. Full. “Your breath must fill more than your lungs. Without breath, the body starves. Without the Force, life starves. Therefore you must let it suffuse you. Breath; the Force. Everywhere. Small, forgotten places. Empty places. You must allow yourself to be full. A gas expands to fill a container – your breath will expand to fill you, if you allow it.”

She does not answer. She is breathing. He falls into silence beside her, joining her rhythm. Inhale, beat, exhale, beat. She does not count the minutes. They slip by into nothing.

“Now,” he says. “With me.”

She trains her eyes on him and follows as he moves, one bright light and its smaller, slighter reflection, moving in a bumpy sort of unison. The fire in her leg muscles climbs higher, but it doesn’t faze her. She breathes it out, from everywhere, the small, forgotten places. She exults in it.

“Balance,” he says, maneuvering her hands to the proper places, the knuckles of one fist pressed flat against a vertical open palm, two hands meeting just in front of her lower abdomen. “Two opposing forces.” He sticks his foot back against the inside of her ankle, and she slides her feet apart without needing to be told, dropping back to the correct position. “Close your eyes. Breathe.”

In. Full. Small, forgotten places.

“Now,” he says, stepping back from her. “You will count.”

“How high?” she asks. Her legs are screaming with a pleasant sort of exhaustion, but she’s wobbly, and this position isn’t easy to maintain.

“One hundred,” he replies. Then – “Three times.”

Her eyes fly open. “Obi-Wan, that’s – ”

His eyes are glowing with suppressed mirth. “Three times, apprentice.”

If she starts laughing, she’s going to fall. “Obi-Wan, three times is too many – ”

“Protest again and it shall be six.”

“You know,” she grunts, wriggling down in an attempt to find a slightly more comfortable position, “I’m beginning to think I’ve done Anakin a disservice.”

He raises an eyebrow archly. “Because...?”

“All this time, he was telling the truth about you.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Impudence. I’d have been running circuits around the Temple for that kind of insolence.”

“Somehow I doubt that ever stopped you.”

And there’s the smile – trademark Kenobi, dimples and all, subtle and half-hidden behind the close-trimmed beard. “No,” he agrees. “You are quite correct. I became an accomplished marathon runner.” Dropping down to the same low, planted stance she is struggling to maintain, he returns to the matter at hand. “Let us begin.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Mm.” He has already closed his eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already made it to twenty while she’s still dithering around trying to get her breathing in order.

“This is the silliest thing I’ve ever done with anybody.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but the corners his mouth curl up.

“But,” she says, never one to skimp on gratitude, “I like it.” Her legs are shaking and she can’t count the number of joints she’s heard crack since they started this ridiculous exercise, but the anxious tangle in her chest is now tiny threads blowing in the wind, unwound and strewn about by breath and motion. “And I do feel better about tonight. So thank you.”

“I come to serve, Senator.”

Formal response, for someone who just moments ago had been shoving her into positions more suited to a gymnast than a senator. She smiles to herself in private amusement and closes her eyes. Reminds herself to breathe, full, everywhere.

And begins to count.

-chandrila-

Padmé has to give Obi-Wan credit. By now, she has watched him extricate himself from Senator Se’lab’s clutches three times, and while a moonlit cocktail party in a garden of this size provides the Jedi with plenty of spaces to hide, the shadow cast by a group of hulking Ithorian senators is a more creative choice than she had expected, even from him. Observing him from her position on the other side of the lush garden, she bites her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the deadly seriousness with which Obi-Wan keeps the Ithorian delegation between himself and the beverage table towards which the Bothan senator had stumbled.

She cannot pass up such a rare opportunity to tease him. Excusing herself from her group of colleagues, she sidles across the garden towards him, ensconcing herself in the shadows behind the wide backs of Ithorian senators Stonk and Bendon. “Master Kenobi,” she greets him, smoothly.

Obi-Wan’s cool voice betrays nothing. “Senator.”

Padmé fights to keep a straight face. “I see you’ve made Senator Se’lab’s acquaintance.”

“I have made his acquaintance several times,” Obi-Wan replies. “He had little memory of our first meeting at our second, and no memory of our second at our third. Forgive me, but if I can avoid a fourth such performance, I will. I grow tired of introducing myself.”

Padmé stifles a smile. It isn’t fair, that one so skilled in diplomacy to earn himself a galactic-wide nickname should hate it so much. “And did the Honorable Senator from Bothawui tire of your company?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Then how – ” She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “You didn’t – ”

Obi-Wan gives her an affronted look. “Senator Amidala, what sort of nefarious rogue do you take me for?” He chances a harried glance past the Ithorians, checking for any signs of his unwanted companion’s return. “Along with the memories of our previous two meetings, the good Senator appeared to have forgotten how exactly it was that he’d been able to achieve such an impressively amnesiac and befuddled state. I merely reminded him about the open bar.”

“Formidably underhanded,” she says, approvingly. “But then, that’s why they call you the Negotiator.”

Obi-Wan makes a face at the nickname. “Yes,” he says. “And if I could only negotiate myself out of this whole affair, I would perhaps believe the title to have been aptly bestowed.”

“Obi-Wan,” she chides him. “The best negotiators know when to call for assistance.”

He raises an eyebrow, just slightly, in what might be a faint feather-brush of amusement, then follows her gaze over his shoulder, to where the clearly intoxicated Bothan senator is making his weaving way through the festive crowd back towards them. Obi-Wan’s eyes widen very slightly, in definite alarm. “Indeed. Very well said. In that case, my lady, consider my distress signal activated.”

She extends an arm to him formally. “Walk with me.”

Thanks to the friendship she and Bail share with Mon Mothma, Padmé knows the Chandrilan Diplomatic Gardens better than most in attendance. She knows Obi-Wan, too, better than most, not because he opens himself to her, exactly, but – well, being in her position, one hears things, and Padmé is well-practiced at extracting trivia and truth from Anakin’s well-worn litany of complaints, worries, and fears.

She guides them serenely down a lesser-used path, the raucous festivities behind them fading into a murmur. “Here,” she points. They turn through a simple, cream-colored arch into a wider space, far-away party sounds now faint, distant enough not to grate on the nerves. All about them, only the cheerful babble of water, tumbling from multiple small falls into a network of mossy pools and rock-bordered streams.

Obi-Wan turns his head from side to side to take in the shimmering falls and eddying pools, chin rising as if in response to some sound only he can hear, features lightening. “We’ve a place very like this, in the Temple,” he says. “The Room of a Thousand Fountains.”

Padmé knows this. Knows too that it is a favorite haunt of his, though she will not tell him so. Better he think her fortuitous choice a welcome coincidence, for she knows what she knows about him from Anakin, and, strictly speaking, should not have access to such confidences.

“I’ve heard of it,” she says instead. “It’s much larger than this, though, I think.” She waves a hand at the small garden.

“Size matters not,” Obi-Wan intones, as though reciting an oft-repeated adage, and extends a hand gracefully under one of the falls’ streams. To Padmé’s surprise, the water curves around his upturned palm, bending as if repelled by an invisible barrier before continuing its swan dive into the clear pool below.

“Just a game,” Obi-Wan says, in answer to her unasked question. “And an exercise in control. One practiced by Temple younglings.”

Not any game Padmé knows. She and her sister – then later, her handmaidens – were more apt to occupy themselves with jumping straight into the water, shrieking with glee, than with avoiding its flow. “What’s the objective?”

“Just this,” he says. “Stay dry.” He curls his fingers up to his palm and then flat again in a gentle wave, the water above his hand twisting in a delighted dance before resuming its tumble around an untouched sleeve. “Even the youngest initiates, when exhibiting proper control, can easily redirect a flow of water around their forms. One stands under the falls, keeping dry, while their agemates or teachers attempt to break their focus.” He quirks a smile, one laced with equal parts memory and mischief. “One gets distracted, one gets wet.”

She smiles at him. “I take it you were good at this game?”

“I was passable,” he says with a diffident shrug. “But I did not win every time. My own clan members’ antics were at times difficult to ignore.”

“And Anakin?” she asks. She can’t help herself.

Obi-Wan pull his arm out from the falls, hand disappearing back into the long sleeve of his robe. “Terrible,” he says bluntly. “Without a doubt the worst in his class.”

Padmé refrains from making an unbecoming snort. So she will have something amusing to hold over Anakin’s head when she returns to Coruscant.

“You mustn’t misunderstand me, of course; Anakin is highly capable and could easily manipulate the water were he left to his own devices, but I’m afraid his mental discipline left much to be desired.” Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. “Anakin is so easily distracted – he reserved his limited ability to focus for very singular pursuits.”

“Such as...?”

Obi-Wan looks to be almost on the verge of rolling his eyes, but that would be un-Jedi, and he settles for a narrowing of them and crooking his fingers sardonically into the universal sign for quotes. “‘Fixing stuff,’ I believe he said.”

Padmé can’t help but laugh at that, and Obi-Wan indulges her merriment graciously. Looking re-energized, far more hale and hearty than he had in the reception area proper, he stretches out a hand. Ribbons of water arc away from the falls all around them, streaming through the air and coalescing into a shining globe above his palm, a miniature model of Mon Cala. The sphere’s globular surface ripples and turns slowly, casting small refractions of moonlight over the courtyard. Small-scale beauty, to be sure, but Padmé only has eyes for Obi-Wan’s face, lit with reflected light from below, a study in simple happiness.

