#obi-wan kenobi fanfic

[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!

[dracowars]

hello! i have had this scenario in my head for obi wan forever! little bit of background: reader and obi have been together for a while and the reader struggles a bit with her dark side. so the whole thing starts with obi and reader sleeping in bed when he has this kinda spicy dream about reader. she’s dressed up in a HAWT sith get up and is trying to get obi wan to join the dark side for her asking him if he loves her and please for me? in the dream he caves and nods not being able to say anything. when he wakes up he’s sweating and freaking out and is realizing he really would do it for her and it scares him but he’s more scared of losing her. sorry if that’s so long but i’ve spent so much time thinking about this🙃

her shadowed heart | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x sith!reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: where obi-wan gets seduced by the dark side

a/n: i love the dark side and i hope you enjoy this <3 feedback in any form is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, a bit creepy, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Obi-Wan hears a quiet voice. He listens in more closely and finally realizes that the soft voice is saying his name. So soft, so tender, almost fragile. He listens to the whisper and opens his eyes, only to find that everything around him is black, complete and utter darkness surrounds him.

Turning in all directions, he tries to follow the warmth of the voice, but he can't see anything. His senses betray him. In fact, he does not feel anything.

"Obi-Wan", the voice says again, his name echoing around the darkness. "Come here, Obi-Wan."

As he turns in the direction of the voice again, he finally spots something in the distance, a faint light flickering. Carefully, he puts one foot in front of the other and the closer he gets to the light, the more he can make out the outline of something - of someone. The closer he gets, the darker the light becomes.

"Don't be afraid, Obi-Wan," he hears the gentle voice whispering inside his head, his focus on whatever lies in front of him now. I'm not afraid, he thinks.

He is now so close that he can see some kind of throne in front of him, a huge throne made of black stone, standing there like a fortress, completely indestructible. Taking one more step forward, he halts as he hears a silent splash. Looking down, he finds the throne being surrounded by a puddle of water.

"There you are at last, Obi-Wan. I've been waiting for you this whole time."

When he raises his eyes to look at the person sitting on the throne, his breath gets caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. With one leg thrown over the armrest, you look at him from elevated position, a gentle smile on your lips. Obi-Wan has to blink several times, reminding himself to breathe as his eyes focus on you. You look the same as always, somehow. But there is also something different about you. Your body is wrapped in a long black dress, with large slits on the sides that reveal the radiant skin of your thighs. The neckline of the dress is quite revealing, giving way to your cleavage, your collarbone. At your waist, the dress is held together by a corset with buckles and laces. The high heel boots peeking out from under your dress reflect the light. On your head sits a crown, jet black, with a shining ruby ​​in the middle.

"Y/N?", Obi-Wan hears himself ask in the distance, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What is going on? Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter now that you are finally here", you smile at him, your eyes sparkling. Obi-Wan watches as you get up, walking down the few steps from the throne until you stand in front of him. He looks into your eyes, mesmerized, but for some reason he does not find the warmth in them that he usually does. A cold shiver runs down his spine when your long, pointed nails stroke up his arm.

"You love me, don't you, Obi-Wan?", you suddenly ask in a whisper, leaning into his ear as you start circling him, your palm sliding over his back.

"Of course I do, you know I do", he answers, standing rigidly in one place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move. It is as if you had trapped him, and yet he doesn't feel helpless, he's not afraid. After all, you are with him.

"I know, but I don't know how much", you giggle behind his back and step out on the other side, your hand now reaching for his face. Once there, you place your ice-cold hand on his cheek and where your skin meets, Obi-Wan suddenly feels a burning warmth. "Tell me how much you love me, Obi-Wan."

"My love for you is so much bigger than the entire galaxy", he tells you vehemently, leaning into your pleasant touch as he looks at you. "Words can't describe how much I love you. I would do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Your face is right in front of him and upon his answer, your beautiful eyes are suddenly glowing in an eerie red. One corner of your mouth lifts, as if he gave you exactly the answer you have been hoping and waiting for.

"Oh Obi-Wan," you say softly, sliding your hand down his neck. Obi-Wan places his hand on top of yours, your eyes locking. "Will you join me?"

