#the way he is clutching qui gon's body too

[fionajames]

two times newly knighted.

hello everyone, hope you've had a good day or night so far! this is sort-of hurt/comfort for anakin and obi-wan.

@lovejoysoots this is not as fluffy as you might hope, but have a dose of ur favs :)

enjoy!

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes for what felt like - and might very well have been - the hundredth time as he tried to make sense of the words on the datapad in front of him. In the room ahead of him he could hear Anakin’s soft snores. He glanced at the chronometer again and could barely make out the time: 3:52am.

It wasn’t the first time he’d pulled an all-nighter in an attempt to make sure he knew what to teach Anakin - his newly made Padawan, that still felt weird - but now his lack of sleep was catching up to him. 

The Knight - not Padawan, he reminded himself constantly - made his way to the kitchen to prepare his dozenth cup of caff, desperate for the energy hit. Usually he’d have it black and times like this, but his mouth tasted foul and he needed something sweet.

Taking his caff with milk and sugar to the balcony, Obi-Wan stared out at the planet of Coruscant - at its busy streets and bright lights. He longed for the moon’s warm embrace instead of the fakeness of the lights surrounding him, and couldn’t help but think of Anakin - who occupied most of his thoughts right now - and how strange it must feel to be deprived so abruptly of the natural light. 

Sipping his caff and leaning against the banistray, Obi-Wan’s unoccupied hand travelled to his right ear, grasping at the empty space where his Padawan braid used to dangle.

Used to.

“Master?” A sleepy voice called and Obi-Wan turned - abruptly but carefully - to see the familiar blonde boy peering up at him, rubbing sleep from his own blue eyes. Anakin looked so small as he stood - half-asleep - in front of the Knight. 

“Yes?” Obi-Wan asked, unsure of what to call the boy. He could call him by his name but that seemed informal and calling him Padawan made the ginger want to cry. “Is everything alright?”

Anakin waddled to stand by his side and stood on his tiptoes to peer out at the city below. “Yes, I was just, uh, wondering if you were alright?” The ginger bit his lip as red veins creeped into the whites of his eyes. His bottom lip started to tremble as he desperately clutched the side of his robes, turning his knuckles white.

“Yes, Anakin, I’m alright, go back to sleep,” he spluttered after a second, wincing when his voice cracked with defeat and despair. The blonde hesitated, before nodding and heading back to his room.

As soon as Obi-Wan heard the door close, he fell to his knees, crying out quietly as tears collected in his eyes, burying his face in his hands. “Master, what am I supposed to do?” He whispered, staring through the gaps in his fingers out at the blurry lights. He cries for a while, thinking of Qui-Gon and clutching his chest as it aches in sorrow. He misses his Master, he isn’t ready to be a Knight, and in no way is he ready to have a Padawan.

“I can’t do this” he chokes out as his sobs inundate his body.

                           -

Obi-Wan spends hours walking the Temple, no destination in mind. He hopes it appears like he has somewhere to go, but he doesn’t. Anakin is in class and that means he’s alone. 

Alone.

Until he isn’t.

“Obi-Wan,” he hears a voice greet him, and he instantly recognises it as Plo Koon’s. He has no idea that Plo is rather aware of how fragile Obi-Wan is at the moment, and knows that by calling him ‘Knight Kenobi’ he will break. Plo knows that all the boy needs is help and a hand, but it’s a matter of getting him to take that hand. “How are you doing?”

Obi-Wan desperately tries to collect himself in order to not shatter in front of the Master. “I’m fine, Master Koon.” 

The Kel Dor smiles at him sympathetically. “I know that is a lie, and you know it yourself too.”

Obi-Wan is sure he hears the sound of his heart cracking and splintering into a million pieces, shards falling to ground and clattering. He chokes back a sob and Plo sees. “C’mon.”

The Kel Dor beckons him to his room - which is thankfully nearby - and even though Obi-Wan has never been inside the Master’s room, he’s too despondent to pay any attention to it. 

As soon as Plo closes the door, a tear drops from Obi-Wan’s eyelashes and falls down his cheek, rolling down his neck and sinking into the fabric of his robes. Once a single tear has fallen, there is no stopping any more. Obi-Wan helplessly tries to wipe away his tears as they cascade down his face, until he freezes. 

Two arms wrap around him warmly and the ginger remains rigid. Physical contact is rare for Jedi, hugs even more so.

But it’s all the boy wants at the moment, and so he wraps his arms around the Kel Dor as he sobs, comforted by the mere presence of the Master. “Shh, it’s alright,” Plo whispers softly to him, over and over and over. 

                           -

Anakin throws another punch at the punching bag, sweat dripping from his forehead as he shakes out his brown hair. He’s drowned himself in training for the past week, hoping it will take his mind off of the young Togrutan Padawan who follows him around. 

“I’m not ready for a Padawan,” he mumbles to himself again, blinking away tears. He won’t cry, he doesn’t have a reason to. Anakin wipes the sweat from his forehead and chugs down a bottle of water. “I’m not.”

He knows it’s not good to beat himself up like this, but he can’t help it. He’s only just been Knighted, been thrown into a war, and now he’s supposed to protect and teach this small child? He’s not ready for that. 

Anakin mindlessly uses the Force to lock the door as he slouches down against the wall, running a hand through his hair. When his hand falls to his side, he can’t help but notice the black metal peeking out from underneath the glove, and he cries out in pain at the memory.

“Stupid me,” he yelps out as a tear falls from his eyes, leaning his head back against the wall. Anakin brings his head forward and then bangs it against the wall, again and again and again. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”

He does this until his throat hurts from crying and his head is bleeding, but doesn’t move. 

How had Obi-Wan done it? Train him when he’d just lost Qui-Gon? How had he kept going? 

Anakin doesn’t know, and he thinks he never will as he curls up in a ball. “I can’t do this.” 

Padmé would yell at him if she saw him like this - beating himself up emotionally, mentally and physically. She’d berate him until he cried and then comfort him because she knew that was the only way to help him. Care too much and then comfort.

But Padmé isn’t here, and so he’s alone.

Alone.

                           -

Anakin stumbles out of the medcentre, face still feeling tear-stained even though the red is all visibly gone. Kix gave him the all-clear for his head after stopping the small cut from bleeding. Anakin almost wishes it weren’t so small. Almost.

“Anakin!” He hears Obi-Wan cheerfully call and he turns to his former-Master with a strangled and forced smile. The ginger’s grin instantly falls as he sees straight through the facade. “What’s wrong?” Obi-Wan tugs him into an empty room - neither have any idea what it’s used for, and that doesn't matter - sitting them both down on the floor. His worry is so clear on his features it makes Anakin want to cry even more. “What’s wrong, Anakin?”

“Master,” he chokes out, clutching the end of Obi-Wan’s sleeve like it’s a lifeline. “I’m not ready to train Ahsoka. I can’t. I’m under experienced and I’ve barely finished my own training, plus we’re in a war, I don’t think she should be fighting and-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan’s tone is a soft coo and it catches his attention. “You are more than ready. Just because you’re newly knighted doesn’t mean you're under-experienced.”

The brunette’s face crumbles as he lunges forward and tackles Obi-Wan in a hug, so tight and desperate that he fears he might break the ginger, but he just returns it fondly.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

Hope you all liked that!

Requests are open and I don't do just characters (for a heads-up)

@skellymom expect the request about my ocs done within the hour, and if not, im severely sorry but im working on it.

Have a lovely rest of your time!

#star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #ahsoka #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #prequels #star wars prequels #sw #padawan #jedi knight #ka’ra writes ❤️

[ahsokasupremacy]

being anakin is so funny in like the worst most awful way. he’s a literal chosen one demigod child of a prophecy but the reason the jedi council has never found him before is because he lives on a hot ass dry ass sucky ass desert planet in buttfuck nowhere on the outer rim. when qui gon meets him as a nine year old, he’s just casually like yes my mom and me are unpaid laborers yes this normal. also we have bombs in us and if you try to leave your body goes kaboom :)) then you think maybe qui gon is gonna do the right thing and free him but actually anakin, the NINE YEAR OLD is the one who saves them. and it’s by fucking podracing his hyperfixation literally comes in clutch and saves his own life. and then qui gon’s immediate reaction is “oh shit, someone should enroll this demigod kid in space wizard first grade.”

when he’s nineteen he literally jumps straight out of a window to chase down padme’s killer. he tells obi-wan that he always wanted him to be his father (to which he gets rejected and brother-zoned). literally padme even rejects him too like both of the most important figures in his life are like ew anakin no. also if you really think about it he’s the third wheel here because padme and obi-wan are actually good friends and much closer in age whereas anakin was like an annoying little brother to them. all this is despite the fact he is supposed to be THE MAIN CHARACTER in HIS MOVIE!! and then, he somehow manages to hunt down a SHAPESHIFTER. you would think that, the shapeshifter being able to change and hide their form and anakin being unable to disguise his very obvious jedi robes, this would be an easy win for the shapeshifter. oh yeah also all of this all happens literally in the same night. then like, a week later boom he’s married to padme.

later in life when he’s in the suit, everything is literally his own personal living hell. he can’t sleep or eat and the only times when he falls asleep, all his dreams are garbled nonsense overstimulating noise and a supercut of his worst moments. and then he just wakes up from that bone-chilling soul-wrenching horrifying nightmare and is like “oh well time to go to work at my dead-end job 😒 another day another slay time to kill some younglings 😐” as if it’s nothing

#anakin skywalker #sw meta #my post

[sej2020]

Ten Years Gone By

You sensed the fluttering from the dessert that night, having made your way to the desert planet in your final attempt to find the man you once called your… just what you call a man you were spending your time with but had yet to define anything you’re not quite sure.

With a bag over your shoulder, cloak wrapped tightly around you hood up, you rode a Eopie you stole from the market, through the desert finding another tied up Eopie. Dismounting the animal feeding the two some meat you had also stolen, you carefully made your way to the cave entrance. Edging your way through you were unsure of if you even have the right place, the force was so… sad.

‘Who are you?’ Came from behind you, a gun you sensed pointed at your head.

‘Obi Wan’ you said brokenly, turning slowly dropping your hood.

‘Y/N… you, you’re alive’ said Obi Wan dropping his arm, the pistol clattering to the floor.

‘I’m alive’ you said studying the man.

‘I thought… when I couldn’t find you at the temple near the control room… I couldn’t bring myself to search properly… I just couldn’t bear the thought’ said Obi Wan his voice wobbling as he spoke.

‘I got out, I took ten younglings with me, got them out on a refugee ship and settled, but then the inquisitors came’ you said tearing your gaze away as tears threatened to fall.

‘What happened?’ asked Obi Wan seeing the tension in your body.

‘Some of them joined the inquisitors… I couldn’t stop them from fighting each other… I couldn’t…’ you said wrapping your arms around you shutting your eyes as the events played in your mind.

‘I’m so sorry’ whispered Obi Wan, approaching you carefully, wrapping his arms strongly around you.

‘They’re all gone Obi’ you sobbed, wrapping your arms around the man, gripping onto his loose clothing.

‘Shh, my darling, you’re ok, you’re safe here’ whispered Obi Wan into your ear, clutching you to him.

‘Why don’t we get this bag off, go sit on the ledge there, I’ll make us some tea’ said Obi Wan, breaking away from you, lightly pushing off your backpack from your shoulders.

Watching the man hang up your back on a hook near to his own bag, then turn to potter at his self made kitchen you made your way to the opening settling on the ledge looking out into the starry sky. Taking off your cloak you sat down on it, legs dangling down over the edge, you admired the sky, the stars never looked as bright as they do now.

‘Here darling’ said Obi Wan speaking softly holding out a mug of tea to you.

Taking it gratefully you cupped the mug with two hands, sipping it as the man sat down next to you with his own. As you watched a shooting star you smiled softly as you felt a soft warmth blanket you, happy to note it smelled strongly like Obi Wan. Sighing you sipped your tea, resting your head on the man’s shoulder, both sharing the warmth under the man’s cloak you sat under.

‘I’ve missed you’ whispered Obi Wan.

‘I’ve missed you too, so much’ you said softly.

‘How did you end up here?’ Asked Obi Wan, keeping his mug clutched in one hand, he encouraged you to hold his hand, fingers entwined resting on his leg close to yours.

‘I’ve been looking for you, following the rumours, whispers really, the outer rim was my last stop… I thought you would have had to be… I had to know you were ok’ you said squeezing his hand.

‘I’m right here, I’m…’ sighed Obi Wan, sipping his tea instead of finishing his sentence.

‘Not ok but alive’ you said placing your empty mug to the side, wrapping your free arm around his, returning your head to his shoulder.

‘Yes… that, I feel so lost’ admitted Obi Wan, resting his head atop of yours.

‘I wish Qui Gon was here to help you’ you said softly.

‘Me too’ said Obi Wan.

‘Do you remember how difficult it was to see a shooting star out in the garden’ you said as you both watched two or three shoot across the sky.

‘And how bright they shine from here in comparison, it seems a little backwards’ commented Obi Wan, running his thumb across your knuckles.

‘I suppose, or it could be a sign’ you said absently.

‘What sign’s that?’ Asked Obi Wan lifting his head and looking down at you.

‘Even in the darkest of places, no matter the condition, there’s always a thing of beauty, of hope, waiting to be discovered’ you said lifting your own head looking into the man’s eyes.

‘You never cease to amaze me… even times like these you still find ways to see the light’ said Obi Wan bringing a hand up to the side of your face, stroking your skin softly.

‘There’s always light, it just takes a special person’ you said watching the emotion in Obi Wan’s eyes.

‘Y/N, you are the most exquisite person in this whole galaxy and you deserve so much more from this life’ said Obi Wan full of emotion.

‘Oh my love I could say the same thing about you’ you said, unclutching his arm, in turn placing a hand to his neck then entangle your fingers into his hair at the back of his head.

Without a word, Obi Wan guided you into an emotionally heated kiss. Your lips moved together in sync, his dessert chapped lips moving with your own, tongues stroking the others lips, entwining together. Breaking apart to breathe, you giggled as Obi Wan cupped your face, kissing your cheeks, nose, eyelids, then your lips again in quick pecks.

‘Oh my darling I’ve missed you’ said Obi Wan running his nose up and down your neck, kissing your skin lightly behind your ear.

‘I’ve missed you sweetheart’ you said, as the man came back to your lips kissing you again.

You ended up tumbling onto the man’s soft pallet he used as a bed, bodies thrumming together, both your desire taking over. It was the early hours of the morning, Obi Wan sat shirtless in his cargo pants, the ledge opening side-wall at his back, you sat with your legs on either side of his hips, curled around him, his lower back resting lightly on your legs. You were dressed in your own pants and bra, keeping as much skin connected to each other as you could.

Your arms are wrapped over his shoulders, one arm wrapped around the backs of his shoulders, your other resting lightly on his neck. Both of you were enjoying the early sunlight, enjoying the last couple of hours you had together before Obi Wan would leave for his meat packing job. Turning from watching the sky you found Obi Wan watching you, a love sick smile on his face.

‘I love you, I wish we hadn’t of lost ten years’ said Obi Wan stroking the side of your face.

‘I love you too’ you replied leaning in and pecking his lips lightly, grinning when you felt his lips lift into a smile.

#obi wan kenobi cute #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan Kenobi hurt

[soothingmoonlight]

Qui-Gon’s death from an alternative take

#qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #the phantom menace #star wars #sw #star wars episode 1 #episode i #tpm #duel of the fates #this is breaking my heart #look at obi wan's face #i can't #the way he is clutching qui gon's body too #*sobbing*

[outpastthemoat]

prompts! Obi-Wan & Mace + noceur or Obi-Wan & Qui-Gon + pyrrhic

Before Qui-Gon Jinn was a tall man, he was a tall boy, with ungainly legs and large, broad hands. He had learned early on that he must be careful with his hands, careful not to hold things too tightly or to push too hard, for fear of hurting his clanmates. He had learned a hard lesson that he must be careful to stay out of the others’ way during their training, never getting too close for fear of hurting his friends.

The reach of his arms had given him an advantage in combat, so that he could stay out of the range of his opponent, dancing nimbly just out his opponent’s way, and so he had always done well in sparring matches and the initiates tournaments, and he had kept to that fighting style even after he was knighted.

His reach had not been a problem until he took on a new padawan. Now the length of his arms keeps him far away from Obi-Wan the first time they spar together, batting away his lightsaber like a demizol-fly whenever the boy tries to approach him with a strike.

This frustrates his padawan, Qui-Gon can tell. He easily avoids all Obi-Wan’s attacks, dodging smoothly away. But Obi-Wan edges close to him somehow, and in his surprise Qui-Gon is too fierce with his defense. He brings his lightsaber down heavily, crushing against his padawan’s training blade, smashing through Obi-Wan’s guard and sending his saber spinning across the room.

The boy falls back with a cry of pain, clutching his wrist.

Qui-Gon drops his saber at once. “Are you all right, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan blinks up at him. “Yes, master,” he whispers. But he keeps his arm pressed tight against his chest.

Qui-Gon stands helplessly over his fallen padawan, afraid to move. Obi-Wan stares up at him with wide eyes. They are perhaps both in shock. In his mind’s eye, Qui-Gon sees himself bearing down on the boy, sending him flying to the ground. He had not been expecting this.

Qui-Gon suddenly realizes how he continues to tower over the boy. He goes down on one knee slowly. Perhaps Obi-Wan does not mean to, but he flinches away.

“May I see your arm?”

Obi-Wan hesitates, but holds his arm out. Qui-Gon gingerly feels the wrist, then the forearm. Deep bruising is already evident, mottling over the boy’s wrist where the hilt of his master’s saber had struck him.

Remorse courses through him. He had forgotten how much Obi-Wan still did not know. He had forgotten how much taller, how much stronger he is compared to a mere thirteen-year-old boy; he had allowed himself to think of Xanatos, not as a boy he had been at the start of his apprenticeship but as the man he had become by the end of their relationship, a close match for Qui-Gon and able to take the brunt of his strength during a sparring match.

Small bodies can be hurt so easily. Qui-Gon has forgotten.

“I am sorry, Obi-Wan,” he says quietly. “I was too rough with you.”

“It’s all right, master. It doesn’t hurt very much.”

He has forgotten how to be gentle, in more ways than one. He has forgotten how to speak with softness in his voice, how to be approachable to a young boy who is not quite at ease with him.

Qui-Gon had been grimly intent on instructing the boy as he had promised on Bandomeer, but what has it cost him? He has lost Obi-Wan’s trust, if he had ever had it to begin with. Can he give the boy reason to believe he will not hurt him again?

