summary : assembling a christmas tree with anakin.
tags : fluff. romance. no warnings apply.
notes : domestic fluff word vomit, my fave szn is here :>
"It's never going to fit," You yell over the howling winds sweeping the freshly fallen snow over your face.
Anakin shrugs, turning his head lazily. "What, don't want it?"
You survey the tree he was aiming for. The tree was massive, towering over the rest with thick branches and leaves full, grandiose.
"It's perfect!" He set out with a ridiculous amount of confidence. After searching for hours, and traveling the galaxy, because of course, it had to be just right, he'd pick the one that looks like it could belong in the Jedi Temple's grand hall.
"No—"
"I told you, it would be perfect." Anakin bursts through the door, cheeks pink from having carried the behemoth of a tree from the ship all the way back home.
You cross your arms, surveying how the tree takes up most of the space, jammed halfway through the living room with a loud thud. "Sure."
Anakin, ever determined, tries to set the tree to stand. The weight of it should've made him relent to the impossibility. You bite back a laugh as the tree wobbles. He tries to use the force to make it stand upward. The tree lifts from the ground, a few branches split and crack.
"We should trim it first," You suggested, "It's going to crack open our ceiling!"
He shakes his head, gaze focused on getting the tree upright. He grunts to himself to hold the tree.
"Anakin," You call out, watching the top of the tree bend as it scrapes over the ceilings.
"Almost there,"
He force-shoves the tree, more branches cracking until finally it wedges into place. You step backward, avoiding the falling leaves and branches. The top smashed against the ceiling, bending awkwardly. You stood in awe, perhaps shock.
He walks towards you with a triumphant smile, leaning down to plant a kiss on your cheek. "Perfect,"
Night soon came by, the landscape quiets with snow falling from the window in the cabin. A fire was running by the middle of the room, and the twinkling of the lights by the tree illuminated the space. Getting the lights to wrap around the entirety of the tree was a challenge of its own, now as you both sat on the floor, you both realize that you don't have enough decorations to hang on the tree.
"I can run to the shop," Anakin stands up, refusing to admit defeat in perfecting this tree.
"Its too late in the night," You said gently, recognizing the will he has to make it a perfect christmas. "Besides," You stood up, taking the small holoprojector sitting by the table, it was old, but it could be repurposed to project holiday themed holographic snowflakes. "We have all we need here," You suggested.
Anakin, being a tinkerer, probably has spare parts lying around from fixing ships or droids. His head dips, considering the idea. "C'mon," you coaxed.
He started assembling his trinkets. You found some pictures you kept and hung them by the tree. He steps behind you, chest pressing against your back. "Didn't know you kept hardcopies of these," He runs his hand over the pictures.
In a universe where everything can be projected in a click, the idea of a feeling, a moment, captured in a photo is something you placed value on. Nothing in life is ever permanent, everything is changing. Often times, life has a way to smother you to believing that there's too much cruelty and violence, a piece of to look back in a moment frozen felt like a warm reminder that once, you have been there, happy and content.
You chuckle. "I like that its frozen in time."
He leans down, resting his chin by your shoulder as his arms reach over the branches, coiling a golden spring around the branches, as a make-shift tinsel. Soft music echoed through the room. You let yourself breathe, leaning against his embrace.
You can almost see this scene painting in your head, a quiet christmas evening, held by the love of your life. You can look for love like this scattered across the universe, but nothing could compare. Nothing will compare.
Soon, the tree was covered with engine parts or ship panels that hung as quirky ornaments, bolts and small gears strung together to make shiny chains, and photographs of the life you shared with Anakin.
"It's missing something," His eyes drew into slits as he scans the tree over.
"A star." you answer. The ornament lied on the floor and you went to pick it up.
"Alright, go top it off,"
Anakin's fingers wrapped around your waist, and you let out a squeal as he lifts you up to his shoulders. You held on to his arm, giggling in surprise.
The star felt like the glue that made everything tie together in the end. He sets you down gently, hand still wrapped around your waist. The fire crackled in the background, casting a warm glow over the tree's odd but charming decorations.
For a moment, you caught him admiring the tree, an odd combination of improvised, chaotic, sentimental decorations. But it was yours.
"I know it's not perfect," He speaks in a hushed voice. "I just wanted to give you something special. Something I never had."
You let out a small laugh, finding his over-the-top eagerness and effort endearing. This was the first proper christmas he had— family, warmth, belonging. Just him getting caught up in the joy of it all was the best present you could've asked for.
You smile softly, gaze lingering on the tree. His eyes locked on yours, a sort of relief washing over them.
"You did, Anakin. This is perfect." You soften, pressing your cheeks against his chest. You both stayed there for a while, until the soft christmas music makes you swing side by side.
There was a sense of longing that settles on your chest. Sometimes, you feel as though you're already missing something as you're experiencing it. Like you are already scrolling through the happiest moments of your life and miserable that you've already known what it is like to be so happy, so full of life, that there's nothing left to experience. But isn't that what makes the present a lot more beautiful? perhaps. All you know is that right now, in this moment, your life is colored with the warm lights of the fire, the christmas tree, and Anakin's embrace.
hey, absolutely loooove your stories, was wondering if you can recommend some other writers in the sw fandom? i have read all your original work, so good! Thank you ☺️
aaaa thank uuu for reading ! here's a list of star wars / anakin blogs !
Would you consider writing some angst+fluff for obi wan? Your writing is amazing!
thank you for the submission, anon!
been wanting to write for pre-clone wars obi-wan for a while, so here's one tagged fluff/angst.
note : despite this being a self-insert, the template for his romantic interest remains in the shape of satine kryze (my beloved).
five times he tempted trouble with a smile and the one time he couldn't.
7 k | masterlist | fluff / light angst. | no warnings apply.
one. unwanted companion
The Hapan system had long been in civil war before you prematurely took your father's role as the monarch. There was never true peace in Hapes, a system housing over a hundred planets. The rich prey on the defenseless for resources, the powerful take as much as they can hoard. You come from a long line of royalty that have attempted to maintain a somewhat solid ground for a peace to settle on. Your ancestors have created a Consortium to govern over the diverse and unique systems. But it simply wasn't enough.
Your father got very close, though. He was the second son, unwilling but determined. He became the perfect king, whose reign was rooted with gentle compassion leading with a manner of firmness.
You had been groomed to always take your father's place. Despite the realm's ceaseless divide against a female ruler. You had a seat in your father's table. He made certain that you'd read through the long exhaustive stories of histories to not be doomed to "—repeat the failures." You didn't even have the time to grieve your loss when the Consortium hurried to legitimize you. No time to be angry that the people whom he served for betrayed him in his sleep at the night of starfall. And how you, now, have to also do the same. It's now your duty, to serve, whilst you're afforded the life, when your father's have ceased.
It's been almost a year since then. The wound hasn't felt any less painful. But you carry on with it, because it's all the love you still have for your father.
"Blockades have been enforced on the supply routes where smallfolk deliver livelihood. I doubt that they'll back down, my Queen, they're always protesting about something, the inner systems have no other transport for the upcoming Starfall festivities." An ambassador speaks from the table.
This particular one come from the inner system, Andalia, if your memory serves you right—always walking the halls with a flamboyant aristocracy embellished with Hapan pearls as if wanting to announce his standing before anything else. Perhaps his head had gone awfully massive it blocks his ear to hear how tone deaf his complaint sounded.
You took a deep breath, slowing your words down to practice patience. "What are the smallfolk protesting for?"
The ambassador narrows his eyes, like he'd been appalled you were even considering. "Against the privatization of the supply route. The Andalia system is working to keep the lane safe and free of squirmishes."
"That also means tax on usage," You say almost imperceptibly, though you can feel the Consortium's eyes shifting towards you.
A beat passes, if there were anyone to represent the opposition, now would be the time for a debate. But seeing there was none, the Consortium's attention lands on the bodacious Andalian. "Well, a small price to maintain it,"
The table quiets, an unusual instance from the colvuluted noise of going back and forth unti a middle ground is reached. There had been no voice of the smallfolk to represent them, so the Consortium looks at you expectantly for a resolution.
It isn't fair. You don't see any other right path than to give both sides a chance to plea. "We'll hear out the protestors before acting."
Some ambassadors exchange knowing looks. You recognize that look— having been subjected to it so much since you became the deciding force in the table. Their glances, pointed and heavy, a mix of curiosity and disdain, as if they're waiting for you to falter. You meet each gaze head-on, but the weight of it— the endless need to prove you're not just a girl masquerading as a monarch— feels unbearable.
You stood up, the night have dragged on longer, and it was time to dismiss the Consortium before the Andalian ambassador finds yet another thing to complain about.
"We'll reconvene tomorrow evening,"
The ambassadors exchanges formalities, each bowing before they leave. Their hushed voices rippled as they murmur their agreements— or their doubt's. You're too tired to care.
You took the glass of water sitting untouched by your seat. "Excuse me, my Queen," A guard steps interrupts your quiet, "The Jedi are here."
The information felt like a cord tightening around your throat and your grip around the glass tightens. Had the unrest of your realm catch the Jedi Council's attention? Had they thought that perhaps you needed assistance?
Two Jedi walked towards the room— The older one with greying hair marched with a sense of Jedi posture, refined and assured, whilst the younger one lingers a few paces begin, casting glances around the room, quietly admiring the ornate architecture and decor.
"Queen [Name], Forgive us for the late arrival, we understand that you've requested of us a while ago," The older Jedi says.
You tuck your fingers behind your back. "I'm not sure which of the Consortium had asked of you, but I'm assuring you that the business with the factions are being dealt with." You declared.
The younger Jedi's glances at his companion, sensing the tension, "Of course, we are not here to interfere with the affairs of your system," The older one levels with you.
You stiffen— trying to retain your composure, "Then what exactly is your business here?"
"I am Qui-Gon Jinn, this is my padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Your cousin, the Senator Juno had called on us to ask for your protection."
