#btw sorry i had reader sorta bitch him out it annoyed me too

[chokemeanakin]

Would you write another fluffy Obi piece?? Cause I absolutely fell in love with your first one and that man needs more love shown to him 😫 What about taking care of a sick, tired Obi after a mission?

Thank you for the request! Hopefully it lives up to the first Obi fic I did, idk all I can say is that as an Anakin writer, I tried my best 😅. Enjoy! ❤️

WC: 2.3k

Masterlist

You Can Rest Now- Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn Reader

You had told him to bring that extra fleece jacket. And those thermal gloves, and the hat that covered his ears, and the scarf that wrapped around his mouth and nose, and the insulated boots, and the chill-resistant underpants--

Obviously he hadn’t listened to you.

You were on the rescue craft sent to pick up Obi-Wan and a few of his men, who had been stranded on Hoth after a group of Wampa ate his transport ship for lunch. A rescue had been deployed immediately-- being out in the cold of Hoth for too long was deadlier than a lightsaber through the chest. 

Maybe not necessarily that deadly… but with the way your heart was hammering against your ribcage as you scanned the snowy slopes for any sign of your Jedi lover, it might as well be.

He had been gone for little over a week now, hopping from planet to planet, trying to track down the plans for a secret Separist weapon. And although there had been times when he was gone for even longer, your pulse still jumped when you spotted the small black dots on the horizon. You could feel him, and your heart reached out for him with each second the ship grew closer. 

You were the first one down the loading ramp when it descended, still zipping up the heavy jacket as the harsh wind blew the fur-lined hood off your head. The cold was paralyzing. Just the first couple seconds of being in it was like a slap in the face, and it took a moment before you could remember how to function again. 

You and the group of medics and rescue workers trudged through the thick snow and began to get to work helping frost-bitten and hypothermic men into the ship. You twisted and turned, squinting your eyes behind people’s masks to try and find the only one you were here for--

“You’re here,” you whipped around, the voice warming you to the tips of your fingers despite the frigid cold.

“Obi-Wan!”

In the circumstance that you two were alone, you would have run to him and crushed him to you in a big hug. Alas, you were not alone, and there were eyes on you two, so you had to instead shift uncomfortably on your feet, scanning your eyes up and down his figure to search for injuries.

He didn’t seem to be sick like a lot of his men, but then again it was hard to see anything despite the layers he was wearing. All that was visible to you was a thin strip of fair skin, interrupted by the azure of his eyes. You took his gloved hand and began tugging him toward the ship.

“You must be freezing,” you stated dumbly, mind still trying to work through the sludge of ice your brain was forming into. “I’ve only been out here for a few minutes, and you’ve been here for.. what... hours? I knew you should have worn those chill-resistant Tauntaun ponchos, but no. They looked “tacky and ridiculous”. Isn’t that what you said over hologram? Only you would choose fashion over safety. I bet you regret it now, huh?”

“Does working your mouth keep you warm?” Obi-Wan quipped. There was no resistance as he let you drag him into the ship, ushering him to your personal quarters. “If so, continue on my behalf. I would hate to see you catch a cold.”

“Oh, I will,” you promised. “Just as soon as I make sure your limbs aren’t going to fall off first. Sit.”

Obi-Wan’s icy eyes glanced wearily to the couch. “I’m all wet. I’ll soil the cushions.”

“Sit.”

He lowered himself onto the couch clumsily, heaving out a breath as he did so. This worried you. Nothing Obi-Wan ever did was anything less than elegant-- even when he was beating the shit out of that four-armed robot with tuberculosis, he did so with the practiced grace of a lithe panther. 

You began with his hands, removing the multiple layers of gloves and throwing them in a wet pile on the floor. When you finally found skin, you were relieved to see that none of his fingers were black, but you still didn’t like the blue and purple tint they had to them. 

You gathered his larger hands in yours, trying to squeeze some warmth back into them, and blew hot breath into your cupped palms. Then you got to work taking his hat off, the scarves, the layers and layers of jackets… it was a process to say the least, and when you were done, you were left with a shivering Obi-Wan in nothing but a skin-tight blacksuit, and a huge pile of sopping wet clothing on the floor.

“I-in a way,” his teeth chattered as chills began to rack his body, “Being n-numb was better than… was better than t-this.”

“It’s a sign that you’re warming up,” you skimmed your fingers across his cheekbone, gaging his temperature. Still ice-cold to the touch, and the white tint to his lips was more than a little alarming. You frowned, then quickly moved away to start a warm shower in the fresher. 

You turned in time to see Obi-Wan struggle to push himself to his feet, failing and falling back against the cushions before succeeding on his second attempt. Now that his face was void of any coverings, you realized just how tired and sickly he looked.