A Jedi at play, she realizes. Most people didn’t believe there really was such a thing.

“That’s lovely,” she says, peering into the globe’s transparent yet distorted depths. Something about it...she is suddenly reminded of Anakin, in another time and place, levitating a muja fruit in much the same way, and with the same burst of simple enjoyment. “But I thought frivolous uses of the Force were discouraged.”

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at her, accepting the friendly challenge. “Frivolous?” He turns his hand so that the palm now faces outward. Rippling with light, the globe coasts several feet away and comes to rest over a pathetically drooping momus bush, its leaves yellowed and cracked, balmgrass spiky and dry around its exposed roots. Obi-Wan twitches his fingers downward, and the globe disintegrates, water sluicing down in a joyful shower onto the parched earth, transforming the yellow dust to a rich, wet brown. He gives her a significant look. “The preservation of life is never frivolous, Senator.”

Her smile climbs its way out of her with ease. Of course. An answer for everything. “I stand corrected.”

In the distance, a chorus of laughter rises above the sound of burbling water, followed by what sounds like someone calling for a toast. Obi-Wan casts a lingering glance at the falls, then back at the arched entrance to the grotto. “We should return,” he says, and if that is reluctance in his voice she will not comment on it.

She nods in agreement. “You’re right. Typho will start to worry.”

Taking her outstretched arm, Obi-Wan frowns. “I am quite certain I gave Captain Typho my word that no harm would come to you whilst I am your escort. He must learn to trust me.”

“He does trust you. But he’s a worry-woolamander. It’s his job.” It was, after all, why she had personally selected him to replace his retired uncle as her new head of security. But, at the same time, she had grown weary of the constant trail of guards orbiting her at all times, rings of human satellites, so many she can hardly blink without catching a glimpse of security burgundy in her peripheral vision. Far preferable to have an escort of one Jedi, especially this Jedi, than that wall of armed guards.

And besides, Obi-Wan had promised. While Captain Typho may not appreciate the import of such a gesture, Padmé does – Obi-Wan Kenobi’s word is worth his weight in solid aurodium bars and more. He has nothing left to prove to anybody, on that count.

At the threshold to the main garden, wide flowering pathways thronging with diplomats and officials and lackeys alike, Obi-Wan takes in a resigned breath. “Once more into the breach,” he proclaims, with tragicomic stoicism.

She cocks her head at him in sympathy. “Straight to the dance floor,” she advises, and they set off, she steering him in the proper direction. “I doubt even a Bothan will try to cut in on a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan snorts under his breath. “Her Highness is grown very devious, in her slippery Senatorial position,” he murmurs.

“And Master Kenobi very witty, in his old age,” she shoots back.

Obi-Wan favors her with a grin, a real grin, full and shining with rarely displayed pleasure. He bows to her, ushering her onto the formal dance floor with a graceful sweep of his hand. “You had better hope your earlier supposition is correct,” he says, eyes glinting with the same clever playfulness she’d seen in him earlier. “The Bothan senators have hooves, you know.”

#pan sharing star wars fic in 2021 - no one could have predicted #anyway as i said these are seven years old #please forgive them #XD #star wars #fic

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Summary: Anakin time travels back to Dooku’s Padawan days and doesn’t know how to deal with the infuriating bastard. AN: I blame my discord. Read on AO3

Anakin tried to think of what words of wisdom Obi-Wan would bestow upon him. Probably something about patience and following the Force and how to not consequently fuck up the next sixty years of history, but Obi-Wan also never had to deal with a young Padawan Dooku eyeing him critically, like he was trying to figure out what made Anakin tick.

Anakin was kind of torn between wanting to rip his throat or... something else Anakin didn’t quite know how to define. Whatever it was, it wasn’t fair. Dooku was the Sith Lord who had cut off his arm, get a grip Anakin.

Except this Dooku really wasn’t. He was just Yoda’s Padawan, even if likely not for much longer given that Anakin’s only friend in this timeline, Initiate Qui-Gon Jinn was already ten years old. Yes, Anakin knew that it was a little pathetic that his best and only friend was a child half his size – Anakin had hardly recognized him when he’d first stumbled upon Qui-Gon. The boy was so small, it was bizarre. But it wasn’t like Anakin had many people he could interact with as long as he wasn’t totally caught up on the Republic’s current history. Master Yoda had strictly forbidden Anakin from revealing anything about the future to any member of the Jedi Order who was not on the Council.

Or Padawan Dooku, in whose lap Anakin had literally dropped when Darth Tyrannus’ weird Sith magic had torn Anakin from his own time, stranding him permanently in the past.

Sighing, Anakin attempted to ignore Dooku staring at him intensely. It was bad enough that he had private tutoring with the younger man – okay, it was just a couple months, but Anakin privately liked to hold it over his head – now he also followed Anakin just about everywhere but the fresher.

He fell back into the first position of Djem So. He couldn’t let his lightsaber skills get rusty just because he wasn’t fighting in a galactic war anymore. That was another thing that unsettled Anakin. No more sleeping in his tiny cabin on the Resolute, no more cramming Ahsoka’s mandatory lessons into the few breaks they had, no more droid armies, no more Separatists, no more Sith Lords.

Well, the latter two weren’t entirely true. The Senate had been broken long before Anakin had been born. Now that he paid attention to it, he could already see many of the issues that would cause it to split. He just hoped that the Council and him could do something against it. It was too bad the Chancellor wasn’t in office already. He was probably just a little kid right now, even younger than Anakin and the current Chancellor was by far not as charismatic as Palpatine had been.

He certainly was of no interest to the Sith either, no matter where they were hiding right now. Anakin had never managed to figure out the identity of Tyrannus’ Master and the baby Sith currently still checking him out definitely couldn’t tell him.

“Can I help you somehow?” Anakin asked, hoping he managed to keep all annoyance out of his voice.

He dropped out of his stance and turned to Dooku. The Padawan was sitting on one of the benches, working on a paper or another, maybe his final thesis. Anakin had never had to write one to become a Knight. For one, there was no time during the war, and on the other hand, he had already done that when he was fourteen and gotten really passionate about Nubian hyperdrives.

“No, not at all. I merely admire your execution of Form IV. You are very well practiced.”

Dooku sounded honest enough, but Anakin still felt like it was a backhanded compliment.

“Thanks,” Anakin replied. “Was that everything?”

Dooku raised a brow, the perfect picture of innocence, but Anakin knew better. He had fought a far more experienced version of the man in front of him and learned to call his bluffs. This Dooku was not really a threat. He was just there, constantly in the corner of Anakin’s vision and being a Force-damned distraction.

“I’m not the one asking questions here.”

No, but if he was there any longer, Anakin was going to shut him up in some other way.

“Just- get over here. You can go study in your room or whatever, no need to be in the training halls at three in the morning unless you want to spar.”

Dooku grinned cockily and got up from his seat, his lightsaber already in hand. It looked very different from the blade Anakin remembered defending against. Its blue color still startled him as well, but somehow it suited this young Dooku. He stepped onto the mats and Anakin resumed a position opposite to his opponent. They both bowed as it was tradition, then ignited their lightsabers. For a moment neither moved, then they both jumped into the battle. Dooku’s Ataru still caught Anakin off-guard, but his Makashi less so. He wasn’t a proficient Master of Form II yet, but that one at least Anakin was more than familiar with. The two of them exchanged blows with more Force than strictly necessary for a training spar, bringing emotions into it that should not be there. Anakin was pissed off because Dooku wouldn’t leave him alone, but he had no idea what he had done to cause Dooku to fight so viciously.

Then Anakin finally saw an opening and took it. He slammed is leg into the back of Dooku’s knee, causing him to stumble. With another Force-push, Anakin made him fall flat on his back. He rushed towards his opponent and held his blade to his neck.

“Yield,” Anakin ordered, but Dooku did not, at least not immediately.

Instead he was once more studying Anakin like he could see a possible weakness.

“Yield,” Anakin said again and finally Dooku replied with a “Solah.”

Anakin turned off his ‘saber and he should get up, step away from his defeated training partner, but for some reason he couldn’t get himself to do so, looking into Dooku’s troubled brown eyes.

“What is your kriffing problem with me?” Anakin finally asked, Dooku still pinned beneath him.

Apparently, that was all it took as for once the Padawan didn’t keep his thoughts hidden behind a mask of feigned politeness and sarcasm.

“My problem with you, Skywalker, is that you are poaching my future Padawan!”

Anakin blinked. Dooku must be joking. All the backhand comments and the challenges and it was for this?

“I’m not trying to steal Qui-Gon from you, you git!”

Dooku didn’t try to get up, but he did cross his arms in defiance.

“That’s not what it looks like from here, offering him extra tutoring and spending every free minute with him-“

“Who else am I supposed to talk to?” Anakin snarled. “I’m stuck here! My Master won’t even be born for another thirty years, my Padawan for another twenty and my-“

Anakin closed up. He shouldn’t think about them, all he had lost. He’d been doing so well but of course Darth Tyrannus in the making had to goad him. “All my friends, my family, are gone and if I ever see them again, they won’t be mine. I only know a handful of people in this time and Qui-Gon just happens to be one of them!”

Honestly, it was almost a little embarrassing to admit, but once Anakin had realized who the short blond Initiate was, he had almost started crying. The rooms in the Temple were still the same, as were the robes and the traditions and the lessons, but it wasn’t his home. All his people were gone and the Jedi that lived during these times were mostly strangers, a few long-lived ones such as Master Yoda being the exception. But they weren’t exactly people Anakin had been close with.