Of course Juno would've done something like this. She was your older cousin, who takes on the position as the voice of Hapes in the Galactic Republic. She'd been fiercely protective of you ever since your father had passed. Despite the good intentions— you can't stop feeling undermined by her doubt. You have made it an entire year without needing protection— why the need to have one now?
You gather yourself and put on the most formal tone, "I thank you for answering my cousin's call, but I don't need protection, Masters,"
The younger Jedi inclines his head, with an amused glance. His enthusiasm was irking at you— he was observing everything in front of him with a wide gaze of eagerness . A padawan, perhaps this was his first mission? He is awfully too happy to just be standing beside his master anyway.
"Senator Juno thought to take precautions with the upcoming Starfall. There's been evidence of a conspiracy against you, my lady," Qui-Gon continues.
You feel your heart skip a beat. You have known it for a while—the schism in the Consortium— but you haven't considered that they may be conspiring to have you taken down. As they have your father.
You press your eyes close. Starfall had been the only day in Hapes where there is peace— just for a moment. Everyone gathers with their families to watch the meteors rain, lighting up the night sky with sharp sapphire and blue spilling into one another as the promise of a new season dawns. You're expected to make an appearance, a perfect opportunity for assassination. But must you take the word of strangers, even if they are Jedi?
"Fine. You can stay. I'll have someone find a room for you both." You decided.
"That won't be necessary," Qui-Gon Jinn interjects, "I'm afraid I'll have to take my post back at the Council. My apprentice will take your side, instead,"
Your lips flattened to a line. The younger Jedi didn't miss the expression on your face. Qui-Gon Jinn bows his head before he turns to say goodbye to his padawan.
Obi-Wan was left in charge of your care.
"I take it guarding monarchs isn't your usual assignment, Master Kenobi?" You commented.
Obi-Wan, who takes the cue immediately, replies casually, "Not quite what I pictured after knighting, but this'll do,"
You scoff internally, noting his youth, and apparently the humor that came with it.
"Well, how exciting it is then," You reply dryly, "Tell me, how often do Jedi interfere with foreign politics without consulting the ruling power first?"
Despite your steely formality, there's a noticeable edge in your voice. He remains unfazed of your disapproval. "Not often, no. In fact, usually people are rather pleased to see us."
"Then perhaps this will be a novel experience for you," You raise an eyebrow.
He pauses, meeting your gaze with a hint of challenge. "I do like novelty,"
You purse your lips— the annoyance dissapating to a sort of intrigue. He was young, he wasn't bothered by authority, and he seems to chatter away in remarks. Perhaps his wit can be of use to you.
"Walk with me,"
You lead him to a wing of the palace filled with archives by petitioners, advisors, and bureaucratic hustle, introducing him to the small tedious issues that you have to face everyday. You even went on the Andalian issue— expecting him to get frustrated or bored.
"Here we have the Council of Landholders. They oversee grain distribution among outer planets. They impose the tax on the sorting and packing— and now they're petitioning for a privatization of the supply route,"
Obi-Wan leans his head forward, keeping a straight face as he reads through the many letters addressed over the aggravation the smallfolk was supposed to be causing. "I assume the resistance has stirred… significant conversation?"
You shake your head lightly, finding the entire thing absurd. "Conversation would be putting it lightly. Andalians considers themselves something of a poet when expressing their grievances."
You took a quick glance at his focused stare. "Would you care to listen in?"
The young Jedi tilts his chin, watching your expression. "It would be my pleasure, My Lady. I do have a particular appreciation for—" He pauses, gaze falling to the papers, as if struggling not to laugh at the character he wears "—lyrical complaints."
You almost crack a smile, caught off guard by how quickly he comes up with something of that description. Even more so, how willing he was to humor you on something so boring. You concealed it quickly, turning to keep walking by the hallway.
He steps forward, you notice that he'd never let you walk first. As if anything in this quiet night can harm you. As if he's committing every passage, every turn to memory.
You soon reached the west wing, the hall to your quarters. He'd stay by the room at the end of the hall— a precaution. No one occupies this wing except family.
You point him to his space. "I trust you'll remember, Master Kenobi, that while you are here as a guest, the affairs of Hapes remain mine to manage," You reinstate.
He halts in his steps, a careful distance apart, and the air of formality softens. "Believe me, my Lady, managing affairs is the last thing I'd want to intrude upon. I rather enjoy the walks,"
You blink, "Alright,"
He carries himself with so much confidence and ease that can't be unnerved by your attempts of asserting the dullness and hierarchy of your system. Strange. Perhaps having a perceptive Jedi can bring the little light you need these days.
two. market mishap
A week passes and the Palace have received no word from the smallfolk of the markets. With your growing mistrust with the Consortium, it wasn't entirely impossible that the aristocrats and bureaucrats have found a way to delay any understanding of the smallfolk's needs. Because then, they can apply pressure for you to make a decision. The scheming made you feel restless, and as the sun slips over Hapes, you have decided to sneak out to the outer systems yourself.
You wore a hood over your head, wearing the most unassuming outfit you could find in your quarters. There was a ship beneath the west wing, a failsafe your family has ensured after what happened to your father. All there's left to do is go by it unnoticed.
"Nice disguise,"
You jump from the voice behind you. You exhaled as you took in the form of the Jedi now walking in front of you.
"Are Jedi trained to follow people or do you just take delight in creeping in the night?" You retort as you keep walking quietly.
He has a cool exterior as he scans the surrounding. The hilt of a saber peaking through his robes. "I could feel your impatience halfway across the palace. I'm certain you weren't planning to go alone, my lady, that would be unwise."
So, he wasn't going to stop you. Atleast he won't be another obstacle to your mission. "Presumptuous of you," You commented, at a lost for any words to say anything back.
There was an amused expression playing on his face, a snicker, as if he'd already figured you out.
The Market was bustling and teeming with merchants, children, and street performers. The streets were filled with life— despite the deep of night. Ornaments of meteors and decorations were lighting the narrow path. The rich, spiced scent of roasted nuts and the tang of smoked meats drifted through air, mingling with the floral perfumes of Hapan women who passed by in elaborate Starfall-themed dresses. Children darted past, clutching glowing lanterns, their laughters rising like the distant shimmer of meteors.
For a moment, a thrill of being able to be among your people without assuming the role of their monarch passes. Your father used to take you here, too, "—the best place for Starfall preparations," He used to say.
A Jedi now takes his place, one that was watchful and was admittedly better at staying inconspicuous than you. You halt at a stall selling star-shaped lanterns of sapphire and blue, admiring the craft that came with the season. You overhear a merchant speaking passionately about the recent issues and new taxes that have been hurting his business.
He was a vendor of grains and basic supplies. Stirred by his plight, you nudge the Jedi to move closer to the merchant.
You take the bag of silver you packed from earlier— wanting to appear the common buyer. "Quite an increase from last week," You commented,
You could feel the Jedi's gaze on you watching you closely. The Merchant takes a long look at the both of you, eyes narrowing in suspicious slits. "You look well enough, we don't even get much from our markup for Starfall."
You lean in with concern, determined to know more. "How much has the Consortium increased taxes for vendors?"
"Why do you care?"
Obi-Wan quickly cut in "She's… quite passionate about fair trade. We both are."
The merchant huffs a laugh. He crosses his arms with a shrewed look. Obi-Wan shoots you a warning look to tone down the line of questioning. "Is there anyone representing your side of things?" You press on.
Obi-Wan steps beside you, head dipping to whisper in a low voice. "Might want to hold back on the royal concern, my lady, it's leaking out."
"Ambassadors, eh?" The merchant butts in. "No!" You answer defensively, getting annoyed by how little you still knew. You just have to sell the act more convincingly. "We're only trying to make do for the upcoming starfall, for our… children,"
Your composure had dropped with the word, you both look too young to have children, there was no way to convince the merchant more. The Jedi snickers, "Come along, my dear, we'll find better price somewhere,"
You glare up at the Jedi, cheeks momentarily flushing in embarrassment of how bad your skills at blending in. You continue walking through the market, this time keeping a sharp ear out instead of engaging. It was a lot harder to listen for a name, someone to represent the smallfolk against the endless nagging of the Andalians. A skirmish breaks out nearby— you scan the commotion looking for where it was coming from. A small protest was gathering at the heart of the market where street performers would have been.
There were people running away, possibly terrified of the Hapan securities that are closing in at a distance. You held your hood, pushing forward to be nearer.
There was a large fire by the middle, the flames leap, casting flickering shadows that distorted the angry faces of the crowd.
'END ARISTOCRACY 'JUNK INCREASED TAXES' 'NO QUEEN SHOULD SIT THE THRONE!' 'NO TO COMMERCIALIZED EXCHANGE!'
You read a few of the placards being engulfed by the growing fire.
Your heart thudded against your chest, their words biting at you like accusations. For a moment— you hear your father's voice, reminding you of the responsibility you bore. The Consortium's games have turned your people against your reign. Your fingers clenched into balls, feeling an anger, fiercer than anything you've known, rise.
"Your anger is misplaced! I stand with you, not against you!" You tried to speak out against the roar of the crowd. The men in front of you seem to have heard your cries. You shrunk at being subjected to their voracious stares.
A warm hand wraps around your waist— you flinched at the contact.
"Time to go, my dear," The Jedi deliberately raises his voice as if to announce your familiarity.
"Wait!" You resist, the opportunity of looking for an ambassador arises. The angry looks could swallow you whole. "The Queen has not abandoned you— and never will." You said firmly, wanting to show your commitment and loyalty.
The commotion blurs as you move to a quieter corner. You take a moment to catch your breath, attention landing on the young Jedi in front of you. He's been watching closely, but was smart enough to not draw a weapon, for it would stir the people's anger even more knowing that an external force is at hand.
You straighten up, "I suppose, you'll run straight to the Council to report my recklessness,"
Obi-Wan dusts off his robes shrugging. "That I was peacefully at sleep before Starfall? Indeed,"
You pause, studying his expression, waiting for the snide remark to come up. He has a light amusement painted on his face,"You know, I've seen Padawans who are better at sneaking out than you."