“Did any of the medics check you before I dragged you away?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at the pale pallor of his usually golden skin. Even the sandy strawberry of his hair seemed to wilt, as if the color had been swallowed up by the stark, barren landscape outside.

“I’m alright, d-darling. You’ll come to f-find that I am p-pretty resilient.”

“Pretty resilient my ass, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes. “Someday, your loftiness is going to get you into real trouble.”

“M-my loftiness?”

“And if it’s not that, it’s going to be because you never take care of yourself,” you ignore him, checking the water with your fingertips.  “You’re too damn selfless, is what you are. You don’t realize other people can wait, and don’t need your unbridled attention every second of every day. Yes, there’s a war out there, but you deserve to be saved too.”

In all honesty, you didn’t really mean to begin lecturing him. You were panicked, not liking how quiet and subservient Obi-Wan was being. There was definitely something wrong with him, and running your mouth distracted you from the possibility that maybe he was injured and was hiding it from you, or maybe something happened that triggered that glassy look in his eyes, or maybe he was actually very sick and slipping between your fingers and you didn’t even realize it…

Obi-Wan sensed your panic, too. Ice met your cheek, and he turned your face to look at him.

“Hush, darling,” his cool breath washed over your face like a gust of flurry-speckled wind. “You’re w-working yourself up over n-nothing. I’ll be alright, I p-promise.”

You zipped your mouth closed and nodded. The bags under his eyes were dark, and you were kicking yourself for adding to them. The last thing he needed on his plate was more stress, especially coming from the person who was supposed to be his oasis of love and comfort. You leaned up and placed your lips over his, aiming to kiss some color back into them. 

“My apologies,” you spoke against the coolness of his mouth. “The water’s hot. You can get in now.”

You left Obi-Wan to shower, throwing all of his clothes into the hamper to be taken away for washing. A protocol droid dropped off a new pair of loose fitting sleepwear and Jedi apparel for tomorrow, as well as extra blankets and some warm foods which you had specially requested.

Steam billowed out of the fresher when Obi-Wan emerged, wrapping him in a ghostly embrace. His skin was covered head to toe in goosebumps, and although a little color had returned to his skin, it still looked as if every step took a huge effort. He sat on the chair by the desk, a towel tied around his waist and another working through the dripping hair on his head. He shivered when he felt your hand on his back, slipping the sleep clothes into his lap.

He got changed as you made the bed with all the blankets and set out the food on a bed tray. When you turned and saw that he was all dressed, you immediately took a fluffy blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, hugging it into his back.

Obi-Wan laughed breathily, a hand coming up to hold yours over his shoulder, stroking your knuckles with his thumb.

“I appreciate the sentiment,” he said, “But this might be a bit overkill.”

There it was. The nasally sound in his voice. The bleary eyes. The slight sniffle, and the rasp of air scraping into his lungs as he breathed. The precursor to a deep, crackling cough. The bastard was sick, you knew it--

Your hand slammed into the protocol message button.

“RA-7, please send up some cold medicine. And a crowbar while you’re at it, there’s someone I need to bludgeon with it--”

“Y/n,” Obi-Wan groaned. He stood and dropped the blanket from around him like he had done with his robes before battle one too many times, turning to face you in exasperation. “I’m okay, it’s just a little cold. I’ll be better by the time we touch down in Coruscant.”

“Not if you don’t keep this blanket on, you won’t,” you retrieved it from the floor and tossed it around his shoulders again. Then you pushed at his shoulders to get him to sit on the bed, piling blankets higher and higher onto him until all that was visible was his annoyed face and the wet strands of his honey toned hair. A strand of his bangs had fallen into his eyes, so you smoothed it back from his forehead and replaced it with your lips. 

Then you reached for the tray of food and set it atop the mountain of blankets that were smothering Obi-Wan.

“I do hope you’re not planning on spoon-feeding me,” he said.

You were, but then the door buzzed,and you knew the cold medicine was here. You left the tray of food to retrieve the package from the protocol droid, and came back to find Obi-Wan sitting up, still almost being swallowed by blankets, but now carefully spooning soup into his mouth. He was taking care of himself, and the sight dissolved your panic and warmed your heart.

You dropped another roll of bread onto his tray before opening the cold medicine, shaking a couple pills into your palm and handing them off to Obi-Wan, who for once had no witty remarks. 

You sat on the bed next to him then, making sure he had the good pillows before turning to find Obi-Wan holding a piece of bread out for you. You shook your head, pushing it back towards him.

“You eat, I’m fine.”

“Y/n, my love, it’ll make me feel better if you eat as well.”