“You knew him in the future,” Dooku said slowly.

He didn’t look frustrated anymore, more interested suddenly as if he were seeing Anakin with new eyes.

Anakin nodded once, sharply. “He saved my life.”

“He’ll be a great Jedi then,” Dooku concluded, sounding utterly pleased.

“The very best,” Anakin confirmed.

Dooku then began to smile in earnest, kind and happy in a way Anakin had never seen before, hadn’t thought him capable of, to be honest. The whole thing threw Anakin off completely. Seriously, what was going on with this Dooku?

“What of his Master?”

He became a Sith Lord and joined the people that had killed his apprentice and then continued trying to kill his grand-Padawans, but no big deal.

“He’s a git,” Anakin said instead. “Super arrogant, terrible footwork, can’t even block a simple kick.”

Dooku snorted. “At least he’s not as bad as his sparring partner?”

“What?”

“Careless,” Dooku replied and tugged at Anakin’s collar, pulling him down.

It took Anakin perhaps a moment too long to realize that Dooku was kissing him, but he considered it fair given that just moments before the other had been attempting to beat the life out of him. The kiss was by no means spectacular, but Dooku was warm beneath Anakin’s hands and when they broke apart for air, Anakin had no troubles diving in for a second kiss, all rationality thrown out of the speeder as he pushed his tongue inside Dooku’s mouth and hurried to get his hands beneath the other’s robes.

“Not a word to anybody,” Dooku said as flipped them around, stripping Anakin out of his tabard.

Anakin only rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

He could deal with the fallout of this once he had his rationality back and was not, in fact, about to let Padawan Dooku fuck him. That was a problem for tomorrow-Anakin, right-now-Anakin was a little busy taking off his clothes.

#Anakin Skywalker #count dooku #qui gon jinn #mentioned at least #star wars #fanfic #im begging you don't examine this to closely

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everythinggeeky · 4 years

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Here With Me | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi! reader

Warnings: language, angst, fluff, breaking the Jedi code is vv tempting

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: Reader and Obi-Wan are assigned a mission together, and reader’s methods to interrogation are...untraditional. Despite her outlandish tendencies, Obi-Wan and the Council allow her to continue. Will her unconventional methods get her in trouble with the Council and with Obi-Wan?

masterlist

A/N: requests & taglists are open; I wrote this in a few hours so excuse any disjointedness!

You placed your saber on the table, glaring down into the eyes of Goru, the accused separatist pirate, who is seated and restrained in front of you.

“I’m gonna give you one last chance to speak up. You don’t say anything, I use this. You speak up? The saber stays there. So what’s it going to be? My way, or your way?” You said, hands firm on your hips, leaning over the table just enough to seem menacing from his seated position.

Your prisoner glanced up at you, the saber, Obi-Wan in the corner, back to the saber, and up to you.

He spits a glossy blob in front of you, just missing your saber by an inch. Obi-Wan stiffens in his position, he knows there are no holds barred with you, and you won’t hesitate to punish the prisoner for his current actions.

“Alright. So that’s how we’re gonna do this” you picked up your saber, igniting the blade.

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan spoke up from the corner.

You looked over to him, a contemptuous look on his face, urging you to back down. With a long gaze back at him, you consider your options. Let him go and risk another murderous rampage, or kill him and violate the Jedi code. Disengaging the blade of your saber, you place the hilt back into its position on your belt.

You walk away from the table and nod to Obi-Wan, “let’s take this guy in. I’m not done with him yet.”

Obi-Wan signals the troopers to take the pirate away, taking him in for custody as ordered. You stand cross-armed, watching Goru stare you down and spit at your feet. Your face crumples in disgust before turning to Obi-Wan.

“Let’s get off this god forsaken planet. I have better things to do back home.”

“As you wish.” Obi-Wan leads you out of the interrogation cell and back onto the ship.

You walked up the ramp and slumped into the seat in the front of the ship, Obi-Wan taking his seat beside you.

“If you’re going to lecture me, now would be the time,” you mumbled into your palm which was pressed against your cheek.

“I’m not going to lecture you. Do I agree with your interrogation methods? Absolutely not. When we get back, we’ll talk it over with the Council. They’ll decide how to proceed.”

You grumbled, setting the ship’s course for Coruscant, refusing to look at Obi-Wan.

“Y/N, please. Give me something. We can relax now.”

“I’m still working, Obi. Not now.”

He sighed deeply, sinking back into his seat. The remainder of the trip was silent, soft breaths and the occasional beep from the control panel filled the air where soft, romantic words normally would after a mission. After landing on Coruscant, you stood to leave the ship without another word. Obi-Wan stood, catching your arm in his grip, pulling you to a stop.

“Y/N. Please don’t shut me out. This is still progress.”

“And you still don’t approve of how I do business.”

“Is it untraditional? Yes. Effective? Unfortunately, often,” he said, releasing you, “the Council will figure this out. Please put some trust in them and in me.”

“Not after last time.”

Surrendering, he walked off the ship in front of you, heading into the temple. You watched sadly as he walked on; had you pushed too far? Softening your demeanor, you exited the ship and followed Obi-Wan.

“Master Kenobi,” you called out to him, he stopped in his tracks, turning to you a few paces ahead.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what? Doing your job? What you were assigned to do?”

“Master...you and I both know that’s not it. My methods do not usually obey the Jedi code.”

“And did you do anything today that would violate it? No. Do not stress about it.”

You nodded, looking up at the man who ranks above you in training but walks beside you in your much more private relationship.

His face softened equally, “Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t. I need you here with me, alright?”

Confirming your promise, you walked side by side with him into the Council meeting room. Standing tall and professional, you pulled your robe tighter around your body. Taking your seat in the Council meeting, you crossed one leg over the other. Master Windu opened the meeting, discussing past business before shifting into the present manner. During his discussion, you could help but doze off. You were terribly exhausted and were desperate to be in the hands of your fellow Jedi master once again. Your mind traveled a bit, to which Obi-Wan seemed to notice, pushing a thought into your mind. You snapped up, peeking over to him. Without a word, he raised an eyebrow and stroked his beard nonchalantly. Narrowing your eyes, you returned your focus to Master Windu, who was now focused on questioning your methods.

“Did you use the approach that we agreed on prior to departure? Was it successful?”

“After arriving on the scene, Master Kenobi and I decided that the Council’s methods would not be successful in the circumstances that we arrived at.”

“With respect, Master Windu, Master Y/L/N acted with restraint. Her methods were successful and the suspect in custody,” Obi-Wan spoke up in defense.

“Very well. With the guidance of Master Kenobi, we will allow the negotiations to continue. Be wary.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I think that settles things for tonight. Consider your methods for the following interrogations. Master Kenobi, Master Y/L/N, proceed as planned. Dismissed.”

The Council members stood from their seats, each going their separate ways. You slipped into the hallway, standing by for Obi-Wan. As the Council members filed out of the session, you greeted them politely, Obi-Wan stopping next to you, keeping his own professional stance.

“So it seems the Council is willing to be forgiving. This is the best we can hope for.”

“I suppose. You know how I feel about giving into law and order.”

“Y/N.”

“Yes, Obi?”

“Its the code.”

“Fuck the code, Obi.”

“Maker…” he mutters, shifting uncomfortably at your outburst.

“I’m tired. And I really need to get some rest, alright?”

“Of course. Would you like…?” he trails off.

“Please,” you invited him to come along with you, walking back with a professional distance between you both.

On your way to your quarters, Anakin turned the corner.

“Master Kenobi, Y/L/N,” he greeted politely.

You both stopped in your tracks, glancing at one another before back at Anakin. He bounced back and forth between you both, a questioning look on his face.

“Settling down for the evening?” he prodded.

“Oh, well, we have some business to settle before our interrogations continue later this week,” Obi-Wan covered.

You nodded in agreement, pushing down the growing blush threatening to paint your cheeks.

“Of course. Well, enjoy your...interrogations,” Anakin said with a smirk directed towards Obi-Wan before continuing on his way.

You continued down the hall, trying to get to your quarters as quickly and as professionally as possible. Entering your quarters felt as though a fifty-pound weight was lifted from your back. Obi-Wan sighed heavily, becoming more comfortable himself. You shrugged your Jedi robes off your body, opting for a much more comfortable nightgown. Obi-Wan stripped down to his trousers, settling into bed under the covers.

“Come here, darling,” Obi-Wan stretched his arms out to you.

You climbed up into bed, settling down beside him, resting your head on his chest.

“I’m sorry for acting out. I don’t like it when the Council tries to control how I work. I know what I’m doing.”

“I know, tomorrow is a new day, I’m sure we’ll understand the workings of the gang’s plot in the Outer Rim soon enough,” Obi-Wan threaded his fingers through your hair, stroking slowly to calm you down from your stressful day, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Obi,” you mumbled sleepily into his bare chest.

As you relax in his embrace, you being to drift asleep. Obi-Wan presses a soft kiss into your forehead, bidding you goodnight. Falling asleep, Obi-Wan keeps you tight to his body.

The next morning, you grumble as you wake up, heading to clean up and get dressed. Obi-Wan follows suit, getting dressed for the day and then opting to prepare breakfast for you both. As you walked out to the dinette, you slinked your arms around his waist, leaving a kiss behind on his shoulder.