He started walking, leading the way back to the ship. You follow closely, "Don't know why I even tried, I never could lie,"
"Yes, though I admire your boldness."
"A compliment?" You teased,
"Don't get used to it," He looks back with a slight smile
three. starfall
A strange melancholy pervades over Starfall evening. The palace, and perhaps, the whole of Hapes quiet— with a temporary truce. Lights in every home are dimmed, leaving only the soft glimmer of lanterns and decorations to shimmer against the darkness. The skies will bleed with a thousand stars. They say it was so that everyone can have a wish tonight.
In the main hall and courtyard, guests have gathered. Obi-Wan Kenobi, dressed in a more formal attire to maintain his cover, stands watch discreetly among the guards and courtiers, keeping a close eye on the surroundings.
You retreated to your father's study, overwhelmed by a wave of frustrations you've been keeping. At the Consortium— for having been undermining you in the shadows, at the Noblety— for having been so boisterous on wearing invaluable pieces of clothing when there are those who can't afford a meal to share for the evening, at yourself— for having allow everyone dictate what your reign is when you know you have the instinct to do what's right. And at your father— for needing him here beside you.
You sit quietly— attempting to muster up the composure to deliver the speech, but you've touched on a depth of grief you are no match for.
It blooms. It eats. It grins.
It transforms into something corrosive—an impatience, an anger for everyone and everything that doesn't quite understand. You can't share the world's excitement for the celebration. It was this night last year that your father have been betrayed by his own people.
A single candle cast flickering light over the antiquated books on the shelf. You have been staring at the family portrait hanging at the center of the room for a while. You can almost hear the questions he left behind, lingering like dust in the air. If you let yourself think on them too long, resentment grows
A soft knock on the door disrupts your thoughts. The faint sound of laughter and joyful music filters through the study.
"I will head down in a moment, just give me a while," You call, voice steady with no attempt to turn and see who stands there. But when the silence stretches, and you start to wonder if you've been imagined it.
"Forgive the intrusion, you were missed." Obi-Wan appears, his usual lightheartened demeanor tempered down to a manner that grates your defenses.
Everyone used to look at you like that— with a sort of pity, careful sympathy, held over a wounded animal, as though he understands the hurt, but has no idea how to tend to it. It's the same look that makes your shoulder stiffen
"I just… need a moment," You say sharply, arms crossing against yourself. "It's not your duty to follow me around like a dog," You can't keep the edge from your voice. Wanting to be spared the lecture on how your father was in a better place.
"It's not," He's unmoved, voice steady and infuriatingly calm. He walks forward, head inclining at the portrait— making a soft observation. He takes a seat opposite you.
Baffled by his persistence, you try to bite again. "What is exactly your purpose here, Master Kenobi? I fail to see how you differ from any palace guard."
"Yes, you may be right," He studies you for a while— you realize it was futile to rile a man who practices so much patience and restraint. "I was sent to ensure your safety. Above all else." He says, as if reciting an oath.
You turn on him, words ready, "Hapes will always be in some sort of chaos. It will take a long time to ensure my safety, what then?"
The look on his eyes catches you off guard—steady, almost disarming. It's as if he sees past your sharp edges, past the anger, and you're not sure if that unsettles or steadies you.
"I don't mind." He shrugs, leaning back to the leathered couches. "Guess, I'll have to make myself comfortable 'til then,"
"It is a strange thing. Sometimes as loud as a battlefield, other times it's quiet like a shadow that wouldn't leave," He gives you a lingering look, a silent invitation to talk about it.
"You speak as though you've known what it's like," Your voice lowers, finding it hard to keep posing a front of defiance.
"No, I suppose, I do not," He meets your gaze with a warm look. "I do know that your anger is a product of love. Grief, perhaps is it's final translation, the most basic indicator that there is still love."
You paused, considering his words, nodding solemnly. You're not sure if you want to embrace his words or push him away before he sees more. You straightened to your feet. The haze clearing just a little more for you to deliver the speech.
He follows you closely— a hint of something unspoken passes as you walked quietly.
"Thank you… Obi-Wan," His name slips out of your lips almost like a confession.
"It's my duty," His lips curve to a maddening smile that disarms. You shake your head lightly as you mirrored his expression.
four. diplomatic dinner disaster
A week after Starfall, you attend back to your duties at the ruler of Hapes. You have delivered your speech with a newfound optimism, emerging from the grief and somber conversations with the young Jedi by your side.
He'd stand back, during dinner, the meetings with the attendants, even when you are reading petitions at the library. Occasionally, you'd catch his eye as you make a decisive remark and you'll find that he was watching you with the barest hint of that wry, encouraging smile. It's as if he was daring you to push further, and hold your ground.
Ignoring his presence grew increasingly difficult. The fleeting glances— lingering longer than they should, knowing that you both have to look away but neither does, the hushed conversations, offering support and steadiness, that finds a way to silence all else in a room. At the same time, an invisible line is being drawn whenever it quiets. You almost want to ask him to stop standing by your door, to stop stepping closer, but somehow that would only make things worse.
You face the door separating you from the Consortium. The guards halt, opening the door, Obi-Wan stepping by the door as if assuming his post. Your eyes meet— in that unguarded moment, there's a spark that you can't hide. You incline your head forward, no longer hesitant or passive by appeasing the bureaucrats of the Consortium. Obi-Wan's hand brushes your arm as you passed him, so light, you wanted to dismiss it as something accidentally, but it imprints with a warmth you know you'll carry long after he's beyond sight.
You sit at the head of a long table. The matters of the realm was held politely but loaded. Each phrase is carefully chosen to press you on the unrest in the markets and imply your lack of control.
"Surely, Your Majesty, the disturbances in the market indicate for the need of additional security. Perhaps, a firmer hand, as your father might have favored. The people, afterall, do not always know what's best for themselves."
Members of the Consortium lean in close, murmuring opinions to one another.
"Respect cannot be gained through fear alone. The supply route is the only lane for the smallfolk, I was under the impression that Andalians have enough capacity to build one of their own." You maintained an even voice and a sharp gaze. A small wave of surprise passes through the table.
"Indeed," An ambassador speaks from across "An experienced ruler might have taken more decisive action before the smallfolk enforced the blockades."
There was a small ripple in the air. Something quiet, steady, you glance around the room to check if anybody had felt it. It felt as if the air was whispering in your ear. 'Keep going,'
You brush the jab thrown at you. "I see you've quite invested in reminding me of my place. Rest assured, I haven't forgotten it. My duty is to all of Hapes—not just those at this table. "
"The supply route will remain in service to the public." You said with a tone of finality. You stood up— prematurely ending the meeting. You could almost make out the growing disdain of the aristocrats at your declaration. But you held your chin high. "Thank you, gentlemen."
—☆
Obi-Wan walks you back to your quarters. Your conversations remain formal, but his eyes betray him— there was a gentleness in there, a kind of warmth you suspect he's not even fully aware of.
"Experienced ruler," You exaggerated, mocking the earlier remark thrown at you. "Whilst they're growing antiquated in that table,"
He chuckles, a flicker of admiration in his expression "You've thrown them off balance, they don't like that."
"The Council have called me today. The threat at Starfall was dismissed. I'm being summoned back to Coruscant."
The lighthearted atmosphere dissipates. He was here solely to protect you— despite something else, something that feels like a reassurance. You shouldn't have let yourself dwell on it. But in a room full of people waiting for you to falter, the thought of someone, even him, rooting for you felt like a quiet rebellion.
"Of course," You answer.
He approaches gently, a little closer than he needs to, you can feel his warmth in a way that was grounding and terrifying in its intimacy. You step back, his mission was accomplished, he's going to have to leave, too.
"Thank you for your presence tonight… I've appreciated it."
He folds his arms against himself— watching you retreat back the distance you've once had to endure. "It's my duty, my lady."
"Though, I suspect, we're both finding this more complicated than we expected."
You step forward inside your room. "Quite," Your utter, voice barely above a whisper.
It wasn't as if you have considered this as something that you can entertain. You were both bound by oaths and duty—you to Hapes, and he to his code. How foolish it is to long for something so impossible— especially someone as forbidden as a Jedi. It's as if you're asking for the moon. Or a little tragedy that can smother you to believe in love again. The absence of it in your life has grown so massive it became a presence. Stuck in the space of terror and awe, you shift uncomfortably in your bed, as the realization sets.
five. fire from within
The docking bay was quiet, humming with a distant sounds of the city ships zoom past the horizon. A Republic transport sits at the edge of the pod, hatch open, almost with a sense of finality. The Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn, has commanded back Obi-Wan to apprehend a Sith Lord, named Maul, if your memory serves you right. You vaguely remember reading about the Sith and how they have spread an intergalactic terror once. Somehow, the divide between your people pale in comparison to what Obi-Wan was always meant to do. Part of you has grown so accustomed to his presence. That was a fault. Life has taught you that everything you love can be touched by death. And though he's not gone, it awfully feels like you're already grieving.
You try to maintain the professional facade, even as your heart hints and aches at the thought of Obi-Wan leaving. "Thank you, Master Kenobi, I… believe Hapes will be in less chaos from here on. Your mission has been successful." You hesitate, not wanting the words to come out as empty gratitude. "The people, the Palace… I'll hold things together."
He smiles softly, a mix of reassurance, and something almost wistful. "I have no doubt you will, my lady." He bows lightly, exchanging the restrained formalities. "You're stronger than you realize."
There's a pause.
As if the air itself has been covered with something else… Your gaze drops to the floor, at a loss for words. His fingers twitch, as though tempted to reach out. Neither of you are willing to cross the line. Not when you're both finally becoming someone you want to be.
You've both done a lot of good for each other.
That should be enough…
"Then I wish you a safe journey. May the force—" You catch yourself, a bit awkward."May the force be with you."
He nods, noting your formality and allowing it to mask the unspoken weight between the both of you.