But as though gentleness is a memory once trained into his muscles, his hands remember, staying soft as Qui-Gon applies the bacta sleeve and bandages the bruised wrist, and his voice remembers, remaining low and quiet as he murmurs reassurances, and he can almost sense how gentleness returns to him, slipping back into his body as though it never left.

And when he carefully eases his arm across his padawan’s shoulders, Obi-Wan leans into his side and drops his head against his master's chest, as though there was never any question of where he belongs.

#thank you!!! #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #outpastthemoat fics

[luvvewan]

promptsssssss!!!

13: “Just listen to the sound of my voice.” 🥺🙏❤️

Thank you for the prompt, @sanerontheinside ! I went full Obi-whump, so I hope you like it.

—

The healer crouched at the edge of the bunk and took Obi-Wan’s bare feet in his hands.

Obi-Wan cried out, trying to pull away from the touch, twisting in the blankets.

“Caht, nah.” The elderly man, Hagit, said softly. He glanced up at Qui-Gon. “Numo.”

Qui-Gon had garnered only a handful of words in the native tongue, but he didn’t need to know what the healer said; he could see it in his eyes. Pity. For Obi-Wan, yes. But also for him? Fear lodged in his throat.

“Evvi, eh. Uh…here. Boy…numo.” Hagit motioned to Obi-Wan’s foot.

“Keep him still, Master Jedi, please.” Evvi, their young interpreter and Hagit’s grand-niece, translated. “He sees the spine in the left heel.”

Qui-Gon suppressed a shudder and turned away, leaning over his insensate student. Obi-Wan’s face was covered in sweat, eyes half-lidded, lips cracked and quivering. His Learner’s braid had plastered itself to Obi-Wan’s pale neck and chest. Qui-Gon smoothed it carefully between his fingers. “You are doing very well, Padawan. Just stay still. I know it’s difficult but you must not move,” he used a gentle voice better suited for younglings, despite the fact Obi-Wan was twenty three years old and a newly senior apprentice.

He watched Obi-Wan try to look at him, but another wave of pain erupted through their connection in the Force, and his eyes rolled back. Qui-Gon absorbed what he could, wanting to take it all, though even the echoes of Obi-Wan’s agony were enough to make him briefly light-headed.

He noticed Hagit was speaking again, a distant noise. Evvi said something back to him, then Qui-Gon heard several small, hesitant steps. A hand touched his arm.

“I’m sorry, Master Jedi. Removal is very painful and delicate. He does not want the spine to break apart while still in the foot. It will release more poison.” Evvi explained. “Can you hold him down?”

Obi-Wan was more powerful than his small frame would suggest. The pain and delirium made him combative, and when Qui-Gon gripped his arms he thrashed and snarled. He had never seen Obi-Wan, obedient and self-possessed Obi-Wan, untethered this way. Fingernails raked down his forearm, tore at his robe sleeves.

Sedation was not possible. The medical supplies were limited anyway. They were lucky to have Hagit, who was old enough to remember when the stone-fish were plentiful, before a plague wiped them out. Now it was exceedingly rare to catch a stone-fish on the shore, due to both its near-extinction and impressive camouflage. Obi-Wan had accompanied some of the village’s children to the water, or really they had accompanied him, starry-eyed at the presence of an offworlder, a Jedi. He had been stepping along a path of craggy rocks leading to the ocean when his foot landed on a stone-fish, its spiny, algae-crusted body hidden amongst the rocks and sand.

The pain had been immediate. The children had run, screaming, for help. By the time Qui-Gon found him, Obi-Wan was screaming too.

Other villagers had come. Among them was Hagit, helped along by Evvi at his elbow, his grey eyes milky and grave. Obi-Wan was administered a general anti-venom there on the beach, already overwhelmed by the agony that radiated from his foot through his entire body.

Evvi had told Qui-Gon the poison was brutal and quick. It was not always fatal, but it triggered something nearly as cruel: most victims were gripped by an unbearable sense of dread, demanding to be killed before the poison could fully take them.

From his admittedly foggy calculations, it had been close to an hour since Obi-Wan was attacked. Qui-Gon’s stomach lurched. He did not look behind him, where he knew Hagit was hovering at the wound site, arthritic hands shaking, preparing to perform a task of great precision.

“Still, Master Jedi. He must be still.”

He brought the Force to bear down on his Padawan while using his own brute strength to pin Obi-Wan’s wrists back onto the bunk. Obi-Wan whimpered and moaned, whipping his head to the side. Tears streamed freely down his face, snot and sweat dripping from his nose.

“Help!” He kicked his legs, trying to free himself from the healer’s grasp.

Hagit made a sharp noise under his breath, likely a swear.

“Obi-Wan, listen to me! We’re trying to help you!” He barked hoarsely, wiping sweat from his own brow before straddling his Padawan and laying over top of him, using his weight to hold him down. Their heads were pressed together and Obi-Wan wept and keened in his ear.

Qui-Gon’s heart found new ways to break. The Force was overrun with panic and hopelessness. Obi-Wan twitched and fought under him, desperate to get freed. Qui-Gon tried to use a sleep suggestion but his Padawan’s aura was clouded, elusive.

And time was draining away. He imagined the spine lodged in Obi-Wan’s tender heel, the poison seeping into his blood and causing more damage. “Just…breathe with me, Padawan, alright? There is no pain, there is the Force.”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan whimpered.

He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s temple. “Leave it to me, then. Trust in me, young one. Whatever else is happening…it doesn’t matter. Just listen to the sound of my voice.”

He knew it was a risk, to appeal to the dutiful instinct in Obi-Wan that very well might be overridden by poison-fueled anxiety. But what else could he do? Hold his delirious student down with every last bit of strength he possessed, and possibly break his bones in the process?

Obi-Wan bucked against him, sniffling and gasping. “It won’t stop it won’t stop oh gods…”

“Shhh,” Qui-Gon smoothed his damp hair. “You are so far away from that, aren’t you? Safe with me. Safe and very tired. Only you and only me, far away.”

Nerveless fingers clutched at him. “M-Make it stop make it stop I can’t—“

“Of course I will. Hold onto me and keep your legs very still. You can do that, I know you can. Put your arms around me and hold on, as tight as you can.” Qui-Gon blinked back the sweat pouring into his eyes, body vibrating with hope and dread as Obi-Wan slowly obeyed. “That’s it. Now I want you to keep the rest of your body very, very still, Padawan. Do you understand?”

Obi-Wan heaved an exhausted sob, but nodded. His arms gripped around Qui-Gon’s back while his legs gradually relaxed on the bunk.

Hagit murmured to himself. Evvi touched Qui-Gon’s leg.

In the stuffy little room, everyone tacitly understood what would happen next.

Qui-Gon felt Obi-Wan begin to tense. “Far away,” he continued, as if there had been no interruption. “We can go anywhere, can’t we? We’ve been to so many places together.”

“Nuh, Evvi.”

“Uncle says now, Master Jedi.”

Qui-Gon closed his eyes and released his fear to the Force. “Where do you want to go, Obi-Wan? I remember you enjoying Alderaan, with all the beautiful trees. The people there were so kind, weren’t they?” He did his best not to think of the fragile procedure happening inches away. His muscles shook, ready to react if necessary. He knew once Hagit began removing the spine it could not be halted. “I can’t remember…did we visit in the summer or winter?”

Obi-Wan was holding onto him for dear life, strangled moans catching in his throat.

My brave boy, Qui-Gon thought to himself. The pain was unreal. He couldn’t begin to comprehend what it felt like for Obi-Wan.

“Kill me Master Master oh Force I can’t…”

Qui-Gon squeezed him close. He thought of what Evvi had said--the poor victims who begged for death. He had not thought Obi-Wan would reach that point. But even the Force could not insulate the young man from such all-encompassing agony.

Obi-Wan wept openly against Qui-Gon’s neck. “Master, Qui-Gon...it’s moving..what….what is it doing..?”

“Don’t move,” Qui-Gon warned. “Do you want to go to Alderaan? Or someplace else? Someplace warm?”

They had just finished an extended mission on a frigid planet, yet Obi-Wan shook his head. “N-No deserts.”

Qui-Gon chuckled. Obi-Wan sunburned easily, returning from desert assignments with pink cheeks and ears. “Of course not. No, someplace cool enough to sleep out under the stars. Kodasta, perhaps? Remember how the stars seemed so close, as if we could nearly touch them?”

Obi-Wan clutched at the robe on Qui-Gon’s back. “Y-Yes…ahhh…”

“What was the constellation you saw? I can’t remember. It was quite rare, wasn’t it? I’m never any good at that but you spotted it right away. What was it called?”

“…Th-The El…usive Mage.”

“Oh yes. That was it.”

Obi-Wan moaned into Qui-Gon’s shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him steady. The pain was beyond excruciating and Qui-Gon could only feel the edge of it; Obi-Wan had long since given up any attempts at shielding from him. It was a testament to Obi-Wan’s endurance that he had not passed out.

“Nearly done,” Evvi said.

Thank the Force. “You’re doing so well, Padawan,” Qui-Gon praised him quietly. “Keep right here with me, can you see the Mage? Close your eyes and see if it’s there.”

“M-Master…”

“I know. But we are so far away from that, aren’t we? Among the stars on Kodasta. I see them when I close my eyes. Close your eyes and you’ll see them too. No, no, you can’t twitch like that. Squeeze me instead. That’s better. Now look for the Mage with me. Help me see it.”

“Ugh…” Obi-Wan groaned and panted. “Mmmmph…”

Qui-Gon could not let their progress unravel, not now. “Is it there, towards the left?”

For several strained seconds, Obi-Wan made harsh, pained sounds and struggled for breath. Then, finally: “Y-Yes. You have to…un…ah…unfocus your eyes to see. Look for the hat f-first.”

Qui-Gon smiled, blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes. “Ah, of course.”

“It’s out, Master Jedi.”

“I see it now, Obi-Wan. It’s beautiful.”

His Padawan sagged under him, unconscious.

—

Qui-Gon went to the shore and walked along the rock paths, fingers hooked in his belt. The stone-fish had been immediately killed, its remaining spines safely collected and the rest of it burned by a few of the villagers. Evvi told him some of the men searched the beach until dawn, out of caution.

They had not come across a single other stone-fish. Obi-Wan’s foot had apparently found the only specimen on the entire beach.

But then, Obi-Wan had always been blessed with a particular sort of luck.

He came to the place where Obi-Wan was stung. Specks of blood stained the rocks there. His instinct was to throw them into the ocean.

Instead, Qui-Gon left everything as it was, sea spray misting his cheeks as he turned back towards the village.

—

When he returned to the little cottage, Hagit was sitting at a sun-bleached wooden table in the kitchen. The red-tinged spine, still full of venom, was sealed in a plastibag and held loosely in his liver-spotted hands.

Hagit looked up at Qui-Gon. He was quite old, skin sagging and eyes permanently wet.

“Boy…yes.” Hagit nodded firmly at him.

Qui-Gon found it difficult to swallow. He bowed before the healer. “Graz-ta,” he said. Thank you.

—

Obi-Wan was curled up on the bunk. A heavy blanket was wrapped around him, his bandaged foot sticking out from the bottom. Though he had improved since the day before, his face still looked drained of its color.

Qui-Gon glanced around the quiet, dark room. He noticed Obi-Wan’s clothes and boots tucked under a chair. Evvi had done it, probably, but it was still a familiar sight, reminding him of how Obi-Wan tended to neatly fold his tunics, no matter where they found themselves. His heart tightened; he let it pass. He knew he would feel this way after such a close call. Small, tender things about Obi-Wan were going to strike him at odd times—he knew that, unfortunately, from experience.

Like the way he would hold his braid between his fingers when he slept. Qui-Gon could not recall Feemor or Xanatos ever doing that.

He sat on the bunk beside Obi-Wan and listened to the quaint sounds of life beyond the door. He appreciated the borrowed sense of domesticity that came with staying in family houses: home cooking, careworn sheets, a calmness and mildness in the Force. He wished they could stay here until Obi-Wan fully recovered from his ordeal, but the Council had already sent them their next assignment.

Qui-Gon brushed his fingers against Obi-Wan’s forehead. Glassy grey eyes fluttered open.

“Only a slight fever now,” Qui-Gon told him.

Obi-Wan kept his braid laced between his fingers. He looked swallowed up by the thick weave of the blanket and the night shirt that was several sizes too big. Or was it simply the absence of Jedi trappings that made it more obvious that he was young, human and fragile? “Well,” he croaked, voice ruined from prolonged screaming followed by prolonged silence, “I didn’t die.”

Qui-Gon tried to laugh, but it came out as an awkward huff. He touched Obi-Wan’s cheek. “No. You seem very much alive to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled, his eyes already drifting closed. “I didn’t sense it. The…ah…thing.”

“Neither did I,” Qui-Gon admitted, gazing out the window above Obi-Wan’s head. The villagers had searched the beach, but who could search all of the sea? He began to think of other dangers on other worlds, the unnamed masses of threats that awaited Obi-Wan in his life, on their next mission, even tomorrow. “If we could sense everything, our lives would be much easier.”

“Mmmhmmm. Less interesting?”

“I’m slipping. You’re guessing my lessons before I can give them.”

“Mm, but I can…always sense you, Master.” Obi-Wan mumbled. He would be asleep soon.

Qui-Gon leaned forward until their foreheads touched. “May the Force be with you, my Padawan.”

—

They rarely dreamed together, but that night they did, climbing through constellations in the dark sky, safely above the sea.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #qui-gon #writing prompts #obi wan and qui gon #obi wan whump #luvewan fanfic

[hellowkatey]

"head empty only service animal Boga" - @calika (october 7, 2021)

Since the day the mental image of Boga in a service animal vest was contrived by our frequent keeper of the braincell, @calika, a fun little conversation about Obi-Wan having a service varactyl for his PTSD on the kenobi kafé discord server turned into an extensive google doc, its own channel, many fics, some art, and as of recently-- an official tag on AO3!

In honor of the collective efforts of Kafé members and other amazing ao3 writers that have adapted the AU, I've compiled a little fic masterlist/rec list of all the Service Animal Boga fics! All of the works in this AU are amazing and wonderful and definitely check them all out!

You can find them all below the cut, or you can check out the AO3 collection and collaborative series!

~ ~ ~

Boga Service Animal AU- The Masterlist

Inseparable by @calika ~ Obi-Wan is torn from Boga’s side, his grip on her feathers failing as his captors drag him away and he screams, feeling like it’s his heart they’ve torn from him instead. [Obi-Wan and Boga are captured on the warfront] Rated T | 2.3k words

love like a roar by @catboydogma ~ “I don’t—I, uh. I don’t know what a varactyl is, Master,” Obi-Wan said, cradling the egg gingerly. “Find out soon, you will!” Yoda cackled, rapping the end of his gimer stick against Qui-Gon’s kitchen tile. If it were any other master, Qui-Gon might have protested giving the egg of a live creature to his very young, very tired padawan. But it was Yoda, and Yoda did what he liked. Qui-Gon supposed there had to be some advantages to being shin-high and over 500 years. Rated G | 1.4k words

Angel of Music by @calika ~ He finds her curled up in Qui-Gon’s favourite blanket on the couch, head stretched to the sky and swaying as she happily creates the most joyful sonic torture to ever exist. [Boga sings her heart out at every opportunity.] Rated G | 2.5k words

grief is its own beast by @calltomuster ~ The creature comes to a screeching halt right in front of them – right in front of Obi-Wan, whose face seems to crumple a bit. “Boga,” he chokes out, and then his hands are buried in its crests and his face is tucked into the side of its neck. The creature trills again, a lower-pitched cry of mourning, and cuddles closer to the man who is clutching it like it is his lifeline. [Or: in the wake of Qui-Gon's death on Naboo, Obi-Wan's service animal Boga provides some much-needed comfort.] Rated T | 2.5k words

I'll Love You Forever (Let Me Be Your Shelter) by @swranger ~ The training simulations on Kamino had never included a 60-foot feathered lizard. Cody had to admit the veractyl was endearing, though, in her own way. The creature—Boga—did a considerable job of being in the background, despite her large size. Cody knew how much she helped his General, so he couldn’t help but be grateful to her. Normally, she was vigilant, perceptive, and calm. She certainly wasn’t calm at the moment. It was the first time that Cody found himself wishing the veractyl were a little less perceptive. General Kenobi hadn’t come back from the latest mission. Rated T | 2.3k words

Not everything feels like something else by @artherra ~ Qui-Gon voices the: “Oh!” for him. The lizard that stands at her feet; roughly tall enough for its head to be level with Obi-Wan’s chest; turns its head to them as soon as they enter and fixes its stare straight at him, those yellow, burning, intelligent eyes cutting through his soul. The crown of purple-blue-jade feathers on the back of its head lifts as it considers him like an equal, like a challenger, and he straightens without thinking. A sort of harness wraps around its body along with a vest; it says on the side, SERVICE ANIMAL IN TRAINING, and DO NOT DISTRACT, black font on bright orange. “Obi-Wan,” the lady tries to get his attention but he’s too busy having a staring contest with the animal that reminds him so closely, so terribly of some half-forgotten idea of home. “I want you to meet Boga.” One by one, we each stay alive. Rated T | 9.9k words | warnings: graphic depictions of violence, see author note for TW

war is a looming specter by @calltomuster ~ “Hey,” Anakin said softly, kneeling down. “Are you alright, Master?” Obi-Wan raised his head and revealed his pale, blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. “I – I can’t – I can’t do it again, I can’t–” At his side, Boga let out a soft trill and raised her head to swipe her tongue down the side of Obi-Wan’s face. [Or: in the shadow of the first battle of Geonosis, Anakin learns the Jedi are going to war. His first thought is of Obi-Wan.] Rated T | 2.1k words

Trials and Tribulations (I've had my share) by @silveryinkystar ~ "It's not like I'm not attached, either," Obi-Wan said. "To Skywalker?" Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, I – I meant Boga. I’m so scared of losing her. You saw what my last mission did to my state of mind. I’ve never been this afraid of losing anyone before, not even Qui-Gon. I am attached to her, and I don’t know if that’s–” Boga, sensing his distress, rolled over slightly, and Obi-Wan broke off into a wheeze. Obi-Wan, upon returning from a harrowing mission during the war, gets a visit from Yoda and discuss a few things that were weighing on his mind. Rated G | 2.1k words

I'll help you carry on by @hellowkatey ~ "I've done lots of research, Master. Varactyls are very smart and loyal. Plus, I've always been good at connecting with animals through the Force." "Indeed you have," the Jedi Master says with a tinge of defeat. "Though I worry about taking on the responsibility of training Boga on top of your padawan studies. You already have much to catch up on." [or, 5 glimpses into Obi-Wan training Boga to be his service animal, and 1 time that training pays off] Rated G | 7.5k words