“Morning...thank you for cooking.”

“Of course, darling. Did you sleep enough?”

“I mean..I could always use more. But I’ll be alright.,” you grinned accepting the plate from his hands.

These quiet moments of solace kept you sane. One moment, the Council demanded your complete attention, the next you were training a rowdy padawan. Some peace and quiet hidden away with Obi-Wan in your quarters was hard to come by, but when it did, it was oh so sweet and you never wanted to let go.

“So. The Council wants us to re-interview Goru, the captured pirate from yesterday,” Obi-Wan spoke up to set today’s agenda on straight.

“Got it. Maybe I’ll consider following their suggestions. If no one decides to spit on me today.”

Obi-Wan let out a low chuckle, finishing his breakfast and cleaning up afterward. You both fluttered around your quarters, strapping on belts and centering lightsabers in their respective clips.

“Well, let’s get this shit over with,” you grumbled, making your way into the hallway first.

While signaling to Obi-Wan that the coast was clear, Anakin rounded the corner just as Obi-Wan stepped out of your room. With a knowing expression, Anakin looked to him for an explanation. There was none.

“Anakin. What are you up to today? At this hour?” Obi-Wan asked him.

“Master Windu informed me that I’ll be accompanying you both for the interrogations. He believed my methods would be much better suited to Y/N’s. You are still to supervise and monitor, Master,” Anakin responded.

“I see,” you looked nervously over to Obi-Wan who was now to serve as another body to witness to the Council.

The three of you made your way into the interrogation chambers in the temple. You walked inside while Obi-Wan and Anakin stayed behind to ensure nothing went wrong.

“Hey there, old friend. Long time, no see. Miss me?”

“Not at all,” your captive spat.

“Fair enough. Now, my offer still stands. Work with me and you won’t get a blade through your eye; fail, and well, bye-bye.”

“Y/N…” Obi-Wan warned.

You dismissed him with a wave of your hand, instead choosing to focus on the matter at hand. Working to pull the intel from him, you put the pressure on.

“Are you or are you not working with the Ohnaka gang??” you shouted into the face of your captive.

Anakin looked over to Obi-Wan with hushed concern, “Is this about Dooku?”

“The Council believes that he is operating in the Outer Rim with the help of Hondo. Keep it down.”

Anakin returns to his original position standing guard.

“I’ll never give up Hondo, you Jedi scum.”

“Cute. Real creative,” you paced around the pirate seated in front of you.

Withdrawing your saber from your belt, igniting the blade, you extended your arm to crackle just beside Goru’s face.

“I’ll ask again nicely, how are you working with Hondo?” you inched the blade closer to his flesh, threatening to singe a precise line.

Obi-Wan inhaled deeply, silently urging you to proceed with caution. These were dangerous men, after all. However, with one wrong move, your decision could be fateful and in violation of the very oath that you swore to protect others with the Force, not use it to slaughter and mar.

Pushing on, the blade of your lightsaber now ever so slightly damaging flesh, causing your captive to groan slightly.

“Hondo is negotiating with Dooku! Dooku is using the good we pocket to fund the separatist army!” Goru surrendered.

Satisfied, you pulled your saber away from his neck, returning it to your belt.

Walking around the table to face him again, “now was that really so bad?”

Goru threatened to spit at you once again like he did yesterday, but was quickly stopped by Obi-Wan and Anakin entering the scene.

“Aw, c’mon boys, I was just getting started,” you whined with mock disappointment.

“Goru, we’ll lead you back to your cell. The Council will decide your fate from here,” Obi-Wan chimed in.

With the help of Anakin, he led Goru down the hall back to his cell before returning to you solo.

“Y/N.”

You shook your empty gaze from your eyes, “yes?”

“What did I say about physical threats?”

“Keep it to a minimum,” you mocked.

“Exactly. That was unnecessary.”

“I believe that was a minimum.”

“This is why they call me the negotiator. We’ll discuss our findings with the Council, and then proceed as they wish.”

“Do you ever feel like a soldier more than a guardian?” you interrupted.

“What? Well, I mean, it’s all for the efforts of war, protecting and guarding the peace.”

“But for what? How do we even know we’re on the right side of this war? What if we have it all wrong?”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan looks around him before continuing, “darling, where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know. I know what I do is for the good of the Republic, but what if they got it wrong and I’m just completing tasks and orders?”

“There is so much more to Jedi master than that. You will find that soon. The hope in a padawan’s eyes when they discover the gift of truly utilizing the Force…” Obi-Wan reaches to rub your back in soft comforting circles.

“I want to be more than a soldier.”

“You are so much more. To the Council, the Republic, and to me.”

tagged: @kenobee @hxldmxdxwn @smokahuntis @jbarnesss @takenbymyfandoms @obiwkenobi @ilovesupersoldiers

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader fluff #obi wan kenobi x reader angst #obi wan fanfic #obi wan kenobi oneshot #obi wan x jedi reader #star wars fanfic #star wars oneshot #star wars drabble #prequel obi wan kenobi #prequel obi wan #star wars x reader #here with me #everythinggeeky

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stonefreeak · 4 years

Text

Wheee! Another update is here! I hope y’all will continue to enjoy this fic as we move forward!

When the news breaks that the case against Mas Amedda and Former-Chancellor Palpatine for corruption charges will go to court breaks, it explodes across the holonet like a supernova.

The recent arrests and trials of Senators from all over the Republic, the arrests-in-absence of Senators formerly of the Republic and currently of the Separatists have been making headlines for weeks, but before now there has been nothing about Mas Amedda or Palpatine themselves.

If there had been nothing to substantiate the claims, the investigation would have ended now with no charges being brought forward against them. The investigation would only have caught these other people, and so far only sent other people to trial. So for this too to come a trial... Well, clearly that means that there is a case against them. There is evidence to be found.

The people start to wonder how far the corruption goes, how big a web it has woven, and how many of the already arrested and sentenced Senators have testimonies against Amedda and Palpatine.

News anchors argue and debate each other into exhaustion regarding what this means not just for Amedda and Palpatine themselves, but for the Republic and Senate at large. If the two who were the most powerful beings in the Republic are found guilty on corruption charges... Does that mean that the Separatist worlds who chose to try and leave the Republic in protest are right?

Or does it mean that someone, Count Dooku perhaps, saw an opportunity to gain power by playing on the corruption they saw in the Senate rather than work towards eliminating those issues from the inside?

~~~~

Obi-Wan doesn't have much time to spend watching the holonet, but what little he sees is enough to exhaust him. He's unsurprised, but he's also worried. He doesn't know what the investigation has found—as he shouldn't, per due process—but he knows the possible ramifications of a guilty verdict.

Yes, the Republic is under new leadership, certainly, but many, if not most, senators remain unchanged. How many of them were in Palpatine or Amedda's pockets? How will this affect the peace discussions and reintegration of returning separatist worlds?

How, exactly will the neutral systems—if there truly can be such a thing in a conflict like this—react? Will some of them finally take a stance beyond "we will not fight"?

He shakes his head and moves out of his chair, to sit down on the floor instead.

He moves into his most favoured meditation position, and tries to clear his mind. He'll need to work through his emotions and thoughts one by one, lest he gets overwhelmed.

He's needed more meditation than he's needed since childhood after his near-death experience. His connection to the force has been shaken, and he's been shaken. It takes him far more effort than usual to calm down.

Perhaps he'll speak to one of the Temple's mind healers when he gets the chance. It is usually a good thing to do after you've faced your death in such a stark way, he knows that.

Still. He's so busy. It feels almost wrong to take any sort of time off between all of his responsibilities.

Hah, no doubt Master Yoda would hit him in the shin if he heard that, and then give him a long-winded lecture on the impossibility of helping others if you do not care for yourself.

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force," he mutters the mantra over and over as he sinks deeper into meditation. Blast and the others will keep watch, and Obi-Wan has it on good authority that Waxer and Boil's treatments are over and they're back on duty as well. He has good men at his back.

There is no need to worry.

~~~~

Anakin stares at the newsreel, uncomprehending.

Mister Palpatine has been arrested, awaiting trial.

It's as if all of his thoughts need to force their way through stone to make sense. He's... blank.

This can't be!

There's no way Palpatine is guilty! The investigation is probably just arresting him and Amedda and setting a trial date due to outside pressure. That's it. Of course.

The trial will just prove Palpatine innocent. They just have to do it. Perhaps there's some doubt in his position due to corruption among his aides. That has to be it.

Palpatine wouldn't do something like this. Anakin knows he wouldn't.

He paces back and forth in his rooms, unable to settle down. He's close to bursting with frustration and agitation and he can't hope to meditate on his emotions as Obi-Wan would tell him to when he's this upset. Meditation is for calmer mindsets.

Perhaps he can talk to Obi-Wan... Or Padmé.

Or maybe both of them?

That... That would be good. That's what he needs right now.

He picks up his comm and sends a group message to them. Byt the Force how he hopes they'll agree. There's no way he can deal with this alone. Palpatine has been his friend and mentor since he was a child... This is just too much to deal with.

Obi-Wan said it was his duty to start the investigation due to the Vote of No-Confidence, but there's no way he thought it would find anything. He can't have. Palpatine is one of the only politicians worth trusting in the Senate.

Surely Obi-Wan knows that?