He turns toward his ship— a whine of blasters and a sizzle of flames streak through the air. The force of explosions rock the dock. And Obi-Wan instinctively pulls you down. The smell of burning metal and fuel fills the air and palace guards swarm your vision. Obi-Wan has a sharp look, senses alert, and lightsaber drawn. You underestimated how bright they are. You squint trying to see amidst the dark cloud of smoke. Your hand clasps around his arm. He glances over, grimly asssesing the damage. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes, I—" You tear away your gaze from the ship, brushing off the fright, the chasm forming in your chest at the thought. He could've been there.
"It seems, I may have been leaving too soon,"
Your jaw tightens, not as amused as he was with the attack. "That wasn't an accident. Someone doesn't want the Republic interfering."
He leads you back inside, hand clasp around your shaking ones. "You misunderstand, my dear, someone wants to make sure you don't leave." Obi-Wan's expression shifts—his usual calm gives way to something fiercer and protective. The attack has shattered any pretense that you might be able to do this alone. Even if you have been for the past year— though you'd never say it— you need someone with you.
"Until we find out who's behind this—I'm staying." He presses his palms on your shoulders— at his touch, the flurry of panic blurs.
"Until I know you're safe."
—☆
You went back to the west wing of the Palace.
"No—You'll reveal yourself to the Consortium. Say you couldn't find me. That's how we'll find him." You shove the door to your room open, marching quickly, fueled by fury and the need to name the perpetrators. "I'll check the log on the docks, who went in and out." You pace around the scattered parchments of paper— looking for the contact at the docks. "Wait—" they will have something that can bypass security, yes. Still, it's a beginning. "—Someone might've seen something," You mumble beneath your breath.
"Your Majesty," He stands by the door. "You can't expect me to leave you unguarded."
"No! That would give them time to come up with something. They almost got—" You relented. Your hands trembled. "I can't stop."
The room felt suddenly too small. As if the walls that have kept you most your life shrunk. Every breath you took echoes back—mocking. Obi-Wan takes a step forward, as if no longer watchful of the invisible line as he walks to the center of the room. The picture made you stop— him being in the space no one is allowed. Only the sun has ever come so close.
"[Name],"
The way he says your name felt like a steady flame, you became unbearably aware of how close he was standing. He was like a balm against your fraying nerves. An equally unnerving tamper— your control being held by a thread you could sever with a single movement.
"Breathe."
The door swings open. You jump at the abrupt slam. But your eyes are transfixed to the expression in his face. A sort of bracedness. Or a desperation, a begging— waiting for you to do something. To break first.
"Senator Juno," Obi-Wan says in a low hushed voice.
Four palace guards enter with Juno. Your cousin looks up— dressed in a formal wear that is weaved with your family's crest and colors. She never had a taste for royal manners. Not after her father, the first-born son, abdicated the Hapan throne. Even more strange, how she barges in, unannounced when she's always the one reminding you of the importance of security.
Juno's expression was wide, as if not expecting you to be here. That or finding the Jedi she sent with you alone with you. "Cousin," She recollects herself. "Forgive my disruption, The Consortium said you'd be off by the library during these hours."
You force a calm nod, fighting through the tightness in your throat. The Consortium doesn't gather until after dark. That was a custom. One Juno wouldn't have known since she's never had to attend one in her life.
"So I see," She remarked, eyes shifting from you to the Jedi beside. "Given the commotion on the docks, I thought it wise to check on you personally,"
Only palace guards were attending to the docks. You made certain to keep everything discreet.
"Fortunate that Master Kenobi was on hand during a precarious situation."
You felt a prick of irritation and… frustration at what Juno's insinuations tell dancing just below the surface. Perhaps, she wanted to direct your attention there.
"All the way from Coruscant?" You perked, braced at what the question might unravel.
Some part of you is keeping you from putting two pieces of a puzzle together. Terrified that it may very much fit. The Jedi's presence. The schism in the Consortium. The attempt on your life. And now appearing in the aftermath.
"Take her." Your heart sunk as you commanded.
The betrayal felt too close— too personal than you'd ever imagined. You can hear Junior protests, her defense, but it blurred with all else. The four palace guards apprehended Juno, and the door clicks shut behind them.
Your knees buckle, the strength finally draining from your limbs as the adrenaline fades. You sink to the floor, hand pressing against the cold marble for stability, but it offers no comfort. Your breaths come in shallow gasps, and you come to realize your hands are trembling, you can't stop it. No matter how much you will it too.
Juno—your own kin, someone you'd once trusted, someone who shared her blood. It’s as though a splinter has lodged itself deep in your chest, small yet unbearably painful. She’d known betrayal before, of course, in court politics and underhanded dealings. But this…this was personal. This was family.
You press a hand to your mouth, trying to stifle the sob that rises in her throat. The weight of everything—the Consortium, the assassination attempts, the lies—all presses down, too heavy to bear. For a moment, she closes her eyes, letting herself imagine what it would feel like to let go, to leave it all behind, to be free of the crown and the responsibility and the relentless scrutiny. But even in her weakest moment, that thought feels like a betrayal of your father’s memory. You are Hapes’ queen; you've has no right to collapse. Not really. Not for long. Yet, you can’t summon the strength to rise just yet.
Obi-Wan holds you— a bittersweet comfort, and you felt small, like how as a child, you'd felt safe to let go—safe enough to cry, safe enough to falter. Obi-Wan’s pressed againt you, filled with gentleness undoes any last threads of resolve. You swallow, dragging your fingers across your face to gather some of your dignity. His fingers held your cheem, eyes scanning her your eyes as if taking in every unspoken word of anguish. “You don’t have to pretend right now,” he says quietly, “Not with me.”
Something in you shatters, and the emotion slips down your cheek in unforgiving amounts.
“I can’t…” Your voice breaks, barely a whisper. “I can’t keep doing this.” “Yes, you can,” he replies softly, his words gentle but firm. “And you will. But not alone.” For a long moment, you sit in silence, the weight of her grief shared in the unspoken comfort between them. You're aware of the forbidden closeness, of the impropriety of letting him see you like this—but for once, you don't care. You're exhausted from wearing the mask, from holding yourself together for everyone else. You take a trembling breath, her gaze meeting his. “Stay with me…just a little longer.” His answering nod is almost imperceptible, but it’s enough. There, in the quiet sanctuary of your room, you allow yourself to feel the weight of everything—to feel the sorrow, the anger, the exhaustion. And for the first time in a long while, it feels as if you don't have to carry it all alone.
six. resolve
The evening breaks quietly over Hapes, its light pale and muted, as if even the sky knows the weight of this moment. The palace is silent, a full week after the Senator Juno and nearly half the Consortium has been apprehended for treason, the early hour lending an air of calm feels almost mocking, considering the turmoil roiling inside him. Obi-Wan sits across the dining table from you, his gaze cast out over the sprawling gardens, his expression unreadable. He’s trying, with every ounce of discipline he has, to find the words he needs to say.
Obi-Wan clears his throat, searching for something—anything—to break the somber silence stretching between the both of you. His usual quick wit feels oddly out of reach, slipping like sand through his fingers. Everything about you makes him come undone. He had thought, he was someone forthright, steadfast. In a strange way, he allows you to dismember him. Despite your constant denial of him never knowing what it means to love. Despite him knowing that you will make him finite. Would it be a crime of passion buried alongside him long after he's died because he chose all else to fill in the gaps of you?
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he ventures, “You know, if I stayed, I’d have to put up with more Consortium banquets. I’m not sure any amount of Jedi patience could endure another diplomatic dinner.”
You look at him, lips pressed in a thin line, but he sees a glimmer of something—almost a smile—flicker across your face. He presses on, encouraged by that tiny crack in your resolve. “And then there’s the endless bowing and scraping. ‘Ben, would you prefer a chair or a throne?’ ‘Ben, do you enjoy these delicacies from the Mid Rim, or should we source something rare from the Outer?’” He rolls his eyes, adopting a tone of exaggerated exasperation— as he recalls the name he had under cover “As if I didn’t have enough to juggle without pretending to be a galactic gourmet.”
You shake your head, exhaling a quiet, half-laugh that he clings to like a lifeline. But it’s bittersweet, and he knows you see right through him. The smile doesn’t reach your eyes; instead, they soften, a mixture of amusement and quiet sorrow.
“Obi-Wan,” you murmur, and your voice calling his name alone is enough to undo him. The name feels like a confession, or perhaps an accusation, as if you're reminding him of what he’s trying so desperately to mask. “You don’t have to pretend with me. Not now.”
He falters, the mask slipping. You've always seen through him, but this is different—you see his struggle, his retreat into wit and cleverness, and you don’t let him hide behind it.
“Old habits,” he replies, attempting one last smile, but it’s thin and unsteady, as fragile as glass. There’s a beat of silence, where you both just sat there, the words he want to say caught in the space between them. He wants to say something clever, something lighthearted, but the words die in his throat as he realizes there’s no quip that can cover this. No smile that will undo the ache. And you know, too.
Obi-Wan drops his gaze, feeling the truth settling in, heavy and undeniable. The one person he can’t fool is standing right in front of him, and for once, his cleverness has no refuge here. “Maybe I could stay,” he whispers, and he doesn’t even try to mask the longing in his voice this time. It slips out, unguarded, raw.
You were watching him, expression carefully held together, but he can sense the threadbare exhaustion underneath. You both know why he’s here, and what happens next that the mission was done. Yet, as you reach for his hand, clasping it with a gentle, knowing smile, the softness in your touch a silent farewell, Obi-Wan feels his resolve waver. Love shouldn't be a crime.
He's stood side by side with you in countless crises, yet this is the one confrontation he’s least prepared for. Finally, he turns to her, the weight of his decision pressing down on his chest. “My mission here is finished,” he says quietly, the words more painful than he expected. “The threat to your life has been…neutralized. The Consortium will be watching their every move now. You’re safer than you’ve been in a long time.”
He nods, though the motion feels hollow. “I’m a Jedi, Your Majesty. Attachment…” He hesitates, feeling the familiar mantra falter on his tongue. “Attachment is forbidden. I have a duty to the Order.”