Just out of Reach by @coalmine301 ~ “Boga,” Anakin said, voice oddly heavy. She ignored the tone in favor of wagging her tail in greeting. That was her name! “Boga, you-” Ani swallowed dryly “-you don’t have to protect him anymore.” What was he talking about? Of course she would always protect her little friend. Partially because that was her job, but also because he was her little friend. Her Obi. Her partner. A man who needed her help more often than not these days. Not Rated | 1.7k words | warnings: graphic depictions of violence

every possible way by @catboydogma ~ “Oh, hello there,” Obi-Wan said, turning and raising an arm. Boga had her little paws hooked into his tunics, beak open wide and tail lashing behind her. “What are you doing here, darling?” Boga opened her beak even wider, somehow, and screeched at him. He’d never heard her so loud or so shrill. The rush of the fountains and streams in the Room filled the air between them. OR: 5 times Boga screamed to be silly + 1 time Boga screamed to be serious Rated G | 3.2k words

Search and Rescue by @silveryinkystar ~ It was awfully silent in the gardens. Cody gripped his hat tightly in his arms, wondering why it had struck him so suddenly. The gardens in the Jedi Temple, after all, weren’t particularly loud – this section was especially quiet compared to other, more frequented areas – and nothing appeared to be amiss. Appeared was the key word. Something was off. [Maul kidnaps Boga in order to bait Obi-Wan into a trap for revenge. This is the story of her rescue.] Rated T | 6.5k words

well and far behind by @catboydogma~ It will be easy, the Senate had said. Just yourself and perhaps a few others, they’d said. Quick in and out, they had told him. Well, this was most definitely not a “quick in and out” sort of mission. Rated T | 1.7k words

healing takes its own path by @calltomuster ~ Obi-Wan looked back down at Boga. He stretched out his hand a bit, and this time Boga was the one who leaned forward into his touch. He began scratching dutifully, clearly understanding the implicit instruction, and immediately the low rumbling began again. A slow, small smile crept across his face. “G-good girl, Boga,” Obi-Wan whispered, so softly that it could barely be heard. [Or: three scenes in the early life of Obi-Wan and Boga's partnership.] Rated T | 3.9k words

Drifting in The Foam by OldManBen ~ War changes the very fabric of the soul. It is a moral wound, one that even the most skilled healers and poets cannot mend. There is no victory, not when there are orphans and widows. When Obi-Wan returns from the Melidaan conflict, the Jedi come together to help him find his way again. Rated T | 6.1k words

Everything Will be Fine by MiaSertnev ~ Boga has always been there since Melida/Daan. Obi-Wan cannot imagine life without her while she would make any sacrifice to protect her Master. Rated T | 5.4k words

Feathers, facades, and other fashions of the coruscant elite by @calika ~ Forwarded from Galactic Republic Senate Administration Office: High General Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are invited to attend the 3rd Peace Gala to benefit the republic planets most impacted by the war.

Reply to Galactic Republic Senate Administration Office: I am honoured to accept the invitation on the condition my service animal may accompany me. May the force be with you. Rated G | 4.9k words

Head in the Sand by @swranger ~ Then the sweet sound of a gunship directly overhead filtered through the dust. Whoops and fresh cheers from the troops made Obi-wan’s knees weak again. “Reinforcements! The reinforcements have arrived!” There were already clones running past them. Obi-wan turned off his lightsaber. The plasma melted away, and so did Obi-wan’s strength. He and Boga sank to the ground together. Rated T | 5.5k words | warnings: graphic depictions of violence

easy now / now alone by @catboydogma ~ There was nothing else in the world that felt like Boga. Her scales were smooth but not slick, pebbled but not raised. Her beak was always warm, somehow, despite the fact that it was bone and keratin. Her tongue laved over the inside of his wrist and then she nudged forward, thumping the side of her head against his chest. His arm automatically went around her neck and she set a leg delicately over his lap. The warm weight of it felt real like nothing else. Rated T | 3.0k words | warnings: graphic depictions of violence

our teeth to break by @catboydogma ~ Obi-Wan woke to a raging headache, searing pain in his shoulders, and a dull throbbing at the back of his skull. He was strung up by his wrists, Force-suppressing cuffs digging into the soft insides of his arms, feet barely brushing the cold durasteel floor under him. He noticed, with a sinking feeling, a circular drain set in the middle of the floor just under his toes. Rated M | 3.3k words | warnings: graphic depictions of violence

A Boy and His Varactyl by @stolen-pen-name23 ~ As he lays there, crumpled on the ground, panting and unable to move, Obi-Wan realizes something. “Boga, you have to go find Master Qui-Gon,” he says. The words are painful to utter, but he utters them anyway. Boga squawks at him, indignation bright in her intelligent eyes. OR: Obi-Wan is lost and injured in the woods. Boga helps him. Rated G | 2.6k words

Da Capo al Coda by @pandora15 ~ Obi-Wan Kenobi has a number of constants that he can rely on: his family, his job, and his service dog, Boga. But when things suddenly start to unravel, he is forced to face — and consider — the possibility of losing everything. After all, it is better to be alone than to be the cause of pain for the ones you love the most. Rated G | ongoing

a love that won't sit still by @catboydogma ~ Obi-Wan sang to Boga when he fed her. Qui-Gon had no idea why or when this had started. It just was. Obi-Wan crooned nonsensical melodies to Boga when he brushed through her crest and checked her toe pads, he sang snatches of Qui-Gon’s rowdiest drinking songs when he fed her, and when she curled up on his chest to sleep he hummed a sleepy three-note song of satisfaction before dropping off to sleep. Rated G | 1.8k words

The Guns in My Head by OldManBen ~ Following the deception arc, Obi-Wan and friends deal with the emotional fall out. In which Obi-Wan and Anakin finally talk, Obi-Wan admits a hard truth, and Boga offers Obi-Wan comfort.

Not Rated | ongoing

numbness spreading across your chest like frost by @calltomuster ~It was stupid, Obi-Wan knew it was stupid, but he hadn’t been able to help clinging to the thought during the war that once it was over, everything would be better.

But now the war was over, and Obi-Wan felt worse than he had in a long, long time. Rated M | 8.1k | warnings: see tags and AN for trigger warnings

instead I took care of you by @calltomuster ~ When Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, he was on the ground and he couldn’t remember how he got there.

[Or: many decades after the successful ending of the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan is still struggling, in ways both old and new.] Rated T | 2.0k

dogfish by @catboydogma ~ This was a beautiful planet. The name escaped him at the moment, but it had three moons and a single young blue sun. The atmosphere was a stunning deep cobalt in the evenings as the sun set and the first moon rose, but in the day—as it was now—the sky was a delicate shade of lavender. It was almost entirely rock and natural springs, with volatile volcanoes at each pole. Not two yards from Obi-Wan, a waterfall of glass-green water fountained down a rocky cliff to the riverbed. The rock here was every shade imaginable, though it tended to settle in deep violets and indigos. All it meant now was that Obi-Wan was covered in violet rock dust and his blood turned the rock beneath him almost black. Rated T | 1.6k

guardian angel by @coalmine301 ~ The varactyl knew Obi-wan was in this base somewhere, no doubt being hurt by these strange, mean men. It was only a matter of finding him… and hurting whoever dared lay a hand on him, of course. Not Rated | 1.7k let this cup pass from me by RogerRogerThat ~ The Force calls upon its beloved disciple, Obi-Wan Kenobi, guardian of the Light to prevent the destruction of the Jedi Order and the Galaxy. The only problem is Obi-Wan can't remember what happened, and he isn't sure if he'll ever be the same. Rated T | ongoing

Boga and the Human Called Anakin by @stolen-pen-name23 ~ Boga is distrustful of the human called Anakin, but due to his relationship with her Master, she is forced to get along with him. Now that her Master is missing and presumed dead, Boga has to trust Anakin and work with him if there’s any hope of saving Obi-Wan. Rated G | 1.9k

Walking Nightmare by RogerRogerThat ~ Obi-Wan has a flashback of Rattatak in the Temple and his friends help him to find his way back home again. Thankfully, Obi-Wan Kenobi has his faithful Boga Woga and friends to remind him he is safe. Rated T | 2k

_______________________

I'll try to keep this list updated as more Boga Service Animal fics come about!

If you are a writer interested in writing for this AU, the collection is open for anyone to participate! There are details in the FAQ and rules about guidelines for writing within the AU, but the abridged requirements are just to include Boga as a service animal in some way.

AO3 tag: Service Animal Boga (Star Wars)

#boga #service animal boga #obi-wan kenobi #masterlist #fic rec #rec list #kenobi kafe #kenobi kafé #boga service animal AU #obi-wan kenobi has ptsd #star wars the clone wars #tcw #jedi apprentice #melida/daan #star wars prequels #boga the varactyl #ao3

[thesecondbatgirl]

A popular piece of fanon that is directly contradicted by canon

Look, I understand that everyone loves the “Yoda arranged for Obi-Wan to go to Bandomeer so he could be Qui-Gon’s Padawan” thing, but people seem to be under the impression that its actually canon, when its not. And I don’t mean as in the books aren’t canon (they are, just not in continuity), I mean it in a this is directly contradicted by the books

So have some quotes:

In the upper room of the Jedi Temple, Master Yoda argued with the senior members of the Jedi Council. They were meditating in a huge greenhouse, the Room of a Thousand Fountains, where fountains and waterfalls streamed through an emerald forest

Outside, the surface of Coruscant was hidden by black storm clouds. "Obi-Wan Kenobi must be allowed to fight before Qui-Gon Jinn this day,” Master Yoda said, just as a bolt of lightning snarled through the clouds below. "I have foreseen it."

“What?” Senior Council Mace Windu asked. He was a strong, dark-skinned man with a shaved head. He studied Yoda with eyes that could pierce like blaster bolts. “What would be the point? Obi-Wan has proven once again that he cannot control his anger or his impatience. And Qui-Gon Jinn is not ready for another impatient Padawan.”

"Agreed," Yoda said. “Neither Obi-Wan nor Qui-Gon ready are. But the Force may yet bring Master and student together.”

Mace Windu asked, "And what of last night, the beating Obi-Wan gave to Bruck?”

Yoda waved his hand and, as he did so, a referee droid appeared from behind the bushes.

“Advanced Jedi Training Droid 6, last night the fight you saw,” Yoda prompted.

“Obi-Wan‘s heart was beating at sixty-eight beats per minute," the droid reported. “His torso was faced northeast at twenty-seven degrees, with his right hand extended down, clutching his training saber. His body temperature was-”

Mace Windu sighed. If allowed to continue, the training droid would take an hour just to describe how Obi-Wan crossed the room.

“Just tell us who provoked the fight," Mace Windu said. "Who said what, and then what happened?”

The training droid AJTD6 gave an indignant buzz at being curtailed. But after a glower from Mace Windu, it began the story of how Bruck had provoked Obi-Wan into the fight.

At the conclusion, Mace Windu sighed. "So we have one deceitful boy, and one foolish one," he said. He looked at Master Yoda. "What do you suggest?”

Yoda blinked. “Give both a chance to fail again, we should," he said.

So, while this doesn’t portray Mace in the best light (and believe me, I have yelled about the poor characterization of Mace) it’s Yoda arguing not to send Obi-Wan to Bandomeer. At this point in the novel, Obi-Wan has already received his assignment. If Yoda was arranging it, he wouldn’t be arguing to give Obi-Wan another chance here. Additionally, clearly the whole council is aware of what’s going on.

(Also, I see in a lot of fics that Yoda is completely dismissive of visions and the unifying force, but here he’s saying he saw a vision of the two, so... please pick one or the other for characterizations)

Second set of quotes, after Obi-Wan fights Bruck in the tournament, Qui-Gon is tempted to take him as his Padawan but still has Xanatos issues:

Qui-Gon grunted. “Farmer? Such a waste of potential. Tell him ...that I wish him luck.”

“Too late,” Yoda said. “On his way to Bandomeer he is.”

“Bandomeer?" Qui-Gon asked in surprise.

"Know the place you do?”

"Know it? The Senate has asked me to go there. You knew this, didn‘t you?” Qui-Gon eyed the small Master suspiciously.

“Hmmm...” Yoda said. “I knew it not. But more than coincidence this is. Strange are the ways of the Force.”

“But why send the boy to Bandomeer?” Qui-Gon asked. “It‘s a brutal world. If the weather doesn‘t kill him, the predators will. He‘ll need all of his skills just to stay alive – never mind the Agri-Corps!”

“Yes, so the Council thought,” Yoda said. “Good to grow crops Bandomeer may not be. But good place for a young Jedi the grow it is.”

So. Qui-Gon was sent to Bandomeer by the SENATE, not by Yoda. Either Yoda is manipulating Senate assignments, which he does not have the power to do, or maybe this was just the will of the force. And the council was completely aware of what was going on.

In conclusion, while the books don’t portray the Jedi in a great light (because they are middle grade and middle grade is very big on adults are useless), Bandomeer was not some plot to use Obi-Wan as Qui-Gon’s emotional support padawan.

#star wars #meta #jedi apprentice books #in defense of the jedi #your fanon is not canon ok #sometimes fandom telephone can suck

[mahizli]

Tears In The Dust (There Is No Emotion, There Is Peace)

Art by TAHO and first chapter of Threading The Way (Jedi June).

44 BBY.

“You have no power here, Jedi scum!!”

Hot words, thrown in anger, yet Qui-Gon did not care. Nor did he care for the cluster of people who had gathered around them, waiting for the tide to turn. What Qui-Gon did care for, though, was the feeling of his Padawan’s hand, clutching his robe in a tight grip Obi-Wan was completely unaware of.

jeTheir bond had turned eerily still, his Padawan almost disappearing in the Force, body rigid with something Qui-Gon struggled to label as fear – the projection in the Force nothing but a whisp, yet enough to turn his Padawan to stone.

Speaking of stones – the Gamorrean before them was currently threatening them with a jagged rock he had picked up, weaving it before him with menacing gestures.

“It is not power we seek”, Qui-Gon answered, calmly. “My Padawan and I, we simply mean to investigate what is going on here on Llanic.”

“You are with the Hutts!”

“I can assure you we are not. We are here to make sure that the disappearance of agricultural shipments on the Triellus Trade Rode are not connected with Llanic. Nothing more.”

“Llanic is free! Free from the Hutts, and free from people like you!”

The rock drew a perfect arc in the air, its trajectory mapped in the Force – and Qui-Gon already saw himself slowing it down to catch it in his palm, when the rock stopped abruptly, floating in the air between them and the Gamorrean.

And Qui-Gon realised his Padawan was breathing fast, fingers still fisted in his robe, but right hand extended before him. Obi-Wan stood very still, for a few seconds, grey eyes bright with something Qui-Gon had not witnessed there yet.

And then his Padawan flexed his fingers and turned the stone to dust.

The ring around them widened instantly, and the Gamorrean stood dumbfounded for a few seconds, before he spat at their feet, taking a few steps back.

“We shall leave now”, Qui-Gon voiced. “You all know where to find us.”

And with these words, he lifted his robe, wrapping it around Obi-Wan’s frame, tucking the boy to his side, shielding him from the sun, from hot words and from stones.

He waited until they had reached the safety of the tall Adansonia trees, until there was no trace of anyone around them, and then he knelt, freeing his Padawan from the shelter of his robe. Five months had been enough to map the freckles dusting Obi-Wan’s nose like stars, and to allow his braid to begin to cradle his chin, but the boy had yet to leave childhood. Yet he carried scars Qui-Gon still had to gauge - and judging by the wetness on his Padawan’s cheek that was not sweat, there was a rare opening here he did not dare to miss.

“Padawan”, he said softly, and since he could still not feel him in the Force, not really, because Obi-Wan’s eyes were downcast, lost in a sea of emotions raging behind his shields, out of reach, he gently wrapped his arms around the boy.

“Padawan, come back to me. Obi-Wan. Listen to me. There is no emotion, Obi-Wan. No emotion lasting in the Force, Padawan. There is no emotion, there is peace.”

The boy let out a shuddering breath, and Qui-Gon felt something, finally, his Padawan’s shields opening slowly to let him come back, Obi-Wan’s light joining the Force, brushing their bond once more.

Padawan.

He was drawing small circles on Obi-Wan’s back and he could feel small tremors, small tremors but no sound, because whenever he broke, his Padawan did so silently.

Emotion, yet peace.

Obi-Wan moved, hands reaching for Qui-Gon’s tunic, clinging to the fabric in a silent plea, but the boy was already beginning to take deeper breaths, trying to calm himself.

“Are you with me, Padawan?”

The boy nodded, face still hidden in Qui-Gon’s chest.

“Can we talk about it, little robin?”

No move, this time. Just a small, thin body and a too-hot face that would not meet his, no matter how much warmth Qui-Gon was projecting through their bond.

“He was going to hit you in the face.”

There was no Master, no fond mark of respect – this was a Soul opening itself to another Soul, and Qui-Gon knelt, in the dust, facing his Padawan who was quivering like a reed in the wind.

“He was yelling at us. Just like they did, with Owen and me. He was yelling at us, and he hit Owen. He hit my br- my brother in the face and it split his lip open and his… his nose, and there was bl-blood everywhere. J-just because I was lifting things…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes still would not meet his. His Padawan simply stood, shedding quiet tears of pain and loss that fell on the dry, broken ground and were swallowed there. Just like his grief had been, deep inside.

“People th-throw rocks. And people don’t care for things they do not understand. That’s why I tried to stop him, Master.”

Qui-Gon’s hand moved, because there was his robin once more, dutiful, steadfast and heartbreakingly honest. He brushed Obi-Wan’s braid, and watched his grey eyes meet his, finally.

“I am sorry, Master. I let my feelings get the better of me.”

“Feelings tell us something about us, Padawan.”

The leaves were rustling above them, and the sun was setting, throwing crimson rays on the dry fields. Qui-Gon stretched his cloak on the ground and sat down cross-legged, motioning Obi-Wan to do the same.

“We are not droids, Obi-Wan. We have feelings, and our emotions run deep, just like every other sentient being. However, as you so well know, we are also able to sense the Force and to move within it, and this places us apart. Because of our abilities, but also because we need to keep our emotions in check. Fear, anger, sadness, disgust, but also joy… they can make us do very powerful things in the Force.”

His Padawan bowed his head in silent shame, but Qui-Gon reached out, gently lifting his chin.