He's always allowed Anakin to go visit Palpatine, even when he was a child, so he couldn't have thought anything was suspicious. The same goes for the Council for that matter!

They would have stepped in and refused Palpatine's requests for Anakin to visit if they thought he was corrupt. The Council hates politics outside the Order, and they always speak of the need to root out corruption.

They must have found Palpatine trustworthy then, and he's done his best since he became chancellor—no matter what Senator Mandai thinks.

It'll... It'll be fine.

Anakin swallows harshly and clenches his fists in his hair. He just needs to talk to Padmé and Obi-Wan.

He's too ashamed to face Palpatine—Obi-Wan got him into this situation, and Anakin has always vouched for him with the former chancellor—even though he knows his friend probably could use the support. Palpatine is strong, he can no doubt manage until Anakin gets a grip on himself.

~~~~

Padmé watches the news as they break. Former Chancellor Palpatine has been arrested and placed on house arrest pending the trial.

She presses her lips together and fights down the fear and anxiety she feels at the news. She knows Palpatine used the occupation of Naboo to further his career, so in a way she's not... She's not surprised that the investigation has found something...

But at the same time... Using an existing tragedy that you cannot make undone anyway is not the same as actively corrupting the system. Padmé should know, her own career has been helped by her hard work in disaster zones. So even though she knows that Palpatine used her—used Naboo—the thought that he may be entirely corrupt...

It feels foreign. It feels wrong.

It's as if there's an itch in the back of her head, as if there's a voice whispering to her to tread carefully, to doubt everything, because who knows who's truly to be trusted?

Her head hurts.

Her heart hurts when she considers how conflicted and hurt Anakin must feel right now. As if her husband needs more on his plate. One of his dearest friends possibly being a criminal of a terrible degree won't be a devastating blow to him.

She picks up her comm and looks at it, wondering if she should send him a message. He probably needs her, right now.

They never should have married.

At least then that would be one less thing weighing on him. At least then there might be a chance for them, for the dream of a happy ending.

She chokes back a sob. She must be strong.

Anakin will need her to.

~~~~

Bail listens intently to the report, drumming his fingers against the top of his desk. So the corruption stems as far as this, does it?

He glances down at the files and notes Miss Marili gave him just before the explosion in the Senate Office Building. He's still going through them to verify their validity, but so far everything checks out, and her own notes and thoughts are very astute.

Bail has always known, taught as such at his mother's knee, that if you want to truly know what goes on in an institution, you ask the aides and the lower-ranks—those who fade into the background. After all, who thinks of what the secretary overhears when they walk inside with documents? Or even what they can piece together they remain at their station by who comes and goes. Miss Marili, currently the aide of Senator Jacks of Belazura and the former aide of Senator Larr of Saram, is an excellent example.

Her information is very interesting indeed, and dates back decades.

Bail wonders just what it was that caught her eye, what sent her looking in the first place... But he's yet to hear that story from her. He's also curious as to why she came to him rather than Senator Jacks, but it's possible that it's due to his position as a Core World Senator.

And possibly his known friendliness with the Jedi—definitely important considering the content of her research.

Still, Bail can't make any moves as of yet. The information may check out for now, but who knows if she's hidden some falsehoods that could prove damaging within it. After all, she is an unknown factor, and Bail knows very little about her.

In fact, how Bail does not even know how she ended up as Senator Larr's aide in the first place, considering how young she must have been at the time. Perhaps her family moved to Saram at some point. That could, of course, be how Senator Larr found her in the first place since a Twi'lek family taking up residence rather than just going on holiday there would likely draw attention. Aside from the native human population few make Saram their permanent home despite its popularity as a vacation planet, as far as Bail knows.

Regardless, her mysterious past and everything else together makes for quite the puzzle.

Perhaps she'll trust him with the truth at a later time—though no doubt will he need to prove himself first.