There was Obi-Wan. Even sick and tired and on the edge of hypothermia, he was still looking out for others. So selfless, so giving, so good. You took the bread and bit into it to make him happy.

Once you had finished the bread, he began passing you various other tidbits of food even though you insisted you had already eaten. Meanwhile, he could only manage half the soup before he became too tired to continue. You took the tray away and set it on the bedside table, then turned the lights down and got into bed beside him again.

“Are you warm now?” you smoothed your hands through his damp hair as he lay back on the pillows, sighing deeply at the soft touch.

“Very.”

He was still sniffling a bit, and the raspiness of his breath was increasing with each minute. But he was on the verge of sleep, and rest was exactly what he needed to feel better. 

You set your head down on the pillow next to him, ghosting your fingers over the delicate skin of his closed eyelids, down the slope of his cheekbone, caressing the downy hairs of his beard. He nuzzled his face into the warmth of your palm, inching closer to you.

“You can rest now,” you told him, and he hummed sluggishly in response.

Despite the sheer amount of blankets on him, Obi-Wan began to shiver once more. You’re not sure if the bone-deep cold was setting in again or if it had something to do with his illness, but he kept shifting toward you, yearning for more of your touch.

You took the hint, slipping under the blankets yourself and wrapping your arms around his quivering body the best you could. To see this man-- this renowned Jedi Master, General of the 212th legion of the Republic army, and prominent hero of the Clone Wars-- so weak and fragile and wilting under your touch… it broke fissures into your heart. You tightened your hold on him, crushing him against your body like you could absorb all of his pains and woes and replace them with warmth and comfort instead.

You felt down the length of his arm, up and down, up and down, and with each pass you tried to memorize every dip and curve of his body beneath you. You were hoping to rub some warmth back into him this way, or at least soothe him to sleep if all else proved fruitless, and it seemed to be working. After a while, his shivers subsided and the fingers clinging to the shirt on your back relaxed, as did his face.

He was peaceful now, breathing deep and even as he got the rest he rightfully deserved. You held him close to you, wishing for time to slow so that he could stay with you like this forever.

[pearlparty]

Unspoken Love

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings:  None, minor swears, fluff

Words:  1390

A/N:  I’m so sorry I didn’t post this when I should have @senselesssamii!  I am the worstist human ever!  Thank you so much for letting me participate in you Gag Reel Challenge.  It’s been forever since I’ve written anything other than stupid essays for class (I graduated, btw yay!) so FEEDBACK IS DEEPLY APPRECIATED!!!  Anyway, hope this doesn’t suck too bad.  I’m trying to get back into the swing of things, so sorry if it sucks.

Tapping.  Incessant tapping.  That’s all Dean could hear when he woke up, and, frankly, it was beginning to annoy him, but that was overshadowed by the confusion fogging up his mind.  A twinge of pain in his left temple caused him to wince as he sat up and opened his eyes to the soft blue light from the moon seeping into the room from a tiny window at the top of the wall.  He glanced around the room he was in.  Concrete walls, bare floor, naked light bulb, broken dusty bookshelves on the wall, an old rusty bike sitting near him, a broken television amidst other junk.  Must be in a basement, he thought, but how did--

More tapping.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered under his breath, turning towards a silhouette in the window.  That’s what must be tapping…  He managed to get to his feet without a problem (though his body ached and his head was throbbing) and went to the window.  The brass clasp on the bottom of it opened fairly easily, allowing the hunter to lift it open, revealing a familiar face.  “Y/N!”

“Dean!”  A grin creeped onto her face.  He always liked it when she did that.  “God, I’m so glad we found you! Are you ok?”  He could barely see her eyes clearly, but the worry lining her face was obvious.

“I think I’m all right. My head kinda hurts, but apart from that…” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I’d be surprised if your head didn’t hurt.  You were probably hit pretty hard.  A hit to knock you out could have…” she trailed off.  “Well, you’re obviously fine, now.”

“Y/N, what’s going on? What happened?”  Dean asked, trying to search his memories for the answer, but it was too foggy.

“You don’t remember?” Dean shook his head, though he instantly regretted it as the twinge of pain returned.  “Sam and I went to the old shoe factory to follow up on a lead, and you decided to go to the cemetery to take care of the salt ‘n burn.  It wasn’t just a ghost, Dean!  There was a ghoul, too!  We tried calling you, but you didn’t answer.  When you didn’t turn back up to the hotel after an hour, we got worried, so we followed your cell phone signal here.”  She leaned down a bit more, getting closer to Dean’s face.  Had the wind not been blowing so much, he would have smelt her perfume.  Suddenly, she began laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s like you’re the damsel in distress and I’m Prince Charming!” she giggled again, making Dean roll his eyes despite the smile plastered to his face.  “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

“Doesn’t that mean I get to kiss you at the end of this?”  He quirked an eyebrow, licking his lips.  Y/N cocked her head to the side, a smirk playing on her lips.  She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, biting her lip, something she did subconsciously that drove Dean crazy.  

