#Obi-wan kenobi x you

[ddejavvu]

Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

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

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

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You freeze; you’re caught.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Typical.

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

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

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Would have.

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

“But Anakin…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s too meticulous. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He comes undone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you regret it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is a shirt on your bed.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

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

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

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

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

You and Obi-Wan.

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

[youvebeenlivingfictional]

Kinktober Day 26

Day Twenty-Five | 🌹Kinktober Masterlist🌹 | Day Twenty-Seven

Pairing: Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x Apprentice!Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ Only. Any minors interacting with ANY of these Kinktober prompts will be blocked

Notes: I'm hecking nervous about this one, too 😅 This uhhh this was not the plan for today. But here we are.

Warnings: Sith Master!Obi-Wan; Sith Apprentice!Reader; Power imbalance; Force-choking; deep-throating; grinding; masturbation; choking (without the Force); degradation

You twist against the bounds of the Force, grunting in frustration. You can’t raise your arm, and you strain to move your fingers, to summon your lightsaber from where it’s fallen just a few feet away. The Force loosens, and you drop to the floor with a groan, wincing as your knees slam against the floor.

“Are you through?”

“No, Master,” You swear.

“Then why are you still on the floor.” 

Obi-Wan’s dismissive tone cut through you, drifting past you toward the door. You curl your hand into fist, pounding it against the floor before you spring up, your hand shooting out. Your lightsaber smacks into your palm, flickering to life as you raise it. Before you can land a proper blow, Obi-Wan’s stops yours. The force of his parry makes you stumble, sending you backward. You regain your footing, raising your lightsaber to strike—but with every blow that he levels, you find yourself forced further and further into playing defense. Your back hits the wall as your lightsaber is knocked from your hand again. You feel the Force pinning your hands to the wall, and your gaze drops to Obi’s hand. It’s slightly extended, and you thrill at the fact that he hardly has to exert himself to restrain you. He loosens his grip again, shaking his head as he heads for the door.

“We’ll resume tomorrow.” 

You push yourself off of the wall, unsteady, but determined. 

“We’re not done,” You argue.

“You won’t win.” 

“Don’t turn your back on me—Coward!” 

You know immediately that it’s a mistake. It stills him in his step, and you find yourself as intrigued as you are panicked. The air seems to crackle as Obi-Wan turns back toward you, his jaw tight, and his dark and eyes narrowed with rage. You open your mouth to speak again, but gasp as pressure closes in around your neck, forcing you against the wall. You fight to keep your eyes on Obi-Wan’s, your irritation giving way to arousal as he silently stalks closer. You force your arms up, trying to summon your lightsaber again, but he knocks your wrist aside.

You swallow thickly, face twisted in frustration you fight against the Force. Obi-Wan stops toe-to-toe with you, his chest brushing yours. His gaze sweeps your face before he leans in. Your eyes lower to eye his dark robes, your breath catching as you feel the tip of his nose brush your cheekbone. 

“Look at you,” He murmurs, tipping his head to the side; the bristle of his beard against your cheek makes your stomach flip. “Pathetic…Weak. It’s almost precious to watch you struggle.”

You shiver as he presses closer, your body going hot at his purred taunts.

“You like it, don’t you,” He adds, his breath brushing against your ear. “I see how you fight for it. I know that you are more powerful than you appear, but you make these…Silly little mistakes. For what? For this?” 

You choke out a moan as you feel the Force tighten for just a moment before it loosens again. Obi-Wan tuts softly, shaking his head. 

“If you challenge me, you need to be ready for all that comes with it. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Do you?” He chuckles cruelly. “You can hardly keep your lightsaber in your hand—Ah, ah…” The pressure tightens around your neck again as you try to press closer to him, “Temper, temper.” 

He tips his chin up, staring down his nose at you. 

“What you want…Is beyond the bounds of what you have known. Can you handle what comes with it?” 

“I can, Master.” 

He hums speculatively, nodding slowly. 

“We shall see.” 

--

You can’t breathe. Your throat spasms around Obi-Wan's cock, your nails digging into his thighs as you struggle against the hold that he has on the back of your neck, and the shove of his hips. It’s another blinding, head-splitting moment before he lets you pull away. You draw in a thick, greedy breath, coughing wetly as peer up at Obi, your eyes tearing. He strokes his fingers along your nape, the sweet feeling making your lashes flutter for just a moment—

Until he shoves you back down. Your jaw goes slack, aching from exertion as you take him between your lips again. You press closer, shuffling your knees against the floor as he reclines in his seat. You press your thighs together, savoring the aching throb as you messily swipe your tongue against his thick shaft. You shiver as the top of his boot catches against your clothed, slick pussy, and you can’t help but press slightly against the crinkling leather. He scoffs above you, pressing his leg between your thighs. 

“Look at you,” He coos, “You desperate little slut…Humping my leg like a charhound in heat.” 

You whimper around him, driving your hips forward into the pressure. You bob your head, swirling your tongue messily along the shaft. You brace again as Obi-Wan holds your head down, his groans filling your ears as you struggle and gag. He lets go just long enough for you to catch your breath before immediately pushing you back down. His hips bound up against you, and you aren’t given a word of warning as he cums. You surrender to it, desperately trying to swallow. When you can’t, you draw off of his cock and raise your hand. You gather the spit and cum that have slipped and swipe your fingers through them before sliding your hand beneath your trousers. 

The first slick, heated touch to your clit makes you moan aloud. Obi-Wan hinges forward in the chair and leans over you, spreading the remainder of the mess across your face before sliding his hand around your throat. You press into the hot feeling of his palm and fingers as he squeezes. His gaze is heavy on yours as your eyelids flutter, your hips driving into your touch as you chase the pressure building between your thighs, even as your head seems to throb. His grip tightens, his face twisted into a snarl as you pant desperately. 

“M-More,” You plead, whimpering as you feel the added pressure of the Force beneath his palm. Your mouth parts as you pant, your vision beginning to crowd with spots. 

“Master...Obi—" Your eyes roll into the back of your head, hand faltering as you struggle to draw in a breath—

You fall to the floor as he releases you, your hips jolting as you cum. Your fingers still move on auto-pilot; your head pounds, still reeling from the restraint. You draw in a greedy breath, watching stars dance in your vision as you stare at the ceiling. You swallow thickly as you settle, the blood still roaring in your ears. Your head lolls to the side a touch as you see Obi-Wan stand, and watch him straighten his trousers. He forgoes his tunic as he stands over you, his eyes sweeping down your body. 

“...Dress,” He counsels, “And leave. We’ll resume in the morning.” 

“Yes, Master.”

Tag list: @missredherring ; @fantasticcopeaglepasta ; @massivecolorspygiant ; @blueeyesatnight ; @amneris21 ; @ew-erin ; @youngkenobilove ; @carbonated-beverage ; @lorecraft ; @moonlightburned ; @milf-trinity ; @millllenniawrites ; @chattychell ; @dihra-vesa ; @videogamesandpoorlifechoices ; @missswriter ; @thembosapphicclown ; @brandyllyn ; @wildmoonflower ; @buckybarneshairpullingkink ; @mad-girl-without-a-box ; @winchestershiresauce ; @phoenixhalliwell ; @wild-rose-35 ; @daisyslibrary ; @informally-liz ; @andrastesflamingtitties ; @muchacha-encabronada ; @nerdygirl0414 ; @elen-aranel ; @ohbee-whatcanyoube ; @kmc1989 ; @quietpainter ; @thedreadandthefugitivemind ; @kaletastrophes ; @nyx2021 ; @thatesqcrush ; @adarasforest ; @s-u-t ; @silversprings-mp3 ; @senawashere ;

[lacontroller1991]

Solitude (Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Star Wars Master List

Summary: While on Tatooine, Obi-Wan stumbles upon someone in need of help, someone he thought was long dead.

Warnings:none really

Word Count: 1.3k

==========

After two weeks of living on Tatooine, Obi-Wan fully understood why Anakin hates sand. No matter where you stand on the planet, there is bound to be grains of sand practically embedded into your skin. On the first couple of days of his residency, he tried to sweep the sand out of his rocky cave, but sand always came back in, so he gave up, chuckling to himself as he recounts tales Anakin has told him about how the sand literally gets everywhere. The more and more he thinks about what Anakin has told him over the years, the more he realizes that Anakin has always been right. Anakin was right about the Council being manipulated. Anakin was right about the sand. Anakin was right about Obi-Wan’s feelings towards you and in his own hubris, Obi-Wan didn’t believe him.

Well, it doesn’t matter now. Not when everybody he’s known and cared for has died. Sighing in regret, Obi-Wan gets out of his bed and looks around his barren cave. How did things fall apart so quickly?

----------

You pinch the bridge of your nose as you look around you, only spotting sand for miles on end. After successfully contacting at least one surviving Jedi, Yoda didn’t waste any time in telling you to fly to Tatooine to complete your training. How are you supposed to complete your training? The wise GrandMaster didn’t tell you, but he sure did give you coordinates to Tatooine.

Fiddling with a bracelet on your wrist, you smile fondly at the piece of jewelry before a frown falls on your face. You remember the last time you’ve seen Obi-Wan like it was yesterday, except it was about a year ago and you don’t know if he’s alive or if he was one of the fallen, massacred by the clones. Stashing your lightsaber in the hem of your pants, you quickly make your way towards the town, hopefully finding something, anything, that will guide you to where Yoda wants you to go.

—-------

“Thank you very much.” Obi-Wan bows to the stable keeper before walking over and taking a hold of the reins of his eopie, Akkani, guiding her out of the stable and into the warm Tatooine evening. It wasn’t his first choice to be a meat butcher, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Despite the twin suns setting, Anchorhead seems busier than it was in the morning causing Obi-Wan to look around in suspense, hoping that no one will recognize him; however his search is stopped when he catches a whiff of something… familiar.

Deciding to follow in the direction of the scent, Obi-Wan guides Akkani until he hears muffled warbling with a female voice, a voice that’s too familiar. “It can’t be.” He ties Akkani to a post and rounds the corner and low and behold, you’re being backed into a corner, surrounded by a multitude of large, threatening figures. Obi-Wan bites his lip in contemplation. It’s obvious that it’s you and Obi-Wan can’t help but feel his heart beat again by being near you, but, he has a duty to the boy, to Anakin, to protect the boy from anything and anyone that poses a threat and if he comes out of hiding to protect you, he risks unnecessary exposure that could ruin everything.

The thought that he would put Luke over you makes him pause in contemplation. Is he seriously going to still follow the same set of beliefs that killed his brother? Is he going to put you underneath a one year old?

—-------

“I don’t have anything you want.” You try to cower into yourself, making yourself as small as possible so it wouldn’t be easy for them to hit but to no avail as the aliens keep pressing in, angrily warbling in their language, a language you can’t understand. Now realistically, you could easily take them on. You could easily put them in their place, but that would require the use of the force and a lightsaber and if anyone saw, you’d be hanged.

“There you are,” a voice interrupts and your eyes open sharply, trying to locate the voice. The voice that is so unmistakable. The voice that you have missed. The voice that you have dreamed about. The voice that gains the attention of your assailants who turn around, leaving a small spot for you to crawl out of toward the someone who has taken your breath away on more than one occasion. “Sorry for any commotion my wife has caused, she’s a troublemaker. How can I fix this?” Obi-Wan’s hand grips onto your bicep, gently pulling your shocked body up and behind him, keeping a firm hand on your wrist as the aliens wave their hand dismissively, deeming Obi-Wan a threat enough to not really bother with it as they walk away, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone in the alley.

“Obi?” You face him, looking into the same pair of eyes that you’re in love with before Obi-Wan is pressing a hand against your mouth, his eyes hard and the gears in his head turning.

“Shh, you can’t say that name out loud. They’re looking for me. It’s Ben. Only Ben. Understand?” You nod your head in agreement as he removes his hand from your mouth only for you to jolt forward, jumping into his arms and letting out a cry in relief.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I know, I thought you were dead too.” Obi-Wan clutches onto you tighter, scared that if he were to let go then you would once again disappear. He can’t deny how his heart is practically pounding in his chest. All those feelings he had tried to suppress are now coming to the surface and he holds onto you just a little bit tighter, burying his face in your hair, inhaling your scent. “How did you find me? Why are you here?”

“Our old teacher sent me. He told me that I would finish my training here. I didn’t know why, but I guess now I do. I have something to tell you,” you comment, pulling away from him and taking his face into your hands. “I love you. I know you probably don’t return my feelings as you’ve never given me any indication whenever you were around, but I don’t want to hide from my feelings anymore. Ben, I love you so much and I would rather be damned than not tell you.”

“Oh my dear.” Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. He has longed to hear those words for years but his duty had always tied him down, and now he has a duty to protect the boy and he doesn’t know what complications you could cause. “Kriff the complications,” Obi-Wan comments to himself, confusing you for a split second before he’s crashing his lips to yours, the Force around you exploding as you kiss back, holding him as close as possible as your lips mold together perfectly, as if they were made for each other.

After a moment, Obi-Wan is the first to pull away, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek, causing you to lean into it. “I love you too, darling. I’m sorry I made you believe otherwise, but believe me, I love you so much. If you stay on Tatooine, if you stay with me, I can’t guarantee an easy life. I have a mission to complete, you must understand.”

You shake your head as Obi-Wan prepares himself for rejection. He doesn’t even want to live on Tatooine, so he’s definitely not expecting you to either. “I don’t care. I want to be with you, come what may.”

“I’m so happy to hear you say that. Come, let’s get out of here.” Obi-Wan pulls up his hood as you mimic him before you grab ahold of his hand, causing him to smile. For the first time since he went into isolation, Obi-Wan feels a glimmer of hope and happiness, and it’s 100% thanks to you.

==========

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid​ @himbovillain-anon​ @babblydrabbly​ @a-reader-and-a-writer​ @tavners​

[fandom-friday]

SO I've been hosting a fic fair since July 10th while you were away and man do I have some recs for the fandom. Here's six that I got sent in that were so good. ( copied right off one of my posts listing them) I've made sure to mark which ones are NSFW The Revenant - Sev x ofc - by @mikaiyawa (Ao3 link)

He's Not Heavy, He's my Brother - Bad Batch Fic - by @therisingdarkness (Ao3 Link)

The Hardest Word - Bad Batch Fic - by @therisingdarkness (Ao3 link)

Unbreakable Bonds - Obiwan x OC (eventually NSFW) - by @thegreatwicked

Memories of Chocolate Laced Kisses - Obiwan x OC Nsfw - by @thegreatwicked

Lover, Fighter - Obiwan x reader - by @thegreatwicked

That is such a neat idea, and this is such a great list! Thanks so much for taking the time to put the fic fair together, and thanks for sending all of these in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[cinnamon-galaxies]