For a moment, a silence stretches, taut and filled with everything neither of you has said. He can see the walls going up around you, the familiar mask of the Queen slipping over her expression, hiding the raw vulnerability you have shown him just nights before.
Yet your voice is steady when you finally speak, colder than he has ever heard it. “And is that all you are, Obi-Wan? A man with a duty?” The question is sharp, but it’s not accusing—it’s more like you're searching for something, a last hope, a last chance.
He swallows, his throat tightening painfully. “I thought I could be more,” he admits, almost to himself, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I can’t…not if it means betraying everything I’ve sworn to uphold.” For the first time, he sees a crack in your armor—a flash of pain, quickly buried.
You turn your head, staring out at the horizon, as if looking anywhere but at him will make it easier. “I understand,” you reply, though the words sound hollow. But even as you say it, he can’t move. Every instinct tells him to turn, to leave before he says something he’ll regret, something that will make leaving impossible. And yet his feet are rooted to the ground, his gaze fixed on your profile, memorizing every detail, every line of her face in the early morning light. And then, almost without realizing it, he’s speaking again, his voice raw and unsteady. “If things were different…if we were different people…”
You close your eyes, the quiet grief settling over your features. “But we’re not, Obi-Wan. We never were.” Your words are true, and they cut through him like a blade. He knows this is where he should turn away, where he should take his leave and make peace with what must be done. But for once, he feels himself falter, unable to put duty above the ache of what might have been.
In the silence, he moves forward, his hand reaching up almost instinctively to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. It’s a small gesture, barely anything, yet it feels monumental—as though crossing this one line will shatter everything he’s built himself to be. But as his fingers graze your cheek, he knows he’s already fallen. The truth he’s tried to deny for so long is clear now, undeniable and inescapable. He only mistook it for curiosity. When he knew you could've commanded him to do anything, and he will do ask you ask. Anything.
“Maybe I could stay,” he repeats, the words almost whispering. Ask me to stay. It’s a whisper of a possibility, fragile and reckless, yet it’s there. But you pull back, eyes shining with something he can’t quite name—resolve, perhaps, or the clarity of someone who has known this truth longer than he has.
“No,” You say gently, voice breaking ever so slightly. “You’re right, Obi-Wan. You have a duty…just as I have mine.”
The distance between you and him falling back into place like a chasm that can’t be crossed. And he knows, as he steps back, that this is the closest he'll ever come to what might have been.
loved writing out of my usual zone. send me ideas !
Note: Since my old masterlist is getting notes again (and I'm hosting @tbb-appreciation-week this year), I thought it's a good time to release a new version with a lot more resources. If any of you know another site or thing that it's missing from the list, let me know and I'll include it!! [Altho, I'm getting this close 🤏 to the hyperlinks limit on this thing 😆]
Note 2: To avoid tagging the 3 people from whom I got multiple resources repeatedly, I've placed 1-3 asterisks between square brackets after the links, depending on the OP. I give the respective credit to them in a legend at the end of the post.
PLACES / TIME
Interactive Galaxy Map by Henry Bernberg
Map of the Galaxy
List of planets and moons [Wikipedia /needs expanding]
Planet Name Generator 1 [SciFi Ideas]
Planetary System Generator [Donjon]
Tatooine Location References [*]
Various locations Cross-Sections (Jedi Temple, Palp's office, Tipoca City & more) [**]
Republic - Separatist - Hutt space during the Clone Wars
Hyperspace Travel Times (to calculate how much time would take to go from point A to point B within the GFFA)
Standard Calendar and Holidays [including month names!]
Galactic Standard Calendar [wookiepedia // including week day names]
Date converter according to SWTOR [Google sheet]
Dated Star Wars Chronological Order (Movies + live-action shows + animation)
TCW Chronological Timeline by @mauvrix
Estimated date for: shared by @spectres-fulcrum
Partisans' attack on Onderon
Siege of Lasan
CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT
General
Star Wars Name Generator 1 [Donjon]
Star Wars OC flow chart by @thefoodwiththedood
Star Wars Name Generator 2 [FantasyNames]
Star Wars Name Generator 3 [FantasyNames]
MetaHuman [Unreal Engine]
The character creator
Droid Name Generator
Star Wars Randomizer by @aureutr
Character Picrew [Twi-leks, Zabraks, Torgutas and Nautolans] @/megaramikaeli
Jedi
Taking a Closer Look at the Jedi Order in Star Wars Canon [Meta/Reference Guide] [**]
Jedi Order Structure Flowchart by @rileys-nest
Mandalorians
Mandalorian Armor design by MandoCreator
Keepers of the Way (Mandalorian Lore) [*]
Clones
Complete List Of Named Clone Troopers shared by @propheticfire (Organized by Unit)
Clone Creator [MandoCreator]
Clone Picrew
Star Wars Character Templates by SmacksArt [the ULTIMATE battery of template for any human/humanoid original character in any era. From troopers to droids, from Jedi to Sith, from KOTOR to the sequel Trilogy. 100% RECOMMENDED]
Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour by @odekiisu
GAR structure summary by @intermundia
The Clone Wars Republic Military Hierarchy Flowcharts [***]
@dai-bendu-conlang (Jedi Culture Explored) (This blog is the home of the Dai Bendu Conlang, invented by the Archive of Our Own Users aroacejoot, @ghostwriterofthemachine, and loosingletters for the Jedi Order in Star Wars.)
Lasana Lexicon by Anath_Tsurugi (fandom lexicon of the Lasat Language)
HELPFUL BLOGS & SITES
The amazing @fox-trot, who not only makes astonishing art and write an amazing fic, she also responds to medical questions and gives all kinds of references for writing medic characters. Check her #medicposting tag and you'll find tons of information. Also check #star wars reference and her art tag while you're at it.
@writebetterstarwars, which seems to be inactive, but there are a bunch of references there.
@howtofightwrite The place to find out how to write a good fight scene.
@scriptmedic no longer active, but it has a great deal of useful information.
@scripttorture for your whump needs. Major trigger warning for all its content.
@sw-anthrobiology A blog dedicated to collecting headcanons about the biology and cultures of Star Wars species.
@archeo-starwars In-universe sources on culture and history.
@clonewarsarchives Resources & Concept Art Blog for The Clone Wars animated series.
Wookiepedia If you don't find something in here, it's probably because it doesn't exist, neither as a canon nor legends reference.
Star Wars Databank: The official Star Wars website's reference guide. All canon.
WRITING IN GENERAL (For those who don't want to die like Stormtroopers)
SlickWrite: Completely free; online. Checks grammar, punctuation, flow, and writing style according to different settings (including fiction writing).
ProWritingAid: [RECOMMENDED] One of the most thorough online proofreader I've ever used. Although when using a free account gives extremely thorough feedback, with +20 different in-depth reports, for only the first 500 words. However, you can earn a premium account license (for a year or for life) if you get 10 or 20 new users signing up for free; (if you wouldn't mind doing so using the link above and help me earn mine, please). The settings allow you to check your writing according to your needs, from general to formal to creative. It has a bonus that you can check depending on the genre you're writing. For example, in creative, you can choose romance or sci-fiction (there are 14 sub-genre in total). And just like google docs, you can share a document, and people can view, comment or edit it too.
LanguageTool: [RECOMMENDED] Another excellent proofreader. It also has a word limit in free accounts, but if you use the add-on for Google Docs, it counts each page as a new document, so hitting the word limit is nearly impossible. It helps you to rewrite a sentence (3 a day), even if it doesn't raise any flags; it's very useful for when your sentence is grammatically correct, but it doesn't feel quite right.
Grammarly, Hemingway Editor: No so great, but they do the basic job.
Legend
[*] Shared by @fox-trot
[**] Shared by @gffa
[***] Shared by @cacodaemonia.
Amid the war, a healer and a soldier find themselves entangled in a delicate dance between love and survival. When exhaustion and unspoken wounds threaten to drive them apart, they must confront the weight of their fears, jealousy, and vulnerability—knowing that healing isn’t always about fixing what’s broken, but learning to hold on through the storm.
tags : angst, angst with a happy ending (!)
warnings : blood, tending to a wound
notes : hello my loves <3, 1 yr writing for a.s. and long story short all my energy was used trying to survive my medical internship. healer! reader is my most self indulgent coping mechanism— here's another angsty catastrophizing passage i'd like to share wit y'all hehe
Anakin Skywalker was a knife personified.
Sharp, blunt, useful. A touch can draw blood.
But despite the danger, he was made of steel— unrelenting and unyielding. One would make an effort to not stare too much— at what his purpose of being reveals; that in the hands of someone cruel, he becomes something of a weapon.
They say that the healer has the bloodiest hands— a permanent imprint of those you've saved and those you've failed.
You try not to think about it too much— your losses cannot equate to the priviledge of a chance to keep someone alive. That was a gift. Only a God can define salvation—what you're doing is an attempt.
But what did your fingers ever do before they held him?
All of it seemed to pale in comparison.
Maybe the sun has set differently in Coruscant, a place always buzzing with neon and noise— maybe you just stopped noticing it the way you stopped noticing him. You don't know why there remained a part of you that was mistrusting, waiting for him to grow tired with you. Instead, the jagged streaks of electric blue and searing magenta faded into something soft, casting a warm golden light that lingers even after the sun slips behind the horizon, refusing to ever dim.
It's both comforting and heartbreaking that over time you could forget holding onto something so sharp long enough to feel it slip— can leave a trail of blood.
The door to your quarter hisses open— and the weight of Anakin fills the room before he utters a word. His boots are heavy on the floor, dragging with a kind of exhaustion that sinks deeper than muscle and bone. Even his shoulders, which assumes the posture of a Jedi slumps forward. He pauses— gaze wide and apprehending.
His robes are dark with dust and sweat, blood smeared across the cuffs of his bionic arms— not his, someone else's. Always someone else's. He stands there too long, unmoving, as if having already read what's on your mind.
"You're hurt," You speak across the room.
"I'm fine."