All in all, the political situation on Coruscant is growing increasingly complex, even when you don't take the currently ongoing civil war into consideration.

~~~~

So those cretins think they've found something on him, do they?

Well, they'll certainly see about that.

Palpatine has made damn sure that anything more than slightly frowned upon will fall entirely on Amedda. The fool was always set up to take the fall should something go wrong and Palpatine's plot was derailed—as it has been.

At most Palpatine himself will receive a slap on the wrist and an admonishment to hire better staff.

Even so, he suffers the utter humiliation of being stranded on Coruscant, wearing a prisoner's bracelet to ensure he cannot leave the planet. They'll all suffer for this humiliation, the lot of them. Palpatine will grind Kenobi's skull to dust for daring to set this farce in motion.

Blasted Jedi.

He'll bathe in their blood and relish in every single second of it.

—

(Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi masterpost)

#Supreme Chancellor Obi Wan Kenobi #my writing #star wars #obi wan kenobi #padme amidala #anakin skywalker #bail organa #palpatine #update

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jonathananubian · 4 years

Text

Te Dralyc Kar 9 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24022666/chapters/57795934

Introducing Anakin to more of the Haat Mando’ade left Jango feeling very conflicted. A few of them still harbored a lot of anger towards him for how he had disappeared all those years ago. Thankfully most of them came to understand the horror that had been inflicted upon him and forgave his absence. Being enslaved after losing everyone he cared about had broken him. He didn’t feel like he deserved the title of Mand’alor, didn’t think he could handle the reminder of his greatest failures. Then Anakin, his bight little star, had come into his life and given him something to hold onto. None of them said it but he knew at least a few of them were thinking it. The boy had saved his life and what remained of his sanity. Sitting down to a large meeting with the heads of various clans he was surprised just how many people still believed in Jaster’s ideals, and how many more had joined up after Kryze and Vizla had come into power. While Jango certainly, and obviously, hated Vizla he had almost as much disdain for Kryze and her tyrannical ways. The Mand’alor could call upon the warriors of Mandalore and expect them to come when called to action. But the Mand’alor also understood that there were other walks of life that needed to be honored as well. Farming, crafting, raising children, all of that was just as important and honorable as being a warrior. Kryze didn’t get it. She and her New Mandalorians thought that the Resol’nare had no room for those who did not fight as a way of life. Because she didn’t understand she forced her own ‘ideals’ on the people, subjugating those who just wanted to continue living as their forefathers had for generations.

A foolish child throwing a tantrum because not everything was going her way. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was destroying his people’s heritage he might have pitied her. Her father had been a good man, honorable, and she was disrespecting everything he stood for in her search of a mythical ‘peace’ that didn’t, and would never, exist. “Jango, you’re being a stubborn bastard about this.” Dennan of Clan Haarok hissed, slamming his fist into the top of the table. “Just accept the position and let us move on to other matters.” Currently he and his son found themselves as guests of what remained of House Mereel. Now that Jango had returned everyone was more or less intent on thrusting him into the position of Clan Head immediately. “Clan Mereel is gone. Everyone who had any claim to the name is dead.” Except, technically, himself. As the adopted son of Jaster he could always take the man’s last name for himself. But in doing so it would be erasing a part of his own history, part of what made him who he was. Jaster had never asked him to change his name and never expected it of him. "Jango... he made you his heir. You don't have to take his name, everyone here knows you are the rightful head of Clan Mereel. Don't dismiss this out of hand, Jaster deserved more than that." Some around the table flinched, glancing between Shiona and himself. Originally she had been one of Jaster's lieutenants, someone he could trust to get shit done. Somehow, even now, she still held onto the authority that had been placed into her capable hands. He wanted to argue, to curse them for bringing him there, but he knew it wasn't their fault. Jango's failures were his own. "Fine." Standing he placed a fist over his chest. "I am Jango Fett, Leader of House Mereel, son and heir, now Head, of Clan Mereel. I swear to hold my position with honor, to lead you in fairness, and to enact swift vengeance against anyone who dares to cross us." He gave Shiona a look but she just beamed at him. Tensions in the room began to lessen as he sat back down. Now that everyone knew where they stood, where Jango was in the hierarchy, they felt more inclined to work with one another. "One last matter of House business." Jervun of Clan Menzai stated, calling everyone's attention to him. "Alor, will your son be the heir to the Clan? Or the heir to both?" Jango felt as if someone had shoved electricity down his spine, it was an uncomfortable feeling. The thought of Anakin being the heir to a clan and house that had already been through so much hardship made him clench his hands. He didn't want to hand over the curse that seemed to plague him his entire life. But... Anakin had seen himself as Mand'alor. Or at the very least wielding the Darksaber. If that vision of the future was to come about he would need as much advantage as possible. "I do. But not only that." He had the entire room's attention, it was like old times. "I name Anakin Fett as heir to the title of Mand'alor." There were gasps from more than one mouth and he gave them all a humorless grin. "Jango, he's only seven! You're going to paint a target on that child's back!" Tavi of Clan Ysom practically yelled from down the table. "Anakin is Ka'runi, powerful enough that a passing jetii immediately noticed and tried to talk to him." If he hadn't been in the middle of Dex's diner he might have killed the bastard. Just in case he decided to tell the other jetii about Anakin. "His appointment as my chosen heir to the position of Mand'alor doesn't need to leave this room." He looked every sentient in the eyes, or in some cases the visor of their helmet. "I hope you know what you're doing, Alor." Tavi muttered, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair. "I have some idea." Laying his arms over his legs he leaned forward. "Tell me everything I missed. We need to start planning." The look of relief and hope on their faces made him want to flinch. Jango still wasn't sure if he could be the leader they needed but by the stars he was going to try his damnedest to make things right. [Anakin] Life since they'd come to Manda'yaim was really interesting. His dad still made him practice hand to hand, how to shoot a blaster, and how to make traps. But now he had an hours worth of training a day with a man named Wad'e. When he'd first shown up in his purple armor Anakin had been a bit nervous, he was a very quiet man. But at his dad's prompting the man had brought out a pair of beskad and Anakin's apprehension had fallen away. He got to learn how to fight with a sword! It was a lot of hard work, just like all hit other practice, but it became one of the most fun parts of his day. Even more than his language lessons with Runa, who seemed to know every language ever. Even though he and his dad would return to the same place to sleep at night Anakin began to notice how busy everyone was around him. How his dad barely had any time to do anything besides meditate with him during the day. He knew that his dad had an important new job now, one that needed a lot of planning, but he couldn't help feeling ignored. "Hey, kid... you okay? You're distracted." Blinking up at Wad'e he felt his face flush in embarrassment. The man had been trying to show him a new strike and he had been lost in his own head again. "N'eparavu takisit, Adat'juri Tay'haai." 'I'm sorry, Teacher Tay'haai.' He said politely with a small bow. The man watched him through his dark visor, Anakin could feel the man's eyes scrutinizing him. "It's alright ner hibir." 'My student.' Crounching down he reached over, almost hesitantly, and put a hand on Anakin's head. "But if something's wrong you can talk to me." Anakin bit his lip and looked down, a bad habit from his life before. "...do you think buir's work will be done soon?" The man stiffened for a moment and a sense of uncertainty filled the air between them. Anakin let out a sigh, that was probably a yes. The man ruffled his hair, making the blonde yelp in surprise. "Your buir is a very important man. Because he's important there are a lot of people who want to speak with him right now." Pulling his hand away the man stood back up and lifted his sword once more. "It doesn't mean he loves you less, or that you're not important to him." There was a faint feeling of strong conviction and respect for his dad that made Anakin feel less anxious. "When he's finished his work why don't you just ask him for some of his time? I'm sure he'll give it to you if he knows you want it." Anakin smiled. "Thanks Adat'juri." The man gave him a single nod and slid into the stance he had been in the middle of teaching. "Now, make sure not to turn your foot outward, you'll want to-" Anakin followed his movements, mind focused on the lesson. Later that evening, after dinner, he sat with his dad for meditation. No matter how hard he'd worked that day Jango always made time to sit down and do their daily meditation. It was nice, to be able to just sit and feel his father's presence so close to him. It made him feel safe and focused. "Are you drifting, An'ika?" Opening his eyes he smiled sheepishly. Jango gave him a look somewhere between fondness and consternation. "You've been really distracted today. Me'vaar?" ‘You okay?’ "Buir... I..." Anakin looked down at his lap, feeling almost selfish for what he wanted to ask. "Do you... think we could go out and see the city a bit? Or... maybe play a game?" His buir watched him quietly for a moment then let out a long sigh. Anakin tried not to chew on his lips again, Shiona said it was bad for him. "An'ika, c'mere." Getting up he walked to his father and smiled when he was pulled into a big hug. "I'm sorry I've been so busy lately. It's not your fault and I haven't forgotten about you, alright? We can go out tomorrow for lunch at the Baat." After a moment his dad pulled away slightly. "I... was planning on introducing you to more people soon. They've been asking about you." "Why?" His buir rubbed the back of his neck. "Because they... well they're our family." Anakin's eyes went wide. He had more family? "Like cousins and stuff?" Jango chuckled. "Something like that. I'm sure if you ask them nicely they can tell you stories about your ba'buir, Jaster, or even stories of me as an adiik." Anakin beamed. "After lunch tomorrow?" His dad smiled. "It's a promise."

#fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars #jango fett #young anakin skywalker #adoption #mandalorian culture #mandalorian anakin #True Mandalorians #mandalorian ocs #found family #keldabe #mandalore #mando'a

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labyrinth-runner · 4 years

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Pirate! Obi and teaching his lass to fence/swordfight on the deck on some warm but boring day? Either that or him catching the crew teaching her and dragging her away and she's like ??? And he says, maybe I want to be the one to make my lass flustered and hot like that or something idk 😂 just more pirate Obi whatever you pick is lovely🌸🌸

I’ve had this sitting in here for a bit, but I planned it out last weekend and figured I’d write it today before cracking on with the rest of my homework as a little “woo hoo” for finishing my paper.

As much as being a pirate had proven to be an exciting lifestyle, you found that there were days like this more often than not. It was hot and humid. You felt your hair sticking to your forehead when you weren’t even exerting yourself. All you knew was that you couldn’t stay in your cabin-turned-sauna any longer. You pulled your hair up out of the way, tying it up in a scarf the best you could before stepping out on deck. At least it was more bearable out here, with a slight sea breeze coming in from the west. Your Captain was ashore tending to some business with the local governor who wished to hire the crew for a privateering mission to escort some supply ships from a neighboring island. However, they couldn’t agree with price over letters, so the Captain decided to sort it out in person since the governor was an old friend.