Dernière Danse

Pairings: Obi-Wan x (opera singer) reader Warnings/Tags: song fic, romance, affection, deep conversation, both characters kiss Summary: You are an opera singer and Obi-Wan accompanies you to your home planet to protect you from the bounty hunters pursuing you. When you both visit a place that not only brings back beautiful memories in you, but also has a special influence on you, you both find yourself captured in an enchanting melancholy that feeds the secret affection you hold for each other. In the embrace of the atmosphere, you do what you cherish the most: sing a beautiful song, that unexpectedly leads to a fervent waltz. Song: "Dernière Danse" by Indila https://youtu.be/sCNbRElkSw8?si=92fJyU9U7k13UrMO Words: 1.9k A/n: It took me so long to finish the story and I will probably start a series with short stories about the romance between Obi-Wan and the opera singer.

~~~~~~

The soft glow of the moon bathed the ancient ruins, perched on a hidden cliff, in a silver radiance. Abandoned for millennia, this sacred place had been a sanctuary since your earliest memories. The magic of the ruins revealed itself most profoundly under the cloak of the night, an enchanted aura that drew you in like a long-lost friend. Although your visits had become infrequent since relocating to Coruscant, each return to your family home beckoned you to this hallowed ground.

The weathered murals that adorned the ruins told tales of dramas and ancient fairy tales, capturing your imagination since childhood. Tonight, however, your solitude was interrupted. Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi and a dear friend, accompanied you on this nocturnal pilgrimage. Duty bound him to protect you from the bounty hunters that pursued you, yet it was your idea to share this special place, a testament to the bond you shared.

Your voice, filled with a hint of melancholy, carried the weight of memories as you spoke to Obi-Wan. "As a child, my mother and I spent countless hours here. She told me stories of the ancient civilization that once thrived in these ruins." A fond smile graced your lips, and Obi-Wan observed the light in your eyes with keen interest. The beauty and tranquility of this place seemed to touch a chord within him.

"The Vaarhi, that's what they were called, right?" Obi-Wan recalled, his hand exploring the weathered surface of a stone brick as you nodded in agreement.

"Yes, they are my ancestors."

"Really?" Obi-Wan settled onto a worn brick, his touch absorbing the essence of the aged stone. "The spiritual legacy of the Vaarhi is evident in you."

You chuckled softly, remembering how Obi-Wan had remarked on your spiritual aura when you first met him after a performance. Closing your eyes, you inhaled the night air, momentarily lost in shared memories. In that quiet moment, your mind wandered to the unexpected connection that had grown between you and Obi-Wan. Fate seemed to intertwine your paths at every turn, leading you to a profound understanding. The camaraderie, the shared ideals, and the uncanny similarities in your personalities forged a bond that transcended duty. Despite your growing affection for him, a bitter-sweet realization hung in the air—the Jedi Code forbade the reciprocation of such feelings. But all of your encounters were not mere coincidence, but forget a connection that runs deeper than duty demands. It felt like fate and fate had a curious way of guiding, even when least expected.

The nocturnal symphony of the ruins seemed to echo the complexity of your emotions. The forbidden affections tugged at your heart, yet the night held a quiet reassurance that, for now, you could revel in the shared warmth of the ruins and the profound connection that had woven itself into the fabric of your intertwined destinies.

Your eyes fluttered open, determined to cast aside the intrusive thought that threatened to permeate your mind. Instead, you immersed yourself in the delicate perfume of countless flowers wafting through the air. A symphony of joyful colors and tender emotions enveloped you. "Indeed, Master Kenobi, spirituality courses through my veins. Historical tales, superstitions, and fairy tales evoke a melancholy that eludes verbal expression. It's this connection that allows me to empathize so deeply with my roles in the opera," you explained, turning to face him. His gentle gaze lingered on your silhouette, absorbing the details of your face and the flowing dress that cascaded around your legs like a waterfall.

As your melancholy brushed against him, his aura softened, and you studied his countenance with keen interest. Something stirred in his eyes, and your heart quickened. In the night's gentle illumination, his irises mirrored the bluish hues of the flowers adorning the ruins. A flutter danced in your stomach, prompting you to turn away, wary of revealing too much about yourself and the burgeoning feelings for him. The awareness that he could sense your emotional state added an extra layer of complexity.

With purposeful steps, you reached the cliff's edge. Crooked trees, aged companions of the ruins, lined the slope, guardians of the former temple complex that loomed above the evergreen grassland. In the absence of urban lights, a tapestry of stars unfolded in myriad colors, a celestial display unparalleled in many corners of the planet.

"This place is where my passion for singing was kindled," you shared, turning back to Obi-Wan, who remained a silent observer. A tingling sensation traversed your body, and once again, your stomach fluttered. These were the moments that hinted at a connection beyond what he was willing to acknowledge. The stolen glances, the lingering stares—could he truly believe you were oblivious?

"I can imagine this place has been a wellspring of inspiration for you," Obi-Wan replied, briefly diverting his gaze to the surroundings. "It's a rare beauty, unlike many places I've visited."

"It's profoundly special to me. A haven of tranquility, seldom frequented by others. Being here grounds me and brings me closer to my roots," you explained, moving away from the cliff to settle on a stone opposite Obi-Wan. His eyes followed your every movement. Yes, it was a sanctuary for you, and that's precisely why you had brought him here.

You drew in another deep breath, and began to sing, the haunting melody weaving through the quiet night. The song, a familiar refrain that echoed through these ancient ruins ever before, held lyrics filled with sadness and heartbreak—but at the same time, was equally beautiful.

"Ô ma douce souffrance. Pourquoi s'acharner? Tu r'commences. Je n'suis qu'un être sans importance. Sans lui, je suis un peu paro. Je déambule seule dans l'métro."

Obi-Wan, captivated by the ethereal sound, held his breath as your voice painted the air. It was a sound he had heard many times before, yet each rendition enthralled him anew. Your voice, incomparably beautiful, possessed an unforgettable and haunting quality that silenced his thoughts like a siren's song. Unable to tear his gaze away, he found himself entirely entranced.

"Une dernière danse. Pour oublier ma peine immense. Je veux m'enfuir que tout r'commence. Ô ma douce souffrance."

The lyrics, tinged with emotions that reached deep within, were a poignant declaration of your romantic feelings for Obi-Wan. While you had sung for him before, subliminally during an opera performance, this time was different. It was an intimate moment meant solely for him, and the weight of it hung in the air.

You shifted your gaze, peering beyond the ancient trees to the horizon where the sea of stars unfolded. As the refrain left your lips, your voice reached its zenith, yet still withholding a fraction of its full potential.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse."

Enchanted by the spellbinding melody, Obi-Wan gracefully rose from his seat and approached you. A gentle smile adorned his face as he extended his hand, seamlessly intertwining with yours. In a fluid motion, he drew you to your feet, one hand securely holding yours, while the other rested on your waist, eliciting a delightful shiver of excitement.

"Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

Obi-Wan's eyes locked onto yours, and with the onset of the next verse, he initiated a dance, pulling you into a surprising rhythm. You followed his lead, visibly taken aback; it was the first time witnessing his dance, a revelation that defied your expectations. You never imagined he would, let alone possess the skill you were now witnessing.

"Que d’espérance. Sur ce chemin en ton absence. J'ai beau trimer, sans toi ma vie n'est qu'un décor qui brille, vide de sens."

Lost in the depths of each other's eyes, you both shared a profound gaze. As if ensnared by an unseen force, you found it impossible to look away, losing yourself in the infinite galaxies reflected in his gaze. The gentle and loving smile on Obi-Wan's lips conveyed a message that transcended mere friendship, echoing the depth of emotions that unfolded in the dance of the night.

With each note of the ensuing chorus, your steps took on a newfound extravagance. Across the ancient stones, you and the Jedi glided seamlessly, your voice ascending to meet the night's gentle breeze. The moonlit waltz evolved into a dance of emotions, a symphony of harmonious steps, weaving an unspoken narrative as the hem of your long dress swirled through the air, lightly brushing against both your and Obi-Wan's legs.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le noise, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

In an instant, Obi-Wan cast aside all pretenses. Locking his gaze onto your beautiful visage, he guided you into a graceful spin, disregarding everything—reality, his duties, and the Jedi code. All he desired was to be near you and savor the present moment. It wasn't just your enchanting voice; it was the fervor in your dance that wholly captivated him.

As the third verse echoed in the night, you began to toy with your voice, releasing notes that resonated heavenly, traversing the ruins, the cliff, and far beyond. Gathering all your emotions and the love you harbored for Obi-Wan, you expressed them through your high, soaring tones. It was an unmistakable message, one reflected in his eyes. He comprehended every nuance of your expression, the declaration of love entwined with the ache simmering within you, intensified by the realization that your love was forbidden in this world.

"Dans sette douce souffrance. Dont j'ai payé toutes les offenses. Écoute comme mon cœur is immense. Je suis une enfant du monde."

As your message resonated with Obi-Wan, his grasp on your hand and hips tightened, his gaze conveying a myriad of emotions. It spoke volumes about your significance to him, the emotions you stirred within him, and the profound desires hidden beneath the surface.

With the final rendition of the chorus, you infused the last ounce of emotion and power into your voice. Your wide eyes locked onto Obi-Wan as he gracefully twirled you through one pirouette after another.

"J'remue le ciel, le jour, la nuit. Je danse avec le vent, la pluie. Un peu d'amour, un brin de miel. Et je danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse, danse. Et dans le bruit, je cours et j'ai peur. Est-ce mon tour? Revient la douleur. Dans tout Paris, je m’abandonne. Et je m'envole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole, vole."

With the final note resonating in the air, Obi-Wan orchestrated a concluding twirl. Your dress cascaded like a radiant veil, exuding an elegance surpassing that of a billion moons and stars. In the midst of the dance, you felt the sense of freedom coursing through your limbs, all while under the careful watch of the Jedi. There was also a sense of relief, because of the secret you have now unveiled.

As the momentum waned, Obi-Wan guided you back with deliberate ease. In one seamless motion, he drew you closer, releasing his hand from your hip. At the last syllable escaping your lips, his now-free hand cradled the back of your head, initiating a kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned into the tender yet passionate exchange. A cosmic explosion of sensations surged within you as the long-awaited dream became true. Your hands traced over his tunica, threading through his hair, drawing him nearer. In that moment, all you yearned for was the eternity of this embrace.

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine you are about to become a Master Jedi under the guidance of Master Kenobi… 😏

Warnings: smut, drama, sort of light reading.

Warnings 2: fluffy endings, alternative universe where the Siths have been defeated and Anakin hasn’t turned to the dark side.

Warnings 3: (loosely) based on “505” by Arctic Monkeys.

Recommendations: “505”, “Do I Wanna Know”, “Four Out Of Five”, “R U Mine” by Arctic Monkeys.

No minors.

***

Once Anakin Skywalker has been assigned a Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, though never truly stopping monitoring his activities, decides to carry on with other tasks to him delegated. Until Y/N appears. You are about to get your trials, but the Master who was once responsible for you was killed in battle. You are no more than twenty and five years of age—an average age to be elevated to the title of Master Jedi—but is there really a necessity to train you, prepare you for your trials?

Because he is doing this as a favor to Master Windu, who used to be very close to Master H/N, Obi-Wan sees no other choice but taking you under his wing.

Yet, he is somewhat disconcerted when his eyes spot you for the very first time—a sort of sentiment that strikes him that hasn’t effected him since when he first laid his eyes on Duchess Satine so many years ago—-; you are blessed with some sort of ethereal beauty: his blue eyes cannot divert from y/c skin, so soft and inviting to a gentle touch; your y/c hair which drops in long waves of curls that drop by your waist—impressive, Obi-Wan thought—, your curves that are so… He swallows hard, trying not to stare at how the bandage around your breasts seems to reinforce them or at your well shaped body.

Good grief, you are a well made woman. Obi-Wan tries to push away these unwelcoming thoughts, and it’s not very helpful that when you turn your face at him, sensing his presence, you greet him warmly. The spark in those y/c eyes and the smile that is pushed wide open by those rosy lips are enough to knock this man down.

Perhaps I’ve been far too lonely for my taste. Perhaps I am projecting my aching heart, having missed Satine for a while, towards Y/N. She does not deserve that. Besides, may I remind myself that Jedis must not form any sort of attachment?

He clears his throat when approaching you. You watch him with interest. Unbeknownst to Obi-Wan, the same impressions that crossed his mind make home in your mind. You judge him to be the handsomest man your eyes laid on: in fact, you always believed to have gone insufferable towards your youth and young adult phase where most of your colleagues developed sentiments for someone or went to some houses of pleasure to put out the needs of the flesh.

Ironically, it is a Jedi Master who weakens your knees and messes with your reason. You thought nothing would tempt you to break this rule often professed as difficult by many of your colleagues. Although most would pass through the challenges of the heart rather easily, they still suffered the process of having feelings and broken hearts.

You thought invincible to it, indeed. You even laughed away when a friend of yours told you the following:

“One day, you will be tempted, Y/N. Laugh as you wish now, but the worst temptation is not of the kind that slaves the flesh, but the soul. And when this day comes, you’ll pay with your laughters.”

Perhaps your friend H/N is right. But your pride refuses to admit it. Yet, your eyes linger at his red hair, his beard, his lips… His well build muscles underneath the leather brown-ish robes somehow give you an unknown friction never before felt in your legs. However, what does knock you down is how his blue eyes find the path to reach your soul.

Fuck.

“Miss Y/N”, he greets you warmly. “I am Obi-Wan Kenobi. I trust Master Windu told you about our encounter? My condolences for the loss of Master H/N. Must be difficult for you, specially concerning your current situation.”

You compose yourself, praying the Maker not to make yourself a fool—it’s too early to pay for the sin you’ve committed to your friends, to suffer the consequences of your pride, for which you are not ready.

“Master Kenobi”. You bow your head out of respect. “Your condolences are warm-felt and most appreciated, thank you. Indeed, Master Windu thought prudent that I should get my preparation for such an expected moment under a wise Master such as yourself. It is an honor to me, sir.”

The older man, experienced in countless battles and known for his tact in diplomacy, smiles at you. You already know that a path of suffering is on your way, since how a man such as Obi-Wan Kenobi would ever look at an inexperience woman as yourself? The mere thought would make you blush had you not been mindful that this man is capable of reading minds.

“Oh please”, he chuckles. “I am unworthy of such adjectives, Miss Y/N. I too was once like you, a Jedi in preparation to become a Master. Soon, a seat at the council will be yours to take.”

Somehow this perception had never been taken in consideration until now. Yet, you are careful in keeping your emotions in check.

“I only pray to get more experiences in field, sir, before being worthy of such a seat.”

Obi-Wan seems to admire this humility trait you display naturally. If only Anakin had this same thought… Again, the Jedi smiles at you.

“Well, not everything about Jedis concerns the battlefield, miss Y/N. Whilst today we are remembering some of the martial arts that are most important to defend ourselves from the enemy out there, it must not be forgotten that diplomacy is as important to use as any light saber.”

You nod attentively. There is a moment where his eyes capture something in yours, though—what is it, he is afraid to say. Obi-Wan clears his throat, diverting from the temptation of the flesh his heart seems to incline.

“Get your saber. Show me what you have, miss Y/N.”

You nod your head. Concentrated, you refuse to give ears to that of yourself who wishes to show off your abilities. You want to prove your worth. Master H/N never managed to wipe out this insecurity of yours, but here you are… Nearly close to be overshadowed by it.

Nonetheless, Obi-Wan looks at you rather surprised. He did indeed underestimate you initially, an error he now does tries to placate. You put your best at show, and it is only once he manages to defeat you.

“Well done, Miss Y/N”, Obi-Wan claps at you before helping you to stand. “You were well taught by Master H/N. He would be proud.”

Your emotions betray your balance as you blush and look momentarily down at your feet before flashing a smile to Obi-Wan.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi. You will find in me a student who tries her best in doing her assignments.”

Obi-Wan smiles back at you.

“A trait I wish my former Padawan had cared to develop, I’m afraid. Well, I don’t think we are having many difficulties from now on, Y/N. Though I should warn you I am not making things easy for you.”

You chuckle in response before flashing him a smirk:

“I am not expecting otherwise, Master.”

Something about this response pleases him more than a Master normally would…

***

As each day that passes one less gets to your trials, Obi-Wan keeps his promises and you find yourself involved in complicated missions and harder trainings to the point you end your days exhausted.

“You are doing surprisingly well”, he tells you once you finish your presentation concerning the genealogy of diplomacy in different aspects of Jedi history, dominating every point he asks you. This is far worse than trying to block his blows when in field. “I think it is fair to say we are closer to end the practice before your trials.”

“Closer to end?”, you scoff at him. “Master, I thought you’d give me a break after this presentation!”

He smiles at your protests.

“You are excelling yourself, Y/N, but this does not mean you ought to relax. Not yet. What we will do next is diminish considerable your exercises. Besides, you will have this weekend off.”

You sigh heavily. You could easily drop in bed right now. Obi-Wan approaches, placing a hand over your shoulder, aware of your exhaustion.

“I mean every word I said, Y/N.”

“I thought you are no man to give some compliments”, you tease him in return.

“You are just too tense to see that I am not that serious a man I am”, he chuckles.

By saying so, he asks you if you’d like some massage and as you say you do, you realize that was something you shouldn’t have done. At the mere touch of his masculine hands full of callous against your soft skin, you start to feel a heat rising in between your legs that you are sure it is not the result of trains.

To worse matters, this simple gesture seems to bond one’s thoughts to another. Obi-Wan is surprised to find you reciprocate his attraction to you. Maybe something more is developing, seeing an attachment is ready to give fruits.

He should have removed his hands, but his mind starts to wonder what would be like to remove every tension from your body. Would you give in to his touch? How would you react if he massaged your nipples, twirling each one under his fingers?

The mere idea starts to give him a boner. Obi-Wan comes to realize that to be close to you is a dangerous thing to do. Hence why he abruptly interrupts it and gives you a lame excuse before leaving you out there, confused and upset for his sudden depart.

***

You decide that whatever impressions you have of your Master are the result of any admiration a Padawan would have for their superiors. Though you are no longer a Padawan, you feel as if you are once the days of your trials get closer.

Despite seeing how tense you are, Obi-Wan not only attempts to sooth your fears but also gets harder on you to the point you will leave little doubt about going excellent in the exams.

Though unbeknownst to you, one day Anakin Skywalker is watching your physical practices and he says:

“You never did get this hard on me, Master”, he remarks in a tone Obi-Wan cannot identify. “Why are you different with her? I don’t think Master H/N would follow these tactics and…”

“It’s for her best, Anakin. She has some struggles that she must overcome.”

Ahsoka smirks, understanding before her Master what has been implied. Hence why she remarks:

“Struggles with what exactly? The feelings she might harbor for you?”

She earns looks from both men, Anakin looking rather amused and Obi-Wan not so.

“Ahsoka Tano, that is not what I’ve meant by any chance.”

She tries not to burst into giggles and Obi-Wan sighs heavily, deciding to excuse her youth for such an improper observation.

“Or maybe is it you who hopes to find flaws in Y/N in order to defeat the admiration you’ve nurtured?” Anakin softens then: “It’s been a while since Satine, Master. The war is over, it’s more than time that you…”

Obi-Wan sighs exasperatedly.

“I was not expecting you to speak nonsenses, Anakin. You, above all, should be with familiar the fact that…”

“Jedis must not form attachments”, meddles Ahsoka, completing his sentence. “And yet, look at whom you are talking to, Master. Don’t you know Padmé is pregnant for the third time?”

Obi-Wan blushes as his own reasoning is played against him. But it gives the perfect opportunity to change topics, much to Anakin’s dismay.

In the meantime, once you defeat the droids, you take a break at the white room, trying to catch your breath. It has been an exhausting week, which sucked out your energy to the core, but you've managed relatively well.

You remember your friends praising you for achieving what only Anakin Skywalker had managed to: accomplish the hard work Obi-Wan Kenobi tends to give when he has Padawans under his guidance---which only occurred with the now Master Skywalker.

"He has quite a reputation", you were told by your fellow Jedi H/N. "And I see you are doing well."

Despite the univiting affection that has been growing for the man you aim to please--a feeling you are on the way to repress, or trying to--your attempts in staying humble sometimes do not succeed.

“Why, It’s what we do”, so was your answer. “I don’t see me doing otherwise.”

Often you jest about it, getting others to laugh at your confidences, however in reality, far from the eyes of the public, you find hard to suppress the attachment you develop for him.

So all you do is avoid his presence whenever you can. At least when trainings end. But this behavior has been noticed by Obi-Wan. He is well aware of your attempts to wipe out the unwelcoming attachment you feel for him—something he has been trying to do himself—but he does not wish this unspoken tension to change the dynamics of your relationship.

So perhaps if you both come to terms to it, all will end well. Or so he thinks.

“Y/N Y/LN.”, he meets you in the corridors. It’s a Saturday, a day he usually leaves it to your rest. “My dear, may I have a word with you later today at about 6 o’clock at the masters’s quarters?”

He knows you would find an excuse, but knowing you usually take Saturday to rest, you have thus no commitment that could impede you two to meet. By confronting you in public, Obi-Wan knows you would hardly refuse. And he is right in his assumptions, though no one but him notices the pink that colors your cheeks.

“I… Of course, Master Obi-Wan. I’ll be right there.” You sound rather shyly, which by your friends who are nearby interpret it as a sign of respect.

He side smirks at you, telling you he is looking forward to talk to you. But as you two depart, his blue eyes follow your moves. That day, your hair is tied in a pony tail and you dress your usually Jedi robes. To his surprise, you are the quietest of your small group of friends. He then realizes that he wishes to know you more, a thought he is quickly to dismiss.

***

When you show up at the time you and Obi-Wan agreed to—or rather, he decided—, you find yourself nervous. Dressing more informally, you let your y/c hair loose as you fake a confidence that is normally attributed to you. If only people knew that is how you mask your insecurities.

But as you lift your hand to knock on the door, it is as if Obi-Wan is already expecting you. He opens it and greets you with delight in his eyes and a smile that melts you.

“Miss Y/N. Please come in.”

You barely notice how that room is private and rarely used. All you care about is the smile on that man’s face that rises to his blue eyes.

“Master”, you smile back. “What is the occasion of our meeting? I believed you promised to let me rest this weekend.”

Obi-Wan chuckles as he offers you a seat. Once you do, he starts preparing tea. It is only then he answers you:

“This is not about any training, my dear. In all honesty, I’ve been preoccupied with you. I never thought to get to know you properly.” He makes a pause before adding: “I didn’t ask how you dealt with Master H/N’s demise nor how was your training. I disrespected your grief. I wanted to amend this mistake of mine.”

You are surprised by his small speech, clearly not expecting these words, yet at the same time admiring his maturity. You offer him a smile as he serves you tea with cookies. Once he takes a seat opposite to yours, you say:

“I don’t think there is anything to apologize for, Master. Though I do appreciate your concern for me, I didn’t expect it was your obligation to get to know me at all. I was never your Padawan, for a start.”

“Nonetheless, as your new Master I believe to be most appropriate to hear what you have to say.” He hesitates for a moment. “This is a mistake I do not wish to commit again.”

And this is how it begins. In between smiles, you tell him about your journey as a Padawan to Master H/N, how he found you at planet Y/C and how he was much a father to you. You also told him about your favourite books, the tricks you used at some missions you’ve been assigned to.

Obi-Wan, on his turn, tells you his links to Master Qui-Gon Jinn, his scare memories concerning his family. Before you both know, the tea reunion is far lighter than you thought you’d be.

It is late night when three cups of tea had been drank and you think prudent to go back to your quarters. As you stand, so does Obi-Wan. But something seems changed when both of you lock gazes.

“I believe by now we can address one another by each other’s names, Y/N.”

You smile widely at him, a view he is mostly pleased to see. Whatever reservations you might have had with each other seem to dissipate. As you stand by the door, he takes your hand almost unconsciously.

To feel his mere touch incurs in diving into a magnetic field, resulting in waves of heat that could set both of you into an explosion. But both of you pretend nothing has happened…

“I believe we do, Obi-Wan. Thank you for the day, it’s been most pleasant.”

“Indeed it has, Y/N”. He makes a pause, rubbing your wrist with his thumb. “Are you feeling more comfortable now?”

“Well I’ve never been uncomfortable around you, Obi-Wan. Far from it.” You side smirk at him. “Though I appreciate your kindness. You are a good man. My master would be very thankful to know I have been entrusted to your guidance.”

One long glance. You might give more than you want to and Obi-Wan knows it. It is as if you are both mesmerized with each other, but one noise coming from the corridors breaks the spell and you are disappointed when he lets go of your hand.

***

You finally become a Jedi Master. After years working hard to accomplish a goal that has been set up to achieve from the days Master H/N spotted the Force in you, after a turbulent period you were forced to go through, especially at the demise of the one you looked at as a father, after a hard-work training under the guidance of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi… You succeed in it.

“Congratulations, Master Y/N Y/LN. To achieve the higher ground you did. Though much to learn you had, never ending a path knowledge is”, says Master Yoda.

You bend the knee and bow your head in a sign of humility. The ceremony of your rise as Jedi Master carries on with a small speech by Master Windu, a man who you manage to surprise.

“One must admit”, the Jedi smiles, “that I’ve never had any doubt you would succeed, Master Y/LN. You are dedicated and hard-working, qualities very praised by your former Master H/N and your current Master Kenobi.”

Your heart carefully races when your eyes spot the figure of Obi-Wan as he stays beside Master Windu, echoing his speech when adding a few words of his own.

Barely perceptible to those present, however, is the growing affection one feels for the other. One look is enough to defeat the pride that has been shielding each other’s heart…

***

Obi-Wan is patient, though. As the feast ends that late evening, he excuses himself earlier than it’s closing in order to go after you, seeing that you retired earlier.

You look fabulous with your long hair loose like a y/c waterfall of locks. In addition to this unique wild beauty that is so characteristically yours, you dress a purple gown that shows some cleavage as well as your shoulders. It is enough to tempt this man.

That evening you both exchanged very few words since each group, so different in many aspects, reclaimed your attentions. But you are not too social, so you invented something to be dismissed earlier. And so did he.

You are barely making to your quarters when you hear steps. To your surprise, it’s him. And he can hear no only the beatings of your heart but the chaos of your thoughts.

“Master…!”

“Please, it’s Obi-Wan”, he cuts you gently. “There is something I need to tell you that is giving me agony. In fact, if you may, let me clear these things that have been torturing our thoughts. May I?”

You blink, hesitate at first. Fearful that he might have discovered your sentiments, you realize there is little you can do but to acknowledge at long last what you perceive as a lost battle. Yet you are surprised when he takes your face with his hands and presses a soft, but urgent kiss against your lips.

“Oh”, you sigh. When he parts it, he is searching for your eyes, some part of him fearful you might’ve changed your mind. “Obi… I thought…”

“I know. I’ve always known.” Obi-Wan rests his head against yours, eyes closing. You can feel his struggle, so you decide to release the pressure that’s been on his shoulders.

And just like that you pursuit his lips. Shushing every protest that might come from either part, your tongues pair in a sweet melody, though the urgency in the kiss eventually releases the suppression that has only suffocated this far what one feels for the other.

“I am tired of taking it easy”, he admits under his breath as he pins you against the wall. “I’ve been doing so for a little while. Oh, what kind of beast have you turned me into?”

You giggle at his words.

“Hold on just for a while”, you ask in a whisper before leading him to your quarters. “Yet, I must know…”

Obi-Wan is as red as you. When both stare into each other’s eyes, tension remains. But he is patient.

“Yes, dear heart? What is it you fear?” He shortens the distance and takes hold of your face again, delicately so as if you are a fragile thing. “I can read your insecurities. But please tell me what can I do to ease them.”

“I love you”, you don’t think twice. “Damned I am for laughing away my friends for ever falling in love. But I remain loving you, my Master, my mentor. Despite the many rules I would gladly break to be with you, despite how easy I confess with my tongue and body that I am too busy being yours to fall with someone else or to crawl away from you, offering thus my devotion. I need to know if this flows both ways, if you… if you are mine as much as I am yours.”

You explode it, you know. You never before felt so open and fragile, so easily read. All your shields are down and you feel so…unprotected. Yet, Obi-Wan smiles at you, calm and tranquil where you are a puddle of mess.

“I love you. You brought me back to life, Y/N, where I thought it to be impossible. It’s been too long and I fear I would not be the right one for you, being rather old to you.” He pauses as if by putting this out of a fact you would contest and change your mind.

Seeing that you stand where you are, his hands now slide to your waist as you wrap yours around his neck.

“I am yours”, he brushes his lips against yours and his fingers dig into your sides in a possessive manner that makes you smile. “Do you understand? I am yours in many inexplicable and unprofessed ways. Let me show you better with actions…”

He kisses you again. This time it’s slow, better coordinated and with no rush. His body makes it easy for you to trust blindly. This kiss wipes away your fears.

It is only then you feel comfortable in pushing your limits. Because Obi-Wan feels the heat warming your body, he does not shy away in giving to your silent pleas.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”, he asks you softly, looking into your eyes for consent.

“Yes”, you whisper hotly. “I’ve never been so sure before as I am now.”

And that is how it starts…

***

Epilogue.

“In my imagination, when I go back…”

Obi-Wan barely breathes out as your hands promptly tie his hands. Your eyes are transfixed in his closed eyes and his barely open mouth. You smirk slyly as your fingers gently pump his erect member in that same rhythm he taught you that night.

“Yes, love?”, you encourage him to speak his thoughts, though you are aware of how indecent these might be.

Your husband has only recently returned after a long journey and it is only fair that as his wife you greet him properly. So here you are, poorly dressed, spoiling him as you prepare to get to your knees.

“You are a temptation, dear heart”, he arches his back, groaning in evident pleasure. “Don’t make me say these words.”

“Tell me darling…” you ask him softly as you finally take him with your tongue. “I beg you.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes go wide at you.

“M-Maker, I…” He gasps, throughly enjoying your other…abilities, all of which he takes a secretive pride for teaching you. “You are so good in this, my love.”

But before he is about to reach his climax, he lifts you and leads you to bed. His eyes are burning with desire, especially when undressing you at long last.

“I miss you”, he whispers against your lips.

“I miss you, husband.”

And just like that he lies you down in bed and as you tangle him in your legs, the night compensates all the waiting one feels for the other…

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 78

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,325ish

Summary: You have a long overdue run in with an old friend, creating two new friends while you’re at it.

Notes: Hope you enjoy this! I was excited to bring Ahsoka back into the story, even if it’s just for two chapters. (And I know the poll isn’t closed yet, but there’s a pretty clear winner so far.)

“Aunt Y/N! Aunt Y/N!” A four-year-old Ben exclaimed as he ran up to you. You were in a clearing near the house, meditating.

“Hello, Ben,” you smiled at him. 

“Dad’s going to let me fly the Falcon!”

“Oh, is he now?” You laughed as you glanced up at Han, who was trailing behind the boy. “Have you told your mother about this?”

“She’s working.”

“How convenient.” You rose a brow at Han.

Han rose his hands in innocence. “It’s not that bad, alright?” Han tried to tell you. “Chewie is coming with us and he’ll basically be on Chewie’s lap the whole time.”

“And how long will you be gone?”

“Most likely a few hours. Not too long. I don’t even know why I’m looking for your permission, I’m the kid's father.”

“Because you know that I will react similarly to Leia.”

“Will you come with us Aunt Y/N?” Ben asked, looking up at you with big, hopeful eyes.

You were going to say yes when you suddenly felt a shift in the Force. It was a familiar one, one you believed was gone.

“I’m sorry my sweet Ben,” you said as you knelt down to be more at eye level with him. “Unfortunately, I have my own things to attend to today.” You didn’t miss Han’s curious expression. “Maybe another day.” You leaned forward and kissed his head. “Stay safe, and keep an eye on your father.”

“I will!” He was running off toward the Falcon before anything else could be said.

Han walked closer to you. “What’s going on?” He asked. “What do you need to do?”

“I… don’t know yet… But I’m going to follow the Force, see where it leads.”

“You haven’t done anything adventurous in a while. You need help?”

“I’ll be fine.” You looked past Han at Ben who was excitedly telling Chewie something. “Just don’t do anything stupid with the kid with you.”

“Me? Do something stupid?” Han scoffed. “Never.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