His voice is low, flat, like all the life has been scraped out of it. You've seen this before, the wounds he carries aren't the ones stitched into his skin.
He turns on his heel, taking off his clothes. You step closer, noticing the slight wince as he tries to reach for his robes. He held a pose of defiance, unflinching even as you slowly took off the fabric that clung to his flesh. You pressed your palm against the soft skin of his shoulders, coaxing him to sit by the edge of the bed.
He lets out a sigh as the robe slips off. You turn to grab the medkit sitting at your bedside table— its existence a harsh reminder that anytime he comes home— so will the hurt that resides deep within him.
His eyes are hooded and dark as he follows your fingers gently press over a gash lining his chest. He sat still— either too tired to care or too numbed to feel it.
"You can't keep doing this, Anakin,"
He tilts his chin upward, "Doing what?"
You paused, eyes locking in a silent challenge as he kept playing asinine.
"Coming back half-dead and pretending it doesn't matter" You pressed the cloth over his wound, he hisses, flinching away.
He takes your wrist, eyebrows furrowed at your accusation. "I'm still here, aren't I?"
"Barely."
You seal the wound with a sterile band, the scar tissue will build thick and uneven, just like all pain that he refuses to touch buried deep underneath.
It's hard not to get frustrated to watch Anakin undo all the work you've done— that he would resort to passively allowing it to hurt. His skill with a saber is unquestionable, a droid won't be able to even come near him to inflict pain. As the war dragged on— he'd come home late at night appearing more and more injured. Perhaps it's his way to alleviate some guilt. Because he needs it to believe a sort of redemption— that he is not reduced to what was required of him.
A weapon. Unyielding. Unrelenting.
You turn to pack your materials back to the medkit— no longer able to stomach the tensed silences. You can't quite remember when it felt as though you've become one. Someone who deals death and someone who restores life. Where you began and where he ended was the most beautiful thread in the fabric of fate. There had only been one night—just one— where he let himself sleep, slumped against you in a rare moment of peace. You remember the way his breathing evened, slow and steady, as if for a few precious hours, the war has loosened his grip on him. And the room is blanketed with a sort of promise, that he'll be here for you as you were for him. And that also meant working through the difficult days where loving simply won't suffice.
It seems that the difficult days are outnumbering the ones where you both were happy. Thinking back at it makes you feel as if those days had been another lifetime ago.
He slumps down the bed, arms folded holding his head. "I've handed the 501st' command to Ahsoka, the mission in Mandalore is dragging on, I need her with me,"
He's always carried more than he should. Always assumed the weight of a galaxy, even when it would break him. Having your back against him made it easier to deliberately slow down your words to an unassuming casualness. "Without Obi-Wan?"
You go to Obi-Wan to fill the gaps of the chasm forming between you and Anakin, the ones only Obi-Wan seems to understand.
You turn to sit down beside him. You didn't need to access the force to feel the shift in the atmosphere.
"I haven't seen him in a while," His eyes were staring ahead— up at the ceiling. "So… how is Obi-Wan?"
There was an unmistakable edge to his words—tinged with bitterness and accusation.
"What?"
He chuckles hollowly. "I figured you'd know by now. You always run to him."
His sarcasm drips with an underlying insecurity. Obi-Wan, a person he looks up to, being more trustworthy than he was. He's trying not to sound accusatory but it's obvious that he's struggling with jealousy.
You open your mouth to say something. To defend your actions. What else could you have resorted to? When anytime you try to bridge that gap between you, he turns away. Your heart lodges in your throat— any attempt to explain just sounded as if you and Obi-Wan had been conspiring to manage him.
He straightens, balancing his weight against his arms, gaze demanding an answer. "Why do you keep going to him?"
"I'm not—"
He stands to his feet, tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring. "Yes you are! Every time you think something's wrong you look for him like I'm in need of fixing."
You clasp your fingers together— begging them to steady. "I'm only worried about you— you keep coming home changed like…"
"You're disappearing.“ You answered, "How long can you go on like this without breaking?"
There was a beat of silence. He rubs his temples, pacing bad and forth like staying still is the hardest thing he's ever done.
"And so what, you're going to keep patching me up thinking I'll be someone else?" "No," "—Then stop pretending that I am."
“I keep losing everyone, I can't lose you too." You utter as the guilt verbalizes.
His expression softens recognizing the vulnerability of your words. Something in him falters— just for a moment, a breath—and the weight of his exhaustion settles to his shoulders. He kneels down in front of you.
"You're not losing me," He says, quiter this time, as if he's convincing himself as much as you.
"It feels like it…"
He clasps his fingers over your hands, unraveling them. He opens his mouth to say something back—but then he stops. His head dips, the fight draining out of him. In the quietness, you could hear him pace his breaths with yours.
"You're not going to go through this alone anymore," He shifts closer, his bare chest leaving imprints on the skin of your knees. "Ahsoka will be on Mandalore while Obi-Wan takes Utapau, I'll stay here."
Your fingers slip through his hair, brushing it away from his forehead, tracing the uneven skin lining his face. He leans into your touch, and for a little while, the storm settles, just enough to let you both breathe.
He'll always be someone else's arsenal. He is yours. In a way that you wear his touch as a shield, his promises as hope from all the battles left to fight. He plants soft kisses on the palm of your hand, and a light ignites. Something eternal. Something that tells you that there are things worth holding on to—even when it hurts. You're not going to find the resolution tonight. But this was the beginning. That would have to be enough.
"I'm staying," He says as he presses his lips to your palm again, as if sealing the promise neither of you fully understands yet.
You nod, a smallest curve at the corner of your lips, for a fleeting moment, you feel him smile too.
It feels as though love will suffice. You knew he'd weave the fabrics of fate until it only spells your name. That he will tire, and it will not be easy.
"You know for someone who's fine, you're really bad at hiding pain."
Anakin's lips curved to a faint tired smirk— barely there, but real enough to make your heart lighten. He snakes his long fingers against your waist, pulling you closer until his warmth anchors you.
"Guess you must be rubbing off on me." He murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion, but there's a softness in it—like something broken finding a way to heal.
For a moment the weight lifts. It's not gone, not really, but the edges have dulled enough that you can hold him and not wince at the contact of him being pressed against you. Neither of you speaks again, nor moves again. In the dim of night, with senses dulled, the ordinary becomes profound. And— all of the terror slips away, for now. He no longer is someone that breeds horror. He is love. Made solely to be felt by you.
long story short : i've began my clinical practice as an intern and it was the most mentally exhaustive time of my life so everything i wrote was downright depressing 😭
no promises if i'm ever going to share them but i'm going to try to stay more active :))
[chapter four] the secret history of anakin skywalker
the attempt
pairing : assassin! reader x anakin skywalker
word count : 3k
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sypnosis
you have only known one truth about this war, the republic and the seperatists are two sides of the same coin. but now, your master count dooku has disposed of you after your consequent failures. his betrayal fueled your thirst for revenge. and in the cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself with an arrangement with the enemy. general anakin skywalker is willing to do what it takes for the republic to win, even if it meant dealing with you, his nemesis.
chapter summary
rako hardeen escapes with two known bounty hunters on orandia. anakin skywalker claims obi wan kenobi remains alive. and a revelation by cad bane made you head down a bar and drink the night away.
warnings : drinking, contains spoilers for star war's 'the clone wars' season 4, episodes 16-17.
notes : omg hello beautiful darlings! thank you for your patience for this overdue update 🥹 i really tried to outline how this'll go and suffice to say i think i've decided to commit to an ending that feels right (for the most parts). also, i've published on ao3 as well, so if you want to read there, here's the link.
likes, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!
The first saloon in Nal Hutta leads you to a trail to Orandia.
Rako Hardeen had not been alone. He has escaped with two known bounty hunters, Cad Bane and Moralo Eval. They had just left the planet when you and Anakin Skywalker arrived.
The Jedi emanated a rage you recognized. You noted it in his silence. How his eyes darken after realizing he had been so close to catching the man who killed his master.
Now, your ship enters the atmosphere of Orandia. A silence blanketed your mind, there were so many things that had gone wrong. You've exhausted yourself trying to find the reason for all of the things that unravel. It is simply how things are now, and you're at the mercy of fate, or rather, Anakin Skywalker's.
You center yourself on the task at hand. Finding Hardeen would secure your alliance with the Jedi.
"There!" Skywalker points towards a ship loading gas.
Your eyes followed the direction he was pointing at. You recognize Cad Bane entering the hatch.
Skywalker unfastens his seatbelt. You saw the desperation in his intense glare.
"Hold on, they're leaving" You hissed as Skywalker stood up.
You held on to the control yoke, cursing under your breath at Skywalker's recklessness. You steered the ship, following Bane's ship.
You never really excelled in flying, and it was exacerbated by the way your ship was falling behind. You heard Skywalker grunt in annoyance.
Skywalker leans down behind you, extending his arm to grab ahold of the yoke. The coldness of his bionic fingers touching yours made you flinch.
"We're trying to follow Hardeen, not lose them" He comments.
You pulled on the accelerator, and your ship levels with Hardeen's.
Skywalker presses the button on the control board and the upper hatch opens.
Before you could even implore him to slow down, he was already out, jumping toward Hardeen's ship midair.
What an idiot, you cursed.
Your ship's velocity kept on accelerating and when you turned your face, a huge hill appeared. With all your strength, you pulled the yoke, your heart racing faster than your ship.
The ship manages to get past the hill, but it screeches from the contact. The system started blaring an emergency alarm. Your instinct commanded you to your feet, bracing yourself for the crash landing.
When you open your eyes again, a numbing pain accumulates on the temples of your forehead.
You force yourself to stand up, despite the blurriness of your vision. You held on to the walls to move out.
When your mind clears, you see the smoke of Hardeen's ship in the distance. You ran up, following the light of Skywalker's saber deflecting blaster shots.
When you got near, Hardeen was strangling Skywalker by the throat. He uses the force to push you back, but you persisted.
Cad Bane was walking away, back to their ship. "Ah, Wraith" Bane half turns when he sees you.