They had been flirting endlessly since the day they met, and that’s probably why Dean was so drawn to her. It was like they’d both fallen into an unspoken relationship that was never official.  They never went on dates, but they did almost everything else a couple would do.  It had been a year at least since the “relationship” started, so why hadn’t it gone any further than playful punches, long midnight chats, or never-ending flirting?  Because both saw it as a glorified friendship, and neither thought that their feelings would be reciprocated.  Both thought that, when the time comes, they could separate without any problems.  Until tonight.  

Y/N got worried when he didn’t pick up after the first 5 times, then she lost her mind when he wasn’t at the cemetery.  What if something bad happened?  What if he didn’t just go off to a bar and forget to turn his cell phone on?  What if someone took him?  What if he’s d—she wouldn’t let herself think that.  No way in hell would she be able to think clearly enough to find him if she let her mind wander to the worst-case scenario.  It wasn’t until Sam had brought up her panic in the car that she even realized how much she cared for him.  “I love him?” she muttered to herself.  Then it hit her.  “I love him, Sam.”  He nodded. He’d noticed a long time ago, and told her that she should let him know.

The fear twisted Y/N’s gut around, nervously waiting for her to confess something she’d only known herself for a short time.  “Look I have to tell you something—“ she started, but a crash on the front porch stopped the words from escaping her lips.  Without even thinking, she bolted to help Sam, leaving Dean anticipating what she was going to say.

“Wait, wait!” he called after her, “No, come back!  What were—“ Just as quickly as she had left, she was in front of him again.

“Wait, Dean, I love you,” she blurted, before turning to run again.

“I love you, too.” Dean didn’t even have to think about it. He didn’t think about it.  It just sorta… fell out of his mouth.

“Great,” she breathed out, smiling like an idiot.  “What?” Did he just say what I thought he said?

“Yeah…  I love you.  Have for a long time,” Dean confessed, now realizing how long he’d been harboring feelings.  

Y/N didn’t know what to say. She stood there on the grass, frozen, unsure of what to do or say.  So much was going on, she barely had time to wrap her mind around the whole situation. “K,” she quickly said before running back towards the house.

Dean froze in confusion. Did that actually just happen?  

A few minutes and dead ghouls later, Sam busted down the door to Dean, who was immediately enveloped in a bone crushing hug.  “Don’t ever burn bones by yourself again, ok?”  Sam muttered, making Dean laugh.

“It’s good to see you, too, Sammy,” He chuckled into his brother’s shoulder.  Y/N stood outside the door, her hands in her pockets.  Dean didn’t take his eyes off her.  When he let go of his brother, Dean walked straight towards her, pushed her up against the dirty wall, and kissed her. Fireworks, explosions, electricity. It felt like the world was on fire as their lips moved in synchronization, her hands went up into his hair, his pulled her closer.  

Sam cleared his throat, signaling the couple to cease their make-out session.  Y/N pulled away, breathless.  “So… that’s a thing.”  Sam rolled his eyes, going back up the dark stairs.  

“I’m going back to the car. Don’t take too long.  The cops might be headed here.”  Y/N could have sworn he muttered something along the lines of “ya’d think they could were rabbits or something,” but she didn’t really focus on that when Dean’s lips were on hers again.  

“Wow, I didn’t know a Princess could kiss like that.”  Dean rolled his eyes again at her statement.  “C’mon,”  she took his hand, “let’s get outa here. This place gives me the creeps.”  They went up the stairs relatively quietly until she spun around.  “Dean?”

“Y/N.”

“Did you mean what you said? Do you really love me?  Because I’ve loved you for a long time I just didn’t see it until now and if you don’t like me that way that’s fine I can leave I just want to know because I don’t think I could—“  Dean cut her ranting off with another kiss.  She deepened it, wrapping her arms around his neck.  He pulled away slowly, letting the action sink in.  She grinned sheepishly.  “That was a really nice way of telling me to shut up.”

“Y/N, I have loved you for a long time.  I don’t know why I didn’t realize it sooner.  You have made my life—this life bearable.  I never thought I would get the chance to be happy, but despite all this,” he gestured to the stairwell, “you fill my life with the kind of happiness I never knew.”  Tears were welling up in her eyes, and she pulled him into a hug.

“I love you, Dean Winchester.  I love you so damn much, it hurts sometimes.”