~~~

Following the Force, you flew by yourself to the planet of Corvus. You paused, hovering above the planet as you seeked the guidance of the Force as to where to go. After a few moments, you headed for the city of Corvus. You landed outside of the city, a good distance away. You noticed how the trees in the forest outside the city were barren and fog laced around them. There were red blasters going off at the edge of the city. 

With a lightsaber in each hand, you slowly made your way to the edge of the forest to see what was happening. You hid behind a larger tree and peeked around it. The moment you saw those two white lightsaber blades, you gasped. You watched as the warrior took out the guards, using the fog and lack of bright light to their advantage.

“Show yourself,” a woman on the wall of the city demanded after all the guards had been taken care of. “Jedi.” 

You felt like crying when you saw Ahsoka reveal herself. All this time, she had been alive.

“I’ve been expecting you,” the woman continued.

“Then you know what I want,” Ahsoka replied.

“You will learn nothing from me.”

“I won’t give you that choice.”

The woman motioned for two guards to bring up a prisoner beside her. “How many lives is the knowledge I possess worth to you? One? Ten? How about a hundred? The lives of these citizens mean nothing to me. Now, because of you, these people will suffer.”

“They already suffer under your rule. Surrender, or face the consequences.” Ahsoka pointed one of her white blades at the woman. “You have one day to decide.” Then Ahsoka turned off her lightsabers and disappeared into the forest.

You were so proud of Ahsoka. That, despite everything she’s been through, she was still fighting. You made your way back into the deeper part of the forest. Sensing that someone was about to strike you from behind, you ignited both of the sabers and moved them behind you. The white sabers clashed against your yellow and blue ones.

“Y/N?” Ahsoka gasped.

“Hello, Ahsoka,” you smiled.

Before either of you really thought about it, the lightsabers were deactivated and on the ground as your arms went around each other. You held each other tightly, tears threatening to spill from both of you. Ahsoka was the one to pull back first.

“How are you here?” She asked.

“The Force,” you responded. “I could feel you, after all these years, and I followed your signature… I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Somedays, me either.” She reached down and picked up the sabers, her eyes holding steady on one of them. “This one is Obi-Wan’s.”

“Yes.” You took your sabers from her and clipped them on your belt. “It helps to have it close… especially since I can’t have him as close as I would like anymore.”

She gave you a knowing smile. “I suspect we have a lot to discuss.”

“You have no idea.”

~~~

The two of you spent the night around a small fire, telling each other what life has been like since you last saw each other. Neither of you has had an easy life, both while in the Jedi Order and outside of it. Ahsoka explained what she was doing on Corvus, searching for information on Grand Admiral Thrawn. 

“I wish I could help you on your quest,” you told her. “Unfortunately, I promised to watch out for my family.”

“I could never ask you to leave them like that,” Ahsoka said with a shake of her head.

“But, that doesn’t mean I can’t help you with this task. It might be fun, kinda like old times.”

“Like old times,” she smiled. 

~~~

The two of you were working on a plan when you suddenly sensed another Force user. Your head snapped up as you looked around.

“Do you sense that?” You asked Ahsoka.

“A little,” she responded.

“Come on.”

You led Ahsoka through the woods, following the Force. You stopped before a clearing, seeing a Mandalorian and a green creature that reminded you of Yoda.

“You hear that?” You heard the Mandalorian ask. “Don’t worry.” He set the creature on a nearby rock. “Sit right here. Let me see what’s out there.” He looked around with a scope and sighed. “False alarm.”

You and Ahsoka nodded to each other before you both activated your sabers and jumped out at the Mandalorian. The two of you hit the Mandalorian but you quickly learned that his armor was made of pure Beskar, impenetrable by lightsabers. The Mandalorian used a flame thrower to burn Ahsoka’s cloak while tying you up with a rope shooting from his wrist. You jumped over him and a tree branch, freeing yourself. Ahsoka and you had him surrounded.

“Ahsoka Tano!” The Mandalorian shouted. “Bo-Katan sent me. We need to talk.”

Ahsoka saw the little creature on the rock behind the Mandalorian as she deactivated her lightsabers. “I hope it’s about him,” she said.

You turned off your lightsabers as you felt the child enter your mind. You headed toward him, Ahsoka doing the same thing. Kneeling in front of him, you offered him your hand, which he took it.

“Who are you?” The Mandalorian asked you.

You sighed. Keeping your Skywalker name a secret was still important. The risk of the Galaxy finding out the truth about Vader and Anakin was too great. Would you use Kenobi? You did marry him and had every right to use it. It felt more like a real last name than the false one you had used for years.

“I’m Y/N Kenobi,” you responded, still focused on the child.

“They didn’t tell me there were two Jedi out here,” the Mandalorian stated.

“They didn’t know.”

~~~

Night fell and you found yourselves surrounding a small fire in the woods again. You and Ahsoka were on the side, sitting in front of the child. The three of you were communicating in the Force while the Mandalorian paced on the other side. You learned that his name was Grogu and that he was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Grogu cooed as the three of you continued to speak. Finally, with a smile you picked him up and the three of you headed over to the Mandalorian.

“Is he speaking?” The Mandalorian questioned. “Do you understand him?”

“In a way,” Ahsoka responded. “Grogu, Y/N, and I can feel each other’s thoughts.”

“Grogu?”

“Yes,” you answered. “That’s his name.”

“Grogu.” The Mandalorian tried, earning the child’s attention.

“He was raised at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” explained Ahsoka. “Many Masters trained him over the years. At the end of the Clone Wars, when the Empire rose to power, he was hidden. Someone took him from the Temple. Then his memory becomes… dark.”

“He seemed lost,” you added, understanding the feeling. “Alone… I’ve only known two other beings like this. Jedi Masters Yoda and Yaddle… can he still wield the Force?”

“You mean his powers?” Questioned the Mandalorian.

“The Force is what gives him his powers,” Ahsoka said. “It is an energy field created by all living things. To wield it takes a great deal of training and discipline.”

“I’ve seen him do things I can’t explain. My task was to bring him to a Jedi.”

“The Jedi Order fell a long time ago,” you stated, a bit too harshly.

“So did the Empire, yet it still hunts him. He needs your help.”

You held Grogu as he began to fall asleep. “Let him sleep. We will test him in the morning.”

~~~

Ahsoka led you, the Mandalorian, and Grogu to a different clearing with various sizes of rocks.

“Let’s see what knowledge is lurking inside that little mind,” Ahsoka said, booping Grogu’s nose.

The Mandalorian set Grogu down as Ahsoka picked up a small stone. She stood in front of Grogu and sent it to him using the Force. Grogu caught it with a coo.

Ahsoka held her palm out. “Now, return the stone to me, Grogu,” she said. He made no move to do so.

“He doesn’t understand,” the Mandalorian said.

“He does,” you replied. “He’s just scared.”

“It’s okay,” Ahsoka encouraged. “The stone, Grogu.” He waited a second before throwing the stone to the ground. Ahsoka sighed as she walked up to him. She took his little hand and used the Force to feel his emotions. “I sense much fear in you.”

“He’s hidden his abilities to survive over the years,” you said. “It’s going to take time for him to realize he can use them without fear.”

Ahsoka stood up straight. “Let’s try something else. Come over here.”

“He’s stubborn,” the Mandalorian said when Grogu didn’t move.

“Not him. You. I want to see if he’ll listen to you.”

The Mandalorian moved to stand beside Ahsoka. “That would be a first.”

“I like firsts. Good or bad, they’re always memorable.” You smirked at the saying. “Now, hold the stone out in the palm of your hand. Tell him to lift it up.”

The Mandalorian did as directed. “Alright, kid. Lift the stone.”

“Grogu,” you corrected as Ahsoka moved to stand next to you.

“Grogu. Come on, take the stone.” Grogu looked down. “You see? I told you, he’s stubborn.”

“Try to connect with him,” you advised.

The Mandalorian breathed deeply before pulling a small round thing from his belt. “Grogu… do you want this?” He held it up as he crouched down. “Well, go ahead.” Grogu reached an arm out. “That’s right, take it. Come on. You can have it. Come on.” Grogu used the Force to pull the small metal ball to his own hand. “Good job! Good job, kid.” The Mandalorian stood up to go to Grogu as you and Ahsoka shared a look. “You see that? That’s right. I knew you could do it. Very good.”

“He’s formed a strong attachment to you,” Ahsoka stated. “I cannot train him.”

“What? Why not? You’ve seen what he can do.”

“His attachment to you makes him vulnerable to his fears. His anger.”

“All the more reason to train him.”

“No,” you responded, knowingly. “All the more reason not to.”

“We’ve seen what such feelings can do to a fully trained Jedi Knight,” Ahsoka added, speaking of Anakin. “To the best of us. I will not start this child down that path. Better to let his abilities fade.”

You hated how you felt like this was hypocritical, yet what needed to be done. Anakin wasn’t the only one with attachments in the Order, you were attached to him and Obi-Wan. You wanted to say that you didn’t have fears and anger that led to the dark side, but what happened after Obi-Wan’s death proved that you weren’t free from that.

“I have delayed too long,” Ahsoka continued. “I must get back to the village.”

“The Magistrate sent me to kill you,” the Mandalorian said. “I didn’t agree to anything. And I’ll help you with your problem if you see to it that Grogu is properly trained.”

You and Ahsoka shared a look. You knew of one other Jedi who was looking for students, looking to reestablish the Order that caused both you and Ahsoka pain.

“I know someone who might train Grogu,” you told the man. “But first we finish this.”

~~~

“She has a small army of guards armed with A350 blaster rifles, two HK-87 assassin droids, and a hired gunfighter,” the Mandalorian explained as you headed for the village. “He reads ex-military to me. Combined, not even your laser swords would be able to protect you from all that firepower.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Ahsoka warned with a slight smirk.

“True,” you agreed.

“Don’t underestimate the Magistrate either.”

“Who is she?” The Mandalorian asked. “She offered me a staff of pure beskar to kill you.”

“Morgan Elsbeth. During the Clone Wars, her people were massacred. She survived and let her anger full an industry which helped build the Imperial Starfleet. She plundered worlds, destroying them in the process.”

“Yeah, it looks like she’s still in business.”

“When you were in the city, did you see any prisoners?”

“I saw three villagers strung up just outside the inner gate.”

“We must find a way to free them.”

“A Mandalorian and two Jedi? They’ll never see it coming.”

~~~

The guards on the wall of the city weren’t prepared for what was going to happen. Ahsoka jumped up the wall first, easily attacking those on the wall. Once Ahsoka had rid the wall of the guards, you jumped up and between the huts. You being there needed to be a surprise.

“Your bounty hunter failed,” Ahsoka said as she stood in front of the Magistrate who was surrounded by guards. She threw a piece of the Mandalorian’s armor on the ground. “Tell me what I want to know. Where is your master?”

“Kill her,” the Magistrate ordered.

“Love to,” the man beside her responded, almost immediately firing at Ahsoka. 

Ahsoka activated her sabers and began blocking oncoming shots. You flipped out of the shadows with your lightsabers activated to help.

“There’s two of them!” A guard shouted.

You and Ahsoka separated, going opposite ways to get the guards to split up. It worked almost too easy. You both took care of the guards before taking places on top of the inner gate. The Mandalorian was standing on the ground, facing the hired gun. You gave Ahsoka a nod before she jumped down, into the inner gate where the Magistrate was hiding.

“So, you threw in with the Jedi,” said the hired gun.

“Looks that way,” the Mandalorian responded.

You stood at the gate, watching over the two sides. You knew that Ahsoka wanted to handle this part alone, it was her quest. The grunts and sound of lightsabers clashing against beskar signaled that the fight was on.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?” The hired gun asked, taking a few steps toward the Mandalorian. “Could be your side… could be my side.” He continued taking small steps toward your new ally. “I got no quarrel with you, Mandalorian.”

“That’s far enough,” the Mandalorian stated, his hand going to hover over the blaster on his leg.

“You and I, we’re a lot alike. Willing to lay our lives down for the right cause. Which this is not.”

The sound of the beskar rod falling to the ground echoed through the air. You looked back to see that Ahsoka had won. Then turned back to see that the Mandalorian had shot the hired gun man. You jumped down to stand beside him.

“You know, I visited Mandalore once,” you said. “My… my husband loved Mandalore. His first love was Satine Kryze… I’m sorry about Mandalore. About everything that happened to it… I really am.”

The Mandalorian didn’t respond, choosing to look at a man coming out of one of the huts. 

The two nodded at each other before the man shouted, “Behind you!”