Hardeen stands up, Skywalker falls limp and you swallow your terror.
You eyed Skywalker's lightsaber on the ground, and you drew it with no hesitation.
You stepped forward, stance ready to deflect shots, carefully shielding Skywalker away from their range.
"Skywalker, stand up," You say through gritted teeth.
Rako Hardeen studies you as if he was trying to figure out how you were igniting a saber for the Jedi.
Bane fires his blaster, allowing Hardeen to run back to their ship. You charged, but Bane's shots kept you from going any nearer.
"Why Kenobi?" You yelled to Hardeen, accepting the fact that you won't be able to pin him down just yet.
"Why did Dooku want Kenobi dead?" You insisted after Hardeen's silence.
Cad Bane sneers "Oh, you mistake it, Wraith"
Their ship's hatch was beginning to close. "Kenobi was an excess. The bounty was to kill you."
You felt your blood drain from your head, and your grip on the lightsaber loosened.
"But you're not worth the hunt anymore. Dooku has new priorities, so you're free to live another day."
The hatch closes and the ship zooms up, jumping to hyperspace.
Your knees buckle. You hadn't even considered the thought that Count Dooku would have sent someone to ensure your death. The small part of you that hoped it had been an attempt to rescue you wounds you. As if the initial betrayal didn't hurt, this made it feel even worse.
Skywalker sits up, and you feel yourself caving in. Your breaths become shallower and it felt like the ground was disappearing and you're falling with no end.
You remembered thinking the world ending not long ago. It has steadily been crumbling ever since.
When you turned to face Skywalker, he had an expression you couldn't decipher. Empathy, confusion, offering solace, he seems to be able to exhibit all.
You handed his lightsaber back. Looking away, as if you felt him see you so vulnerable.
Skywalker stands straight. The rage and wild instinct he had before vanishes, and you despised that he was looking at you with some sort of pity.
"Obi-Wan's alive" He states.
You tilted your chin at his claim.
"I thought I was imagining it then, but he's undercover as Hardeen"
You raised an eyebrow, half-convinced that he'd been so drowned in grief he was becoming deluded.
"And if he was, why would he not tell you?" You challenged his eyes to contradict you, but he looked away as if he too was only considering it. You know you could be gentler at his good news, you just can't find the heart to be more hopeful. You hoped the way he is doing now, and you're hollowed by the truth of it.
The bounty was to kill you.
"The ship crashed, we'll have to find a new one," You said.
Skywalker presses on the holo channel on his arm. The device emits a crackling sound. "There's no signal, We need to find reception"
You nod, it was getting dark anyway, so it'd be best to stay where people are.
You soon found a small village nearby. Since the planet is Huttese territory, the streets are covered with a malaise you recognized. A sense of bracedness, it all felt too familiar. So, you kept walking close behind the Jedi.
"Here" Skywalker halts in his steps, finally gathering a reception.
You stopped to survey the surroundings, you were standing in front of a bar. Finally some good luck. You thought to yourself.
"Great" You expressed with a triumphant smile. A drink would dull the feelings you were having.
Skywalker's attention shifts to your enthusiasm and you see his lips pursed in annoyance as he follows you inside.
You sat at a bar stool, Skywalker next to you. You had no credits, but that problem will have to resolve itself later.
"Two please" You ordered to the bartender.
"Tempting, but no" Skywalker comments on the shots in front of you. He presses on the holo channel. Mace Windu had been dialing him to inform him that he shouldn't interfere with Obi-Wan's mission. He missed all six of them.
You suspected Saint Windu, always dogmatic, to have been the one to purposefully leave Skywalker in the dark. Dooku always commented on Windu's involvement with the Jedi Council's misguidedness. Dooku was not wrong in teaching you that
Skywalker's exterior becomes an expression of dissent. You tried putting yourself in his shoes. Wondering if being blatantly lied to by the Order you are guided by feels like a betrayal.
Did they not trust Anakin Skywalker?
Is he not supposed to be their chosen one?
You downed your drink. The bartender comes back to pour you another.
"I was under the impression that the Jedi Order worked as a collective" You delighted in the excess of boldness brought by your third shot.
"I did too" Skywalker answers plainly. "They won't be able to send Ahsoka til early tomorrow"
You sighed, after all that occurred, you wanted to rest. The Jedi Order would never run out of Padawans to deploy to come to rescue Skywalker. Perhaps, the Council did not want Anakin following undercover Obi-Wan again.
"You've scared them off, cheers to that" You raised your shot.
Skywalker's eyebrows furrowed "What's that supposed to mean?"
You took your drink, your cheeks beginning to warm from its effect. "Well, you have these— outbursts" You criticized. "You're too involved with your feelings, maybe they wanted to delay you"
Skywalker's expression hardens, you wanted to laugh at how obvious he was with how he was feeling.
"How can I not? They made me believe Obi-Wan was dead." Skywalker eyes the glass of alcohol, and you see him try to resist the urge.
You felt a tinge of guilt rush through you for judging Anakin's turmoil. Anyone else who'd face the same betrayal he feels now would react in the same manner. You certainly would.
"Ever since your Council got involved with politics, they became too concerned with appearing righteous." You tried speaking more leniently. "They'd not want to appear as though they want to seek revenge for their dead. It'd make the Jedi look vindictive."
"It would be justice to avenge Obi-Wan" He doesn't hide the anger coating his voice.
"Yes," You agreed. His eyes pierce on yours.
"Unfortunately, they are too caught up with appearing... holy." You were having trouble trying to be eloquent in your buzzed state.
You saw him withdraw— as if he did not really disagree with your opinion. You noticed that this was becoming a pattern with him— there's a place in his mind he runs to.
Skywalker puts his drink to his lips and he grimaces at the taste. You chuckled at his expression. "What is drinking also forbidden?"
"Not entirely"
"But you don't?" You pried. Skywalker does not answer.
Perhaps the act of his drinking was an attempt to spite the Order he holds with utmost importance. If they can lie to him, he can do this.
The bartender comes back to refill both your drinks.
"You Jedi, holy, righteous saints," You thought out loud. "Honestly, your denial of emotions is the reason why you're so susceptible to giving into them...in extreme amounts"
"Yeah?" Skywalker turns to face you with eyes narrowed, locking into yours. Wanting to defend his beliefs. "And you're so sure your Sith manners are superior to our constraint?"
"I'm not a Sith" You cringed at the thought.
Skywalker's head retorts. "But you're Dooku's apprentice"
"Doesn't mean I'd give in to his cruelty"
"So you're not a Sith, what are you?"
You scoffed a breathless laugh, what are you? who are you really?
You got caught by his gaze. For a moment, you felt like you were willing to talk to Skywalker nakedly. To let him in. His eyes seemed inviting enough to let you vent out.
But you looked away.
"The same as you" That much you could say, an elusive comparison. You took a slower sip of your drink. "Perfectly crafted weapons, targeted at the right people."
Skywalker's expression softens. You thought, there was some sort of understanding he contemplated on. He, the peacekeeper reduced into a hound dog for the Republic, and you, the oppressed become a warrior leaving bloodshed.
You place your glass down, deciding you've had enough for the night. The alcohol was supposed to make you forget for a moment, but it just made you feel like you wanted to ball up and cry.
"You're right, you know," Skywalker says after a while. "I don't agree that we should keep repressing our emotions"
You wondered if he'd been able to say that out loud to any of his Jedi accomplices before.
"It's not evil to use it." You shrugged.
"You give in to it because it's reliable, it delivers you results. Anger is not supposed to be antagonized, it's your mind communicating how it feels it has been wronged. How you act on it is what matters. Anger is... corrosive, as much as it is helpful" You recognized your words as some of what Count Dooku has taught you. Lessons you lived by, lessons that made you an effective force wielder.
You sadly thought about the many ways these lessons are now tainted with resentment. Because all of it had been for nothing. All of it had been to serve your master's interests, and he needed you to be his tool, his weapon.
You were snapped out of your thoughts by Skywalker raising a hand for the bartender to refill his drink.
"Did Dooku teach you that?" Skywalker's eyes were hooded, the intoxication manifested in his eyes. Everything else seems perfectly controlled, and you find yourself growing jealous of that, because now, your cheeks are warm, hands held tightly into fists, heart beating rapidly.
"You forget, he was once a Jedi, he was proudest of his padawan, Qui Gon Jinn"
Skywalker looks down as if he is remembering too "He was the best of us"
You're flooded with the many situations in which Dooku has made it clear you'd never be half as good as Qui Gon Jinn. "Indeed" You answered with a clipped voice.
"I think he realized the importance of acknowledging the presence of our emotions and how to act without being informed by it" Skywalker narrates. "It never meant much to me, I was too young to understand."
Then he smiles, but one out of a resignation. "I still don't know how to"
You mirrored his expression, surprised by the similarity you shared.
It's easier to imagine not giving in to rage when you're not nearly drowning in it. But it eats at your soul. It corrupts, and in the heat of the moment, it feels more cathartic to find a release by giving in to the destruction. At least, for you, your anger has always defined you. Why seek to control it when it is the only thing that can protect you? Maybe Qui Gon Jinn was really better than you, in that sense. Dooku has never really finished your training. He utilized the way you were an angry little thing.
"The answer must be in the attempt" You look up to Anakin.
It must have been the alcohol, but for one moment, you saw Anakin Skywalker smile with some sort of understanding.
The Bartender takes a long look before the both of you. "Your poisons not going to refill by itself you know" He had a sour expression you wanted to laugh at. "Pay up, then I'll leave 'ya to 'yer business"
"Oh, right, my companion here was just telling me how we'll pay you up" You raised both your wrists to Skywalker, to make it painfully obvious that you won't be able to use the force.
Skywalker's eyebrows knit when he realized what you were asking him to do.
"You don't also happen to have a spare room or two to stay for the night now, wouldn't you?" You quirked.
The Bartender eyes you both suspiciously. Skywalker sighs and raises his fingers, not taking his eyes off of you when he said "We're your guests and you'll give us a room to stay for the night"
You saw the idea sink to the Bartender, he nods and pours both your glasses. "Follow me" He smiles complacently.