“I do not think crushing a rock is the most powerful thing you can do, Obi-Wan. And as a matter of fact, I am very proud of you for not having done more. You could have hurt the Gamorrean. You could have released a Force-wave strong enough to project all these people a few feet away.”

“I don’t think so, Master…”

Obi-Wan’s eyes had grown wide, childish awe fighting disbelief on his face, and it made Qui-Gon chuckle.

“Well, I think so, Padawan. But what I want you to do, now, Obi-Wan, is to think about what your feelings told you about yourself today. For it is only through seeing our emotions for what they are, accepting them, and releasing them, that we are able to find peace.”

His Padawan pondered his words for a while, and then he bowed, closing his eyes, spine straightening and fingers automatically finding the relaxed position on his knees he always adopted when he meditated.

“I was afraid.”

This time, Obi-Wan’s voice was soft, yet defined.

“I was afraid because everything here made me think of Stewjon.”

Qui-Gon sent a gentle wave of light through their bond, marvelling at the trust the boy had in him, at the way Obi-Wan abandoned himself to his task.

“I try not to think about Stewjon, because whenever I do, I think of Owen. And I know I let go of him. I know I promised myself on Ilum that I would be proud to be what I am and not look back or feel guilty to have left him behind. I know I promised to let go. But… sometimes things happen, and I am there again. Like today. When people shout and… throw rocks. I am there. With Owen.”

His Padawan’s voice cracked, and Qui-Gon watched him frown, biting his lip.

“It makes me forget I am a Jedi. That it is in the past. That… that I am safe, and that Owen is as well, because he is safer without me. It just… wipes out everything in my mind. And I… I am so happy to be a Jedi. I am so happy to be able to live in the Temple and to be able to stay there. And… to be your Padawan. So… when things like today happen, when I… go back there… It makes me think that maybe I shouldn’t be a Jedi, maybe I am broken inside and was never meant to be here.”

A quiet tear had found its way once more towards Obi-Wan’s chin.

“Do you still feel guilty, Padawan?”

The silence was absolute, for a while. The sun had set, the heat leaving slowly like a blanket lifted by twilight. And then Obi-Wan nodded, opening his eyes, and they were clear, despite the tears still shining in them.

I feel guilty because I left him behind. I feel guilty because I get to be taught wonderful things. Because I got to be chosen as a Padawan, while others don’t, and because I have you. And because feeling this means that I am not even worthy of all I have. And because it made me unable to be a good Jedi, today.

“Padawan… This is very serious, but not in the way you think it is.”

Qui-Gon was careful not to move, not to speak with too much feeling – it was not needed now, what his Padawan needed was a neutral space to think and see.

“I do not know everything that happened on Stewjon. But from what you told me, and from what I know – these were terrible things, Padawan. It is terrible to be hunted down because of your nature. It is terrible to feel you must hide, whenever you are afraid. It is also terrible to experience such things and see a loved one go through the same, especially when those who hurt you keep telling you it is all your fault.”

Obi-Wan was not moving. But he was breathing out, and Qui-Gon went on:

“You were not even three years old, Obi-Wan. You were a small child, almost a toddler still. It is people who hurt children who should feel guilty. Not you, my Padawan. Never you. But what you experienced… it leaves a mark. It is not an emotion experienced in the heat of the moment – it is something Master Che calls trauma, Obi-Wan. And it does not make you ill or weak, or unworthy to be a Jedi. But as you put it so well, my insightful-and-so-very-brave Padawan… It can make you feel fragile, even breakable, whenever something causes a ripple through your mind that awakens it.”

Silence stretched once more and Qui-Gon let it. They had time. This moment was for both of them, but most of all for Obi-Wan.

“And what do I do, Master?”, Obi-Wan breathed out, in the end.

“You can learn to face it, Padawan. To reconnect your mind to those moments, to be there, one last time, and let yourself know that you can stop being wary, that they happened once but will not come again to haunt you. There are techniques for that, Padawan, techniques Master Che can teach you.”

“Mind healing?”

His Padawan’s voice was shy, and Qui-Gon nodded.

“It can be considered mind healing. But to be honest, Obi-Wan, it is so useful, considering what we all have to go through, that I would rather label it a very necessary skill to acquire.”

He smiled at his Padawan, extending a hand towards him. And Obi-Wan placed his small fingers in his, without a second of hesitation.

“What you can also do, Padawan, is telling me whenever you feel scared or brittle inside. I am there for you, little one. You are my Padawan, and nothing you can do or feel will ever make me regret to have you at my side.”

The look that crossed Obi-Wan’s face then almost made Qui-Gon shiver – it was almost too much, too much love, too much light, adoration, gratitude, respect, awe and devotion, all in one glance. But if there was one feeling that was not threatening peace, it was that kind of simple love of a student for a master, of a child for its guardian… For now, the boy was still young, and they would both learn to tell love and attachment apart, when Obi-Wan would leave childhood for good.

“I will tell you”, his Padawan whispered, fervently, and Qui-Gon clasped his hand in his, projecting warmth and peace towards him.

“I think this Gamorrean is definitely one of the smugglers”, Obi-Wan added, voice a tad stronger. “I think that’s why he was so defensive. I also think he yelled at us to make us think he’s a simple Jedi opponent. But I saw the way his eyes shifted, before he started yelling. He looked towards the warehouses. I think that’s where we should begin to investigate.”

Qui-Gon could not helped it, then. He laughed aloud, drawing the boy towards his chest, ruffling his hair and tucking his braid behind his ear.

“Oh Padawan… And here I thought I was the one teaching a lesson. Well done, Obi-Wan. Well done, my young-but-so-very-sharp Padawan.”

“You saw it too, Master.”

“Yes. I thought he was a shifty fellow. But that idea with the warehouses… No, Padawan. All yours. And I think we’ll wait for the night, and then put your theory to the test, what do you think?”

The grin Obi-Wan bestowed him was enough of an answer. And Qui-Gon smiled back, basking in the feeling of the rustling leaves, the falling night, and his Padawan next to him, steadfast and quiet in the Force once more.

#jedi june #jedi appreciation #JEDI goodness #jedi culture #Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #hurt obi-wan #hurt/comfort #star wars fanfiction

[x-childish-x]

hello, i noticed there’s been a growth of obi wan requests on your page. if you don’t mind, may i also request an obi wan x reader fanfic (preferably a female reader)? my idea is that the reader is related to qui gon, maybe a niece of his that he looks after since her parents passed. after qui gon’s death, reader decides to become a jedi and she and obi wan grow closer over the years, and finally confess their love for each other after they both become masters?

Long Time Coming

Pairing: Obi-Wan x fem!reader

Fandom: Star Wars

Warnings: ansgt?, fluff, mentions to multiple character deaths, mentions of a funeral

Word Count: 2,417

A/N: This is quite long! I'm sorry if that's not something you like! Firstly, thank you for the request and support! I appreciate it so much and feedback is always more than welcome and appreciated!! This request was super unique and I had a fun time writing it despite feeling the need to absolutely perfect it, lol. Anyways, I really hope this is what you wanted and that you enjoy it!

P.S. I am out of surgery and now starting recovery. Everything’s gone well so far, but I probably won’t be posting much. Check my page for a form to send in some questions for me to answer!!

Summary: Obi-Wan's been trying to catch your attention for years and after your uncle Qui-Gon Jinn's death, you find comfort in Obi-Wan like never before.

(gif not mine!)

"(Y/n), we're making another stop. We don't have enough fuel to make it back to Coruscant. We're landing on Tattooine," Your uncle, Qui-Gon, spoke softly through the holopad.

"I found the planet," Obi-Wan beamed at you, hoping this fact would impress you.

You smiled widely, nodding to Obi-Wan, "Keep this old man out of trouble for me, won't you Obi-Wan?"

The young boy nodded vigorously as your uncle rolled his eyes, "You're getting quite old yourself (y/n). I urge you to rethink your choice of not becoming a Jedi before you're using a cane."

"We could train together!" Obi-Wan cheered, his eyes glinting with hope as he looked up at his master, "I would do well at bringing her up to speed!"

There seemed to be something that happened off the holopad that you couldn't see. Both men turned their heads before looking back at you with nearly identical looks of remorse.

"We're landing soon. I must leave," Qui-Gon frowned, "Stay out of trouble. I'll return soon."

Over the next few days, Obi-Wan and your uncle did their best to keep in contact with you. Though it wasn't much, barely once a day, it was still something, and that very much made you smile. Each call was a relief because they were both alive. They were okay. They would be home soon. 

"A boy?" You questioned Obi-Wan.

"Yes, his name is Anakin Skywalker," He frowned slightly before leaning more towards his holopad, whispering, "I'm beginning to think Qui-Gon likes him better than me."

"Nonsense!" You laughed, "Qui-Gon loves you! It's impossible to not love you!"

Immediately realizing what you said, your cheeks flushed with heat, Obi-Wan's reaction mocking yours. You missed Obi-Wan, he was your best friend after all, and it wasn't often that Qui-Gon and he left on such long missions. 

"There was this thing," Obi-Wan spoke up, "He wielded a red lightsaber."

"That doesn't sound good," You frowned, wishing Obi-Wan was more than just a hologram before you.

He nodded before his attention was stolen off-screen, and he huffed, "I have to go. We'll be home soon!"

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

"What is this about you being attacked!" You yelped, jogging up to Qui-Gon.

He smiled at your concern, "I am fine. He escaped. We believe he's a sith, that they've returned. The good news is the boy we found will be my new Padawan."

"I don't care about the boy," You hissed, glaring up at your uncle, "I care about you being safe, about not losing you!"

Unexpectedly, Qui-Gon pulled you into his chest. Tears welled in your eyes at the action he so rarely did, your arms wrapping as tight as they could around his torso. You felt a kiss pressed to the top of your head and immediately squeezed tighter, tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Please... I can't lose you too, Uncle."

Qui-Gon winced at your words, knowing how dangerous it was to form attachments, yet it'd been impossible with you. From the moment you'd come under his care, you'd immediately bonded. There was no way you wouldn't have formed an attachment with him and he with you.

You'd showed up on his doorstep fourteen years ago when you were only nine. You had clutched your stuffed bantha to your chest with tears running down your cheeks, mumbling all about how 'mommy and daddy were gone' and 'I need you, uncle Qui-Gon'. His heart immediately shattered. The passing of his brother had reached him a few hours before your arrival, and the nanny behind you gave the older man a soft smile before nudging you forward.

You bounded forward, slamming into Qui-Gon's legs with a loud sob that had the older man lifting you into his arms instantly. You'd been destroyed by the sudden and mysterious loss of your parents. You sought comfort in your uncle Qui-Gon and his young Padawan. You'd spent years denying the chance to become a Jedi, afraid you were too imbalanced in your emotions.

You pulled back from Qui-Gon, allowing him to wipe your tears before he kissed your head once more. He moved, walking over to Obi-Wan, and you watched as the two talked before separating. Obi-Wan walked towards you, but your eyes locked on a small boy behind him who stood next to what looked like an R2 droid.

"We're leaving again," Obi-Wan sighed, frowning at your slightly red cheeks and glassy eyes.

You nodded, biting your lip before finally locking eyes with Obi-Wan, "Please take care of him... I have a terrible feeling Obi-Wan."

"I will," Obi-Wan smiled, gently reaching out and allowing you to place your hands in his before pulling you closer, "I'll make sure he stays out of trouble. He has a new Padawan to train, after all. But besides that..." Obi-Wan's voice dropped, his gaze growing softer as he squeezed your hands, "You know I'd do anything for you."

You nodded, listening as Qui-Gon ordered Obi-Wan to head to the ship, and with one last playful goodbye, you watched him leave, followed soon by everyone else. You stood on the pad, watching as the ship rose and left, the terrible feeling in your stomach growing with each second.

Nobody called you. For the next few days, nobody called you, and it only worsened the terrible feeling, making you nauseous as you waited patiently for the ship to arrive. You'd been told briefly by Yoda that they were returning, yet the pain on his face confirmed your thoughts. Something was wrong, and you weren't sure what, but you'd felt the pain and dread that filled you yesterday, and now Yoda was looking at you with remorse as he watched you waiting from his tower.

You couldn't maintain your focus as the ship landed, frozen still as you waited. You watched each person that exited, waiting for the two familiar faces you wanted to see so badly. Obi-Wan descended the ramp, his eyes lifting from the ground to lock with yours. Instantly tears filled your eyes, a hand flying to your mouth as Obi-Wan rushed to you.

"No..."

You collapsed into Obi-Wan's chest without a second thought, throwing your arms around him as sobs racked through your body. He attempted calming you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and the other stroking your hair. Obi-Wan panicked slightly, feeling immediately it was all his fault. Your pain was his fault. If he'd just been slightly faster he could've saved his master, your uncle.

"Please... Obi-Wan... tell me no," You cried, burying your head into his chest as his grip tightened.

"It was a sith, the same who attacked him previously," Obi-Wan whispered, not caring about the looks anyone gave you, "I killed him. I killed the sith right after. I... I'm so sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't faster."

Nobody could remove you from Obi-Wan's side, not even Yoda, who was forced to allow you to sit in while he spoke to Obi-Wan about Anakin. You were distraught and terrified at the idea of seeing your uncle's body later. Obi-Wan comforted you, an arm around you the entire day until the ceremony rolled around.

You'd separated from Obi-Wan briefly, and when you returned to Qui-Gon's funeral, Yoda himself almost cried. You stood over Qui-Gon's body, a hand gently brushing his cheek, your mother's Jedi robe caressing your body. Just for a second, Yoda believed he was seeing your mother's spirit. You looked so identical, and the soft click of Yoda's cane startled you, forcing you away from your uncle's body.

"Determination within you, I sense. Made a decision, you have," Yoda hummed, coming to your side.

You nodded curtly, your gaze on Qui-Gon, "I wish to become a Jedi, Master Yoda."

"Agree to your request, the council does. My Padawan, you will be," Yoda nodded, not needing to speak to any other members to know there would be no defiance. 

Yoda retreated to the back, watching your reaction as people filtered in, most not catching your attention until Obi-Wan walked in. You seemed to escape his gaze for a few moments, certainly because of the robe, before he rushed to your side. Yoda knew this was a potential problem, the connection the two of you held, but that was a problem for the future.

The future seemed to bring many problems for you. Your days quickly molded into becoming nothing but training. You barely spent time sleeping. Both you and Master Yoda determined to bring you up to speed. Despite everyone in the council loving your decision to become a Jedi (especially Obi-Wan), they had all disagreed with the idea of you becoming a Jedi-Knight within five short years. 

However, Yoda insisted you were ready, and you passed the trials with such ease it'd seemed like you'd been training for years. Which of course, lead to many Jedi accusing you of training illegally under Qui-Gon. But it wasn't anything like that. Yoda and Obi-Wan were amazing when it came to training you. They were patient and worked with you consistently, over and over. You knew there was no way you would've become a Jedi-Knight had you not had their help.

"So?" Obi-Wan asked when you returned to your shared apartment, "Did you pass?"

Slowly, you lifted the hair on your right side to reveal that your Padawan braid was no more. He smiled widely, leaping up and pulling you into his chest. You smiled back, squeezing Obi-Wan as he spun you around gently. 

You still weren't used to everything. Obi-Wan and you had decided to get an apartment together after Qui-Gon's passing, insisting that living together helped your coping. Of course, it was a two-bedroom, and you stayed in separate rooms, and just Obi-Wan's presence truly did help you.

Once Obi-Wan sat you down and pulled back, a huge smile on his face as you stared up at him. A moment passed as you struggled to get a grip on your thoughts. You gulped, eyes flicking around the room as you kept your hands linked at the back of Obi-Wan's growing hair. You liked it longer. You felt it suited him, not that you didn't like it short.

"Obi-Wan?" Your voice was small, fragile in the air as the slightly older boy stared at you.

"Yes?"

"Do you think he's proud of me?" 

Obi-Wan's heart melted at the worry in your eyes, the worry that your uncle wouldn't be proud of you after everything you'd done. His hands drifted from your waist and up to cup your cheeks, pulling your face just slightly closer as he leaned down. He wanted nothing more than to wipe your ever-growing tears, but that could wait. The most important thing for Obi-Wan right now was to make sure you understood that there was no possible way for Qui-Gon to be even the slightest bit disappointed in you.

"(Y/n), I have not a single doubt that he's proud of you. He was before he passed, and I'm sure he's proud now," Obi-Wan reassured you, his smile growing as you nodded, "I know Master Qui-Gon wishes he was here with us, to see you become a Jedi Knight, but regardless he is incredibly proud."

You giggled softly, leaning forward just the slightest bit, so your nose touched Obi-Wan's, "I just worry sometimes, that maybe I'm not doing enough," You paused, gasping a quiet breath when Obi-Wan nudged your nose with his again, "Thank you Obi-Wan... I... I couldn't have done any of this without you. I'd be lost, truly."

Your gaze flicked down to your connected noses and back up to Obi-Wan's blue eyes. Yet, it felt like it was the first time you ever looked at Obi-Wan. You felt like you were a small kid again, peeking out from under your uncle's robe to see two big blue eyes looking at you with a huge smile. Blue eyes and a smile that promised to be your best friend, promised to stay by your side... 'as a loyal Jedi should'. And now, as you stared into those same eyes, you felt the urge to be so much more than what he promised.

You tilted your head up, mushing your lips against Obi-Wan's and leading the kiss as he froze in shock. Was he dreaming again? Was he about to wake up alone in his bed once more? The squeeze you gave to the back of his neck told him otherwise... that this most definitely wasn't a dream. Suddenly, he was dropping his hands from your cheeks, looping them around your waist and pulling you flush against him as he took control of the kiss.

It became a dance of lips and tongue, mumbling in an attempt to convey all the years of unsaid feelings even though no real words were being formed. It felt perfect. It felt like the force was exploding through the two of you, screaming that nothing could've been more right. There was no thought of the Jedi Code, no thought of the possibility of losing your titles. The only thought being formed was how not only your lips but your mind and soul seemed to connect at that moment together.

"I... that... we..."

"I've wanted to do that for so long," You laughed breathlessly, cutting off Obi-Wan.

He smiled, nodding in agreement as he placed a kiss on your forehead, "I adore you so much (y/n). I always have."

You mocked Obi-Wan's actions, nodding your confirmation as he placed another kiss closer to your temple now. It felt perfect. The life force flowing around the two of you was bursting with light, harmonious, and balanced perfectly. There was no need for words. You could feel one another projecting all the unsaid emotions. You were one, and suddenly a large smile broke onto your face as Obi-Wan continued to press light kisses all over your face.