You were faster than the Mandalorian. Before his gun was in his hand, you had activated your yellow saber and tossed it behind you, slicing the droid on the roof in half. Your saber came back to your hand easily and the man in front of you looked at you.

“I know who you are,” he said. “Jedi General Y/N L/N.” 

“Please, it’s just Y/N now,” you told the man.

“Thank you, for helping us.”

You gave him a smile before waking away. You would never get used to how people knew you due to the wars you fought in, and you never hoped to.

~~~

As the city began to celebrate their freedom, you, Ahsoka, and the Mandalorian walked out. The three of you stopped outside of the main gate.

“I believe this was your payment,” Ahsoka said, holding the beskar rod.

“No,” the Mandalorian shook his head, “I can’t accept. I didn’t finish the job.”

“No. But this belongs with a Mandalorian.”

Hesitantly, the Mandalorian took it.

“Where is Grogu?” You asked.

“Back at the ship,” he answered. “Wait here, I’ll go get him.” 

You watched as he walked off, feeling the emotions swirling within him. “They have a father-son attachment,” you noted. “That bond is… it can be dangerous if he’s trained.”

“Yes,” Ahsoka agreed. “Who do you think will train him?”

“I think that Luke will. But the two need to find each other. I am not bringing Grogu to Luke. If it is meant to be, the Force will find a way.”

~~~

Due to the time that the Mandalorian was taking, you and Ahsoka ended up showing up at his ship.

“You’re like a father to him,” Ahsoka stated as the Mandalorian walked down the ramp.

“Because of that, we will not train him,” you said.

“There is one possibility. Go to the planet Tython. You will find the ancient ruins of a temple that has strong connection to the Force. Place Grogu on the seeing stone at the top of the mountain.”

“Then what?” The Mandalorian wondered.

“Then Grogu may choose his path,” you answered. “If he reaches out through the Force, there’s a chance a Jedi may sense his presence and come searching for him.”

“There aren’t many Jedi left,” warned Ahsoka.

“Thank you,” said the Mandalorian.

“May the Force be with you.”

You and Ahsoka watched as the Mandalorian and Grogu went back into the ship. Grogu waved his small hand at the two of you, causing you both to smile. You stood there until they had flown away, then you turned to Ahsoka.

“I’m afraid it’s time for me to leave,” you said. “But, I have a feeling our paths will cross again.”

“As do I,” she responded. She brought you in for a hug. “Please stay safe.”

“As long as you promise to do the same.”

next chapter >

TAGLIST IS CLOSED - Taglist Information

[eveningserenityyy]

His Apology | OneShot

Pairings: Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

Wordcount: 5,179k

Summary: You, a senator, are in a secret relationship with Jedi master Obi-wan. His actions on a mission of his left you deeply upset with him, and after a few days of tension, he comes to apologize to you and ends up doing so in a rather special way.

Warning/tags: NSFW (smut), Oral f receiving, hurt/comfort, praise kink, teasing, fluff, vanilla, f!reader, a sprinkle of angst.

>Original here (first time crossposting to Tumblr, & this was my first NSFW oneshot ever, so enjoy! More are to come!)

It had been three days since you had last seen him. Three days since your argument.

You have been dealing with far too much lately in terms of your political affairs. Day after day you have been so focused on relief efforts and attempting to de-escalate the war by pushing for an end to it with help of fellow Senator Amidala and Senator Organa. It was exhausting for all parties involved.

The only thing that got you through any of this was knowing you had someone to come home to, someone to hold you and vice versa. The person you felt closer to than any other being, your person. The one who you could confide in, sharing details about your day with each other all while you laid your head on his lap with a content hum as you felt his fingers gently comb through your hair so affectionately.

Those early mornings you cherished too. You would usually have to get up early most days, except he would never let you get up without a fight for it. He was not a morning person by any means as he slept whenever he could, and truthfully, you found him adorable in this state. The messy hair that only your eyes ever got to see, tired half-shut blues, and groggy whines when you tried to leave his firm grasp he held on you. It pained you to have to leave him at all, as you felt so safe with him in these moments under the covers. 

But you were still angry with him, that hadn’t yet faded. As much as you wanted to forget about what happened and go back to normal, you also couldn’t shake the need to yell at him for hurting you on account of his sudden recklessness.

While away on his Jedi general duties, he had needlessly risked his life in the heat of the moment when it was entirely unnecessary for him to do. And he didn’t even have the guts to tell you himself, you had heard it from Padme who heard it from Anakin. She had asked how he was, and mentioned the fact that you must’ve been so worried about him. When you asked what she meant, well, that’s when you discovered what he had done while away. You thought you were gonna be sick at that moment, when your stomach dropped and your head got dizzy. 

You knew the risks that came with war, and yet you always worried about him when he was on the battlefield anyways, or anywhere at all really. That's what love is, right?  But you always trusted him to do what was right, and to come back home in one piece for you. You were disappointed. Disappointed in the fact he had lied to you about it, and that he did something so irresponsible. People needed him, the republic, the Jedi, Anakin, You.

‘What would I do without you?’ You had asked him, and to that, he had no reply as he lowered his head in such guilt.

It just wasn’t like him, or you thought it wasn’t in your very knowledgeable opinion about him.

He apologised for it over and over, but he knew that maybe you couldn’t be ready to forgive him so easily, so he left you to think. That was hard for him. And unknown to you, he had barely slept in the last three days without you. He hadn’t meant to hurt you, but he also had to own up to his mistake. He knew he fucked up greatly, and even he thought this unlike him.

He disregarded the code for you, risked the only life he had ever known for you and still continued to do so out of love. Not that you hadn’t argued against your feelings for each other at first, of course, but he won in the end. The point is, you were the realest thing in his life. You were the one who allowed him to feel, and now he might lose you over such a stupid decision on his part.

And now here you stood, in the apartment you secretly shared, alone.

You were in your bedroom, trying to fold some of your own clothes by hand just attempting to focus on anything else after a long day of mental torment and work. You picked up one of your more special dresses, feeling the fabric between your fingers. This was the dress you had met him in, and a sad smile crept onto your face while you looked at it. He particularly favoured this one on you, admiring how it clung to your figure all while making sure you knew what kind of thoughts that had brought on in his mind whenever you had decided to wear it, a small smirk playing on his features for you to take notice of. Now you were upset that you even looked at it at all.

“It’s ugly anyways I suppose,” You grumbled to yourself, throwing it to the floor in an usual fashion than how it normally got there most nights.

“Well, that's a shame you think so.” You tensed up as his voice suddenly spoke from behind you. You hadn’t heard him come in, sneaky much.

You fought yourself on what to do. You didn’t want to turn around, for if you saw him you didn’t know what you would do. You worried that his soft eyes and annoyingly handsome face would melt your weakened heart all over again, and you were too stubborn and too petty to give in so easily.

But, it had been three days already. And you missed him, maybe more than you were angry. You were stuck in place, not knowing what to do.

He sensed this, and that made him feel worse than he already had. ‘Good.’ He thought. ‘I deserve this, do I not?’

If you had known he was thinking that to himself though, you would have dropped all of your stubborn attitudes to tell him he deserved the world. Yes, you were upset about what he did, but you would never wish for him to think so low of himself just because of you. That was the last effect you wanted to have on him. He had allowed himself to think poorly of himself at times, feeling inadequate for his role as a Jedi master on the council, and like he was still a Padawan on the inside; yet you were always the one to shut these thoughts down and remind him of his worth, how great a Jedi he was, and that he deserved more than he ought to think he does.

It was time for you to swallow your pride. You didn’t have to act like everything was fine, because it wasn’t, but you couldn’t keep giving the silent treatment. It would pain both of you further.

You still chose not to look at him though, having your back turned to him. You kept focus on the clothes in front of you as you continued to fold them. “Where have you been?” You asked plainly, with a bit of bitterness in your tone that you couldn't help.

He let out a breath of relief that he didn't realise he had been holding in. You were talking to him at least, that was good progress. “The temple. It’s been a quiet three days, no duties just yet.”

Lovely, you could have spent time with him that would be considered quite rare these days. Instead, you were wasting all your time too angry to think and now he could leave for battle any day. You wanted to bang your head off of the fucking wall at this point.

He noticed you balling your fists up tightly, and he let out a sigh. He wanted to move closer, but didn’t want to risk upsetting you further, therefore he stayed put. There was a moment of tense silence between you two, the only thing that could be heard were your breaths until he decided to take a chance.

“I missed you, my love. You must know that I have.” The words were spoken so softly and quietly with a great hint of sincerity, yet with so much shame in his tone of voice as well for how he had upset you.

You felt the tears build in your eyes as you dropped the gown you were just holding in response. You ached for him, you couldn’t deny yourselves of that. When you finally built up the confidence to turn your body to look at him, you took notice of how tired he looked, and only then did you realise what this must've done to him. To both of you, really. He lacked that sparkle in his eye, for they looked so tired, almost like he couldn't keep them open much longer. He noticed such a likeness in you too, how you probably hadn’t been sleeping much as well, and how sad you looked from the tears swelling up in your eyes. Neither of you could take this, you were acting like fools- well, you were at the very least.

You let go, practically rushing into his embrace to have him hold you after what felt like ages as you wrapped your own arms around his torso. You let your tears flow into his chest as naturally as they came as his fingers found their way to your hair like usual, running through its softness in a way that comforted you unlike anything else, and did the same for him in return. His other hand found the small of your back, holding onto you securely for he never wished to let you go again.

“How could you scare me like that? Do- do something so stupid!” You asked through cries, your words muffled in his chest as you continued, “You- you know how I love you and-”

He nodded eagerly as he let out soft “shh’s” at your worries, not to dismiss, but to calm. He leaned back to look at you, moving his hand from your hair to the side of your face while his other hand still held your lower back firmly pressing your front against him. His thumb wiped your tears away as he tried to comfort you once more. “I can’t apologise for this enough, my love, but I’m here- look at me, I’m right here. I won’t ever leave you as long as I can help it. Maker- I'm terribly sorry.”

You knew he meant it, he meant it most sincerely. You forgave him now, as being upset over something that cannot be changed would do neither of you any good. You communicate, move on, and work things through, all because you love someone enough to do it. You didn't need to say it, for you knew that he knew, he could feel it radiate from you as you breathed him in- but your cries from distress still pained him, and although you forgave him, he would likely never forgive himself for causing you such pain; but he would continue to prove just how much he cared for you from this point forward.

As he looked at your rosy cheeks and wet eyes all while your chest stopped heaving, he then leaned forward to close the distance between your faces, placing his lips upon your cheek and then up to your tears on the side of your face that his hand couldn’t reach so as to kiss them away ever so gently. This only caused more to fall that he took care of too, as you were overwhelmed with the sensations of his and you felt so dearly for him. The soft lips, rough beard, gentle fingertips on your other cheek, you wondered how you could ever keep him away because right now it felt impossible.

His lips finally met your own as he reached down for them, closing that final distance you were waiting for so eagerly. It was a perfect feeling. Not rough or passionate, but just what you needed for this moment. Loving and tender, yet soft and sensual. You felt like you were on a cloud, it was the type of kiss that swept you off your feet and made your brain go numb. You wondered how the hell you made it through those three days without this, because all of him was now so addicting to you and you had no desire to pull away as his thumb continued to caress your cheek while his lips pressed harder against your own just asking for more. Your anger had turned to lust at this point as you grabbed onto his shoulders to pull him closer.

Just when it was getting more heated, he pulled back while your lips chased for his, not wanting it to end so soon nor expecting it to. He rested his forehead on yours with a knowing smile, “You’ve missed me, hm?”

You huffed, fluttering your eyes open as you allowed your foreheads to rest on each other all while your eyes met his satisfied gaze. “Don’t be so mean.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” He promised softly, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You smiled with nothing but contentment as you let his lips travel your face again. First, pressing a kiss to your lips once more, then the corners of them, your cheek again, and nose. This made you let out a quiet giggle at the feeling of his warm lips all over your skin, it felt so teasing.

He then travelled back down, hovering over your cheek, and lower to press against your jaw, and finally to your neck. He lingered on that spot, pressing more tender kisses on the sensitive skin while he received hums of approval from you.

You shivered in response to the further attention he paid to your neck, and breathed out his name. “Obi-wan…”

He smiled against your skin, “Hmm?”

You bit down on your lip hard, feeling rather tingly from the intimate act of affection. “Is this what you’ve been thinking about all this time?”

His lips moved closer to where your jaw and ear met, hovering between as you felt his hot breath over your skin. “When I said I missed you, I meant all of you." He hesitated, "Will you let me apologise to you?"

You liked this idea of an apology, for you found yourself almost begging at this point. Your breath was hitched, legs were weak, and there was only one thing you could think of. The power he held over you was unbelievable, from the suggestive words and sensual neck kisses It was so easy for him to turn you on. "Please.."

He didn't need to hear anything else as he swept you up with a squeal from you in response to the sudden jerk of movement. He carefully sat you on the edge of your shared bed, pressing one more kiss to your lips as he knelt down before you. The image of him between your legs was enough to make you want to spiral.

He placed each of his hands on your lower legs, slowly hiking your dress up as you watched impatiently until you could feel his soft fingertips rest on your thighs. You spread your legs apart for him in anticipation, and the reaction you were met with was him bringing his lips upon your inner thighs, pressing light butterfly kisses as slowly and teasingly as he could. He was so close to your heat, and he knew how much this affected you. 

He hadn't yet decided whether he wanted to tease you relentlessly or give you everything you begged him for, which of course he was going to do either way but the point still stands.

"Stop being such a tease." You whined as your legs shook against his firm grip he held. He already had so much control over you, and you were ready to give yourself over to him entirely. 

He looked up at you with an innocent expression, "Hm? You want me to take these off?" He asked, obviously hinting at your panties which clung to your wetness.

You let out a whimper you couldn't hold back as you shook your head eagerly. He fucking loved this, loved how bad you wanted him to fuck you, and all the sounds he brought out of you before he even began to touch you. It made him forget how much he liked teasing you, as his mind began to spin at the thought of you beneath him as you withered in pleasure all because of him. In response to this, he swiftly took a hold of your panties and pulled them off your legs, tossing them aside onto the floor as he admired you in your entirety and vulnerable state. He could see how wet he had made you, the clear desire dripping from between your thighs. 

You were prepared for him to commit to more teasing, to make you beg him for more as you squirmed under his grasp as his lips got closer and closer to where you wanted him, nibbling and pressing soft kisses to the soft flesh of your inner thighs all while needy whines and trembling whimpers fell from your lips, when you suddenly felt his warm mouth engulf you. His velvet tongue excitedly exploring your wet folds as you gasped at the unexpected pleasure, travelling up and down your drenched slit like he couldn't get enough of your taste. He held you down firmly by wrapping his arms around your thighs from beneath, keeping them wide open for his and your own pleasure. 

You couldn't resist the urge to moan as his tongue ran over your clit while he was enjoying you, he noticed how your hips shook when he did this and began to draw out slow circles around your sensitive bud, swirling his tongue around it while he enjoyed the sound of your quiet moans. He started sucking it gently, teasingly almost as he looked into your eyes for a reaction, noticing how much of a mess he was building in you. 

"Do I taste good?" You asked between soft gasps and breaths of pleasure, struggling to get the words out as your voice quivered. 

You felt his lips pull into a smile as they wrapped around your clit, pulling away just a second to answer you, sounding breathless. "So good, darling-" He licked it gently again, making you whimper. "Best in the galaxy."

He continued to eat you out like you were the best thing he had ever tasted, knowing damn well he could keep this up all night if he wanted and if you had asked him to. It amazed you time after time again how good he was at this, he left you a moaning mess every. single. time. with just his mouth. 

You felt yourself getting closer to release from the sensations he brought on and the wet noises that erupted from his mouth as he licked and sucked from between your legs. He felt this, and it only made him increase the speed of his tongue against your wet folds and sensitive clit. Your hand travelled down to his hair, pulling and tugging on it to bring his face closer into you if that was possible. This made him moan into you, sending vibrations through you as continuous sounds of pleasure erupted from your throat.

"I'm close," You moaned, gripping the sheets beneath you. Maker, did this feel good.

"Cum on my tongue for me, dear. show me how good I make you feel." He responded breathlessly and with nothing but lust in his tone of voice as he continued to go to town on you.

This only helped you get closer, as your legs began to lose control which only made him hold them down more firmly to keep you from moving too much. Moan after moan slipped from your lips as you came on his tongue from the pleasure just as you were told, he didn't stop the movements of his warm tongue on you until your high was over allowing you to ride it out.

He was quite pleased with himself as he took in every moan that slipped from your soft lips, and when you expected it to be over he ran his tongue over your folds again, cleaning up the mess you had made down there with a hunger evident in his eyes. His tongue swirled around your juices until he was satisfied. "Such a good girl," followed by another mutter of praise as he swallowed the last of it, "All this for me,"

His words sent shivers down your spine, and you swear that could have made you come again.

Finally, he pulled himself up from between your legs, immediately hovering over you with one hand beside your arm to hold himself up and the other on your face as he caressed your bottom lip, gently signalling what he wanted from you now. His lips found your own with ease, as he wanted you to taste yourself on him. He slid his tongue against your bottom lip as to request entrance, and you parted your lips in return. His tongue slipped in between your lips, meeting your own as they entangled each other. You could taste yourself on him, the salty yet sweet flavour he enjoyed so much made your cheeks grow redder than they already were. his beard tickled your face, wet from eating you out just seconds ago.

Your kiss was passionate, having to pull away for breaths every so often before connecting again, and your warm tongues met and entangled each other like a lustful dance. You couldn't get enough of each other. your hands found his hair once more, entangling your fingers into it. You wanted to pull him against you, feel his skin on yours when you noticed he still had his robes on. 

"Take that off," You pulled away from him, gesturing to his clothes as you let out heavy breaths. 

"So impatient, " Without another word he had lifted himself off of you, grabbing at all his layers and throwing them off to the side as he held his gaze of desire on you.

You watched as he undressed, enjoying the show, while also incredibly impatient. You wanted him- no, needed him. You bit your lip in anticipation as he got closer to revealing himself, feeling yourself drip between your thighs all over again. You then remembered you still had your dress on, and swiftly pulled it off over your head with ease as you too threw it to the floor where it belonged. Finally, he had removed all his layers of wool but he didn't give you much more time to look and admire him as he climbed on top of you like before. He connected your lips again, forcing his tongue between your lips as he pushed his body against yours, skin against skin. Nothing else could feel so right.

He removed his mouth from yours, and moved its position to press against the skin of your neck. Kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh more eager than previously on that perfect sweet spot, which elicited soft trembles of pleasure from you. He grinded against you, and you could feel how hard he was. You couldn't take this anymore.

"I need you inside me, please." You begged, getting his attention. He looked into your eyes, and you could see how much lust lingered within them. Maker, it was hot how much he enjoyed this.

He let out a harsh breath, not pulling away from your eyes as his face hovered over your own. "Beg me again, darling. I love it when you beg for me." he had a smile tugging at his lips, a smirk perhaps. 

You did as you were told, but not without an impatient whine from your now sore lips. "Fu- Please, please fuck me. I need you so bad."

"You're so good for me, how could I not?" You loved his praise, and you ended up shaking your head in agreement just to get him going. He was so in love with you, he wanted to give you everything now, whatever you asked even if you didn't do what he asked of you. The whines, moans, the begs for him to fuck you- you were perfect. 

He carefully got himself into place, hands resting beside each side of your head to hold himself up as you wrapped your legs around him. He centred himself now, dragging his tip up and down your wet slit slowly to ready you while also teasing you at the same time. Eventually, his tip stopped at your entrance, slowly dragging in circles around it. He looked to you for approval to keep going, to which you quickly nodded in response. You swear you almost forgot how to breathe as he slowly entered you, slipping In easily from how wet he had already made you.