"Thank you" You mouthed, taking your last shot and standing up to follow the bartender.
"I'm not sleeping on the floor" You crossed your arms as you stared at the singular bed in front of you.
Skywalker sighs almost imperceptibly. "Well, are you sure you don't have an other rooms left?" He turns to the Bartender who shakes his head profusely.
Skywalker's shoulder slumps, he walks towards the bed, tossing the pillow on the floor.
Skywalker shifts uncomfortably on the floor. "Good night" He mutters.
"Good night" You answered, sitting at the edge of the bed.
You wanted to tell him he can take the bed. You knew you're not going to sleep. The small voice festering your mind was commanding you to stay awake, to not lay vulnerable in a room with Anakin Skywalker.
He swore never to hurt you.
You can't entirely reason out the voice that remained. You can't hint that some part of you is still scared.
Not when Kenobi is apparently alive. You were anticipating he'd bring it up. The very reason you were working with him is because he wanted to avenge his master.
You relied on his grief for mercy, without it, you're not quite sure if you mattered to him anymore.
Will he turn me in? Will I live the rest of my days rotting in Coruscant?
But he did not abandon you tonight. Not yet.
Maybe he was too wounded by what the Jedi Council did to him to decide what your future will be like. It was odd, how you were discovering so many layers to Anakin Skywalker. It hadn't been so long ago when he was just a face you encountered on the battlefields of the war. Now, he feels more... real, it's quite unsettling.
To realize that even a Jedi, who is supposed to live by being of service to others, can act according to his grief. To see the chosen one lied to by the Council that was supposed to be nourishing him. To see yourself in his conflict, his anger, and his suffering. To have the bed when he's supposed to be hating on you.
You thought, perhaps you were more similar than you want to admit. He listens to your philosophies. And you don't like how he looks at you like he thinks you're still worth saving.
You won't allow him to know you. It will be an open invitation for humiliation.
In the morning, you'll have to meet with your inevitable faith.
The initial buzz of the alcohol died and you're only left with your heavy heart.
It kept bringing you back to the truth that Count Dooku, the closest thing you could've called a father, sent bounty hunters to ensure your death.
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footnote
writing the politics of star wars is so challenging as it is stimulating (bc if i'm taking account of the canonical setting, i think filoni has some bias from where he stands), this whole story began as a self-indulgent enemies to lovers fic, writing a background for a reader (which acts as my original character) whilst not really finding sense in the whole 'seperatists movement' is quite... the challenge 😄 though, i hope that i can establish a set of values for the reader character so she can be believable and worth rooting for.
anyway, it's not that serious 😭 i just want to make sure that the time you spend reading this is worth it esp since i'm planning a really painful slow burn (bc it's what gets me personally haha!). so thank you for the continued support and interest darlings🩷
pairing : force healer jedi! reader x anakin skywalker
word count : 1.5k
masterlist
summary
anakin skywalker confessed his love for you. except, you turned him down, reminding yourself of your duty to the jedi. weeks would have passed and you're reaching a breaking point where you can no longer deny how you felt about him.
tags : angst, mutual pining, fluff towards the end,
warnings : pretty much just denial of how reader feels, and angst with a happy ending (!)
notes : hi lovely people! this is the first thing i'll post under this blog! thank u for taking interest in my little imagine, i hope you like it!
likes, reblogs, and comments are highly appreciated !
It has been a few weeks since Anakin Skywalker told you he loved you. For a moment, the cruelest thing to do seemed like the sweetest thing he could say.
For you both know that the Jedi Council will forbid you to delight in this feeling.
No attachments, live to serve the good, clear lines. No devotions.
You didn't understand how loving someone can be so corrupting, after all, the Jedi Code taught you compassion for all things. That in itself is an act of love. Living so detached from things just makes it all feel... meaningless.
Why hurt for love? Why hurt for not loving?
But now, ever since Anakin told you he wanted you, you are held by a ravenous grip that left you feeling breathless. Suffocated.
Because the truth was simple: You wanted to hoard Anakin in your heart and keep him there. You wanted Anakin.
Of course, you didn't mean it. Anakin Skywalker is the only one who truly knew you. He shredded down your walls to find you where you're most vulnerable and loved you anyway. He wasn't scared of the things about you he didn't understand. Things you, too, find difficult to accept.
But caught by the abruptness, you could only tell him "We can't" before storming out of the room that one night.
You were perplexed, because for the longest time you have resigned yourself to the idea that you were the only one feeling it.
And now he says he loves you. All along.
He loved you.
He loved you despite, despite, despite...
And you turned him down.
Because you can't....
You were bound by duty first. And your duty is to serve the Republic. You can't have Anakin, not if he is supposed to be the chosen one.
You still cried in your sleep; angry and tremendously sorry you turned the closest thing to love away.
You can't take the Republic's only chance of surviving this war. He was meant for something larger than you are. Larger than both of you. You understood this, but it didn't really make it hurt any less.
It fell into this odd... silence between both of you.
You'd catch yourself looking for him in every room you find yourself in. A force of habit. His force signature used to be a warm beacon of light to anchor you, now every time you sense Anakin, your heart aches.
Haunted by the images in your mind of what could be if you allowed him to love you. Terrified that you've allowed yourself to want to share a lifetime with him.
You can't. You wouldn't.
You shuffle in your bed, unable to find a spot so you can comfortably rest. You were becoming more frustrated, for your mind just won't turn itself off.
You grabbed your robe and pulled your hair away from your face, tying it back.
With a sigh, you sit up. It would be futile to attempt any sleep, dawn was already breaking from the windows of the Jedi Temple.
Force healing is something that not every Jedi practices, for it requires a deeper state of discipline and precision. Besides, there are medical droids that can take care of the wounded.
The council had briefed you on your mission for today, you're stationed at the med-bay to overlook the casualties after the recent attack on Kamino.
You valued healing; no matter how forgotten it may have been for the Jedi Order. So, this mission is equally important to you as fighting in the front lines.
The halls of the temple were still quiet, deep in sleep. You wander around, not really knowing where to head.
You hear a shuffle from behind, and instinctively, you turn.
You halt at a balcony— entranced by the rising sun. You breathed deep, wondering when all became so complicated.
A pair of blue eyes meet your doe-eyed gaze. You surveyed him, he looked like he just came from battle, his robes were covered in dust, and his eyes were glossy as if he had been awake for some time, too.
"Anakin" you breathed out, realizing it had been the first time you addressed him after the night he confessed.
"[Name]" He answers, sounding tired.
Your heart thumps, unsure, and half-terrified that if he calls your name again, you might fall to pieces.
"How did the mission on Kamino go?" You say, trying to find any topic other than—
Anakin steps forward, leaning against the balcony. You hold your breath. Being so close to him felt like all air vanishes.
"It went alright" Anakin answers, his gaze falling into the horizon.
Your eyes trail on his arm, noticing the dried blood, a gash maybe, you step forward, wanting to get a closer look, your healing instincts telling you something was off.
"You're hurt" You say, your hand carefully moving his robe.
Anakin sharply turns at your touch. Then his eyes bore into yours. You lifted your fingers, realizing you may have startled him.
Anakin always had you. Part of the reason you were persistent in learning healing. Because the anxiety of him hurting never settled, and you wanted to be equipped to take care of him.
"Let me do this, it won't take long" You insisted, because you knew Anakin too well, and he'd not get it checked until someone else forces him to sit down at the med-bay.
The wound started closing and after a moment, it was like it wasn't there in the first place.
Anakin nods, his eyes never leave yours.
You felt it, a ripple through the force. A very specific frequency. A jedi might mistake his hurt as that of a physical one. But you have memorized him too much to read through his pretenses.
The wounds hurt, yes. But he is carrying a lot more pain than he lets on.
So, you continued. Your fingers graze over his skin, channelling the force, willing it to heal the gash.
You withdrew your touch. The silence lingered. It's a silence that makes you feel mad, because it feels like this is how it'll always be for you and Anakin now. Delicately dancing around the elephant in the room.
The silence amplified the voice screaming in your heart.
You may as well just say it out loud because your force signature is latched with it. It involuntarily pours your heart out.
I love you. I love you. I love you.
"Anakin" you began, your lips opening and closing unable to find words to express how you felt.
He turns his head, standing straight, he had an expression you recognized. Some sort of braceness, like he was already anticipating for you to break his heart again.
"I'm sorry" was all you could say.
Even if you would've ran away with him if he asked you to.
Clear lines. No attachments. You'd cross them all if he asked you to.
This was the right thing to do, you think...
"Don't" Anakin shakes his head "Don't... I know you don't mean it" His eyes fall to his feet.
"No, I do" You answer swiftly— no longer able to deny how much it had hurted you too.
You felt tears threatening to cascade down your face. You've heard it said that love turns people soft, but you have never felt more broken now that you have loved something you can't have.
"Anakin, when I said we can't, it's because I can't take you for myself. You're meant for larger things. Only with the Jedi can you fulfill your destiny" You rambled, verbalizing the thoughts you convinced yourself to believe in at night.
Anakin's eyebrows furrowed, but you continued "It doesn't mean I didn't, that I don't—" You halted, your heart and mind tearing you apart.
"[Name]" he calls, "You are no small thing in my life" He tucks a loose strand of hair to your ear.
"I meant it when I told you I love you." His palm presses on your cheeks.
You thought you could crumble beneath his touch.
These weeks, the small amount of time you spent trying to convince yourself that his feelings will eventually pass, never faltered the way how you felt. His absence felt like half of you was missing. And now, he was here, insisting softly.
You can't hold it in anymore.
So, in the absence of words, you pressed your lips against his— slowly, gently, slipping into the intimacy you only ever shared with him.
I love you.
You say between the kisses, hoping it'd suffice for you can't quite bring yourself to say it just yet.
Nothing in the world belonged to you, just this love you were overpouring with. And this kiss— it felt like the beginning of something eternal.
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