You heard the sound of metal on metal as you walked across the deck, spotting the source of sound almost immediately. You went up towards the wheel to have a better vantage point of the fake fight happening on deck between Anakin and Rex. Leaning on the rail, you were entranced. The two of them fought so well, anticipating the next move their opponent would make. The fact that they were shirtless was also something you were certainly not complaining about. Of course, you only had romantic eyes for the Captain, but that didn’t mean that the attractiveness of the rest of the crew was lost on you. Watching the sweat glisten on their body was... well, let’s just say that you weren’t sure if the sun was the only reason you were feeling hot.

Anakin caught your eye and winked at you, “Lass, you want to learn, or are you just admiring the view?”

You blushed, but then you pondered his question. You had limited sword skills. So limited you had been captured by pirates. Not to mention, there would come a day eventually when you wouldn’t have bullets for your pistol. Perhaps you should learn. “Yes, actually. I probably should try to learn how to defend myself.”

Rex swiped the sweat off his brow and offered you his sword. “Mine is more balanced than Skywalker’s.”

You nodded, taking it in your hands. It was surprisingly heavy and caused your arm to droop a bit at first as you got accustomed to the weight.

“Alright, I’ll give ya the speech that the Cap’n gave me, Lass,” Ani smirked, drawing himself up to presumably imitate Obi-Wan, even adopting an accent, “This weapon is yer life. Do not loose it, and heaven forbid, do not wield it willy-nilly. It is a sophisticated, civilized weapon. It is a more fair fight than a pistol, and it requires skill to use. It is elegant, and you must also be elegant when you use it.”

Rex snickered. “Elegant my ass. You hack and slash to stay alive if you have to, lass. Don’t ever get caught up on lookin’ pretty when your life is on the line.”

Anakin assumed a stance, “Keep yer feet apart so that you can bounce almost on yer knees. You need to be nimble and light. Keeping yer knees unlocked gives you more mobility.”

You imitated his stance, “Like this?”

“Good.”

Now, he came over, wrapping his arms around you to help you position your hands. His back radiated heat, causing you to sweat more.

That was when the Captain came back.

“Lads, what the hell is going on here?” he asked.

Anakin jumped away from you. “We’re teaching her how to fight, Captain.”

“Sure, you are,” Obi-Wan grumbled, shooting you a look before going to the cabin. “Lass, a word?”

You sheepishly gave Rex his sword and followed Obi-Wan back into the cabin.

“How’d the meeting go?” you asked.

His back was to you as he leaned against the desk.

“Lass, I didn’t want to talk about the meeting. We got the job, the price is fair, but that’s not why I called you in here.”

“Why did you call me in here?”

“Because... Well, because I was jealous. I want to teach you how to fight. Hell, I should have been the one teaching you all along. It’s an oversight on my part, but I guess I just liked being able to be the person that protected you. I was wrong though,” he sighed, turning to face you. “the best way to protect you is to teach you how to protect yourself.”

“Then teach me, Captain,” you said, smiling softly at him. You placed your hands on his chest, not caring about how hot it was between you.

“I will,” he said adamantly, settling his hands on your hips. “I should be the one with my hands on you to guide you, and I’d rather have you be hot and bothered because of me.” He gave you his signature smirk and the blush in your cheeks wasn’t from the heat.

“Captain, I’d rather be hot and bothered because of you any day,” you purred, earning a slight grunt from him. “As nice as they are, they’ve got nothing on you, Obi.”

“Lass, you have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that,” he smiled. “Now, let’s teach you how to fight.”

He reluctantly let go of your hips to go dig in a trunk for a cutlass, handing it to you. The hilt was beautiful, with a sapphire seated in a tangled nest of metal that shielded your hand.

“Obi-Wan, why don’t you ever use this?” you asked curiously as he handed it to you.

“Because it was my mother’s,” he explained. “She told me that should I ever find a lass that I wanted to protect, then I should give her this, because there’s no greater protection than self-sufficiency and no greater way to love someone than to acknowledge that they are strong enough to protect themselves even though you want to do it for them.”

You twisted the sword this way and that in the air. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yes, well...” he blushed, “let’s go teach you how to use it.”

The two of you made your way back out into the sun, and got into the swing of things. By the time the sun had set, you were fighting each other and he wasn’t going easy on you. The two of you were panting and sweaty by the time you called it quits.

“Well, Captain?” you asked.

“I think you were great,” he grinned, “Bonnie good, Lass. I’m proud. You’re a quick learner. Who knows, you may be the best swordswoman of the seas.”

“One day, maybe,” you chuckled, tipping up to kiss his cheek. “But not today.”

#Pirate!Obi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi

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bi-naesala · 4 years

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Found you (chapter two)

Bad Batch arc retelling (sort of) | Fives lives AU

Also on AO3

Chapter 1

Fives hates waiting, especially in these kinds of situations. They should be rescuing Echo, but all they can do now it to wait around until they get permission like some kind of kids!

The idea of leaving alone comes to mind, but even if he manages to reach Skako Minor - that’s where Echo’s signal came from - what could he do against entire squadrons of droids? They’re about to mess with the Techno Union, which means that things are going to get ugly. No, as much as he hates admitting it, he needs everyone, even the Shebs Batch.

The only problem, now, is that Rex has somehow disappeared. Where’s the Captain now? He doubts he’s in his quarters - why would he be there of all places? - but he can’t find him anywhere.

A hand plants itself on his shoulder, forcing him to stay still and stop pacing.

“You’re going to burn a hole in your boots if you keep up like that,” Jesse says, “Just calm down.”

“I am calm,” Fives snaps back. He hates when people tell him to calm down; if anything, they only succeed in irritating him more. He tries to pull his shoulder free, but Jesse’s hold is too strong.

“You really are not,” he says, which is rich coming from him of all people. Jesse has never exactly been a paramount of patience.

Seeing the worry in his brother’s eyes, Fives’ aggressive stance deflates.

“Look, I just want to be over with this part,” he says, “We should’ve moved already.”

“I know, but it’s not like we can do whatever we want. There are strategies to be made.” Fives hates this kind of reasoning because it’s so cold: it makes war look like more like a series of calculations than the gruesome affair that it actually is. Still, Jesse is right - for once - but this doesn’t mean that Fives has to be happy with it, hence the pacing and the death stares; he’s sure he’s scared shitless a few shinies that have tried to approach him. He should apologize to them, but they really had picked a very bad time to bother him.

“Hey,” Jesse calls him then, a smirk on his face, “If you’re looking for a way to pass time, why don’t we play some sabacc? Want to steal more credits out of you.”

“So you admit that was stealing!” Fives exclaims, playfully shoving his vod, “Besides, now I know your tricks. You won’t fool me this time,” he adds with a confidence that makes Jesse chuckle.

“We’ll see…”

Thankfully for Fives’ credits, they’re stopped by captain Rex before they can make their way to the barracks.

“Captain, where were--”

“We have no time for that, Fives,” Rex interrupts him, “We’re leaving.”

Fives still doesn’t understand if they’ve actually gotten clearance to depart or if general Skywalker is doing as he pleases - it wouldn’t be the first time. In the end, it doesn’t matter, as long as they get to Skako Minor and rescue Echo.

He’s not entirely comfortable with the idea of having left Jesse behind, but general Kenobi and general Windu are going to need all the help they can and Jesse is one of the best. Whatever happens, he’ll surely make it out alive, or at least Fives hopes so. He really doesn’t want to lose another brother…

“Did you hear what he said? Does it mean he knows?”

“Sir, I really have no idea--”

Those are clearly the general and the captain’s voices that Fives is hearing as he makes his way to the ship’s main corridor. A glance is enough to confirm this theory: general Skywalker and captain Rex seem to be having a heated conversation. What are they talking about?

“Did you snitch on me, Rex? Were you the one who told Obi-Wan?” Skywalker accuses, making Rex spout indignantly at the idea that he would betray his trust like that. If nobody intervenes, things might escalate, which prompts Fives to walk up to them.

“Sirs, is there something wrong?” he asks, feigning innocence, like he hasn’t accidentally heard part of their conversation.

There’s a moment of pause, then the two look at each other.

“It’s nothing, Fives,” Anakin says then, leaving his previous position to do who knows what - probably going to speak with Hunter.

“What was that about?” Fives asks once he and Rex are alone. General Skywalker is known for his temperament, but there are only few things that would set him off even against Rex, and one of these things are…

“Was this about him and Senator Amidala?”

“General Kenobi finally snapped and made it clear that he knows.” Ah, so that’s what happened.

Skywalker and Amidala. They’re the worst kept secret in the whole GAR. The only way the Jedi Council hasn’t approached the general about this yet is probably because they think that looking the other way is the best solution which, in the end, might’ve been true: all this talk about attachments, and yet Skywalker, the Jedi who you could say has the most attachments, hasn’t turned on them, not even when the Chancellor tried to persuade him to his side by using his fear of losing his loved ones. If he had cracked, things would’ve gone very differently and Fives doubts he’d even be alive to tell the tale. Who knows.

It’s also true that Palpatine didn’t really get much time to talk before being shot from behind - he probably wasn’t expecting the Guard to turn on him, but Fox looked particularly smug when he took the shot. He had underestimated the clones, and this is what ruined him. A fitting end.

Before Fives’ thoughts can wander even more, Rex recalls him to attention.

“We should regroup with the others,” he says and, as always, he’s right.

“Yes, sir. Let’s go.”

They land into a storm. Just their luck.

Thankfully Tech is skilled enough to make them land safely. It was still a better landing than when the general flies.

“Nice job vod,” Five mutters, giving Tech’s shoulder a nice pat. Out of all the Bad Batchers, he’s the one he likes the most.

Tech seems surprised by such familiarity coming from him, but apart from looking at him like he’s seen a ghost, he doesn’t comment on it except from an awkward “thank you”.

And now, let’s see what kind of banthashit they’ll have to deal with now.

So long the General has only being kidnapped and rescued. Basically, nothing new.

If things keep going this way, maybe they’ll be done by the end of the day with only a few things majorly blowing up. Nothing Fives hasn’t experienced already.

These Poletecs are adamant on not wanting war on their planet, and to be frank, Fives can’t exactly blame them. Still, they’re here not to bring war but to save a brother, so if they’ll have to fight in order to do it, he won’t hesitate.

Tech’s the one that comes to the rescue again, thanks to his technology. An immediate translator like that would be mighty useful to have - how many times did Fives try to flirt with somebody at 79, only to find out they don’t speak the same language? Not that it usually isn’t that much of a problem, but still it would be something nice. Maybe if he asks kindly Tech would build one for him too?

At least now they’ve gotten safe passage, and from what Fives has understood, they’re even going to take them to Purkoll? Talk about lucky.

It would’ve been nice if they could help out more, but Fives supposed they can’t exactly ask much out of them. They’ll have to make do with that little they have.

Fives cracks his knuckles and adjusts the helmet on his face. Time to put his ARC training to use.

Everything was going great… until it doesn’t anymore. Tech has lost Echo’s signal, and that small hope they all felt is beginning to get overshadowed by doubt again, not for Fives, though, and not for Rex. Fives’ glad that the captain is backing him up as he keeps telling them that something must’ve happened and that they need to hurry up.

Then Crosshair opens his mouth.

“You feelings are getting in the way because you left him for dead at the Citadel.”