You weren't worried about the possibility of losing your title. You didn't care what the Jedi Code had to say, and you certainly didn't care what the council thought. You felt complete, whole. And it was the first time you'd felt that way since losing your parents. You'd deal with the consequences later, when they made themselves truly known on their own accord and when it was time for Obi-Wan and you to make a decision.

"Do you think he's still proud of me?" 

Obi-Wan chuckled, kissing your nose before pulling back, "I think he'd want to kill me."

"It was a long time coming," You teased, making Obi-Wan nod.

"That, it was."

#obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan kenobi x read #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi #obiwankenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi wan x reader #obiwan #obiwankenobixreader #obiwankenobixyou #obiwankenobixy/n #star wars #starwars #star wars the prequel trilogy #sw #obi wan imagine #obi wan x you

[deniigi]

Blame @petrichordiam for this.

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

Title: centerstage

Summary: An academic goes to a conference and is jazzed to see a jedi speak there. He unknowingly sits next to this jedi’s Support Squad.

The jedi Support Squad is like 85% clones, and 15% Jedi Generals.

No one mentions that the jedi speaking has never done this before and is petrified out of his blessed little mind.

*Anakin is like 19-20ish here.

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

Sion Jissard has spent the last ten years of his life in the dredges of archives, digging through documents and testing fibers found between the flimsy, papery pages of old texts—scrounging for clues to recreate the conditions of the great conference halls and small, tucked away offices in which some of the most powerful people in the galaxy once gathered to whisper and shout over the fate of whole planets.

He has a hypothesis that the conditions in those rooms affected the decisions made in them. His hypothesis is strong enough that it has endured several rounds of peer-review and escaped those vulture-like clutches mostly unscathed in published form—both in journal and, his chest swells to recall, in book formats.

His book has sold several hundred copies and been cited in a plethora of upcoming article submissions.

The last eight years of tension in his marriage has eased in light of this. The salary from the professorship obtained in light of the book certainly hasn’t hurt it either.

His two doctorates are set on the wall of his office and when he receives word that a conference on ‘Intergalactic Unionism and Peace Negotiation’ is to be held in two months time, he opens up the speakers list and raises his head to gaze upon those two solid frames.

There will be jedi speakers at the conference. Several, actually. The whole thing is to be held on Coruscant, in the small visitors’ wing of the Jedi temple itself.

Sion Jissard pinches the fabric of his suit and then lightly slaps at his cheek to make sure that he is not dreaming.

He has only recently begun studying the jedi order’s material world and the role that world plays in their intergalactic peace-making practices. Prior to this, he considered the subject too on-the-nose. Jedi studies are rampant. Everyone wants a piece of that pie—the allure of it being that the jedi themselves, scholars in their own rights, refuse to partake in examinations of their culture.

They are notoriously obstinate. Their grandmasters refuse to let outsiders into their archives. Their masters shut down any and all attempts to obtain interviews or transcripts or documents with empty expressions or gentle, pitying smiles. Their knights blink with confusion at personal and personal-adjacent questions, and the little ones, the apprentices, are shielded behind all of these people as though the elbow-padded questioners are threatening their precious little lives.

In short, the jedi are happy to listen but loathe to teach. If you are not one of their soldiers or one of their fellows, they will lie to your face and tell you that it is their religion to do so.

And yet here they are, offering up a scholar’s wetdream and even allowing a handful of their own to present on their areas of expertise.

Sion Jissard will pass up this opportunity only upon pain of death.

He applies for the conference as a participant, not a speaker, and is delighted to receive confirmation of his place within mere minutes.

He puts the date on his calendar and starts looking into transit to Coruscant for the event in two months time.

--

 Sion arrives on Coruscant, at the foot of the Jedi Temple itself, and stares up at it for so long that he begins to feel sick to the gills.

He fumbles for his confirmation at the little table set up in the interior courtyard behind a side-entrance door. He is distracted by the fact that the woman he is standing in front of is a Jedi. She is helped by two small children and holds a baby who is dead-set on unraveling the knots that decorate her thick waist band. Even the baby is dressed in double-collared cream-colored robes.

Sion has so many questions he wants to ask.

The jedi asks him for his name. She has a collection of name badges before her, but none of them are his. He gives his name and the master turns to the little girl sat at her right elbow with a brush in hand and instructs her to write it out.

The jedi child—not an apprentice, her robes are cream still, there are no additional earth-colors layered on top of it—writes Sion’s name in beautiful script on a little card and hands the card to the master, who puts it in a holder with a pin on it and places it into Sion’s hand.

She instructs him to go through the side door and enjoy some refreshments before the event begins. The baby in her lap looks up at her abruptly and bonks his sweet little head against her chin.

Sion forgets himself.

“How old?” he asks automatically, gesturing to the baby.

The master looks down into her lap.

“He is eight months and 75% lung,” she says affectionately.

“Ah. Mine was like that, too,” Sion says. “He grew out of it. He’s only 40% lung now.”

The master smiles.

Sion removes himself from her table before he embarrasses himself further.

--

 There are enough people inside the front room of the jedi’s visitor’s wing to nearly fill it to capacity. The volume, though everyone is whispering, is great enough to be heard from outside the door. The room itself is earth-colored with a high ceiling. Its walls all contain niches with rounded borders. Columns with deep-cut creases in them arch high to the skylights.

It is all beautifully geometric, stoic, and clean. And even though the walls and floor are built from materials of warm tones, the skylights overhead and the surrounding addtion of books and holorecords set into the walls lend it a cooling quality.

What should have been imposing architectural feels more like holy space. The room is one that reverberates with reminders to respect all around you.

Sion’s fingers yearn to document this, but there is a sign right by the room’s entrance that asks politely for no recordings or holographs to be taken.  

“Professor Jissard,” a familiar voice says.

Sion feels his whole body droop. He turns to see Teo Detras stood before him in his obnoxious, roaring red robes.

“I’m pleased that you too were able to secure an invitation, sir,” Teo says as though he has not attempted to place Sion on the metaphysical chopping block for each of his premises since the time they began their academic programs.

Sion opens his mouth to point out that this is also his area of study and that Teo has no monopoly on the field of Jedi architecture when a quiet passes over the room. Sion watches the heads around him lift and searches for the source of the sudden shudder of silence.

He finds it in a tall master with dark skin standing at the very front of the space. The man has tucked his hands neatly into the mouths of his sleeves.

He is Jedi Master and General Mace Windu. Sion has read and reread his essays, not caring so much for what he is talking about but how he is talking about it. His metaphors and examples should have been insight into the common experiences of those living in the Jedi temple.

Sion has found, however, that Jedi Master Mace Windu does not especially care for eloquence or metaphor. He cares only to methodically destroy the argument (if it could be called that) published by a jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn many years ago. Though Master Jinn has not published for several decades now, Master Windu’s writings remain agitated by his interpretations of the jedi’s Spiritual energy, the Force.

Just gazing upon the man now, Sion would not think him capable of agitation.

Master Windu welcomes the academics to the temple and says that he regrets not having more time to speak with each of the attendees as individuals, but there is a war on and his clone troopers require his services. He encourages people to refrain from any recordings of the temple due to its sacred nature, and he asks that attendees be mindful of the jedi Initiates (the white-robed children) who are confused and intrigued by all of the non-jedi people inhabiting their usual playroom.

He cautions everyone that if anyone slips on a toy, he warned them, and the temple is not liable for their medical bills.

This is a joke.

People are unsure of whether or not to laugh. Some laugh awkwardly far too late. Master Windu gives no sign on his face that he appreciates or disapproves of this.

Instead, he steps from his space of honor and leaves in his place a young man with feathery blonde hair and a highly expressive countenance, who drops his armload of documents on the floor obnoxiously and flings himself down to snatch up only the conference program, as if this was the most efficient way of finding it.

People know to laugh this time.

The young man begins announcing panel topics and rooms and give his strong opinions on each of them.

More people laugh. It feels less like a sin.

“And that’s all, my dears and darlings,” the young man says, “Mind your step into the conference rooms, our predecessors derived joy from an unexpected drop.”

--

 Sion has only one panel that he will kill at minimum three bodies to sit in on. It is the one on peace strategy and resource management. He is not here for the peace strategy or the resource management parts of the talk; his burning interest yearns instead in listening to how and if people talk about their space and things. He wants to write down the language they use. He wants to learn about the physicality of peace.

He thinks ‘The Physicality of Peace’ would make a very compelling title for another book.

So he slips through the arched doors of conference room 3 and finds himself in a tiered lecture theatre. There is a small balcony with rows of pew-like benches that hangs over a lower seating area. He takes a seat at the edge of the front pew and sets his datapad on his lap for note-taking. At the front of the room there is a long bench—not a quite table, but definitely a tall bench, and behind it, there is an enormous screen for displaying images and information. Someone has very kindly thought to place a jug of water and some cups at the center of the bench by a microphone.

Sion gets the impression from its awkward, dead-center placement that it is an addition that the jedi themselves usually forego.

He wonders what that means. He only wonders for about 15 seconds before a hand touches his shoulder and he jerks in alarm.

“My apologies, sir. We were just wondering if the space next to you is available?” says the smooth-faced, copper-haired man standing above him.

He is wearing white armor on top of his layered robes. The arms and legs that emerge from his long off-white tunic are dark in color, but his boots are hard and white and come up and over his kneecaps.

Sion is speechless.

This is General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has touched Sion’s shoulder and apologized to him.

He doesn’t have words. He can only make fish-mouthed motions and then point and nod.

General Kenobi accepts this with grace and stands up straight. He waves behind him to call his companions over to join him on the balcony’s edge.

They arrive as a pack.

Instead of coming around and staggering past Sion’s knees at the edge of the bench, General Kenobi climbs over its back and settles in. He then twists back over the row and holds his hands out; a Clone Trooper in full armor hands to him a strange bundle of woolen, brown robe. It produces legs and arms and then bright blue and white lekku once Kenobi has situated it next to him.

“Fooled ‘em,” the little Togruta that emerges from the cloth says brightly.

“Shh,” Kenobi says. “Cody, you next.”

“No, I want Rex to sit with me.”

“Ahsoka, shhh.”

“Rex.”

“Child, this is how people like me get banned from meetings; you’re not even supposed to see—”

“REX.”

“HUSH. Okay, okay. Rex. Pst. Cody, get Rex. Cody, oh for the love of—Wolffe, yes—no. Wolffe, look at me. Get Cody to get Rex.”

Sion cannot believe what he is seeing. General Kenobi appears to be sneaking half of his command into the balcony area. There are more than a few clone troopers there are at least twenty. They are somehow visibly excited despite their matching helmets. The General is able to tell them apart easily. He leans over the back of the bench again and crooks his finger at one of the troopers who leans forward. He tells them to throw something at their commander.

The Clone takes off his glove, stands, and nail a clone standing in the aisle in the head with it. The slap of contact makes this clone cease speaking in serious low tones with a clone decorated with blue edging in front of him. The first clone draws himself up perfectly straight and turns around with a fury that even Sion can feel the heat of.

His armor is painted yellow in places.

He holds the glove in his hand like a threat. The clone who threw it winces and points wordlessly to General Kenobi, then sits down in a hurry. Kenobi smiles wide and white. He has freckles on his face that do not appear on any of the images of him that appear on the news.

He’s also shorter than Sion himself, even sitting.

“Sir,” the white and yellow clone says stiffly.

“Rex,” Kenobi says through that threat of a smile. “Get over here.”

The Togruta child twists around excitedly as the clone in white and blue exits the conversation with the one in white and yellow and surveys the rows of his fellows piled into the space behind the General and the child. He has to squeeze past the line of knees and then climb over the bench to sit down next to the child, who immediately cuddles up to him.

“Hey, that’s my seat,” a new voice whispers.

Sion looks back to see General Quinlan Vos with his arms crossed over his chest, recognizable in any setting. Behind him is General Koon. General Kenobi slaps a hand to his forehead and grumbles, then shoos the blue edged clone and the child a few seats down.

The generals clamber just as awkwardly as the blue clone through the sea of knees of the troopers and then over the back of the bench.

Somehow, Sion has won the jackpot. He is now surrounded by jedi culture, literally.

“All of you, back,” Kenobi snaps down the bench when everyone is just starting to get comfortable. “Cody. Commander, come here.”

The clone trooper with the yellow edging does not want to play this game. He shifts his weight back onto his other heel as Kenobi pats the newly vacated space next to him. General Vos croons in a teasing tone something about Kenobi being especially fond of this clone.

Kenobi lurches out across the empty seat to punch him in the gut and then returns peacefully to patting the space over the sound of Vos’s moaning.

The Clone Commander has no choice. His general is giving him a directive. He gives in to the inevitable and makes his way through the knees and—much more neatly than the others—steps over the back of the bench to its seat and then into sitting. Kenobi beams at him, practically purring.

Sion needs desperately to take notes, but the subjects of said notes are right there and rudeness is intolerable in retaining his vantage point.

He fights the urge to vibrate in space as the lights begin to dim overhead and the panel chairman comes out to introduce the topic and speakers. It is only about a minute or so when a hand lands firmly on Kenobi’s right shoulder—the one by Sion’s arm. Sion jumps, but Kenobi resolutely stares directly down at the speaker.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Mace Windu’s low, low voice says right into the space between Kenobi and Sion’s ears, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kenobi begins to melt but catches himself.

“You didn’t for a while,” he said.

“Get her out of here.”

“She has a right to see her Master.”

“What part of these orders are challenging for you?”

Kenobi still does not turn around to see Master Windu, but his eyebrows sink and his brow becomes more pronounced.

“No padawans,” Master Windu says. “Ahsoka. Out.”

The togruta, still bedecked in that heavy cloak, turns to stare owlishly at Master Windu while the person at the front of the room moves on to introducing the next speaker.

“But I’m not a padawan,” the child says. “I’m obnoxious. Master Kenobi said so.”

Kenobi holds his face in a hand.

“You can be both. Come,” Master Windu says, holding out a hand.

“But I’m a cloak,” Ahsoka tries instead.

Kenobi crumples further. Master Windu’s hand finds his shoulder again. Sion can feel its heat.

“If not her, then you,” he says.

“After,” Kenobi says.

“I’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Master Windu vanishes from behind them. Sion shudders. Kenobi turns to the side and hisses at Ahsoka,

“Now look what you’ve done.”

“You’re my co-conspirator,” Ahsoka hisses back. “My—my—Rex, what’s the word?”

Clone Commander Rex does not want to give her the word. Ahsoka tugs at him.

“Rex,” she insists.

“Enabler,” Commander Rex says with bitter regret coating his words.

Ahsoka beams over the laps of the other Generals at Kenobi. He glares back through a squint. He starts to say something, but General Vos tells him to shut up in a sharp tone.

Sion looks back to the front of the room and finds that a young man with dark hair has come out to the center of the front table-bench to speak.

He is a jedi. His robes, however, are dark in color. Blacks and browns with knee-high boots.

He’s very young. Very, very young.

And nervous.

Very, very nervous.

Even from the balcony seats, Sion can see his hands shaking. He is holding a stack of white paper. It is trembling like a branch on a windy day.

“Go, go, Master, go, go,” chants little Ahsoka.

Sion finds himself abruptly appalled by the realization that the child on center stage is the master of the child a few seats over from him.

General Koon gently shushes Ahsoka. Commander Rex helpfully wraps a gloved hand over the bottom half of her face to keep her distracted.

Sion looks from them to the young man and finds that he’s already knocked over the jug of water on the bench and looks about ready to sob about it. He gathers himself, though, and brings the microphone closer to him.

He is General Anakin Skywalker, Sion now understands. He is the first speaker and he’s never in his life presented a paper at a professional conference before.  

His voice shakes as he reads out the title of the article that he published (and that Sion has read) on battlefield surrender. After the second paragraph, Sion brings a hand to his lip to help him contain the emotions that come with the understanding that this boy is about to read his article, word for word, in front of a room full of academics.

He thinks now that he has been too harsh with his students.

--

 General Skywalker is not a strong public speaker. Clearly, his expertise is in action. He stammers. He loses his place in his reading and accidentally rereads three whole sentences. Only twice does he look up from his paper, and each time it is not at the audience but at Obi-Wan Kenobi, sat next to Sion, serious as a plague.

Kenobi nods sagely.

General Skywalker is General Kenobi’s apprentice. Was General Kenobi’s apprentice. However, it is clear to all who are present today that General Skywalker is still General Kenobi’s apprentice. Desperate, the poor thing is, for Kenobi’s reassurance.

His confidence in reading grows under his former (current?) master’s approving eye until he turns a page and—horror of horrors—drops the stack of paper.

Sion’s whole body tenses in sympathy and second-hand embarrassment. Skywalker flings himself down and messily collects the papers. He hurriedly reorders them, all while stuttering ‘ums’ and ‘uhs.’

Yet, when Sion chances a peek down the line of Generals next to him, he finds that not a single one has winced. No one has laughed. Even the clone troopers all around them are as silent and steady as the night itself.

It seems like they are all listening intently to their young General on center stage. The only giveaway that sympathy is being had by any is the tiny gesture Clone Commander Rex is making with his hand. He is moving it almost imperceptibly in a circle, as if to say ‘come on, come on.’

Sion looks back to young Skywalker and waits patiently as he finds his place and carries on reading again, this time faster. This time he does not look up for his master’s eye.

He wants only for the torture to end.

He gets to the end of his paper without dropping it or repeating himself and is flushed red. He does not ask for questions. He merely says quietly into the microphone, “Thank you.”

The panel chair waits a beat before walking over to Skywalker and asking the crowd for questions on his behalf. Skywalker becomes even more luminous. Sion cannot decide whether asking a question would be more or less stressful for this poor boy.

No one asks a question.

The panel chair then starts to ask for applause for Skywalker, but before he can even finish the sentence the whole balcony breaks into uproar.

General Kenobi hoots and whistles piercingly in Sion’s ear. General Vos claps and shouts what sounds like ‘You FUCKING did it, kid. You FUCKING did it. Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH,” the Clone Troopers behind General Vos finish for him in perfect unity.

“Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH.”

More applause and congratulations erupts after this.

General Skywalker slams his paper into his face and bursts into tears at the front of the room.

He bolts for a doorway that Sion hadn’t even noticed was right next to the bench. General Kenobi whacks at his Clone Commander’s shoulder, and Commander Cody wraps hands around his waist and hoists him up so that he’s standing on the guardrail at the edge of the balcony. He leaps from there to the lower level then goes jogging out the same doorway his former apprentice ran through.

After another moment or two, Commander Cody stands up and snaps at the whole collection of troopers in their language. Everyone shuts up and sits back down. Commander Rex gestures for Ahsoka to put up her hood and takes from General Vos a small datapad which he gives to the child—presumably for her to occupy herself with for the next hour and a half of papers. She takes it and immediately becomes absorbed in its lightly-glowing screen.