He slowly dragged his tip in and out of you, before entering you further at a gentle pace until he was almost completely buried inside of you, feeling how you stretched around him perfectly. He began thrusting carefully, not wanting to hurt you when he really started going. "Is this alright for you?"

"Mm, " You nodded, biting your lip and impatient for more. He was going too slow, you wanted him to fuck you so hard that you saw stars. "Faster, I'll tell you if you need to stop. Just fuck me."

He got the hint, and paced his thrusts with more speed at your command. With every thrust he made, the pleasure inside the both of you grew. Your walls hugged his cock perfectly, making his eyelids flutter shut for a few moments as he too let out a moan followed by a few quiet swears. You were the noisy one, but fuck did you love the sounds you could draw from him too. You could tell he was trying to hold back on taking you at full speed, he was struggling to resist himself as his thrusts got harder and faster and more shaky even. He wanted to pound you into this mattress, and you knew how to get him there.

You dug your nails into his shoulders, gripping harder as his cock pumped in and out of you at a faster pace than before. Moans kept pouring out of you that you couldn't help, you sounded like you were in heat. He enjoyed every single one of them, revering in the fact that no one else could make you feel this good. 

"So good for me aren't you- fit so perfectly- I love fucking you, good girl." He struggled to get the words out in one piece, grunting as he praised you and continued to do so.

As he praised you, your walls gripped his cock tighter than before. That got you closer and he knew it. You felt so submissive from under him, and he knew that too. "Oh- you like my praise, do you? Don't cum just yet, darling, almost there."

Almost like a reward, it seemed he let himself go and stopped resisting his needs. He was pounding into your pussy now, just how he wanted to. With his stamina, he could go like this for hours as you squirmed and that thought turned you on even more. You were in ecstasy at this point, practically screaming his name now as he pounded you into the bed at the perfect pace. You weren't gonna last much longer with his head hitting your g spot with such force, and you hoped he would let you cum soon. 

You hit your face in his neck, biting down as to muffle your screams of pleasure. He growled, and if you thought he was pounding you hard then, well it was even harder now. Just how you liked it.

"I know, love- make you feel so good, but I need to hear you. Let me hear how good it feels." With that, your teeth fell from his neck and the only thing you were capable of as he pounded your pussy was to jerk your head back in ecstasy, your eyes rolling back into your head as his thrusts ceased to slow down just yet.

You were nothing but a whimpering and moaning pile of pleasure from beneath him, you wanted him to do this all night yet at the same time you were so close to cumming and needed that sweet release from him. He felt so good from inside you as your tight walls gripped onto him, pumping in and out like this. As your brain fogged, all you thought about was him and how much you loved him as he fucked you good for the first time in days. 

He felt your grip tightening on his cock as he pounded you into a pile of moans at this never-ending pace he held. His eyes fluttered again as his own sounds of pleasure fell from between his lips. He needed release just as much as you did. "Cum for me now, my love, cum on my cock. Prove how good I fucked you tonight."

He gave more praise, calling you his good girl and more to encourage your climax. You could barely speak as your whole body shook to it's core, eyes rolled as far back as possible as your back arched itself instinctively, your grip on his shoulders loosening as you lost control of yourself. Moans turned to screams of ecstasy all over again as you came hard on his cock. He continued to thrust inside you at the same insane pace as you orgasmed, before he couldn't handle it either and his grunts turned to moans as he too came inside of you, his seed pumping into you encasing your velvet walls. 

"I love you- so much," He panted as he finished inside of you, placing a kiss on your forehead while he did so before pulling out and falling down beside your exhausted little figure.

"Mm- love- love you too." You managed to force the words out of your now sore throat, you really couldn't function, hell- you could barely breathe. You wondered how you were gonna walk into work tomorrow. 

He let out an airy chuckle, pulling you into his chest as he kissed your flushed cheek. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes could barely stay open. He adored you with all his heart, and as hard breaths rose and fell from his chest he admired your flushed face in pure adoration. "Perhaps I should've been more gentle with that apology."

You forced your eyes open to look at him, looking back in pure adoration just as he did while you tried to get your brain to work again. "W-why was I mad at you again?"

Really puts 'fucking your brains out' on a whole other level.

[thefact0rygirl]

Edging Obi-Wan for the kinktober list?

red | obi-wan kenobi x sith!reader

Kinktober Day Seven: Edging

kinktober masterlist | main masterlist

Rating: Explicit 18+

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Sith!Fem!Reader

Reader Description: reader has red eyes like the sith, but there is no mention of their real eye color.

Warnings: enemies with benefits, dom!reader, edging/orgasm denial, handjob, cock ring use, face sitting

“You’re doing so well, Jedi. I think you deserve a reward, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan tumbles through a fog of arousal and euphoria looking for a witty response, but he can't find the words with your warm breath tickling his cheek. Not when you're kneeling over him, one hand carding through his hair while the other strokes his cock.

He swallows, his tongue feeling too big and too dry for his mouth from the time — has it been minutes, maybe hours? — spent panting and moaning as you tease him mercilessly. And it only continues when you give the tip of his cock a twist of your wrist, a pearl of precum spilling over your fingers. 

“Or should I make this tighter?" Your hand moves to cup his balls, cradling them before gently tapping the rubber ring wrapped around his base. “Hmmm? What do you think?”

There is a deep scratch along his voice as he moans your name. He wants to say something clever, something to throw you off balance and make your thighs clench, but his muddled brain freezes when he meets your intense gaze. Your eyes burn bright red. Red like blood, red like fire, red like the Sith. 

And maybe it’s the ring wrapped around his cock that is toying with his vision, but he swears he can see your natural eye color along the edge of your irises.  He remembers your eyes when there was no red. Bright and shining, just like you. He wishes he could see them again. No red, no war, just you.

Breaking away from his thoughts, he musters a strangled response, “Is this…fuck… is this really necessary? I think you’ve made your point, my dear.”

You tilt your head to the side, an amused smirk donning your lips as you give him a hard stroke. His hips buck underneath you as you slide through the precum gathering at his tip before lifting a finger to your lips. You wrap your lips around it, letting the salty taste of Obi-Wan flood your taste buds.

“Stop acting like that, Jedi,” You say, pulling your finger out of your mouth with a loud ‘pop’. “You know you like this.”

And, fuck, he really does. 

The rubber ring wrapped around him…it makes his cock stand up more than it ever has, his balls swelling a little more than usual with a brighter shade of pink. The veins running along his length are more prominent, bulging more with adrenaline and pleasure pumping through his veins.

Try as he might, you don’t miss the way his dry tongue is unsuccessfully trying to wet his parched lips. “Maybe I can start by helping you with that dry mouth.” You whisper against his ear. Before he can fully process your words, you’re pushing him down on his back and crawling up his chest. Straddling his face, you coo to him, "Let's see if we can remedy that."

Yeah, he fucking loves this.

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[kneamet]

Hi hi hi :D I loved my beautiful madness, by the way <3 I'm not sure if i could request again but can i put in another request but this time it's for Obi-Wan Kenobi or Patrick Mckenna? I had this idea from listening to the song Meant to be yours and it made me think of two ideas: a. Sith!Obi-Wan hunting down Jedi Knight!Reader as she hides during order 66, but then Obi-Wan starts professing his feelings for the reader in a very very twisted way (The lyric i based this idea from was "You were meant to be mine, i am all that you need! You cut open my heart, [you] can't just leave me to bleed!") There could be two endings to it (it's up to you if you want to add this part in hihi) 1. Reader comes out of hiding and willingly surrenders to Obi-Wan, something happens that makes the reader give in to the dark side (can be the obsessive joy that comes from Obi-Wan, or can be a short kiss) 2. Reader manages to make Obi-Wan snap and he accidentally *ahem* kills the reader; Obi-Wan has to live with the guilt of losing his love for the rest of his life AND b, Patrick and reader are dating (well, in Patrick's perspective he and the reader are dating), but then the Reader says she wants to separate herself from him, which angers Patrick and scares the reader into staying with him (Based on the lyric "You toss me out like i was trash, for that, you should be dead) and then it ends with Patrick just trying to calm the reader down from his outburst Hehe thanks so much!

The stars all belong to the Gods

Trigger Warning: angst, fear, yandere, obsession

Word Count: 2345

Character: sith!obi-wan kenobi/reader

Summary: Death could not be denied, death could not be avoided; Obi-Wan was death. Frightened by his own power, turned to the dark side, fell under the power of Darth Sidious, he was lost. Obi-Wan was mired in darkness, wrapped in the thinnest threads of madness, but he never forgot about you. The distant stars fell under his tears when he, unable to touch, watched you.

When Obi-Wan rose, the stars lit up in the sky. A great Jedi who lost a master at a young age, fought a Sith, did not succumb to the dark side — there were legends about Obi-Wan in the temple. And while the adult Jedi were whispering about him, the younglings were inspired by his story until they learned the terrible news — their revered symbol turned to the dark side, betrayed the codex and thrust a lightsaber into a student on a fiery Mustafar. When Obi-Wan fell, the only thing you felt was emptiness. An all-consuming, all-encompassing, dreary emptiness. The words struck you like thunder, and while the master was leaving, you looked at the floor in an eclipse, did not believe.

Old acquaintances, padawans with a forbidden connection, you did not hide secrets from each other, trusted each other, supported each other. Even when Obi-Wan had a student, even when there were moments of sadness and separation, you always knew: you have him, he has you — and your forbidden bond is one. Bitter nights, as soon as the walls were cold, pressed, and the dream was the worst nightmare, he came to you, saved you from a fictional villain and hugged, kissed the top of your head with weathered lips. His big rough hands stroked back, and his head lay on his shoulder — and the rest of the dream passed.

You swear when the sand of Tatooine winds in your squinting eyes, leaving grains of sand in the folds of your nondescript clothes. Boots tread on hard sand. The house — the cave, to tell the truth — in which you live was far from the city and all thanks to Order 66; an order that changed your entire former life. Sighing, you look down. There is very little time left before home and your day repeats itself from time to time: dawn is the beginning of wakefulness, day is work, sunset is sleep.

You had the fate of a martyr, and it was unclear why you continue to exist — to create or destroy? How many deaths were on your hands — and it doesn't matter, Sith, civilians — how many destroyed houses, broken destinies. How many children... Victims of your stupidity, naivety! disbelief that Obi-Wan could betray the rules, the Council, and you. His ashen body — which was in peacetime, your time, glowing, freckled — burned to scars.

Deprived of all the benefits, ruined by your own aspirations, stopped by the masters, you exiled yourself, hid in the darkness of darkness, having no light. The Jedi are gone, life is over. Reproaching yourself, eating your soul and heart with memories of poor children, you had to hide on Tatooine, in a world of sand and sadness, forgotten ideas and people. The sun was your eternal companion, withstood all the aching pain, absorbed doubts and worries, disturbed the heart.

The Sith became the lords of thoughts; seized power, possessed minds, exterminated former Jedi. There were quite a few rumors about one of the most formidable Sith — Darth Lant, famous for his elegant cruelty, exhaustion and seductive voice. He was a fallen Jedi, General Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi, your Obi. He forgot everything, burned fiercely and left half-ruined cities in ashes behind him, but succumbed to the influence of your charms, gently and menacingly, to the point of trembling, whispering words of love and gently caressing.

His straw-colored hair has become stiff, long, and his hands are always wearing gloves. Obi-Wan came to you in your dreams, talked with the intonation of approaching danger and continued to talk about meeting soon. He, like the white knight, saved you from terrible monsters — which he was — and began to attack you with special pleasure. It was a shame to admit it, but the old, such familiar movements brought back the lost dignity and excitement, brought out of the terrifying confusion and pain in which the heart had been fully immersed for the last two years, and you again recalled those carefree days with little Kenobi.

He directed dreams, created them for you and built castles in the air. He came up to you with a grin, took advantage of confusion and defenselessness: he walked around from the side of the leading hand and put a sword to his throat. He enjoyed, he rejoiced, played like a child. He is your death, your time, your space, your pain. And he will be your executioner.

Your door creaks, and you immediately feel something wrong. Straining your gut, connecting with the Force — I am one with the Force — you inspect a familiar house: a bed, a carpet, wooden cabinets and a wardrobe. Your hands sweat, breathing slows down when you forcefully hear the world you know, a familiar personality, a favorite whisper. Clenching your teeth, you squeeze your lips and want to rush to the closet, but you stood there, as if chained... or someone else's the Force.

"Oh, darling, you have no idea what it's like to see you alive and completely at my mercy," a voice murmured from behind. There was a rustling, incomprehensible sounds. Obi-Wan was coming out of the second room, smiling and playfully shaking his head. "I've been dreaming about meeting you for a long time... You've changed so much in the last two years... You look different in holograms. I keep every one of them."

Long, matted hair covered an overgrown face, on which there were several scars; one healed scar crossed an eye. The light eyes turned yellow — dangerous, possessed and vindictive, such as only Sith have. The eyes of an animal, not a human. His clothes were dark, malicious, worn, and there were scars on the exposed parts of his body. Having lost his beauty, he remembered the annoying words of the code. It was driven into the head, securely fixed in it.

"I can touch you!" Obi-Wan said with childish delight, touching your face distorted in anger. His hand was shaking, but you could see the broken, bitten nails on his fingers. He barely touched you, as his face immediately transformed: he licked his lips, opened his mouth and looked at you with an incomprehensible shade of sadness. His palm continued to stroke cheek, gently and weightlessly, as if he was afraid to touch you. "You're so real..."

"Let me go, Obi-Wan," you said through the pain in your throat, through Kenobi's the Force, but he only frowned. The fingers pressed lightly on the skin. "Please..."

"Darling, don't, you won't run away. You know perfectly well that I am stronger than you. All the masters talked about it. Or should I remind you of our sparring sessions?"

"I remember them well, Obi-Wan, and I remember that you lost in the last."

"Obi-Wan lost, darling, but Darth Lant didn't lose. I could fight you now," he ran his hand over your shoulder, slowly descending lower and lower, "but I don't see any fun in it. You're weak, but you're so adorable!

It was getting painful to stand. Obi-Wan kept saying something, turning away from you, but his words flew by, didn't seem true. He stood slouched, his shoulders were heavy, his posture tense. Kenobi looked like a king surrounded by disappointed subjects; even now, no matter how much he tried to appear mocking, goofy, menacing, there was universal fatigue in him. Fatigue from the world, fatigue from the laws, fatigue from misunderstanding. Obi-Wan was promised freedom, but he continued to feel the shackles on ankles.

There was a sweet lie in the words of Darth Sidious, which he fell for. The Dark Lord looked solid, scary and creepy; Obi-Wan was kneeling in front of him, humbly lowering his head and whispering words of forgiveness with his lips, he did everything right, he did it for you! it seemed to him few years ago. But death had no love, she was a vile, mocking creature, whose wounds he successfully mashed.

In the dark, where only red and gold existed, Obi-Wan was the hero of the ashes; he emerged from the heat and pain as a champion, but continued to dream of happiness. His life was hectic and not alive, and death remained adamant. For death life was a scar — people don't live, but heal; life is a sore, a burr, a blister or a pimple. Obi-Wan had all the time in the world to retire and subdue his thoughts, but they continued to remain intrusive, free.

In moments of sadness, in moments of pain and despair, the only thing he thought about was you — your face and a sweet smile, a brisk temper and a sharp laugh, warm hugs and eternal criticism of the objectionable. Obi-Wan couldn't do anything with himself; during the fights, the murders, in the midst of the corpses of adults and children, the screams of men and the crying of women, while his trembling hand clutched a lightsaber and his face was sweaty, he thought about you. Tossing and turning on hard beds, getting lost and connecting with you in dreams; and while Darth Lant was conquering the world, Obi-Wan couldn't conquer you. His heart sank every time you turned away from him.

His palate had its throat cut long ago.

The silence was deafening. Obi-Wan, lost in thought to the core, suddenly turned to you with a confused face. His eyes seemed bright again for a couple of seconds, mired in blue and calm, and his face seemed transformed — he seemed young, handsome and yours again. The former Obi, who was not afraid to show love, who overcame madness and doubts; the former Obi-Wan, who loved you, and you loved him. What has changed?

"You... Do you want to come with me?" he was naive, he came up again and touched you. His the Force was weakening, but you continued to stay in place and not move. "I can give you the whole world!" his gaze is soulless and cold, but there is beauty in it; beauty is different, unknown. Frightening beauty. "I'll give you everything you want, I'll give you everything that's left! Just let me love you up close again... Just be mine again, please..."

He was different from what he was in dreams. You looked at him carefully and, like a second, he will fall to his knees in front of you. The rumors that spread from mouth to mouth in the city were not confirmed: in the stories of your friends, sellers in the market, ordinary workers, he appeared in the form of a terrible figure, carrying thousands of deaths, cold and torture. An evil Sith who abandoned the Codex and the Jedi; a big, scary and ironic man for whom life is just entertainment, and demise is a snap of two fingers.

"Obi-Wan, please..."

"No! Why don't you want to listen to me?! What did I do wrong?" he exclaimed, and his eyes watered for a second from the sunlight from the window. There's a damn empty desert there, no souls and only peace. Did he really want this outcome? Why did he serve the Sith? "You were meant to be mine, I am all that you need!"

A second — and something squeezes the neck, something tightens. The body rises up, you try unsuccessfully to grab air with your mouth. The breath disappears, the nose lays, the words are lost and useless. The lower jaw and stomach are shaking, the body is numb. Thousands of moments and memories flash before eyes, millions of images from a past life flash by; a life so happy, serene... That life when you were naive, because you thought you could save a fallen warrior, heal wounds.

The second second — the two of you are lying in his apartment, wrapped in a warm blanket and looking at the dark ceiling. Your hands are tightly clasped, and while Obi-Wan whispers to you sweet passions, stupidities and promises stars, you purse your lips, looking at his face — in his eyes, giving off blue, like water in the purest sea, you selflessly drown. His voice — his alluring, forbidden and such a charming voice —  extraordinary.

"You cut my heart! Left me!"

The third second — and Obi-Wan's face is distorted in anger. You take your last breath, it gets dark in your eyes, and your body falls to the dirty floor. You forget yourself, you die, you don't see how Obi-Wan's eyes turn blue again, yours. He runs up to you with an invisible expression, says something, begs for help, tries to lift you up, staggers and wraps his rough hands around you. No, no, no! The thought of death pierces through the heart, empties and almost stops beating; there is a deafening ringing in the ears.

His head bends down, and Obi-Wan touches your body with it — soulless, inanimate... He wants to scream, turn off in the languor of self-immolation, turn back time and change everything. A shaking hand ran through your tangled, clean hair, Obi-Wan hoped that you could feel him, forgive him. He hugged you, throwing the sword far away, and cried.

He kissed your back, and now he inflicted thousands of wounds there. He whispered words of tenderness to you, and now he muttered threats. Beauty remained with you even now, at the moment lost for him, when it is unknown where to move now? and will he be able to forgive himself for this nightmare? Obi-Wan returns to the house and everything is the end of life: he, absorbed and brought up by the darkness, dies, only Darth Lant remains.

Obi-Wan looked at your exhausted body and tried to preserve it. A person had a choice — a choice to love, a choice to die, a choice to be or to be, a choice to keep cold or to burn, but Obi-Wan had no choice. There was no free will. Devoid of love, devoid of emotions, devoid of home and sleep, he gets up by force, grabbing a sword, and looks at you for the last time. Darth Lant pressed his lips together and, looking away, left the cave, leaving behind his fears, his beloved and his choice.

When Obi-Wan fell, the stars cried, died.

and here im back, hooray! @jjeresano-euler, im sorry if there was something wrong and u can always ask for something else and ill write (including your second idea with patrick). i hope you enjoyed it!