Fives blood begins to boil. He remembers that moment too vividly - there hasn’t been a day that he hasn’t thought about that. The General’s voice echoes in his head, the continuous screams and the “we have to keep going!”. He takes his first step towards Crosshair.

“We wouldn’t have if he had a choice! We couldn’t--”

“Oh, I don’t blame you, I would’ve left him for dead too.” Fives swears, this guy-- “Besides, he’s just another reg.”

Just another reg...

Anger takes over Fives. This time he doesn’t even try to rebuttal, he just throws himself at Crosshair with all his weight, making them tumble along the hill.

He’s been wanting to punch this asshole’s face since he first laid his eyes on him, and now he finally can. If he wasn’t so angry he would’ve smirked hearing his pained noises, but he’s too busy punching him to care.

“You don’t know what we’ve been through! You don’t know!”

Even as Crosshair tries to break free, there’s little he can do against Fives’ superior strength. ARC training really paid off.

Then he feels someone pulling him up, and as he tries to pull away, he recognizes Wrecker’s voice telling him to take it someone not his size. As if he’s afraid of him.

“Put him down!” Rex shouts at him, shaking him so that he loses his grip on Fives, who lands on the ground but gets up immediately, ready to throw down again. Wrecker’s attention, however, has moved to Rex; he clearly hasn’t appreciated the way his captain interfered, even though he had been the first one to put himself into a fight that didn’t concern him. It doesn’t matter, Fives can take care of him too.

“You’ll be a lot smaller when I’m through with you!” Rex shouts, maintaining the aggressive stance towards Wrecker. Fives has rarely seen him lose his cool like this and he almost wishes Jesse was here to witness it - he’ll just have to tell him when they come back. Still, it’s nice of his captain to stand up for him, especially against these assholes.

“That’s enough!”

General Skywalker’s voice echo with not exactly rage, but definitely irritation. The Jedi has put himself between Wrecker and the other two clones. “We’re supposed to work together, not getting into fights like this!”

He’s right, of course, even though if anything this makes things worse: if Skywalker of all people is telling you to be more responsible, then things must be bad.

The general sighs, a defeated look in his eyes, then he asks the Bad Batch to scout ahead, a clear excuse to be left alone with Rex and Fives.

“Sir,” Fives begins immediately once they are alone, “You heard him. I couldn’t--”

“I know Fives,” Skywalker interrupts him, “I don’t like what he said either, but that’s no excuse to act like that.”

As Rex apologizes for the show they’ve just given, Five has to bite his tongue in order not to snap at the general that he can’t say stuff like that, not when he’s done the same on other occasions. It’s unfair and he knows it, but he’s not perfect and sometimes you have to be petty to win.

At least the general seems to understand their situation. “Listen,” he sighs, “I know this mission means a lot to you, it means a lot to me too. If Echo’s truly alive, then it’s our priority to get him out of there, however… We have to be prepared in case this is just a trap, understood?”

“Yes sir.” Rex replies. Skywalker then proceeds to put a hand on Rex’s shoulder and the other on Fives’.

“I want him to be alive as much as you do, but if it turns out he isn’t, I need to know that you’ll be able to handle it. Can you?”

“We will, sir,” Rex says, “If he turns out dead, we’ll handle it.”

“Good,” Skywalker replies, his voice soft with obvious concern. He turns to Fives then. “And you, Fives?”

It takes him longer that it should to reply. He knows that there are many chances that yes, this is all a trap, but he has to believe that Echo is alive - someone has to. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first he has a hunch that, although highly improbable, turns out to be true.

“Yes I… I’ll handle it,” he says eventually, because if it’s really true that Echo’s dead, it will hurt, but eventually he’ll have to move on. His brother wouldn’t like it if he spent his entire life mourning him, or worse getting injured because he was too busy being sad to concentrate on the mission.

He feels Skywalker’s grip tighten, but not too much, just enough to be comforting.

“I’ll be fine sir. Really.”

The general nods, then he smiles. It’s that kind of smile that means trouble, the one who usually give Rex headaches because it means that he’s going to do something stupid.

“Alright, let’s go now. Wouldn’t want to be outshined, eh, guys?”

Rex and Fives share a look.

“General’s right,” Fives points out, a mischievous smile mirroring Skywalker’s on his face. For once, even Rex seems on board with this.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Once they all reach the tower, they finally manage to pick up Echo’s signal again. It doesn’t mean that it’s all good, but Fives will take what he can get.

If there’s even the smallest chance that Echo’s alive, then it’s all worth it.

Tech - the only valid Bad Batcher, Fives will never stop saying it - manages to hack the door open, which is good because at least they can get in undetected.

Fives has never been fond of stealth missions but he understands their importance. Eh, this reminds him of that time when he and Hardcase had to sneak in that umbaran… Hardcase.

Fives shakes his head. That’s not the time to think about his fallen brother.

Fortunately he gets distracted from that by Wrecker’s hesitation in front of the elevator. Fives can barely suppresses a chuckle at the discovery that big strong Wrecker’s afraid of heights, but as soon as Hunter suggests holding his hand he doesn’t hold back anymore, gaining a punch on his shoulder from an angry Wrecker - though given the standards it’s a pretty light punch.

“You got something to say?” he says, clearly challenging him. As if Fives is going to fall back.

“I can hold your other hand if you want.”

At that, even Hunter chuckles; the sergeant thankfully puts a hand on Wrecker’s shoulder, stopping him before he can attack Fives again. All that’s left for the big guy is to grumble that he hates everybody there.

Ah the irony of general Skywalker telling them this is a stealth mission, only for the elevator’s doors to open and reveal a group of droids outside, too close not to spot them.

Of course Wrecker, the big oaf, throws himself at them, screaming without a care in the world. Ok that he wanted to crush some droids, but what the kriff anyway.

“So much for stealth,” Rex comments, using the I’m-so-done-with-this voice Fives is very familiar with. They look at each other and he shrugs. Might as well make themselves useful.

They all move out, firing their blasters. They still have a chance of not blowing it if they manage to kill everything fast enough. Fives manages even to steal a couple of kills from Crosshair - and he notes to himself that he must never make him forget it.

Nobody is impressed with the way Wrecker begins to shout after destroying the droids. He at least has the decency to look embarrassed about it.

He even apologizes, though Fives doubts he’s really sorry.

Damn, he and Hardcase would’ve gotten along splendidly.

Of course, since things were going so splendidly, there’s a new problem: Tech is able to track Echo’s signal only during intel transmission, which makes him harder to find.

“Damn it!” Fives exclaims, and he would’ve punched the wall in rage if Rex hadn’t grabbed his wrist. They’re so close and yet so far!

“Calm down, Fives. We’ll find him.”

“Alright,” the general calls them back to attention, “We’re splitting up. Search for every door and, if you find Echo, contact the others.”

He moves his gaze to Fives, making it clear that this last part is addressing him in particular. “We go in together, just in case there’s trouble.”

Fives nods, but he already knows that, depending on the situation, he’ll decide later whether to consider that an order or just a mere suggestion.

The room Fives’ searches is empty, but that won’t stop him. He’s already rushing outside, moving to the next room, when Tech announces that Echo’s signal is back.

They follow it, arriving in front at a double door. Echo must be inside! Fives rushes to it, trying to open it, but it doesn’t budge!

To make things worse, the viewscreen next to the door activates, showing them Wat Tambor’s ugly mug.

The way he’s talking about Echo like it’s just a robot, an algorithm, makes Fives’ blood boil. If he gets his hands on him he’ll make sure he won’t survive the encounter.

He had forgotten how scary captain Rex can get when he’s angry; he believes every word he says about leaving that place only with Echo.

Oh no, they have company now - so many droids. They’re left with no choice but to fight.

Thankfully the general has finally reached them, helping them getting rid of the droids faster. Still, this is no easy feat: there’s too many droids and so little of them. In this case Fives is really glad that the Bad Batch is with them, because they’re handling things spectacularly, so much that they actually manage to get rid of the droids in record time…

No, reinforcements are coming. Kriff.

Good thing Tech’s working on opening the door.

They just have to resist a little bit longer.

As soon as the doors open, Fives and Rex rush to it. Since they aren’t incompetent they don’t do so blindly, and they keep their weapon ready, eyes on the lookout. Getting ambushed now won’t do at all.

They stumble upon an empty huge room, a lab definitely, but what gets everyone’s attention is a certain stasis chamber… Is Echo in there?!

“I don’t like the look of this,” Tech comment, very helpfully.

“Just open it, please,” Fives begs. If Echo’s in there they need to pull him out!

He can feel the weight of Rex resting his hand on his pauldron, an even though he can see his expression under the helmet, the way he inclines his head his enough for Fives to understand that he wants to know if he’s fine. He nods. Yeah, he’s fine.

The chamber’s about to be opened soon.

“I’m picking up a life form in there.”

It’s Echo, it has to be Echo…

Fives can’t believe his eyes. He… doesn’t know what to say.

That thing that has gotten out of the stasis chamber, still attached to it by wires, is… Echo?

He looks terrible: he’s pale, so skinny that he could see the bones, head shaved, gaze unfocused like he hadn’t even realized they’re there, and… prosthesis at his arm and his legs.

Fives is going to kill the entire Techno Union.

Thankfully, Rex manages to recover from the shock and springs into action, ordering Tech to find a way to safely unplug Echo from this machine. He begins working on getting him down, and after shaking his head, trying to focus, Fives joins him.

“Echo? Echo are you there?” he calls out, but there’s no response coming from him.

He feels like he’s going to be sick. What have they done to him?

It’s his fault. This is all his fault.

He shouldn’t have left him at the Citadel. He should’ve tried harder.

Both he and Rex remove their helmets, hoping that maybe he will recognize them like this. Now Fives can see how horrified Rex is; well, he feels the same.

It’s then that Echo begins to talk, but his voice is so low and broken that Fives can barely understands what he’s saying. He can only catch “Citadel”.

“No! No!” he begins to say, face panicking. Fives doesn’t know what the best course of action is, but he can’t stay idle and watch his brother suffer.

He gently puts a hand on his shoulder - he’s so cold - and tries to call for him again, this time without raising his voice, no matter how much he wants to scream.

“Echo? Can you hear me?”

Nothing.

“It’s me, Fives!”

Still nothing.

“I’m here, Echo. Talk to me please!”

“… Fives?” A flash of recognition has passed through Echo’s eyes, and now he looks like he’s actually seeing them. “Rex?”

“Yes, I’m here,” the captain says, scooting closer to Echo.

When Echo speaks again, with that voice so soft, Fives feels tears prickling at the side of his eyes, but he fights them back. Seeing him cry is the last thing Echo needs rights now.

“You came back for me.”

It breaks Fives’ heart. Yes, they came back to him, but after how many years? If only they had known before…

“Yes, yes we did,” Rex replies, and Fives can easily sense from his voice that he too is close to completely breaking down. They have to be strong for Echo.

“Thought you’d get rid of me that easily, vod?” he attempts to joke, and he doubts anyone has ever felt the relief he’s feeling when Echo chuckles.

There are still some things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do.

There’s also the question of having to come back, which is another big problem on its own, but now that they’ve found Echo, Fives feels unstoppable. It wouldn’t be good dying right when they’re so close to succeeding.

“We’re going to get you home. Whatever happens, I’ll keep you safe.” He goes to take his brothers hand, squeezing it with determination.

“I promise.”

#arc trooper fives #captain rex #anakin skywalker #the bad batch #clone trooper hunter #clone trooper crosshair #clone trooper tech #clone trooper wrecker #arc trooper echo #tcw #sw #star wars #my fics #mine #found you

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