The balcony is once again on its best behavior.

Sion doesn’t bother with listening to any of the other papers. He feels no shame at all in beginning to furiously take notes on his last twenty-five minutes with the jedi.

--

 Upon leaving the conference room nearly two hours later, he finds himself swept up in the clone troopers’ swift and orderly exit from the space. They line up outside the hall in lines by regiment and they wait for their commanders and generals to arrive before marching back towards the visitors’ wing’s exit.

After two or three minutes, only two lines remain.

Clone Commander Rex and Clone Commander Cody stand perfectly at attention beside their lines of men. Clone Commander Rex has his jedi’s apprentice thrown over his shoulder; he has balanced her on one arm while she sleeps.

It’s very sweet. She obviously trusts the Clone Commander very much.

“Gentlemen.”

The clones snap to even tighter attention as General Mace Windu appears, walking briskly their way.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to them. “Commanders, you will remain. Obi-Wan and Anakin will join us shortly.”

“Sir,” both commanders say simultaneously.

There is a pause, and Sion sees that all of these people are now looking at him.

“Can we help you, sir?” General Windu asks.

Yes. And Sion will pay any amount of money to just know this one thing. This teeny, tiny detail.

“Sir?”

“Is that normal for you?” he blurts out.

The Clone Commanders stare. The general stares. The apprentice coughs lightly in her sleep.

“I regret to say that it is not only normal, but expected of these general and units,” General Windu says. “Please vacate this area.”

Right.

“Thank you,” Sion says.

He stiff-legs it back to the crowd of other academics and hunts down a liquid to soothe his parched throat.

  The new book’s title will not be ‘The Physicality of Peace.’ It will be ‘All is Fair in Love and War: The Jedi Order and Ideologies of Family, Part I.’

 --------------- Yeah, so anyways, Myth and I decided that Anakin is bad at public speaking and nothing anyone says can take this from me now, I’m invincible. (If you want this on Ao3 let me know).

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #the clone wars #clones #guys sometimes anakin is allowed to be cute #but only like every so often I don't want him getting uppity #and thinking I actually like him or something like that #ahsoka and rex's relationship is everything to me #fic #ficlet

[nevertheless-moving]

Obikin Crisis AU Part Four

Read Previous Parts HERE

Star Wars AU #18

Obi-Wan made his way to the public training sallies, nodding in polite acknowledgment at the curious stares and double takes he garnered. At this point rumors of their appearance in this timeline had spread throughout at the temple. And while Anakin’s differences from ‘Ani’ were more stark at first glance, Obi-Wan clearly carried himself differently enough from ‘Obi’ that the contrast was obvious to anyone looking for it.

Anakin had waved him to go on ahead, promising to catch up, as he studied the news of all things.

He walked in to find his and Anakin’s ‘counterparts’ locked in a fierce duel. Which was what he was expecting to find, it was why he was there; he had been looking forward to comparing their dueling forms. 

But. 

Something about this just instantly put him on edge. Was it simply the strangeness of seeing himself duel from this angle? No, he had watched holo-recordings of himself before for training- there was... something else off putting about this.

Was, was Anakin showing off? It looked, well, different from how he typically showed off, less unnecessary flips and more...flexibility? Yes, that smirk accompanying the full-body split was definitely smug, but it was also decidedly different from any cocky look his Anakin had directed at him before. It was...weird. And made Obi-Wan a little uncomfortable.

And himself! At first he was mostly focused on the favoring of Ataru over Soresu- it was fascinating, but not entirely surprising. He had switched to the more defensive form in response to his failure to save Qui-Gon and his need to watch over a young padawan. It wasn’t shocking that without that impetus, this version of himself would instead continue to refine his mastery of form IV. He was briefly intrigued at the thought of pitting his form iii against his alternate in combat but was quickly distracted by other- irregularities in the form.

Brief puzzlement fell into recognition which dropped immediately into horror. This- he had to be mistaken. There was no way...

Oh sweet force, that was his most flirtatious fighting stance. And not casually flirtatious, either. That was- oh fuck he did the unnecessary-lightsaber-hold-readjustment with hair flick. He was watching himself do the LIGHTSABER HOLD READJUSTMENT HAIR FLICK COMBO at his padawan. With smile. Not the ‘Charming Negotiator’ smile, but the wouldn’t-you-rather-stop-fighting-and-do-something-more-interesting smirk. Oh gods, now he was doing the full body undressing-with-eyes-up-and-down-lookover. At his PADAWAN.

Fortunately he wasn’t quite close enough to hear what they were saying but judging by Ani’s flushed response it was definitely sexual.

He let out a strangled panicking noise and looked around wildly, expecting someone, anyone to intervene. But if any of the other casual combatants in the room were watching they were either oblivious to the depravity before them, or inured to it. He honestly didn’t know which would be worse. 

He began slowly backing up, unable to look away from the train wreck in front of him. This was- this was worse than that time Qui-Gon got drugged and started rhapsodizing about Master Tahl’s poise, and he hadn’t been able to make eye-contact with either of them for weeks after that! He stumbled out of the room and fell back against a wall, clutching his chest.

Before he could even regain his bearings, Anakin walked up. 

“Are you alright, Master?” He asked somewhat concerned.

Obi-Wan clenched his eyes shut, unable to even look at the innocent boy he had raised and apparently, in this universe, defiled.

“Oh yes, yes, I’m fine, perfectly fine,” Obi-Wan lied. “I was just- thinking about some of the, um, metaphysical implications of travel between universes. Anyway, why don’t we- why don’t we leave the temple for today? See if Dex’s is any better in this universe, what do you say?” 

He forced himself to open his eyes, resolutely staring past Anakin’s shoulder and trying to pretend as though his fundamental understanding of himself as a moral being hadn’t been shaken to the core.

“Um, as great as that sounds, Obi-Wan, we’re not really supposed to leave the temple for casual reasons? And we came to the dueling rings to compare our fighting styles with our selves, remember?” Anakin replied slowly. “Come on, I really want to spar ‘Knight Kenobi.’”

Obi-Wan grabbed Anakin’s arm, then let go quickly, pulling back as if burnt. “Absolutely Not!” he said in an overly high pitched voice.

“What?” Anakin said grinning. “Is this you really embarrassingly bad at fighting? I knew my prodigy lightsaber skills had rubbed off on you over the years.”

Obi-Wan winced. “Yes, yes that’s it exactly, I’m- I’m absolutely the worst in the reality, no need to go in there. Lets just, ignore Mace and go out in the city, come on now.”

Obi-Wan flapped his arms wildly at the man, unwilling to make unnecessary body contact after being forced to bear witness to...unnecessary body contact. 

Anakin squinted suspiciously. “Ok, I don’t know what exactly you’re so desperate for me not to see, but you do get that I definitely have to see it now.”

Anakin started to stride forward and Obi-Wan threw himself wildly in the way, shoving Anakin back. “Anakin! Don’t ask me to explain why, but please, for the love of the force, do not go in there.” 

Anakin got a gleam in his eye and Obi-Wan’s heart sank, realizing there was more or less nothing he could say at this point that would turn the man back now. 

“Anakin, don’t-” But it was too late, he had already leapt over Obi-Wan’s head and was now darting inside.

Obi-Wan ran after him, feeling ill. 

Anakin managed to make it halfway across the room before skidding to a halt and letting out a strangled squeak. Knowing he was going to regret it, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but follow his gaze. He gasped. Almost incredibly, the combat had gotten even worse in the minutes he had been out of the room. Both of them had inexplicably lost their sabers, and Obi had Ani pinned to the mat face down, arms trapped over ahead.

They were pressed together and panting.

Anakin  turned to his Master, looking frightened. “Obi-Wan, what-” he let out, slightly too loud.

Obi-Wan just threw his robe over his former padawan’s head in response and began dragging him away. “I told you not to look” he whisper-shouted.

At this point, their dramatics had gathered the attention of everyone in the room. Their alternate selves had jumped out and were watching them bewildered. 

“What is-” Obi tried to ask, but Obi-Wan cut him off, hysterical. “You just- you stay away from us!” he shouted. The dopplegangers exchanged a confused glance.

“Obi- uh, Obi-Wan, seriously, what-” the poor harassed twin of his young apprentice tried to ask, but they were already nearly out the door.

“I’M SORRY!” Obi-Wan shouted back. “I’M SO SORRY!”

#star wars #my au #obikin crisis au #star wars au no 18 #star wars au #obikin #NOT obikin #star wars fanfiction #dedicated to that one confused obikin anon #and #@wonderingrealist #for your comment way back when #there IS a part 3 but it just keeps sinking lower in my drafts so fuck it im jumping ahead this is star wars and tumblr #is obi and ani to cutesy? i just want an easy way to distinguish them in conversation and i even came up with a credible backstory #i looked up 'homoerotic wrestling pins' for this and wow was i not disappointed #if anything a lot of them were TOO homoerotic for me to credibly work into a lightsaber battle but food for thought i guess #i had to stop writing this MULTIPLE times because i kept thrashing around giggling

[tessiete]

"You’re burning up” for Obitine BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO! <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3

FOR YOU? ANYTHING!!! But only if you like it. If you don’t like it, please immediately erase this from your memory so we can still be friends. Anyway, there’s meant to be some stuff in here about the fever of first love, and like passion and fire and stuff, but it’s also just them bitching at each other so....I TRIED.

I love you!

IT CANNOT HAPPEN TWICE

“You’re burning up.”

“Remove your hand from my face before I remove it from your person.”

“I only meant to say that we can rest,” he explains, watching as Master Jinn forges on ahead, clearing a path through thick brush. “If you need to.”

It is safer here, out in the wilds, than on the road, the stretch between Mircine and Kar’Marev known for kidnappings, hunters, and corpses, but Satine will not be bowed.

“We may if you need to,” she spits. “I am perfectly capable of continuing without breaking, though I would not begrudge any weakness of yours.”

He grits his teeth, and she holds his gaze, steady and fever bright, the heat of her presence grinding him into deference out of respect for her position, for his master, and for the basic tenets of the Code - a Code which he seems to remind himself of continuously these days. Certainly, he has become more familiar with the first precept than ever before. He is intimate friends with it, having meditated on it for hours with no great success. There is no emotion.

“Of course, your Grace,” he says. His bow is shallow and poorly done, the curve of his lips equally false, but she says nothing. “I was only trying to help.”

“Thank you, padawan,” she says, then turns and marches on.

He catches up with her at sundown, hours later, and her condition is not improved. She stumbles along behind Qui-Gon, head bent, eyes on every next step. Her breathing comes in ragged gasps, and Obi-Wan can’t help the worried glances he keeps throwing at Qui-Gon’s broad back. He frets at the strand of shared consciousness between them, like he frets at the hem of his sleeve, and when it’s finally gone dark, he approaches his master where she cannot hear them.

“She’s ill,” he says, with no attempt at a conciliatory preamble.

“I know,” says his master. “I had hoped we might reach Kar’Marev tonight, but it is later than I thought. And I dare not brave the open plains past dusk. Not like this.”

“Then we’ll rest for the night?”

“We will,” Qui-Gon says. “Though I fear it will not help us much.”

“Master?” He shuffles nearer, and Qui-Gon speaks even lower to be certain of their confidence.

“The duchess is ill,” he says. “And if her fever persists she shall not be able to continue tomorrow. If it breaks, she shall be too exhausted to proceed. Either way, our efforts will be in vain, and worse - foolish. We gain nothing by gaining ground on foot only to lose it in body.”

Obi-Wan glances behind him as the duchess stokes the embers of their fire, banked low so as not to draw attention. She coughs, and it sounds as though it catches on every ribs, rattling and severe.

“Is it so serious?” he asks. “We are at least a day’s walk from help in any direction. What if she gets worse?”

Qui-Gon huddles close, scratching at the edge of his beard. “There is a plant,” he says. “A weed, really, and so it should be in no short supply. If I can find it, we may make a tea of its leaves.”

“A local remedy,” says Obi-Wan, looking skeptical. “Will it cure her?”

“It might alleviate the worst of her symptoms.”

Obi-Wan sighs. “Show it to me, master,” he says, closing his eyes to search out the gossamer impression of light and colour in the Force. But his master frowns, and holds him at arm’s length.

“No, Obi-Wan,” he says. “I shall search. You must stay here, and care for Satine.”

“What? But master, surely it is better that I go!”

“I know what I’m looking for, where to find it, and how much we need.”

“There are hunters on the prowl -”

“- And the only company worse than yours, should one find her here. Stay, padawan, and watch over her.”

She coughs again, and he throws a doubtful glance over his shoulder before applying to Qui-Gon once more.

“Master -?”

“Be kind,” he says. “And patient. Trust in the Force, and I shall be back soon.”

But Qui-Gon is not back soon, and the night grows cold and dark around them. The creakers in the grass go to bed, and the home world Mandalore hangs heavy in the sky until the clouds come in and shroud it from view. Obi-Wan smothers the fire with sand, the red heat of it glowing bright in the absence of planetlight. He worries it might draw the eye of any unsavory observers, and trusts that Qui-Gon will be able to navigate without it. He can feel him, far afield, illuminating the shadows like starlight falling softly over leaves, and moving father still.

“Do you think Master Jinn will return before dawn?”

Satine sounds miserable, her voice crackling in place of tinder. She clears her throat, and clutches her thin cloak more closely about her. 

“I hope so,” he replies. “Maybe sooner.”

“I had not thought reconnaissance something so eagerly done at night.”

They had decided between them it would be best to keep Qui-Gon’s purpose from the duchess. Qui-Gon had said that she was already struggling under the weight of so many expectations of infallibility that one breach might be enough to topple her. Obi-Wan had simply desired an evening free of insufferable debate. If Satine suspected either reason, she would be offended, so Obi-Wan shrugs, and unrolls his bedkit.

“Master Jinn felt it would be better if he used the cover of night to clear our path than simply hope we don’t stumble across some hive of villainy in the daylight.”

“And you agreed with him?” she says.

“I trust him,” he says, unflinching. “Master Jinn is very experienced in matters of this nature, and I trust him to lead us safely.”

“So long as the Force wills it,” she mutters. It is not his imagination that some bitterness sours the air, then, and he feels it twist against his spine, drawing him stiffly upright to counter her.

“Yes,” he says. “But you seem to be labouring under the presumption that trust in the Force is tantamount to resignation to our fate.”

“Isn’t it?” she demands. Her eyes are bright, and her cheeks flushed pink and raw.

“Isn’t pacifism?” he retorts. “Or would you contend that laying down arms in the face of violence and oppression a brave choice?”

A twig snaps in the distance, but Obi-Wan feels no danger stir in the Force. Foolish - for she scowls at him, baring her teeth like a feral strill on the hunt. 

“What do you know of bravery, padawan? You have always been at heel, always in the shelter of your Order, and your Temple, and your Master Jinn. You know nothing of fear.”

“And you know nothing of me,” he snaps. “But I would fight. I would sacrifice everything for what I believe is right. I would die for it.”

“And so would I.”

“I would kill for it,” he says, and she is silent. He feels his victory at hand, and her silence. his reward. Finally. “Don’t speak to me of bravery. You have fine ideals, and beautiful dreams, but I have seen the galaxy, and I know what it is to face villains who would destroy everything you love simply for the sake of seeing you suffer. I would not wish that on you, but your pacifism will not save you from it. I’m sorry, but I cannot see peace for your warrior kind.”

Satine sniffs. She coughs. He feels a sharp tug in his chest, looking at her already so weak and downtrodden by illness, and now battered by his own unruly emotions. But then she throws back her head. Her hair is lank, the lily-white gold of its strands turned dusty with neglect, but she is somehow regal still.

“We are not violent by nature,” she declares. “Our cultures, our traditions - there is more to Mandalore than bloodshed. And there is bravery in standing bared and open with nothing but peace, our shield between life and death. A blossom is just as noble as a blaster. More, for it thrives in harmony and gentleness. It lives, it grows, it seeds, and grows again. A blaster can only destroy. Would you have me wish that for my people?”

“I do not know your people.”

“Then do not speak for us,” she says. “I may not have seen the galaxy as you have, but I know Mandalore. Pacifism is not passivity. It is still the warrior’s way.”

Obi-Wan kicks out the end of his coarse bushcover, straightening the edges, and smoothing away bumps that rise up beneath the narrow mat. He says nothing as she coughs, not even when the next fit lasts for more than a minute. He only folds his rucksack so that his spare stockings and pants may act as a pillow, and cushion the edges of rations and various other instruments of use. He sits. He pulls off his boots, and aligns them neatly beside his bed. His stockings are next, and he lays them flat to dry in the open air of the forest. At last, the choking and sputtering behind him fade, and he lies down with his back to Satine.

“Aren’t you going to wait for Master Jinn?”

“No,” he says, closing his eyes. “And I wouldn’t advise you to, either, though I know nothing I say has any weight with you.”

“But what if he needs help?”

“Then I don’t suppose your being awake will have particular value there, seeing as you won’t lift a finger to defend him.”

He can hear as she surges to her feet, and kicks at the little rise of buried fire. Bits of sand and ash scatter at his back, but it is only a bluff.

“You’re insufferable,” she says. 

“The feeling’s mutual,” he assures her, pulling his coverlet up high, and nuzzling against his pack until it cradles his head just so. It is a warm night, and the earth still holds the heat of the day. The insects of Harswee have been until now a mannerly bunch, and Obi-Wan hopes that this resolution will last the night. He has already suffered enough. 

He waits until he hears Satine unroll her own kit, kick off her shoes, and lie down before he releases a deep breath, and relaxes into the Force.

When he wakes, it is still dark. The air has turned cold, and Qui-Gon has not returned. Instinctively, as though still a child in the creche, he reaches out to his master, first, worried that it is some disturbance there which has stirred him from his rest. But no. Qui-Gon still burns, an effulgent flicker of light somewhere out on the plains, and Obi-Wan feels a sense of comfort and reassurance pass over him like a zephyr of thought. The problem does not lie there.

Instead, he finds it lying six feet away on the other side of the smothered campfire.

Satine’s fever has gotten worse. She shivers on the ground so loudly her teeth chatter, and her shoulders shake. Her arms are wrapped tightly around her, the thin coverlet strained with the desperate desire to provide some heat. Obi-Wan kneels to press his hand to her brow, only to find her skin slick with sweat.

“Oh, Force, Satine,” he says, shaking her awake. She looks at him with glazed eyes, but her frown seems instinctive, for it falls into place immediately upon recognition. 

“I thought I said don’t touch me,” she says. There may be fire in her, but it is raging through her blood and her skin, and her words come out as thin as smoke.