[ddejavvu]

a major obi-wan thought on my bedtime rotation is the idea of sparring with him like that scene from miss congeniality WOAHHH another would be the interrogation with reader being a potential spy idk maybe i just find interrogations sexy.. and u cant go wrong with the classic mean obi wan taming a brat reader whose perhaps his padawan or an unruly senator under his protection ELITEEE

if you want sparring with obi-wan, you can check out my fic betrayal, that was meant to be a quick and dirty 200 words and ended up being a 17K porn novel <3 i totally agree with you on the interrogation front, i swear with the way he holds eye contact with jango in aotc i'm surprised the guy's pants didn't drop of their own accord. all that to say i've chosen the senator plotline <3

this post is 18+, minors dni.

You're not entirely sure how the Force works, but you're willing to bet that it opened its big fat mouth and told your overzealous security guard that you were trying to escape. You made sure to be deadly silent, and you'd blocked the cameras set up to monitor your bedroom, so you know he hadn't seen or heard you. Nevertheless, he stands in your bedroom doorway looking very unimpressed by the one leg you've managed to weasel through your window.

"Tell me, Senator," He calls, voice purposefully casual, like you're not bisected by a pane of glass, "Are you trying to kill yourself so that no one else gets the chance?"

"I'm not going to die." You insist, moving further still out of the window, "I'm going to take a walk."

"How many stories up are we? Two hundred?" Master Kenobi asks, this time stepping forwards into your room. He approaches your window but doesn't grab you, merely staring down at the very long distance between you and the ground.

"One-hundred-and-eight." You grunt, your strength waning the more you hang from the ledge of your window. He notices the strain in your voice, but prolongs your suffering with a thoughtful nod.

"Yes, right. I think that's a wonderful coincidence, then, seeing as how that's the number of bones you're going to break if you fall."

"I'm not going to- fall-!" You gasp at the feeling of your foot slipping against the balcony below you, but you're actually thankful for the Force now that it fuels Obi-Wan's quick reflexes. He dives to catch you, and hauls you up by only one of his hands gripping your bicep. It hurts, but you suppose he was right; it would have hurt a lot more to fall.

You're set on your feet with the expression of a tooka caught shredding its owners bedspread, but Obi-Wan meets your surly pout with an unimpressed look of his own. You're safely on the floor of your apartment, but his hand remains curled around your upper arm.

"I didn't think I needed to specify to you that staying 'out of reach' of your assassins did not mean dangling above them like a strung-up target."

"I was going to take a walk in the city," You repeat, teeth gritted, "I was going to keep my hood up, and I was going to blend in with the crowd."

"An excellent plan, truly," Obi-Wan indulges you, "I'm sure the seasoned bounty hunters that are poised to shoot you on sight would have been fooled by a cloth draped over your hair."

"I'm going crazy in here! I have to get out, I have to do something!" You gush, attempting to tear your arm out of Obi-Wan's grip. He doesn't let go, though, and he muscles it back to your side with a fleeting glint of fury in his eyes that you hadn't thought a Jedi was capable of. He walks forwards, and by extension, you walk backwards until your knees hit the frame of your bed and you're pushed down onto the mattress.

"Senator," He starts, keeping his voice tightly wound as he now looms over you, "I have a duty to protect you, but you have a duty to your own life as well. And I will not see you risk it by hanging yourself off of a skyscraper for something as menial as a stroll in the city! If you'd like to walk, you may walk into the closet and get yourself changed into your nightclothes, because the only thing you'll be doing this late at night is sleeping."

"You're not my daddy," You sneer at the man, his audacity setting something in your chest aflame, "You can't tell me what to do. I'm not going to sleep."

"I find your impression of a petulant toddler truly amusing, Senator," Obi-Wan deflects your persistent attempts at boiling him over, "But as you have a hearing to attend tomorrow, I suggest you take my advice and turn in for the night."

You bite the inside of your cheek so hard you're surprised it doesn't split beneath your teeth. He's right. You have a hearing tomorrow, and you're really only protesting sleep because he's asking you to do it. Perhaps.. perhaps that is below your station.

"Go," Obi-Wan's eyes flicker towards your dark closet, "But I would like you to leave the door open, please."

"What?" You rear your head back indignantly, any succession you'd decided on now gone as you process his request, "I'm not letting you watch me change, you freak!"

"I assure you I will not be watching," Obi-Wan lets go of your bicep, leaving a stinging ring around your skin in his wake, "But should there be any climb-able windows or secret exits in your closet that I'm not yet aware of, I don't want to be slowed down by a lock in my attempts to rescue you from your own foolishness."

"You're crazy. I'm telling the Jedi Council about this." You vow, storming off to your closet and tucking yourself into the walk-in portion so that your bodyguard can't see you as you strip down.

"You're more than welcome to, Senator. I suggest, though, that you be truthful with them about your attempts to fall from the two-hundredth-story of this building, otherwise you're going to make me look rather perverted."

"It's the 108th floor!" You snap, any patience you'd possessed throughout your encounter with Kenobi flooding out of you. It heats your skin, blazes it warm, which is perhaps why you've forgotten you're no longer clothed when you whirl around to correct the man to his face.

You're standing in the doorway of your closet now, very angry and very naked. Master Kenobi's eyes stay politely locked on your own, but one of his eyebrows raises, and a corner of his lips twitch in a barely-concealed smirk.

"Senator, if I were you," He drawls, his gaze heavy upon you despite being fixed on only your eyes, "I wouldn't tell the Council that you're giving me a strip show."

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

“Reflections Of A Distant Past” Chapter 6

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Masterlist         

Pairing: Ben Kenobi x F. Reader 

Word Count: 5.9 K

Warnings: None that I can think of, other than I fall in love with this man every day. 

A/N: Hello everyone! I apologize for the delay in posting this, but I was struggling with writer's block due hectic schedule and lack of free time. Nonetheless, I am happy with the end result. There will be more updates I am just not sure when, so I apologize for the inconsistent schedule. As always thank you to everyone who reads and shows support, it is always appreciated. Feel free to comment and share your thoughts and if you want to be added to masterlist, just let me know. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

There had been an undeniable pep in your step in the days following your date with Ben.

You had been humming, smiling, and daydreaming as much as it pained you to admit it. It’s as if you were fifteen years old again.

That thought made you both giggle and roll your eyes in frustration at the same time.

As promised, you had taken a look at your schedule and gotten back to Ben. You had suggested meeting him Friday afternoon for a coffee at the shop Ahsoka worked at. In the summers she worked the morning shift, so she wouldn’t be present when the two of you are on your date; as that would have been awkward for the both of you.

Even though there were only two days between your first date and the next, you felt it went by even faster than you had anticipated the previous date…but that could have been due to your overwhelming excitement.

- - - - - - - - - -

Ben stood in his bathroom mirror, fussing over his hair. He wanted to look his absolute best.

Considering this date was much more casual, he opted for a pair of dark wash jeans and a forest green polo with a pair of brown dress shoes.

Finally happy with the way his hair looked, he quickly combed his beard and grabbed his cologne.

Whistling while he was spraying himself, he hadn’t heard Anakin walk into his bedroom.

Leaning against the frame of the bathroom doorway, Anakin causally crossed his arms and allowed a smile to creep up from the corner of his mouth.

“Wow…look at you….two dates in one week….When should I expect her to move in?”

Glancing at him with his sassy side-eye expression, Ben didn’t pause his fussing with his appearance. “Easy there.” He cautioned.

Anakin gave out a short laugh. “I’m just saying…for a guy who has made it a point to not get involved romantically with anyone in his very long extended life, this week has been a huge one for you…”

Ben smiled thinking of Emma. “Well, that is because there is no one like her Anakin….she’s breathtaking ... .amazing really…”

Straightening, Anakin let his mouth fall open and his eyes widened. “Damn…..You really are in love….you just called her breathtaking.”

“I wouldn’t go that far yet ... .Do I have feelings for her?…yes, unfortunately ... .Am I going to keep seeing her…Well, yes, until she orders me away…”

“IF she orders you away…” Anakin interjected. “...And what do you mean, unfortunately, you have feelings for her, mutual attraction is a strong start to a stable relationship.”

Finally turning away from the mirror and looking fully at his friend, Ben frowned slightly. “...I say unfortunately because she deserves better than a 160-something-year-old monster…”

Rolling his eyes, Anakin leaned against the wall again.“Really? You’re still on this? Are you ever just going to let loose and relax? Doesn’t she make you forget all of that angst and negative emotion? Be free and feel happy again, allow yourself that.”

Walking past Anakin, Ben sat on the side of his bed that occupied the middle of his room. “...She does…When I’m with her…Well…I’d swear it was 1888 again, only because I feel human again, the rest is very un-1888 but…. if I close my eyes, I can envision…I can see her….But she makes me feel better than any woman I loved ever did…”

Sitting next to his alpha, Anakin gently nudged him with his elbow. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it? I mean most people would say it is, but leave it to you to complicate things…”

The two men shared a laugh at the awkward truth.

Ben sighed. “...I think it is a good thing…It only makes me melancholy because I realize that I didn’t really know what love was back then or even now…but honestly, in that society, we were given no choice…in most marriages, the partners learned to love each other because they had to, divorce was not an option if you wanted to keep your standing in society and I suppose…Shopie and I would have made it work over time…I think we were in love…I’m sure I was…”

“Wow…You said her name…”

Nodding his head slowly, Ben looked at Anakin. “I know I need to let go of the past…or at least the pain of the past…the three of you are always telling me that and I think in order to be the best I can be for Emma then I am going to have to actually do it…or at least try to do it…”

Anakin’s head swayed back and forth as he gently shook it. “I can’t believe what I am hearing….”

“Well don’t get too excited yet…She still doesn’t know who or what I am exactly…”

“You haven’t told her?!?!” Anakin exclaimed as he leaned back, away from Ben. “...You’re in this deep and she still doesn’t know?”

Pursing his lips, Ben closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, centering himself so that he didn’t blow up on his friend.

“What was I supposed to do, just blurt it out? We only just had our first date. Other than that we exchanged a handful of text messages and a few in-person conversations…How am I supposed to slip that in? …” Oh, by the way, I was turned into a werewolf, most likely by a psycho serial killer in 1888 and I was born in 1857 in London England which makes me roughly over 160 years old” ....Yeah…that will go over real well…”

Breathing in to also center and calm his wolf, Anakin eyed Ben expectantly. “...You can’t wait too long, you know better, you're the one always on us about the consequences of our actions ... .If her feelings are as strong for you as yours are for her, then waiting too long to tell her something like that will be disastrous.”

Ben knew he was right. He had told himself multiple times that if he was in Emma’s position and that a guy she just met came out with this type of secret after months of dating and thinking that she had feelings for what she thought was a normal guy….well, to put it lightly, he knew he would blow it.

“If things go well this afternoon, I’ll ask her on another date….and on that date, I will tell her…something….No matter how it scares me….”

“You will feel better once you do…”

“Oh, I am sure I will….I can’t tell you how many times I almost said something that gave me away…She is so easy to talk to and at dinner, she was asking me all these questions about my past and I so desperately wanted to tell her the truth because she deserves the truth…”

Ben didn’t voice the part of the silent truth that he discovered…that Emma was the first person he had met in his non-human life that made him feel like it was safe to talk about those things…to allow himself to be vulnerable.  

Alpha werewolves had a hard time with vulnerability and emotion. If shown too much in the wrong circumstances, it could negatively affect them or give a rival alpha or pack member the wrong idea. Therefore, most alphas were jerks or hardasses, even to their packs.

Over the years, Ben had learned to walk a fine line. It helped that his pack was built organically, out of genuineness for the members and that they were small in number. He wasn’t some king-pin type who went around turning people or collecting already-made werewolves to build his pack up so that he could rule with an iron fist and do as he pleased….no, that was not him…man or beast.

Rather, Ben had just tried to detach himself from his emotions altogether and go about things without emotion. At first, all the rage and angst about his new life made it pretty easy. He had been a lone wolf till he found Anakin…after that, it was all about keeping him safe and in line….from there, he developed his traits and style as a leader. It helped that the man he was had been groomed to be a leader; as most men in that society were.

Anakin reached out and placed a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder, cutting his internal thoughts short. “If your feelings are mutual and as strong as they are, she will understand…It may take her a minute to accept it as it did for Padme, but she will come around….”

“I hope so,” Ben whispered.

“The way you describe her, I’d swear she’s your mate, Padme thinks so too….But I know you don’t want to hear that…”

Ben heaved a sigh as he stood up. “Again, do not get ahead of yourself, there is still a lot to be determined.”

Walking out of the room, Anakin decided to lighten the mood. “Whatever,” he raised his hands in surrender.  “…Have fun and ugh…” He looked at Ben over his shoulder and winked. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do…”

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

Ben had offered to pick you up again for your Friday afternoon date, but seeing how the shop was down the street from your shop, you decided just to meet him there. Besides, it was a beautiful bright, sunny day for a walk. The temperature was perfect, there was a slight breeze, and the way downtown looked this time of year always warmed your heart.

It wasn’t a downtown that was towering with looming skyscrapers and gray with concrete. No, instead, downtown looked like something out of a Hallmark movie. Small storefronts, owned by generations of the same family, lined wide paved sidewalks, a flower box in every window. The same old-fashioned-looking street lamps that you walked under on your date night lined the streets. Everyone knew each other in this town and the two biggest things in town were the Walmart and the hospital.

When you walked into the coffee shop, Ben was already there. He was sitting at a table in the corner facing the door. His dark green polo contrasted with his strawberry-blond beard and hair quite nicely, making him quickly noticeable. He was sitting casually cross-legged, reading the newspaper. Yet, you could tell by the way his eyes crinkled that he could see over the top of the paper and knew you had arrived. As you approached the table, he folded the paper and placed it down on the table. Rising to greet you, he hugged you.

You relaxed into his embrace, the feeling of the warmness of his body mixing with his cologne was becoming something you craved. He bought you a coffee of your choice and another for himself.

The conversation lasted for hours and you two were able to pick up right where you left off on Wednesday. You noticed that Ben seemed more relaxed and easygoing, but he would still do that thing where he would square his jaw or tense up when he seemed to be too chatty. Yet, at the same time, he seemed to be aware of this and it almost seemed like he was actively working to not do it, to be more…open.

Growth…effort…. mindfulness…those were positive things. It pleased you to muse that he was aware of his little quirk and that he could be trying to work on it. It was the one thing that would make Ben even more attractive than he already was, mentally and physically.

After hours of nonstop conversation, your stomach growled, halting the conversation. A deep blush slowly overcame your cheeks as your eyes diverted to the floor quickly.

“I’m so sorry, I guess I was more hungry than I realized...It’s been a long day and I only ate breakfast.” You mumbled.

Chucking Ben checked his watch. “No apologies necessary. Although I do apologize for my lack of manners, it’s past 6 o’clock, I’ve kept you out all afternoon…I’ve yammered on…”

He looked at you, his Caribbean blue eyes full of concern as he looked you over as if he had made a grave mistake.

“No! Don’t be silly…I honestly was having such a good time, I didn’t notice ....It was time well spent.”

Softening, he gave you a half smile. “May I take you to dinner then? There’s this great Asian restaurant down the street from the college and I’m in the mood for some Pad Thai…”

That crooked smile he gave you could tempt you to jump off a bridge with him if he asked you to….saying “yes” to dinner was far easier….

“Only if you let me pay…You paid for the coffee and you paid for dinner on Wed. While I appreciate, and enjoy the fact that your gentleman, I’d like to reciprocate as this relationship will be one of equality…After all, my feelings and intentions for you are mutual.”

His eyes somehow became bluer, as if they were electrified. Leaning in forward, so close that he took up your whole vision, he whispered, “...I guess if it is mutual…I can allow it this one time…” He kissed your forehead as he leaned closer.

Catching your breath from the butterflies he had sent surging through your system, you hadn’t noticed that he had been up and on his feet. You turned to find him with his hand extended, “shall we?”

- - - - - - - -

How you had overslept the next morning, you didn’t know. You swore you had set your alarm the night before, but for some reason, you had slept right through it.

Then again, that was unlike you….maybe it never went off?

“Did I forget to set it all together?”

Dinner with Ben had been a lovely continuation of your coffee date. You had been on cloud 9 when you came home and went to bed so it is a possibility that you forgot.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” You huffed jumping out of bed.

Frantically brushing your teeth and trying to dress at the same time, you threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt with the bookstore’s logo on it. Normally you would try to look a bit nice for work, but this morning, anything would do.

Grabbing an empty travel mug from the kitchen cabinet, you resigned yourself to the fact that the little pot you kept in the stock room for emergencies would have to do for today.

Making sure Cole had plenty of food and water, you locked up and dashed out to the garage.

Opening the car door, you all but threw your stuff in the passenger seat as you jumped in.

Turning the keys in the ignition, you heard a “clunk” sound.

A wave of dread washed over you like ice water.

In an attempt to not panic, you tried to turn the key in the ignition again. But the same “clunk” sound was made no matter how hard you turned the key…almost as if the car was coughing in protest, refusing to start.

“No, no, no, no, no….” You panicked as you tried to turn the key again, but it was to no avail.

Flopping back against the seat, you slammed your fist on the steering wheel in exasperation.

This was not what you needed right now. Sales at the store were just enough to keep the door open and although you didn’t like to show it, you were barely getting by. Not showing up at all, on a Saturday. no less, unannounced would not only hurt your overall bottom line, but you would hope it wouldn’t damage the store’s reliable reputation.

Who knew how much this car trouble was going to cost?

Even worse, how were you going to pay for it?

Your eyes pursed shut as you held back tears….

It would work out…it always did…you always made it work and you weren’t about to give up now.

Getting out of the car, you took some calming breaths as you centered yourself.

Pacing in the small garage, you tried to seek out the situation.

The car was fairly new…only about five…maybe six years old at the most…so it couldn’t be too bad of a problem….right?

You’d need to call a tow truck to send it to the repair shop.

Ignoring the sinking feeling at the prospect of another payment, you tried to think of where to send the car.

The dealerships always charged top dollar, and even on your best day you couldn’t afford top dollar, so you usually sent it to a local body shop in town.

“It really is not my day today….” You sighed as you leaned against the black car, resting your head on your arm against the vehicle.

The mechanic shop you had used since college had gone out of business. The sweet old couple that ran it had retired and moved to Boca….

Smiling fondly, you remembered Jim and Barbra. Jim had been a mechanic since he was 17 and specialized in American cars (you drove a Ford) and his wife, Barb, had run the front of the garage; doing the billing and paperwork, answering phones, and handling customers.

Jim was a good mechanic and never screwed his customers like some mechanics do, especially young college girls. And, because you were always a favorite customer of theirs, they usually gave you a slight discount on whatever you needed.

“Whelp ... .Unless I tow this thing to Boca, they can’t help me now.”

You were happy for the elderly couple, they had worked hard and deserved a happy retirement….but as you had realized, they couldn’t help you now….

This led you to your next question, what shop were you sending this to?

Picking one at random made your skin crawl…this was not something that you felt comfortable about, just choosing one at random….

You had once compared it to a pediatrician…would you leave your child in the care of just any old doctor? Heck no…just because it was certified to treat the baby didn’t mean that was the one you wanted to treat your baby.

Maybe you could call Paisley or the girls? See who they used.

Checking your phone, you realized the time.

Huffing, you shot Paisley a quick text, as you realized this had messed up your whole day. She usually did her own thing on Saturdays, so who knows where she was or what she was up to.

The clock on your phone teased you. Not only did you miss out on any potential morning customers, but you might not be able to get to work at all today…or any other day until you got your car back.

Then there was your next date with Ben, you were going to have to call him and either let him know that you were going to be late because you needed to call an Uber or ask him for a ride.

As you played with the phone in your hands, you thought back to Ben…hopefully, he won’t think you were making this up.

What was the likelihood that your car would actually die on a day that you were supposed to meet up for another date…that didn’t look good at all.

“WAIT!” you shrieked as if suddenly hit by a bolt of realization…”Didn’t Ben say that one of his roommates was a mechanic?!”

“Yes! Yes, he had at dinner the other night!”

Desperation overruled nerves. Normally you would have had major butterflies and a dry mouth for a phone call with Ben, especially this early in the relationship, but this took precedence.

Surprisingly, he picked up after one ring.

“Hey Emma!” Ben’s crisp British accent came through on the other line clear as day and normally it would have sent you off into dreamland…but instead, it surprisingly evoked a sense of security and comfort.

“Ben?” You said a little more hesitantly than you would have liked to.

“Emma, Is that you? Emma, what’s wrong? Are you alright?”

You heard a chair slide across the floor as if he was standing up suddenly and his voice sounded alert, his tone ready; as if he could spring to your location through the phone lines to help if you needed him to.

“It is, it's me. I’m sorry to bother you in the morning, Ben…”

“No, that’s alright. Is everything okay, you sound….panicked?”

Panicked…that was a good word to describe the situation.

“Kind of…” You chuckled. “Again I am sorry to bother you but I was running late to the store and when I went to leave the house…well, I can’t start my car and I need a mechanic ... .Your roommate is a mechanic right?”

Ben’s breath slowed and seemed to relax.

“Yes, Anakin is a mechanic, I can arrange to have him look at it, I’m assuming if you can’t get it started then you need to have it towed, right?”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you let out a small giggle. Of course, he anticipated your needs and was one step ahead. Multiple interactions with this man had led you to expect nothing less. “Yeah…I can’t get it started at all, so that would certainly help.”

“Alright, hang tight. I’m grabbing my keys now and I’ll be over. I’ll call Anakin at the garage and have him send a truck to pick it up and then we can follow it to the garage…”

“No, no that’s okay, I can always get an Uber, I don’t want to inconvenience you…”

Ben let out a “pft” sound as you heard him shut a door. “Nonsense, it is no trouble at all really…I’ll be there in 15…”

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

Ben arrived before the tow truck did and you didn’t know it until it happened, but you were grateful.

As he jumped out of his car, he was by your side unnaturally quickly…

But that didn’t matter…you just must have not been paying enough attention to him.

Despite your self-warnings about falling for him too quickly, you practically threw your arms around him as he approached you…and he didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

You could Ben grip you closer and the scratchiness of his beard as he nuzzled himself into your neck. The way your breathing regulated and the relaxation that washed over you memorizing.

If the tow truck hadn’t pulled up to ruin the moment, you weren’t sure you’d ever let go of him…the pull toward him from inside of you was almost magnetic, you wanted to just touch him all the time.

As if time moved in slow motion, your eyes darted between watching the tow truck park and your car in the garage.

Should you take charge? Would that be appropriate because this was Anankin’s associate and Anakin was Ben’s roommate? Would Ben be offended if you took point? He is old-fashioned but does that mean he’s the macho type…the kind of guy whose all “let the men handle this darling…”.....that would be a letdown…..right?

Glancing at you briefly, Ben nonchalantly leaned in and whispered, “Would you like to handle this or may I?”

Most macho men would just jump in and start barking orders, taking charge like some “he-man” but just like that Ben had asked you what you preferred of him like he heard your internal dilemma … and it boosted the already high score that he held with you.

Because he asked, you were okay with him jumping in; you did call him for assistance after all.

“Considering it’s Anakin’s garage we’re going to and you called for the truck, it would make sense for you to take point.”

He smiled.”...That and I know the driver…” Winking, he gave your forehead a kiss, his trademark move thus far. Turning to the driver who was jumping out of the truck, he gave a wave. “Jessie! How are yeh?” He exclaimed as he started walking over to the gentlemen in greasy overalls. He had a wide smile and a buzzed haircut, his chestnut hair barely covering a tattoo of wheel cog on the side of his head.

- - - - - - - - -

Anakin’s garage wasn’t that far from your shop, just a couple of streets over. On a warm day like today, all the bay doors were open, allowing the sunlight to pour into even the tiniest crevices.

Sounds of a summer day in the city, birds chirping, the rustling of a light breeze, conversational chatter from the people passing by on foot, the humm of car engines, all mixed with the sounds of the shop; Anakin’s stereo, machinery, and the sound of Ben’s delicious British accent.

Anakin was exactly what you expected him to be. He was tall with hazel eyes and thick wavy hair that was on the longer side, not quite the neat and conservative look Ben wore. Leaning his hip against the counter, he held an olive green office phone to his ear. Grease and dirt were somehow visible on his black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans.

He was in a room off to the garage that appeared to be an office, as the only things around him were two old desks, a bunch of filing cabinets, a computer, and some chairs. Large windows offered a view into the bays where the cars were serviced, which is how he noticed you and Ben.

“Yeah, they just walked in now.” He said with a sly smile into the phone. “I gotta go, I’ll call you later babe. Love you.”

Hanging up the receiver, he bounced off the wall, and practically sprang forward toward you and Ben, like a puppy excited to find his master had returned.

Despite Ben’s wide smile and head nod, you noticed that he had wrapped his around the small of your back and that his hand was resting on your hip, almost as if claiming his territory ... .or protecting you from some unknown threat.

“EMMA!” Anakin exclaimed. “I’ve heard so much about you! Ben hasn’t shut up about you since your date Wed. night!”

Glancing at Ben, whose grip had tightened around you the closer his roommate got, was a shade lighter than his hair color. But you found Anakin’s antics good-natured.

“It’s great to finally meet you!” Anakin practically grabbed you out of Ben’s grip and lifted you off your feet into a bear hug.

A few things struck you all at the same time. Firstly, Anakin’s skin temperature was as hot as Ben’s, which was odd to begin with. You could chalk it up to Ben just running hot but two people, un-biologically related both having that same quirk ... .no…that was weird ... .Secondly, Anakin’s bear hug nearly crushed you, it was as if he had the strength of Hercules. Thirdly, his physique was ripped with model good looks ... ..the chiseled body, strong jaw, tall, broad-shouldered, and a face that would make any girl swoon…again…like Ben….

How is it that they all have these qualities?…..it was that little voice in the back of your head that wouldn’t quit nagging you about the weird things that Ben did or how fast you were falling for him…

It didn’t go over your head though that Anakin mentioned that Ben couldn’t stop talking about you.

Coughing, you tried to speak despite being crushed. “It’s….g..great to meet….yo….you too…Ana…”

From behind you, Ben coughed. “I think you’ve made your point Anakin. You're happy to meet her, put her down before she suffocates.”

Placing you on your feet, you felt the air surge into your lungs again. Ben was by your side again when you caught your bearings.

Shrugging his shoulders playfully, Ananakin gave you a crooked smile. “...Sorry….”

“It’s okay, I am equally as excited to meet you as well. Ben has told me so many great things about you and the rest of your household. You guys are like brothers.”

A puppy was what you quickly began to associate Anakin with. His large eyes and overly expressive features were entertaining and adorable.

A bashful smile overcame the mechanic. “Aw well, he speaks highly of me ... .in front of company it seems like...well….You should see him when I don’t follow orders….”

“Anakin!” Ben hissed through gritted teeth. The sharp command made the two of you jump to attention.

Catching himself, he coughed; clearing his throat. Doing that thing where he visibly relaxes, he dropped his shoulders and loosened his grip on you.

“The car, Anakin….have you had a chance to look at it?”

The tension in the room dropped by a thousand.

Letting out a breath, Anakin tilted his head back toward the nearest bay. “Yeah, it got here about 10 mins ago…Just finished before you got here.”

Walking towards your car, which now had its hood popped with a light hanging under the hood.

“According to the computer reading…” Anakin leaned in…” and my own diagnostic testing…” He bumped your shoulder playfully. “It seems to be the starter, it looks like it is blown. On top of that some general maintenance stuff… needs some new spark plugs and your fluids need to be topped off…How often do you get this car maintenance?”

Your stomach felt like it dropped out from inside of you and hit the floor. “When I can afford it or if it is necessary.” You murmured.

“Yeah, it shows.” Anakin chuckled.

“Anakin.” Ben glared at him.

“Sorry...I just get passionate about cars…” the roommate apologized.

“ ‘s okay….How much is all this going to cost.”

Anakin’s lips tightened. “With parts and labor….around a thousand bucks….”

You unintentionally sucked in a breath and you felt your heart stop beating. There was no way with everything you had going on and how the store was barely hanging on you would be able to afford this.

Unbeknownst to you, the two men exchanged a look and nodded.

“But since your family, it’s all good.”

Ben’s eyes clamped shut and his jaw squared as your eyes darted between the two.

“No, no I couldn’t…..I don’t take charity…and I’m not family.”

“Well not yet, but you are dating family, and in this pack family doesn’t pay for car maintenance.”

“Pack?” You questioned at the same time Ben said, “We aren’t officially dating yet, but thanks for beating me to the punch Anakin,” though his tone was still strong and warning.

Ignoring your question about his usage of the term “pack,”  Anakin chose to respond to Ben’s comment. “Well whatever you two want to call it, you’re associated with one another, and your family Ben, so all of his privileges extend to you, Emma.” His tone was exasperated as he shrugged his shoulders and threw his hands in the air.

You shook your head back and forth.“Still ... .I can’t accept that, it’s not fair to you ... .you deserve to get paid for your work, same as if I was any other client… and I wasn’t looking for handouts when I called, I was looking for consistency and accountability.”

“How about a compromise,” Ben interjected. “A no-interest payment plan that Emma can make at her leisure. That way…” He turned to look at you, “Emma doesn’t feel like we are doing her a favor, and,” he turned to Anakin, “Anakin gets paid for his work and gets to keep his “helping out family policy” and everyone wins.”

His eyes darted back and forth between you two.

“Deal!” You exclaimed so fast you startled them.

Taking a sigh of defeat, Anakin bobbed his head. “I guess it’s fair ... .alright….fine…but you have to take a loaner car at no cost.”

You chuckled, “That's definitely a deal then because I don’t think I could afford it even if I wanted to at this point...”

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

The paperwork had been drawn up, a rental car had been chosen and Anakin was currently on the computer ordering the parts for your car.

You and Ben were walking towards the back of the lot, to where Anakin kept the few loaners he had. You had gone with the small silver Toyota…nothing special but it would be more than what you needed.

The silence between you and Ben had been somewhat awkward, after Anakin’s antics. You knew he meant well, but you weren’t sure of how Ben felt.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he pursed his lips. “I apologize about Anakin…He means well but he can't be a lot to handle.”

“That’s okay, I found him rather charming…And I appreciate all of his help…I wouldn’t be able to do this with anyone else…which reminds me…Thank you for your help and for stepping in and helping me compromise with Anakin…I would have been really upset if I couldn’t pay in some way…I don’t like handouts or people feeling like I’m a charity case…”

You started to blush in frustration…You tended to get passionate when explaining your independence Ever since your parents died, you did your best to maintain fierce independence, you were no one's little orphan who needed help and had to be felt sorry for.

Ben chuckled.

“I understand completely…and if I’m being honest…I admire your strength and your ability to care for yourself, to take control when you have to….it is….” His eyes darted between you and the ground as he shuffled his feet awkwardly, “...truthfully, it's a turn on…”

Smiling broadly, you grabbed his hand. “Thank you, I appreciate the honesty…and I like that it turns you on that I’m not some helpless fairy princess who waits around for others to come and save them…most men can’t handle strong women…”

Linking fingers with you, he gave your hand a small squeeze. “I’m not like most men…”

Stepping in closer, you kissed him on the cheek. Ben was completely surprised by the action but he handled it well.

“I know we were originally supposed to be on a date right now…but…would you like to come over tomorrow night? I know we have been seeing each other a lot this week…but if we’re spilling secrets today….I really like you, I enjoy your company…like a lot… and I’m interested in moving things in a serious direction…. if you are…How does dinner at my place and maybe a movie interest you?”

Ben’s ocean-colored eyes practically glowed. “Causal enough for a third date but definitely moving things forward…” He chuckled. “I would very much like that, but only if  I can bring dessert.” He winked.

“Perfect.” You winked back.

“Good…Because I am interested in moving things forward with you, I’m glad Anakin did not scare you off, I was planning on asking you to officially start dating if we had originally gone out  today…”

You did everything you could not to squeal with excitement and giggle at the old-fashioned terminology…then again, saying boyfriend and girlfriend at your age did feel a little immature. Was there anything more mature to call it? Something you contemplate later.

“Not even close, you’ll have to do a lot more than that to get rid of me, mister…Nothing would make me happier than to be attached to you…”

“Nor as happy as I would be to attach myself to you….You are an amazing woman, Emma.” His British accent made you feel like you were in one of those romantic movies you desperately loved.

Leaning closer to him you whispered, “I love the way my name sounds when you say it.”

With his free hand, he cupped your cheek. “Then I hope I get to say it every day to you.”

Molten hot lava seemed to coarse through your lower belly as gently pulled in your first kiss. Your free hand gripped his shoulder as you sighed into the kiss. His beard ticked your lips and cheek as you felt his tongue dart against your lips. You could tell he didn’t have much practice, but he certainly wasn’t disappointed….besides…you looked forward to teaching an old dog new tricks. 

@sillynilly27 @nanagoswife @transcending-time @thewhitedannimal @kirstenvldfan21 @the-clones-and-me @hugmekenobi @naughtyry​ @nicole-lightfoot​ @janebby​ 

[lacontroller1991]

In Sickness and In Health (Obi-Wan Kenobi x Sick!Reader)

Main Master List || Star Wars Master List

Requested by @minderni : Heyooo can I request something for Obi Wan and a fem Reader? This is super, super personal and I fully understand if this might make you feel uncomfortable therefore you don’t have to write this if it does.Can you write something for him where Reader is his secret lover but she’s sick, she doesn’t just have a simple cold, something different, not life threatening though? She knows what she has but has never told him, actually no one knows about it because she always had to be the strong one. One evening it gets worse and she’s panicking and finally it comes all out and Obi Wan just holds her and tells her it’s okay? 🥲Totally get it if it’s too much though!

Author’s Note: I hope you like this and are feeling better!!!!

Warnings: Cervical Angina, mention of anxiety attack, symptoms of Anxiety, symptoms of cervical angina, medical talk

Word Count: 1.5k

==========

You don’t remember when the pain started. All you know is that one minute you were completely fine, happy even, and then not even a second later you felt dizzy, your chest feeling like it’s caving on itself and your breath is knocked out of you. Fortunately, you had one of your many handmaidens beside you who had immediately taken you to the infirmary where they had diagnosed you with cervical angina. Since then, you’ve been to so many doctors and have taken so many medicines but despite the medical advancements and knowledge of your illness, nothing stops it from occurring again and again. Eventually, it became one of your best kept secrets. No one beside your personal guard and a select few handmaidens know of your illness, not even your other best kept secret, Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

It’s not like you don’t want to tell your secret lover because the stars know that you do, however, your crippling fear of him rejecting you weighed out the urge to tell him and so you keep it a secret, however, Obi-Wan is not an idiot. It didn’t take him long to figure out that you’re holding something back from him. After all, he does have the force to tell him that something is up, however, he respects you too much to press the issue any further, even if it hurts him that you don’t trust him enough to tell him.

It’s a rainy day in Coruscant and the Senate meeting seems to drone on and on. More systems falling to the Separatists. More bullshit lies. More promises and no actions. If you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t know why you stay in politics anymore. You want to help your people in any way you can, but how can you help when all the galaxy’s sources are going towards a war that has no end in sight. The thought makes your blood boil underneath your skin and you can feel your left hand start to tingle, raising your anxiety. “Kriff.” You murmur to yourself, reaching back into your bag and pulling out some medicine, quickly swallowing down the pills and returning your focus to Chancellor Palpatine. 5 minutes later and you can tell the medicine isn’t really helping your cause. You can feel your chest beginning to squeeze tightly, your breaths getting labored and your skin beginning to heat up. Turning to your personal guard, you give him a slight nonverbal cue as he nods tersely, placing a firm hand on your upper bicep and beginning to guide you out the door, not really caring if there’s numerous eyes on you.

“Senator (Y/L/N), is my talking about the war bothering you?” His voice booms over you, freezing you in your spot as your chest continues to clutch itself, the room suddenly becoming very small. Turning on your heel, you see that everybody is watching you. You can feel your heart racing underneath your chest, the sweat beginning to drip down your brow as your vision starts spinning. “Well Senator?”

“I-,” you try to come up with a response but you can’t get any words out before the world is pulled out from underneath you and your vision turns black.

—-------

Obi-Wan walks up the steps to the senate house, looking around in confusion at the fact that most everyone is still there. Typically, an hour after the meeting ends, it’s vacant, allowing for him to easily get to your office without being detected by several people, however, today it's the opposite. The Chancellor must’ve said something interesting, he internally scoffs at his joke knowing that the Chancellor doesn’t have an interesting bone in him, but still, it’s curious to him that there are still people occupying the senate house. 

Spotting the familiar brown hair of Padme and curly hair of Anakin, Obi-Wan is quick to rush over to them, confusion written on his face. “Padme, what on earth is going on?”

“Obi-Wan? What are you doing here?” Anakin asks with a smirk, knowing all about Obi-Wan and your relationship, afterall, he’s doing the same thing with Padme. 

“I could ask the same thing to you, my former padawan,” Obi-Wan comments at Anakin before turning his attention back to the Senator of Naboo. “Well?”

“Senator (Y/L/N) collapsed in the meeting today. We’re all waiting here to hear what happened.” Obi-Wan’s heart races in panic, yet his face does not show it except for maybe the concern in his eyes.

“Collapsed? What do you mean ‘collapsed’? Is she going to be alright? Can we go and visit her?”

Padme and Anakin share a knowing look before Anakin walks over to his former master, clasping him on the shoulder. “Master, Padme doesn’t know. We expect the Chancellor to tell us more after his visit, but past him, no one is allowed to visit.”

“That’s absurd!”

“Shh, keep your voice down. You need to be more discreet, it’s very clear that you’re worried for (Y/N) and if you keep fretting, people are going to think that you and her are more than friends.”

“Why would they think anything more? That’s all she and I are just friends.”

“Like you and the Duchess? I have eyes.” Obi-Wan’s face burns beet red as the Chancellor steps out, gaining the attention of the crowd.

“Senator (Y/L/N) will be fine. It seemed she just had a minor myocardial infarction. She is expected to make a full recovery, now everyone, please, go back to your work.” The crowd dissipates leaving Anakin, Obi-Wan and Padme in the hall.

“Knowing the guards, they’re going to have that place well guarded. If you want to see her take the 3 stairwell to your left and go down 6 flights of stairs, enter through the blue door and that should take you to her room,” Padme instructs Obi-Wan who nods, sneaking off through the halls while Anakin and Padme watch with an amused smile on their faces. “He’s just like you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

—-------

“What on earth happened?” Your previously closed eyes shot open only to see his blue ones staring right back at you. 

“Obi? How did you get in here?”

“Darling, I am a Jedi. I have my ways,” he comments, taking a seat at your bedside as you sigh, turning your face away and trying to avoid him. If there is one person you did not want to see, it’s him. You love Obi-Wan, you really do, it’s just that you do not want him to see you as weak, yet here you are. “Why are you hiding from me?” His voice is somber and it almost sounds sad.

“I just don’t want you to see me as weak.” His gaze softens as he gently moves you over, making sure not to disconnect any of the various wires sticking to your body as he squeezes himself onto the bed before pulling you into his embrace as tears flow freely from your face. “I’m sorry Obi. I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry for what dear one?”

“I have been keeping things from you. This wasn’t a random thing that happened. I got upset and then my condition started to act up so I went to leave but Palpatine saw me and called me out in front of everyone and then I just couldn’t handle everyone looking at me and then I collapsed and now I’m here. I feel like such a fool.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re alive and you’re ok.” He tries to soothe you but his words do little to ease your mind.