“Your fever is worse,” he says. 

“I know,” she replies.

“You should have said.”

He hurries back to his kit, throwing aside the cover and tripping over his boots in his haste to reach his rucksack. The careful work of folding and primping forgotten as he pulls it apart to find a small canteen of water and a packet of electrolytes. He tears the packet with his teeth, and dumps its contents into the liquid, shaking it, before returning to Satine’s side. With all the gentleness of newborn things, he slips his hand beneath her neck and raises her to rest against his chest. She protests feebly, but she cannot fight him, and when he brings the water to her lips she drinks as bidden.

“Small sips,” he says, one arm wrapped around her back to brace her, the other steadying her hand on the canteen. “You must stay hydrated.”

She nods, but pushes the drink away.

“Satine -”

“I can’t,” she whispers. She wilts against him, her head tucking itself into the crook of his neck beneath his chin. Her breath is hot against his throat, her body hotter still where he can feel the warmth of her fever radiating through the thin layer of her clothes where they touch. He puts the canister on the ground, propped up in the dirt but still within reach. 

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “I’m so cold.”

“Alright,” he says, and he reaches forward to drag her coverlet from where it lies crumpled at her feet. “You’re alright.”

He pulls the blanket up over her shoulders, and wraps her in his arms. She responds to his touch in a manner so differently than usual he can feel his heart stutter and stop in confusion. Burrowing deeper, she nuzzles her cheek against his chest, and folds her arms between them. 

“Hush,” he says, rubbing wide circles over her back, the friction of his palm against the cover doing little to soothe her tremors, but doing much to calm his own uncertainty. 

“Is Master Jinn returned yet?”

“He will soon,” he says, though Master Jinn is still distant and cool.

“Do you promise?” she asks. She has never asked for his word before, never solicited his opinion, or sought his comfort. He pulls back to look at her face, certain he is being mocked somehow. But her eyes are closed, and her face slack with exhaustion. She tilts her chin, until her throat is bared, and she waits for him to speak.

“I promise,” he says. 

“Thank you,” she whispers. “I trust you. Will you wake me when he does?”

“I promise,” he repeats, staggered by this turn she so easily concedes to.

“And will you stay with me til then?”

He tightens his arms around her, cradling her head, and holding her close so that she might be warmed by the heat of his own body.

“I promise,” he vows.

And in the dark, he waits, and he watches, and he holds her until the sun comes up.

#obitine #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #qui-gon jinn #year on the run #my fic #please #nobody look at how many of my fics end with someone promising to stay until someone else wakes up #i don't know what's wrong with me #i swear i sleep alone just fine #and i don't think i ever made anyone promise this when i was a kid #idk #NO JUDGING #star wars #prompt fill

[animemangasoul]

You Are Wanted Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summery: Qui-Gon lives and Mace gets a new Padawan.

In which Qui-Gon repudiates Obi-Wan and Mace isn't about to let the kid leave the order without a fight.

Chapter: 1/10

"No luck?"

Mace sighed.

Walking through the door only to come face to face with his former Padawan sprawled across his couch especially after the trying day he's had only served to make his shoulders tighten further. "What are you doing here Depa?" he asked doing his best to keep the exhaustion out of his voice.

His fellow council member raised a single eyebrow in reply.

Mace sighed again, hand running over his face and pulling at his chin. "No," he finally answered. "No luck." And if voicing his failings didn't already sour his mood, seeing the flash of disappointment in Depa's eyes drove it home.

"There is nothing wrong with Obi-Wan," she huffed. Her annoyance bleeding into the force as she observed him go about preparing his own afternoon meal along with hers now that she'd decided to make herself at home in his apartment.

"I know," he said, bringing out cups and plates while he waited for their dinner to heat up; not even contemplating asking Depa for assistance as he well knew by this point he could never make her set a foot inside the kitchen after that 'incident'. "But with his prior records and Qui-Gon,"--the Chalactan woman snorted in disgust and Mace paused to send her a warning glare. "having repudiated him," he continued doing his best to clam down on his own anger when the words leave his mouth. "Not many are willing to take a second look."

Walking over to sit by the dinner table Depa sighed; the force muted with her sadness. "It's a cruel faith being stripped of your future because one man has decided to upend all traditions because he thinks himself some kind of force whisperer," she dragged the last words out rather mockingly inciting a snort from Mace which then resulted in him trying and failing to give her another stern glare.

Annoyed as he was with the other man, insulting him was not a productive endeavor. Still, he couldn't fault his former Padawan for her bitterness towards his old friend. Qui-Gon certainly did parade around as if he was the only man blessed with the true gift of the force. "Hopefully young Kenobi still has a future as a Jedi," he said, setting down their plates. "I just need to find one Master who is willing to take him on. He only needs a year or two before he is ready for his Trials."

Depa hummed in agreement but the force swivelling around her was still leaking uncertainty if only a little. Clapping his former student on the shoulder, Mace let encouragement wash over her as he sat down. "Do not worry yourself," he said letting go when he the tension finally eased out of her body.

Companiable silence falls between them after that, the worry for Obi-Wan still lingering in the air but for now, both willing to put it aside to share the little time they rarely get to spend together to its fullest. It's only after the table is cleared and Depa has found her way back to his couch that she speaks on the topic again.

"How is he by the way?"

Staring forlorn at the dirty dishes and missing the good old days when he could make little Depa wash up as part of her training while he excused himself for a short nap, Mace shook his head and made his way over to the opposite coach, leaving the dishes for tomorrow. "He's doing well," he said, folding his legs under him. "All things considered. He's healing."

Depa pursed her mouth. "He's the Sith-killer and we can't even give him an automatic knighting because--" She bit her tongue before the words slipped out, but Mace knew very well what she was going to say.

'Because Qui-Gon is still alive.'

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan had both survived the battle of Naboo. Survived the Sith. And while Obi-Wan had accomplished a feat no other, saved his master and come out alive; baring the heavy injuries sustained both men, by saving Qui-Gon Jinn the young man had unknowingly sealed his own faith.

Not that Mace wasn't immensely grateful his old friend had gotten away with his life. But--

With Qui-Gon alive, Obi-Wan could not be Knighted without taking the Trials and to everyone's horror the boy's Master was not willing to wait for him to be ready for them.

No, Qui-Gon had made it quite clear how little he thought of his student's well being when he so cruelly disregarded him in front of the Council, repudiated him and thrown him away in hopes of training young Anakin Skywalker. Mace stomach coiled in disgust just thinking of that day. That moment….. With Qui-Gon standing in the middle of the room, an uncertain Anakin next to him and a distinct lack of Obi-Wan by his side. Qui-Gon had declared for all to hear that he would be training Skywalker and if that could only come to be with Kenobi out of the way, so be it.

Obi-Wan hadn't even been there to defend himself. Submerged in a bacta tank as he was, fighting for his very life and---

Clenching his fists, it's all Mace can do to carefully release his anger into the force and close his eyes against the onslaught of memories. Obi-Wan's clear eyes staring up at him from a hospital bed in abject disbelief, having woken up to a broken bond and a hair distinctly lacking a familiar braid.

The fact Qui-Gon hadn't even had the respect, the heart to tell the poor boy face to face. That he had unbraided his hair while Obi-Wan was still….. That he hadn't explained anything. He…. Mace was a Jedi,

"He…. repudiated….me?”

Mace hadn't known what to say. Standing there in the Halls of Healing, staring down at the too sickly, too skinny, too haunted man in the hospital bed. Mace hadn't known what to say.

What could one say in the face of absolute devastation?

So he had just stood there, seconds ticking by, eyes unable to break away from the dull blue-gray ones of young Obi-Wan Kenobi. Unable to speak, unable to console, unable to utter the words he knew would shatter whatever remained of the fragile sense of self-worth the kid had left.

Finally, as the auburn haired man swallowed thickly, looking away, Mace regained his speech.

Sitting down heavily in the chair stationed by the bed, he'd folded his hands under his chin and lowered his voice into an almost gentle hum. "Yes, he did. In front of the council, a couple of weeks ago."

"Oh."

That single word crumbled something in Mace he hadn't known he ever had.

Kenobi looked so small. Thin fingers clutching at the white covers, bottom lip red from being gnawed bloody, hair damp from recently having been brought out of the bacta tank and eyes swimming with such hopelessness it left the Korun man's heart with dull sense of ache he didn't quite know how to deal with.

Mace Windu was a Jedi. Controlling and releasing his emotions into the force was by now a habit as easy to him as breathing.

Nothing got under his skin, nothing pained him for long. He was focused, he was disciplined and by all accounts he was never brought to the edge of absolute fury. But looking into those gray-blue eyes. Seeing young Kenobi trying so hard to keep himself from crying. Watching the young man chest heave in futile attempt not to collapse in on himself. The destruction of a bright light, of a hopeful child ruthlessly turned into a broken young man at the hands of someone who should have known better---

Mace was a Jedi and his emotions did not rule him.

They did not. And yet, and yet….

So he pressed his fingers against his knees, nails biting into the skin beneath his clothes and he looked Obi-Wan Kenobi dead in the eyes and firmly; without pity, laid out the decree of the council. Explained what precarious position the kid found himself in; all the while being oh so careful not to let his voice catch on the lump choking him from within.

Now that Kenobi had been repudiated he was no longer a Padawan and if the council had followed the Jedi Code to the letter, he should have been expelled or relocated to the ServiceCop or the AgroCorp the minute Qui-Gon had disowned him, but this wasn't an ordinary situation and Kenobi, well, Kenobi was anything but an ordinary Jedi.

So, "with your unique circumstances," Mace had said, hand resting by the kid's knee just in case the proximity dispelled the harshness of Obi-Wan's new reality or even brought the kid some semblance of comfort. "the council has concluded that you will be given six weeks to find a new Master to complete your training and 'if' that Master is deemed acceptable by the council." Mace did his best to emphasize the 'if' for it meant any young Knight trying to do Obi-Wan a favor while having nothing of their own to actually teach him were automatically ruled out; force knew the kid had plenty of friends who would step up to the task (just the thought of recently Knighted Quinlan Vos boldly declaring himself Obi-Wan's new Master gave Mace a headache. If the sheer embarrassment didn't kill Kenobi, Quinlan's teachings surely would.) "Then your apprenticeship will be transferred to them until you're deemed ready for your Trails."

Obi-Wan had nodded, fingers tracing unknown patters on the cover. "I assume you have already spoken to a fair number of potential Masters?"

There is a certain ease to his voice, the raspiness behind it the only thing giving away how hard the kid was trying to cover up the burnt edges of his anguish. Even after Mace had seen with his own two eyes how Kenobi; as soon as the visible grief of his former Master's betrayal had run its course, gathered himself up. Taking a deep breath and then as if it was an artform storing away his emotions, carefully and meticulously behind unreadable eyes until a hurt child once again transformed back into a composed young man.

It was…… concerning the ease with which Kenobi could look as if his entire world hadn't just been shattered into pieces.

"I have." he had said in answer; swallowing down the bitterness of his own failure and watching as Obi-Wan's fingers darted across the knuckles of his outstretched hand (that Mace had yet to move) almost as if unconsciously seeking out comfort; only for the young man to then realize what he'd done making him flinch away. Mace nearly scowled in distress 'What had Qui-Gon done to this child?!'. "Unfortunately I have yet to find a Master willing to take on a Padawan your age," he managed to finish.

"Ironic isn't it?" Obi-Wan muttered, self deprecating amusement dancing in his eyes. It took Mace a second to grasp the context behind the words but when he did, a sardonic smirk pulled at his lips.

"Yes," he said. "It is."

For it was. To be rejected for a child too old to become a Padawan, only to turn around and find yourself the one who is now too old to be anyone's Padawan. Ironic indeed.

And so very awful.

They had talked about nothing of note after that. Obi-Wan content in pretending nothing outside the four walls of his room existed and Mace wanting to indulge him, just this once.

Still, even though he regaled the kid with stories, particularly of that one time Master Yoda had kidnapped him to lure five other Masters away from a council meeting, his brain was still running through potentially willing Masters for the child he was so unwilling to give up on just yet.

"I would take him if I could."

Depa's words managed to bring him back to the present with an abruptness he wasn't ready for.

He blinked, once, twice. Then sighed deeply as he closed his eyes. "I know."

Depa shifted across from him. "His time is nearly up."

Mace tensed. "He still has two more weeks left."

Now it's her who uttered "I know."

A suffocating silence once again wrapped itself around them. This one hinging on uncertainty, worry and concern. Emotions that swiftly were released into the force and yet lingered in the room like an unspoken blemish. Finally Depa spoke. Her words nothing but a whisper but holding all the strength of an ocean slamming against the shores of Mace's stability.

"You could take him."

It's not a question, not quite a suggestion either. It's more like…… a promise.

Mace startled, eyes flying open. "What?" He had expected much from her, maybe a suggestion of one of Kenobi's little Knight friends taking him on, which he would have soundly rejected but not this. This was unexpected to say the least.

Depa only shrugged away his incredulity. "You could take him as your Padawan learner. He would only need a year or two at most like you said and Kenobi is mild tempered, level-headed and a quick study, you would get along great." She said it all with such casualness and certainty Mace couldn't help but stare.

Crossing her arms and folding her knees under her in a mirror image of him, Depa lifted a single eyebrow. "You cannot tell me you have not considered this?"

Mace bit back a wince. "Of course I have. Unfortunately that doesn't."

Depa cut him off. "Why not?"

If there was anyone who feared him less than Depa; excluding their green troll of a Grandmaster, Mace had yet to meet them. And now watching as she stared him down, Mace was torn between pride and indignity. "You know why." He gritted out, mindful to keep his voice even. "I'm Master of the Order. I will not have the time to train him properly. My duties are on Coruscant. Young Obi-Wan will need someone to go on missions with him, look out for him and I'm afraid I cannot do that."

If he'd thought his words would discourage his former student, he was wrong. Now she looked even more resolute than before he'd made his argument.

"May I remind you Obi-Wan is Senior Padawan. He does not require someone to hold his hand every step of the way." Here a ghost of a smile grace her lips. "He is only a year or so away from his Trials, Mace. He is supposed to take solo missions by now. You just need to oversee the remaining of his training, help him polish a couple of things and he'll be ready." Her eyes flickered with something too fast to detect. "Please Mace, at least think about it."

He swallowed, throat suddenly dry. "Obi-Wan deserves someone who can devote their time on him," he said yet the idea running through his mind with possibilities.

Kenobi deserved better than what Mace could provide. Especially after Qui-Gon. Especially after the countless setbacks, traumas and horrors the kid had been through. He didn't deserve a Master who wouldn't always be there even if the kid only needed minimal help at this point. "I may not be what he needs?"

Now Depa was glaring at him. "Maybe it's about time people stopped assuming what is best for Obi-Wan and started giving him the chance to choose what he thinks is best for him? And maybe it's about time he received the knowledge that he is actually wanted for once in his life?!" The last words are said with such vehemence Mace is momentarily stunned.

Quickly as the anger came it vanished, leaving behind a sheepish smile and mildly apologetic eyes. But Depa did not take her words back.

Mace couldn't find it in himself to scold her. After all, wasn't that the root of Obi-Wan's issues? How everyone kept assuming what was best for him, never once listening to what he wanted?

Would it be wrong for Mace then to lay his cards on the table. To ask? The kid did not have to accept; although Mace would be disappointed if he didn't. But to ask, he could do that, couldn't he? Let the kid know that he wished to train him, had always seen the potential in him. Might have taken him on from the very beginning if Depa hadn't still been his Padawan. That he would see him to Knighthood if Kenobi let him. What would be the harm in that?

"When he's released from the Halls of Healing where will he go?"

The abrupt change in topic makes the Korun man blink up at his for Padawan in confusion.

"Without a Master," she continued eyes glinting with something. "He will be relocated to the Initiate dorms will he not?"

Mace was already shaking his head before the question had fully left her lips. "No."

"No?"

He nodded. "He will move in with me until a Master chooses to claimed him as a Padawan."

Now the glint in Depa's eyes are all but twinkling like stars but why…..

Mace own eyes widen in realization.

Oh

He hadn't thought much of it. Having just assumed Obi-Wan would stay with him until a Master stepped forward to accept him. Hadn't even contemplated putting the traumatized young man with the Initiates. In a way, he had already made his choice days ago, hadn't he? And of course Depa had see right through him to a part he hadn't even been aware off.

If he was a lesser man, Mace might have flushed red with embarrassment having essentially claimed Kenobi as his own Padawan without knowing. But he was Mace Windu, Master of the Order, so all he let himself get away with was a huff and a slight twitch of his mouth. "Looks like my mind has already decided what my head has yet to conclude."

Depa answering smile is teasing. "Seems so."

The relief that hits him at those words is almost staggering. Knocking into his chest and nearly toppling him back against the headrest.

He'd been worried, angry, concerned and at his wits end these past couple of weeks. Knowing he was letting Obi-Wan down every day he was politely rejected by another Master who'd seen Obi-Wan's records, heard of his repudiation and refused to take a chance on him. Knowing Qui-Gon repudiating him had essentially sealed the young man's faith. Feeling disgusted by the false rumours of Kenobi's insubordination, and having to go see him every evening watching the light flicker out of his eyes as each shred of hope he had of being a Knight was torn away from him.

In the end it was all so very simple wasn't it.

The minute the kid had looked at him with those eyes, Mace had known.

He would never let him go without a fight. Not Kenobi. Never Kenobi.

It didn't matter how busy his schedule was he would make time for Obi-Wan if he accepted him. No longer would he stand by and watch those hunched shoulders trailing after the rigged figure of one Qui-Gon Jinn. No longer would he stand by and let the kid be used to wash away someone else's darkness.

Obi-Wan Kenobi would be his Padawan.

Overwhelmed by the sheer sense of calmness that washed over him, Mace momentarily closed his eyes and breathed. Releasing all the emotions clinging to him into the force. Worry, anger, fear, concern, care and most of all pure, unwavering protectiveness.

If he had something to say about it, and he did. Qui-Gon would never step a foot near the kid ever again.

"Do you think he will take to Vaapad as quickly as you did?" He asked as his composure fell into place and his eyes sought out his former student.

The startled laugh that burst out of Depa made a sharp smile twist at the corner of his mouth.

"Maybe Soresu is more is speed," she lightly jabbed back.

Tilting his head; playful for those who knew to spot the miniscule changes in his expression, Mace glared. "Don't you even think about interfering Kenobi's lightsaber studies behind my back."

Depa looked amused. "Wouldn't dream of it."  But then the mirth vanished and gave way to contentment. "It would be nice," she said. "Finally having a Padawan sibling."