“No it’s not okay. Everyone is probably judging and talking behind my back,” you bury your face in his chest and he wants to make a joke about how all senators do is gossip, but he realizes that it would not be appropriate in this scenario. Instead, he wraps his arms around your body and just holds you close, kissing the top of your head as your tears subside. 

“What do you have?”

“Years ago when I was younger, I got diagnosed with cervical angina. Basically, I get intense chest pains where it feels like everything is pressing down on my chest and I can’t breath, I get dizzy, I get nauseous, it’s a whole mess of stuff and no matter how many medicines I take, it never goes away. Today it just completely took over.” You sniffle as his hand soothing rubs circles into your back, being careful not to hurt you as you clutch onto his robes. “Chancellor Palpatine wants me to take a break from my diplomatic duties for a little bit, but I can’t leave my people now, not where there’s a war.”

“Darling, I’m sure your representative will be just as good as you. You need to focus on your health first and recover from this before you can go back to work.” You nod against his chest before looking up at him through puffy red eyes. “Can you stay with me?” Obi-Wan lets out a little huff of air, using the force to lock the door before turning his attention back to you.

“Don’t worry my dear, I’m not going anywhere.”

==========

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoyed!!!

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly​ @a-reader-and-a-writer​ @fairchildflag​ @tavners​

[avarkriss]

dust to dust iii: same sweet shock

✭・.・✫

Obi-Wan (Ben) Kenobi x Female Reader (no y/n, no she/her)

Rated: E for Explicit, 18+ only

Word Count: 3.996

Summary: The pretty space hermit finally returns; shenanigans follow

Song Inspo: Dust to Dust by The Civil Wars

Warnings: porn with feelings; naked male/naked female; p in v sex; female receiving oral sex; (whispers) come eating; a tiddly bit of angst at the end; hopeful ending; canon-typical injury; brief mention of blood

Author’s Note: I still wanna fuck this old man so bad it makes me look stupid. He deserves this :) Enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

Part One Here

Part Two Here

It had been quiet since you saw him last.

Your stand was calm and the business was steady, your days filled with barter and trade. Boonta Eve was quickly approaching and you were bringing in sunfruits and air cakes, even some sparkling light toys for the kids. All was as it should be.

Except for that gnawing pit you felt in your stomach every time a few small eddies danced across the sand. They came and went in the wind, granules lost to the dunes when the soft breeze passed. They were beautiful in a sad type of way - captivating, but too short lived.

They reminded you of him.

Fleeting.

Sometimes you weren’t sure if they had even been there at all, a trick of your tired eyes. Just like the moments you thought you saw him deeper in the market, but by the time you raised your hand in greeting, the figure was gone again. You often wondered if those glimpses were of the ghost himself, or if it was just your slightly dehydrated brain giving you hope.

But there wasn’t time to dwell - Boonta Eve was on the horizon. A welcome distraction for now. You were good at keeping busy, tiring yourself enough during the day that you could quickly fall asleep. But at night you had nowhere to hide, and your want had a habit of making itself known.

If someone had known to ask, you might have said that you stopped counting the days since you last saw him. That it had been so long there was no way you could still feel the press of his lips to your thigh, the warmth of his tongue, or the stretch of his fingers. You couldn’t possibly still feel the soft breeze of his exhale, or the dip that his body had made in your bed. You had long forgotten the way he tasted and the sound of his moans filling your room.

But you weren’t a good liar, and your dreams filled the gaps where bliss left your memory blank. He stayed with you, even after forty seven standard days. Even after you convinced yourself that a sarlacc had gone and swallowed him whole, that he was never coming back. He stayed on the fringes of your mind, in the pit of your stomach, and in every neat pile of dishes you left stacked up on the counter, waiting to be put away.

Which was exactly where you found yourself now, placing a cup into your small cupboard before heading to your stand to open early, sure that the customers would stop by for last minute purchases on their way to the races.

The morning passed in a flurry, final purchases quickly packed up and handed off to your patrons with a smile. As the time for the first race neared the crowd disappeared, leaving you to close for the day. You were looking forward to having the afternoon to yourself, glad for a small break from your daily routine and an excuse to watch your favorite holo.

Everyone was gone, so when you turned to collect your cache you nearly jumped out of your skin at the sight of a billowing brown robe, the hood casting a shadow over the most brilliant blue eyes you had ever seen.

-

You blinked a few times, unsure if this was another trick of your mind or if he really was here, right in front of you.

“Ben?”

He lifted his hand in an awkward half wave, taking a step or two forward.

“I apologize for frightening you, I was looking to purchase a few bandages but I see that you’re closed. I can return tomorrow.”

You scoffed and told him you were happy to help however you could, still surprised to see him. He was so close you could reach out and touch him, prove to yourself that he was really here.

“Wouldn’t you prefer a bacta patch?”

He hummed for a moment, something about them being too costly and how the cut was really quite small. Nothing to worry about, you know, just a fall out in the rocks. But you were insistent, and with a long suffering sigh he pulled his hood back, auburn hair bright in the midday suns. There was a gash across his forehead, pooled with crimson and dirty at the edges.

You fixed him with a look and a slight shake of your head, watching the skin of his upper cheeks warm with flush. Cache in hand you stepped out from behind your stand, nodding your head towards the alley he had taken with you so many days before.

“I have bacta at home -”

“Really, there is no need to fuss, it’s just a small -”

You turned and narrowed your eyes at him and he stammered to a stop. Pulling his hood up and folding his arms into the sleeves of his cloak he nodded towards you, accepting the favor.

“Lead the way.”

The two of you made your way to your familiar painted steps and you took them two at a time, getting your door open in record time before ushering Ben inside.

“Have a seat on the couch,” you told him gently, gesturing towards it as if he hadn’t been in your home before. “I’ll be right back.”

You could feel your pulse in your fingertips as you made your way towards your refresher, moving the curtains to the side to access your med kit. It didn’t have much, but you always kept a small pot of bacta gel and bandages for those small kitchen accidents or when you spent too much time in the sun.

When you returned Ben had removed his cloak and had it in his lap, fiddling with a few loose threads along the bottom corner. He gave you an apologetic smile that you returned with warmth while setting your things on the table before fetching some clean water and a cloth, the dirt and sand around his wound more glaring now that you could see him closely.

It didn’t take you long to have him all cleaned up, wiping away the debris and drying blood. You dabbed the gel into his skin and covered it with a small strip of cloth, a porous type that would fall off once the bacta had dried and the skin was healed. It was in your application of the cloth that you noticed a few marks on his shoulders and hands, dressing those wounds as well as he asked you how you had been.

You wanted to tell him that you missed him. That you thought of him every day, dreamed of him every night.

That you were convinced he was dead…

That you wanted to kiss him.

But instead you shrugged and said you had been busy preparing for all the holiday sales, keeping your lips a respectable distance from his hairline. When you returned the question he gave you a noncommittal hum, not providing much insight into his life.

“How’d this happen,” you ventured, placing a small bandage a cut near the crook of his neck, peeking out from under his tunic.

He smiled.

“Well, you know how the Wastes can be.”

You certainly did, as did everyone else on this Maker-forsaken planet, so you didn’t push.

“Stay and rest,” you offered, noticing little nicks on his knuckles and a small scrape behind his ear. Whatever scuffle he had gotten into certainly left him worse for wear.

“I’ve got some food to share, and my roof has a nice view of the fireworks. I heard the Hutts got them off Naboo this year so I’m sure they’ll be beautiful.”

You wondered how hard he must have hit his head because he surprised you with a hum of assent instead of his typical polite-but-infuriating refusal of your hospitality. Part of you craved knowing where he was and what had happened, but he looked so soft, exhausted from whatever it was. Instead you offered him a pillow, which he graciously took. He tucked it under his head as you started up a holo, glancing over to find that he had fallen asleep in two shakes of a lothcat’s tail. You took a thin blanket and spread it across his form before retreating to your room, hidden away from the high suns and the burning desire that threatened to outshine them.

-

You looked over at the sound of quiet rustling, watching as Ben sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. You kept your smile to yourself, quietly observing the way his hair stuck out at a funny angle and how he stretched his back.

It took all you had to not laugh when he saw there was no more sunlight, glancing around your apartment to find you like he had committed some horrible atrocity. He was patting his hair down when he saw you standing in the kitchen, and the look on his face made you think he was about to apologize.

"I am terribly sorry," he started, the words drawn with sleep.

You turned your head to the side, looking him up and down.

"What for?"

He stumbled a little, searching for his words before you held up your hand to stop him.

"Ben, there is nothing to apologize for. You're my guest, and you're welcome to stay as long as you need."

Forever, you privately hoped, but there was a part of your heart that knew he could not leave whatever brought him to this planet.

He swallowed, and you so wished that you could see into his mind. The thanks he whispered was so sincere it made your heart crack, genuinely wondering when he last experienced kindness outside of your walls.

The sands were known to not welcome strangers.

You cleared your throat and refocused your mind, stirring the pot of soup you made.

"The fireworks will start soon, if you want to have dinner on the roof."

He said it sounded lovely and you felt your pulse quicken, ladling the meal into two bowls. He gathered the pillows and blanket from the couch as well as his cloak, following you to a door that looked like it led to nowhere. With a quick button push it opened, revealing a small landing and stairs to the roof.

"Vaporator access," you explained, walking up the half flight and setting the bowls on the small, weather beaten ledge that so often served as your makeshift table.

Ben handed you a pillow before taking a seat next to you, stretching the thin blanket from his shoulders to yours.

"I see why you like it up here," he mused, gazing up at the glistening stars.

"I've always wondered what it's like out there."

He hummed, and you heard him take a sip of the warm broth.

"It's beautiful in some places, cruel in others."

"How many worlds have you traveled?"

He distracted you then, mentioning that the soup was delicious. You sipped your own before repeating your question, genuinely curious about life in the stars.

"Honesty I couldn't say," he started, eyes crinkling at your look of surprise. "My work required frequent travel. My favorite planet had an ocean, along with beautiful forests and mountains. It was unlike anything I had seen before, alive in every way."

"You came here when you could have had that?"

You couldn't help but sound incredulous, unable to imagine how anyone would give up all of that for well, this.

His smile held something sad as he looked out at the horizon.

"I could never find it again after my first visit. Some things just aren't meant to be."

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding in agreement before a shiver ran down your back. Ben took his cloak and draped it over your shoulders, sliding closer to you as bright lights began to fill the sky.

You watched the display in silence, letting your fingers slowly entwine with his. The Naboo fireworks were more extravagant than you had ever imagined, but you couldn’t help sneaking glances at the man sitting next to you. The light illuminated the angle of his jaw and the slight breeze ruffled his hair; a part of you thought that maybe the fireworks were the second most beautiful thing you had seen that evening.

They ended far too quickly, and you found yourself slowly standing, Ben’s cloak wrapped around your shoulders. He gathered the bowls and pillows while you folded the thin blanket before making your way down the stairs and back into your flat.

You found him looking down into the sink, appearing to be deep in thought.

“Are you alright?”

You slipped his cloak from your shoulders, placing it over the back of your couch before joining him.

“Yes, very much so, but -”

He trailed off, and you couldn’t quite tell what was hiding in his eyes. Was it sadness, or perhaps regret? You wanted to hug him, to hold him close and kiss the ruddy tip of his nose.

“Whatever you need Ben,” you offered, not insincerely. He could ask you for one of the suns and you would find some way to bottle it.

“I’m afraid I’m not looking forward to leaving.”

His smile was sad.

You moved closer to him, close enough that he could touch you if he wanted.

“So don’t,” you breathed, fingertips brushing his.

And he must have wanted, at least as much as you did, because now he was coming closer, forehead nearly touching yours before pressing his lips to your cheek.

“You’re sure?” you asked, arms wrapping around his waist. You were met with a nod of his head and you kissed him in earnest, swallowing a quiet groan.

-

You were clumsy making your way to your bedroom, bumping into corners that you’ve known for years. His robes were thick and warm and tied far too tightly for your liking, taking considerably more time than you imagined to undo.

You felt him smile when you whined, placing a soft kiss to your temple before covering your hand with his own. He worked around your fingers to breach the offending knot, letting your hands in to explore his soft torso.

It took far less time to remove your clothes, letting them find the floor as the two of you climbed into bed, all tangled limbs and no grace. You could feel him growing hard against your skin and you reached down to stroke him, feeling his hands pause their path up your back.

“Is everything alright Ben?”

You had retracted your hand and he looked almost pained, nodding at you earnestly.

“I want this, I do, it’s just -”

He trailed off as he often did and it didn’t take long for you to put two and two together. Maybe it had been a while, or perhaps it was his first time taking things this far with someone, but you didn’t mind. More than anything you wanted him to be comfortable, to give him even half the pleasure he had given you. You considered him a moment longer and splayed your hand over his chest, gently directing him to lay back. When he did you crawled next to him, holding his cheek in your hand.

“We can do anything you like,” you reminded him, brushing a few loose hairs from his forehead.

“This,” he breathed, grabbing at your soft flesh. “You, now, this -”

You chuckled, but not unkindly, at the way he stumbled on his words. Normally he was so well-spoken even with his habit of speaking in half sentences, and you never imagined he could sound so flustered. You kissed his jaw and then his throat when he stretched his neck back, a whine caught between his teeth.

“Just relax,” you smiled, kissing his collarbone. “I’ve got it from here.”

He caught your hand and kissed your palm, the look in eyes near pleading. You smiled softly at him before arranging yourself over him, straddling his waist and kissing every scar and freckle you could find. He was eager but shy, grabbing at your hips before pulling his hands back, stumbling over his words, somehow trying to ask if you were okay with moving forward, like this hadn’t been the subject of your every spare thought.

“I promise I’m okay Ben, but if you want to stop at any point -”

“No,” he interrupted, settling his hands on your waist. “Never that.”

You kissed him full on then, his sand chapped lips rough on your own. He parted his mouth and you let your tongue dance across his, reveling in every small noise he made against you as you ran your hand through his hair.

When you parted you shifted your knees, working to align him with your entrance. He groaned as you slowly sank down, tightening his fingers against your skin. Part of you hoped they would leave a bruise, something you could feel deep in your skin that kept him around for longer than the night.

You studied his face as you gently rolled against him, testing how far he wanted to go. You committed him to memory - the messy hair, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the way his nose was scrunched up while his lips were parted, rasping your name between heavy breaths.

“Shh,” you soothed, leaning down to kiss his open throat. “I’ve got you.”

You peppered him in kisses and small licks, trying to press as much of your skin against his as you could manage while rolling your hips against his. You could feel every part of him this way, and the friction was pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

You sighed his name into the corner of his mouth and he finally opened his eyes, looking at you like you had hung the suns in the sky. He turned to kiss you back, letting one of his hands roam across your chest.

“You’re beautiful like this,” you murmured, unable to help the smile spreading across your face at the blush blooming across his. He looked up at you from under his lashes and you decided right then and there that you must be dreaming. You clenched around him and his eyes fluttered closed again, some mumbled curse lost on his tongue.

You began to roll your hips faster, chasing the sweet friction he provided, closer to your release.

“You have to stop,” he breathed and you stilled against him before sitting up, looking panicked.

“I won’t last much longer,” he clarified, looking distraught.

You took his hand and guided him to the implant on the front of your thigh.

“We can stop if you want to, but we also don’t have to.”

“Thank the Maker,” he groaned, reaching his thumb towards your clit while thrusting up against you.

You let your head fall back for just a moment before returning your attention to him, determined to burn this moment into your mind. You met his thrusts and whined high in the back of your throat as your release neared and then overtook you, walls fluttering against him as he spilled into you.

Your chests heaved together when you leaned over him again, letting your foreheads rest together. Ben made a quiet noise and you opened your eyes, pulling away just slightly.

“Would it be alright if I cleaned you up,” he asked gently, finally releasing the flesh of your hip to rub small circles around your lower back.

You nodded and slowly rolled off of him, relaxing into your pillows. You had told him there was a stack of clean cloth on your desk, so it surprised you when you felt his hand on your knee, gently tugging your legs open. You gave him a curious glance and then he came closer, running his hand up your thigh before tracing over your entrance, settling between your legs.

He gave you a cheeky grin before parting your folds with both thumbs, humming with what you could only guess to be delight before running his tongue against you, lapping at your shared spend. He moaned against you as he worked, tongue finding all the places his fingers had mapped so many cycles ago.

Your moans were much quieter now, toes curling while you tangled your hands in his hair. He worked you through another orgasm slowly, pulling every ounce of pleasure from your chest that he could. You were gasping by the time he finished, and you let yourself tangle your limbs against his when he returned to your side with a gentle kiss to your temple.

There wasn’t a need for words, not like this at least. You laid together and you kept yourself up as long as you could, counting every quiet thump of his heart because on a logical level you knew that when you woke, he wouldn’t be there next to you.

But sleep won, as it always does, and you found yourself fading away to Ben’s soft snores against your hair.

-

When you woke your bed was cool, and your curtain was parted to let the sun in. You sighed before wrapping yourself in the sheet, looking out into the sands. When you did you saw a figure clad in brown and thought it must be Ben, heading back to… wherever it was that he was from.

Only, he didn’t seem to be moving away from your position. In fact, it seemed quite the opposite.

With the risk of extreme embarrassment of running towards some other desert hermit you quickly threw on your discarded clothes from the previous evening, grabbed your old comm from the counter, and bounced down your steps as quickly as you could, rounding your building and breaking every rule you had ever known: running directly into the Dune Sea, alone, towards a stranger.

He must have been moving fast, you couldn’t believe how much distance he had crossed to meet you, wrapping you in his arms. The corners of his eyes were wet.

“I can’t… I can’t stay.”

He sounded devastated, but you nodded your understanding.

“But I can’t stay away either.”

Hope bubbled inside you, mind racing as you tried to find something to say.

“So it was you in the market,” you chided, leaning back to look him up and down.

“I guess I’m not as good at hiding as I thought.”

“No,” you laughed. “Not at all.”

He smirked a little then. “If only you knew.”

“Ben I don’t know what you’re doing out here, but you deserve to be happy. I know you can’t stay, I know. But I’ll be here. I’ll be here for you.”

He pulled you back against his chest, pressing a kiss against your hairline. It was bizarre, to be embraced like this in the most barren area of a desolate planet on the edge of nowhere, but in that moment it was everything you needed.

You pressed the comm device into his hand, wrapping his fingers around it.

"A direct line. Just in case you… fall again."

He nodded and placed it in his pocket, returning his hand to yours.

“I’ll come to you when I can, to make sure you’re alright. I’m sorry -”

“You don’t need to apologize. What is meant to be will find a way. Stay safe, Ben.”

“I’ll find a way.”

It was so quiet you almost missed it, and you leaned in to kiss him one more time, bathed in the light of the rising suns. Before you were ready, and if you were honest with yourself you don’t think you would ever be, he had to turn away and return to what bound him so tightly. You watched him walk for a short while before turning back as well, your own day needing attention.

Maybe it will be tomorrow, or maybe next week. But as sure as the suns rise and fall, you know you will see him again.

Some day.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[wild-karrde]

Pickleprickle's Fandom Friday Rec

From @pickleprickle:

Hi! I’d like to submit my reader insert, The Emperor’s Player, featuring post-series Obi-Wan. There’s fluff, domesticity, bit o’ angst. “A violinist hiding from the Emperor. A mysterious, handsome desert hermit. The two of you were drawn together in loneliness before being drawn together by love.” There is one bit that’s NSFW, but the rest is smut free. Link: https://at.tumblr.com/pickleprickle/the-emperors-player/3w69jz3qg2xn

As always, we LOVE to see self-promo around here! And sad hermit Obi-Wan finally getting some happiness? IT'S WHAT HE DESERVES! (Also, we all know I'm a sucker for that bit o' angst that's mentioned)

Thanks so much for the rec!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

[tattycoram]

Cody: Count Dooku really seems to hate us Obi-wan: Maybe he's homophobic Cody: We're not a couple, General Obi-wan: We're not? Rex: You're not?