Mace found himself smiling, gentler this time. "It would."

They share a smile before Depa is on her feet, making her way to the door. "Best to inform Obi-Wan of your decision as soon as possible," she called over her shoulder. "He'll be out of the Halls in three days time."

Mace stared and stared. And then, stared some more.

"This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he said out loud, not quite believing she managed to manipulate him so thoroughly . "You came here today to coax me into accepting Kenobi as my apprentice."

Depa doesn't look back at him, but she doesn't have to. The Force danced around her with mirth and shades of guilt for having deceived him. The Korun man could only let himself shake his head, heart tugging with pride at how much his little spitfire had grown while also frowning in realization. "Depa." he said firmly, but his former Padawan was already palming open the door.

"Don't be like that Master," she said turning back to give him a final look, the familiar title she only used sparingly coming out of her mouth with overflowing warmth and fondness. "We both know I only guided you to the decision you wanted to make all along."

She was right. Still,

"I don't like to be manipulated Padawan mine."

She only smiled. Mischief in her eyes and a single dimple creasing her left cheek before she was gone, vanishing out the door.

Mace was left sitting alone in his living room. A mirroring smile painting his lips and chest for the first time since Naboo filled with nothing but anticipated flicker of hope.

To go from being repudiated one day to being the Padawan of Mace Windu, Master of the Order few weeks later….. Kenobi would have hell of a time trying to compute the insanity of the news coming his way tomorrow.

Mace hoped Obi-Wan Kenobi he slept well tonight for both their sakes.

The next couple of weeks would be….. Hectic to say the least.

The end

Believe it or not the idea that Depa's preferred form is Soresu is half the reason why I wrote this fic. Just her taking Obi as her unofficial baby brother and helping him on his path to becoming a Master at Soresu makes me all giddy, so here you have it.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfic #mace windu #qui gon a+ parenting #seriously if you like him avoid reading this #depa billaba #padawan obi wan #fanfic #fanfiction #star wars fanfic chapter 1 #Mace is best dad #my very first long star wars fic so be kind please #you are wanted obi-wan kenobi

[luvvewan]

EEEE can you do 11?? Obi wan and qui gon JA time period? :D

Thank you very much for the prompt, @general-flame ! ❤️ I realized after writing this blurb that you specified Jedi Apprentice and this actually follows new canon/Master and Apprentice. I hope you enjoy it anyway but feel free to send send another JA prompt and I’ll try to be more observant! 😬

11. “I need you to breathe for me. Slowly – in and out.”

—

(then)

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the bleary afternoon sky above him, sullen and swollen with dark clouds. He immediately vomited, and his confused head thought it must be rain water, this tepid liquid rushing up from his guts.

He tried to take a deep breath, but made a clumsy gulping sound instead. Warm pressure settled on the nape of his neck, and he felt the Force, suffused with healing, yet strained.

Panicked.

He tried to wrench away from the touch. His fingers dug into the grainy earth. He tasted the grain—no, sand—in the back of his throat. It was going to fill his lungs, but he wretched again. He could not stop, overtaken by great, shuddering heaves, the Force more shadowed than the sky, dark with fear.

I should not be afraid to die.

I am Jedi.

Hands beat on his back, while another clutched his arm, keeping him upright, although he was very tired and his vision had dissolved along the edges. A vice squeezed his lungs, the hand squeezed his arm. Voices drifted down from the clouds.

“Obi-Wan—“

“Steady now. Breathe, kid.”

Two voices; he didn’t recognize the second. He tried to obey it anyway, letting the order override his body’s twitchy, mindless reactions. Obi-Wan spit out wet sand, but didn’t vomit, which allowed a thin stream of air through. Then more. The sharp pinch in his chest eased. He wanted to suck in the clean, sweet air, glut himself on it. He sputtered instead, and the hand moved along his spine, wide palm stroking up and down.

“Easy,” A different voice, lower, closer. “Focus on calming your heart.”

Master. He was suddenly shaking, even though it was the opposite of what Qui-Gon wanted, and there was a skittering flurry in the Force, and he realized his heart was pounding as if it wanted to burst out of him. He was going to puke, ohhh—-

“Qui-Gon, he’s—“

“I know.”

Despite the cacophony in his ears, Obi-Wan could hear the disappointment there. He blinked up, forcing his eyes to center on the vague face-shape hovering above him. Water dripped onto him, this time from the ends of Qui-Gon’s long hair. He was looking at Obi-Wan.

Blue eyes striated with grey. Like the sea.

Obi-Wan coughed and shivered. “What,” he started to say, but was unconscious before he could finish the question.

What do you know?

—-

(now)

“N-N…”

“I need you to breathe for me.”

Obi-Wan choked and sputtered.

“Slowly-in and out,” Qui-Gon braced his Padawan’s shoulders in an attempt to ground him. Though instinctively he wanted to draw the trembling young man closer, Qui-Gon remained at the edge of the sofa, giving Obi-Wan space. In the chaos of the moment, it was difficult to remember the healer’s suggestions, but he was getting better at it.

Unfortunately, Qui-Gon had already been provided several opportunities to practice.

The Force energy surrounding Obi-Wan pulsed with rapid, unfiltered emotion—confusion, panic, fear. Qui-Gon felt the echoes of terror, as clearly as he could still hear the desperate gasps from that day, weeks ago. When the attacks came, Obi-Wan sounded like he was struggling for air.

Drowning.

“Do you want the lights on?” Qui-Gon asked softly.

Obi-Wan’s eyes were screwed shut; after a few seconds he nodded.

Qui-Gon waved on a glow lamp. The common area of his quarters looked aggressively normal, unaffected, their tea cups from earlier in the evening still sitting on the end table. It was only the blanket, thrown onto the floor, that spoke of any unease.

He picked it up, shook it out and draped it over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “That’s it. You’re doing better. In and out.”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui-Gon. His chest was still fluttering spastically, but as the minutes passed, he took more and more control, until at last the wild-bright panic faded. Obi-Wan sagged against the sofa.

“Well done.” He held Obi-Wan’s gaze, something that had been hard to do, as of late. He wondered when he would be able to look in those gray eyes again without remembering how they had widened with terror, silently pleading for help. Qui-Gon had failed his Padawan that day.

And now Obi-Wan was staying with him, rather than in the apprentice dorms. Obi-Wan had insisted it was unnecessary, embarrassed by Qui-Gon’s offer. But he was not sleeping, and Qui-Gon could not sleep either, imagining his Padawan in the throes of these ruthless attacks, alone.

He had made enough mistakes with this young man. He would do what he could to fix it.

Obi-Wan was glancing around the room, as if discreetly scanning for danger.

Qui-Gon understood that it was a side effect of the anxiety and trauma. As the soul healer explained it, Obi-Wan’s close call triggered primitive responses in his brain. His body currently perceived threats even in safe places, like his Master’s rooms in the Temple.

Or perhaps he is right to sense danger here, a niggling voice in the back of his head pointed out. After all, you did not protect him. Far from it.

He gingerly squeezed Obi-Wan’s knee. “I’ll get you some water.”

Obi-Wan blinked. In the weak amber light, he looked younger than his twenty years. “Alright. Thanks.”

Qui-Gon glanced at the chrono when he walked into the small kitchen. Close to daybreak. So it would be another early morning. He returned with a glass of cool water.

Obi-Wan took it with a quiet ‘thank you’ and sipped. His hair was flattened on one side of his head, the other half standing in riotous spikes. Qui-Gon had begun to believe the regulation Padawan cut in human males existed to endear them to their teachers. He smiled and smoothed the sweaty hair with his palm.

He noticed Obi-Wan’s mouth tense and his eyes dropped to the glass in his hands.

“You have no reason to be ashamed, young one.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “No, of course not. All senior apprentices lose their minds and have to sleep on their Master’s couch.”

It was meant partially in jest, but the words twisted Qui-Gon’s heart nonetheless. He set the glass on the table and leaned back on the sofa, crossing his arms over his sleep robe. “You have not lost your mind. Healer Che said this is not uncommon after a traumatic event.”

“Nor is it common.” Obi-Wan started to fiddle with his braid, then caught himself. “I don’t see how it’s especially traumatic,” he confessed, looking at Qui-Gon with bloodshot eyes. “I just need to learn how to swim.”

—

They were Temple-bound while Obi-Wan recovered. Unlike a physical injury, the parameters for mental recovery were ill-defined. Obi-Wan went to appointments with a soul healer; he rarely spoke of what was discussed in the sessions. Qui-Gon got the impression that his Padawan firmly wanted to move on, and was both irritated and discouraged by the attacks.

Qui-Gon wanted to move on too, of course. He and Obi-Wan had only just begun to mend their relationship after the fateful mission to Pijal, and Qui-Gon’s near-acceptance of the Council seat.

He sat on a bench in a less-traveled area of the Gardens. His eyes burned from interrupted sleep. The episodes were becoming much more frequent, nearly every night. He worried for Obi-Wan, who was currently sitting in a lecture, undoubtedly exhausted.

If he was a more experienced Master, would this all be easier? Over and over, he grappled with the idea that Obi-Wan needed someone like Mace, or even Yoda. The boy was so different from him. He never knew if he was providing Obi-Wan with the tools he needed to thrive, as a Jedi or as a person. Pijal had proved to Qui-Gon he could not give Obi-Wan up, nor were their problems insurmountable. He had returned to Coruscant with hope, and turned the Council’s offer down.

And then, on their very next mission following Pijal, Obi-Wan almost drowned.

Since then, Qui-Gon’s thoughts dwelled on a conversation he’d had with Obi-Wan, back when he still intended to join the Council.

“I’ve never taught you to swim, have I, Obi-Wan?”

“No, Master. But I know how—well, a little bit.”

“We’ll practice. Every Jedi should be able to swim like a Mon Calamari.” *

He could forgive some mistakes he had made as Obi-Wan’s mentor. Obi-Wan was his first Padawan, assigned to him by Master Yoda, and there were bound to be stumbling blocks. In this case, Qui-Gon had no excuse. For years, it had not occurred to him to ask Obi-Wan if he knew how to swim.

He had assumed, as with so much else in this relationship—assumed somewhere along the way, Obi-Wan had learned how to swim. He should have taken Obi-Wan to the Temple pools as soon as they returned from Pijal, as he had pledged to do.

Their lives were busy. He had forgotten.

He cleared his throat, looking out at the vibrant greenery. He remembered swimming with Master Dooku. Qui-Gon could swim, and swim well, before his first proper mission as a Padawan. Why had he let so many things slip with Obi-Wan? Admittedly, in the beginning, Qui-Gon had felt shades of resentment towards the boy, foisted upon him when he had not asked for such a sudden and complete change. Yet he had grown to care deeply for Obi-Wan, despite their differences. He thought he had done his best.

Pijal had opened his eyes. But not enough, or else he would have corrected the vital lapse in Obi-Wan’s skills as soon as he was made aware.

“We’ll practice.”

There were nightmares of his own, in which he was too late, and Obi-Wan did not…he refused to give the image life or dimension now, in the Gardens, amid other Jedi and the optimistic light of day. Yoda would tell him not to dwell on what-ifs. Certainly Qui-Gon had been reminded recently enough that dreams were easily misinterpreted.

He would bring up the swimming lesson with Obi-Wan, he decided. It was a start.

—

*dialogue excerpts taken from the novel Master and Apprentice by Claudia Gray

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #obi-wan #master and apprentice #qui-gon and obi-wan fanfic #prompts #luvewan fanfic

[comeandreadawhile]

Au: Boba gets adopted

Obi-Wan had several things that need attending to as he trudged along the innards of a Geonosian arena—his injured leg, the unsettlingly cryptic news of a Sith Lord being in control of the Senate, and whatever unhealthy attachment seems to have settled in his padawan for a certain senator in the time he’d been with her for starters—before reaching an archway that led once more into the partially enclosed bloodbath. There, among the devastating loss of some 200 Jedi knights and masters, among the clean up crew and those bagging bodies for transport to Coruscant, was a little boy kneeling in the rust red sand and clutching his father’s helmet like a lifeline.

Obi-Wan Kenobi found his list of things to attend to had a new and vastly more pressing priority.

He tried not to be an impulsive man, something he had tried to instill in Anakin with only moderate success. He tried. But the Jedi were known as protectors and peacekeepers, and no one was paying a bit of mind to the grieving child. A grieving orphan who knew no one but the older (younger?) brothers firmly ignoring him and one separatist-aligned and already-fled Count. Obi-Wan changed his direction and made no answer when Anakin asked where he was going.

He approached the boy quietly, but with his injury and the crunching sand, there was plenty of noise for the little one not to be spooked. He didn’t get too close, merely letting himself be known in the boy’s peripheral vision before moving to sit in the sand—something his leg greatly protested—a few feet away. He didn’t speak, perfectly content to wait to be openly acknowledged while the boy failed to hide his sobbing. He didn’t have to wait long.

“What do you want, Jedi?” The child spat, his voice thick and choked with tears. Obi-Wan could tell he wasn’t looking for condolences or pretty words, so honesty was probably his best course.

“You don’t need to be alone right now,” he started. “I’ll leave if you truly wish but you need someone right now.”

The boy scoffed and held, if possible, tighter to the silver helm. “How would you know what I need? Just leave me alone!” The bite in his voice cracked at the end.

“Because I’ve been exactly where you are,” Obi-Wan almost flinched at the cliche. The child clearly felt the same.

“Sure you were. Of course you were,” came the bitter words the young Fett had every right to. “Because every other guy’s dad is—was k—” He choked once more as tears drowned out the mournful retort.

Obi-Wan extended a hand and continued somberly. “I saw my Master killed by a Sith’s lightsaber, and I spent so long hating myself for being powerless to help him.” The boy had bit his lip, shaking as Obi-Wan watched him sob. “Being alone with that kind of grief was a terrible thing, something I would never wish on you or anyone.” He was content once more to let the boy grieve in peace, merely offering his company and the hand he kept extended upon the red sand between them. He could feel Anakin lingering in the alcove he’d parted with him in, confusion and apprehension rolling off him steadily in the Force; he should’ve been seeing a medic about that arm of his. An idea that had been forming in his head was finally matched with words. As the boy’s cries slowly turned in wet hiccups, Obi-Wan scooted a little closer—and his leg still was unhappy about it—and the boy turned his gaze, tearful and suspicious, back on him. Obi-Wan spoke gently.

“Copanni olaror ti ni?”

The boy’s tear-streaked face snapped up at the words. “Tion gar lise jorhaa’ir Mando’a?”

He nodded, answering softly, “We can speak in whichever you prefer. You didn’t answer my question.” Mando’a would offer familiarity, but that familiarity could also be painful at present. Based on the scrunched face the child made, Obi-Wan accepted it was probably the latter. He watched the little one drop his head to rest his cheek against the helmet. Taun We had said the boy’s name, but Obi-Wan found himself struggling to remember it through the rush of the last cycle’s events.

“I can take care of myself,” the boy answered quietly. “Dad taught me how.”

Obi-Wan nodded, not terribly surprised. “I’m sure he did a fine job, but he couldn’t have wished for you to have the need so young. I’m sure he’d want you looked after.”

The little one sniffled pitifully and nodded, and some minutes passed as Obi-Wan watched the cogs turn in the child’s head. Then, unsure and still shaky, a little hand moved to grasp the one still extended between them. Obi-Wan squeezed the little fingers gently before moving carefully to stand. The other arm opened as he turned, and the boy stood, still clutching the helmet, and allowed himself to be scooped up. Obi-Wan kept most of the boy’s weight directed to the hip of his uninjured leg, noticed how the little one’s body sagged against his own once he was settled, and began a course back to his padawan. He pressed the boy’s head under his chin, allowing him to hide in the hollow of Obi-Wan’s throat.

“I’ll do my best to look after you,” he promised. He would—he knew plenty enough about Mandalore and her people to get this child through his trial of adulthood when he reached thirteen, and enough about his own trauma to never assume the boy was alright. “If you aren’t happy with me, I’ll do my best to get you somewhere you are.” They boy only sniffled and nodded in response, but that was more than enough right now. A moment, and several steps, passed. “Taun We introduced us but could I ask your name again, little one?”

A croaked reply fell against his collarbone, “Boba.”

Obi-Wan nodded once more and brought the hand not supporting Boba’s weight to the back of the boy’s head, “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad, Boba.” To this, the hand gripping his shirt clenched and Boba nodded into his throat, and if his collar was soon wet with fresh tears, Obi-Wan made no mention of it.

He walked the both of them back to Anakin and Senator Amidala as quickly as his leg and Boba’s added weight allowed him, and together they made for the ship. Anakin, blessedly, didn’t ask about the child in his arms until they were aboard the ship they’d be taking to Coruscant, once Boba was wrapped in a shock blanket and assured, when Obi-Wan put him down and made to leave to get something, that Obi-Wan wouldn’t be far for long.

“Master, the boy?”

“The bounty hunter’s son,” he provided. He didn’t stop on his path out of the ship—they wouldn’t be taking off quite yet but he felt no need to dawdle. “Your new little brother.” Anakin looked like he’d been struck.

“A new apprentice? You’re replacing me for disobeying you?”

That stopped him very effectively. He turned as he spoke. “You listen to me now if never again, Anakin Skywalker,” he began lowly. He would not let the boy he raised go on with the same doubts he’d had with Qui-Gon. “I will never replace you. You are mine to me, if I was ever a father to you.” Anakin had grown taller than him just in the last year, but Obi-Wan had no qualms about putting a palm on the back of his padawan’s neck to ground him. “But that boy just lost his only family, and he needs someone.” Anakin nodded solemnly. The boy understanding, Obi-Wan lightened his tone. “Which means that I now have one padawan, and two sons. Unfortunately, you’ll have to learn to share.” He finished with a grin.

Anakin huffed out a laugh and nodded again, smiling. “I understand, Master, thank you.” As Obi-Wan gave his neck a pat and moved once move to exit the ship, Anakin inquired after him, “Where are you going?”

Obi-Wan merely called back over his shoulder, “I have to retrieve something before we leave.” Something that neither boy needed to see at that moment, but Boba was sure to treasure in years to come—it would certainly fit when he stopped growing. So onward Obi-Wan moved, making his way back into the dreaded arena, speaking to exactly the people he needed to for certain arrangements before moving on to find his quarry. And he would.

Every piece of Jango Fett’s armor.

A look at next chapter:

“Are we not honor bound to help those in need?”

“You know that this goes against our code!”

“A Jedi of this Order killed his father, so a Jedi of this Order will raise him in his father’s place.”

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #boba fett #anakin skywalker #wrote this in one sitting #more to come