"Join you?", he asks, frowning but with a smile on his lips. You shake your head, smiling to yourself, and run your other hand through his soft hair, loosening a strand that then hangs in front of his face.

"On the dark side", you whisper and Obi-Wan's heart suddenly starts racing. Frightened, he looks in your eyes, searching for any sign that you aren't serious, but all he finds is darkness.

"Please. You said you would do anything for me", you remind him, intertwining your hands. "Please do it for me, Obi-Wan."

His head is screaming at him, that this goes against everything he stands for, what he fights for, and he can't keep a straight thought. But his heart, his goddamn heart, is louder, drawing him to you and he knows he can't say no to you. So he caves.

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he places a kiss on the back of your hand, as befits a queen.

"I will join you."

Laughter rings out around you, disgusting, spiteful laughter that painfully rings in his ears. Staggering back, he finds it difficult to breathe and you let go of his hand, your eyes red and the veins beneath them bloodshot. The veins on your neck stand out, your face turns pale and your skin turns black from your neck down. A tear escapes your eye, but it is made of blood. Before Obi-Wan knows what is happening, your hand gently rests on his chest.

For a moment he feels hope. He feels safe. But then you push him back forcefully, so that he falls backwards, into the water. Only it is not water, but blood.

The last thing he sees is his outstretched hand, trying to reach for you. In vain.

Gasping for air loudly, Obi-Wan sits up, breathing heavily as he finally feels air filling his lungs again. He is sweating, his hair disheveled and he can't think clearly. All he sees is you. Helplessly, he presses his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the images from his head while he slightly rocks back and forth.

A quiet sob escapes him as he hears your quiet breathing next to him. Freeing himself from the blanket that is trapping him, he bends over to your sleeping figure, slumbering away peacefully. Obi-Wan reaches out his hand, wanting to touch you immediately to reassure himself that you are there, that you are you. But just before his fingertips can reach your skin, he stops. He doesn't dare touch you.

What if he had a vision? A vision of what the future could look like. And he didn't even bat an eyelid when you asked him to join him on the dark side.

He wasn't lying when he said he would do anything for you, and that newly found certainty scares him to death. He knows how much you have been struggeling with the dark side. And in his dream, he allowed it to corrupt you. Corrupt him.

Finally he forces himself to shut off his mind and touches you gently, not too much since he does not want to wake you up. But your warm skin is a welcome contrast to the cold he feels, and he strokes your arm gently. He takes a closer look at you and can't find anything unusual. He just finds what he always finds: warmth.

And although this visibly calms him down, he can't shake the fear that he might lose you one day. That you will step out of the light and into the darkness.

In that moment, Obi-Wan makes a promise to himself.

If you enter the darkness, he will follow.

[hellotherekenobi]

Crystal Clear.

Summary: Obi-Wan has always looked after you and has always shown you that he cares. When the peaceful life you live is threatened, he shows you how deeply his affections lie.

Word Count: 3,670

Dedicated to @immoral-rose ♥

CW/TW: mentions of battle (explosions), injury, & anxiety; crying; a brief sentence about self-injury but it’s not graphic; gn!reader though the term “handmaiden” is used.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Knowing Obi-Wan Kenobi is no easy task.

Everywhere he goes, danger follows. He’s like a magnet to it. Sometimes, you even think he rather enjoys the danger. Not that he would ever admit to it, but it’s true regarding his history.

As for you, the moment you see danger you run. A true flight instinct, rather than fight. Maybe if you had that kind of passion you would be alongside the Jedi, or an ally in some fashion, but truly you just want to live a peaceful life. If any sort of danger is on the horizon, you’re heading in the opposite direction.

Some might consider that cowardly but that’s not it at all. The main reason why you even know Obi-Wan to begin with is because you offered him assistance when there was an attack on the palace you work in, helping to navigate him through the worker’s corridors.

Being a handmaiden came with a lot of perks. One of which just so happens to be that whenever the lady of the house needs Jedi assistance, Obi-Wan is the Jedi who always comes.

Truly, it’s ridiculous how quickly you grew an attachment to him. The first time you met, he had dropped down from the balcony above the one you were standing on and startled you half to death. He had abashedly apologized, though he was chuckling.

That was it. That was all it took for you to fall head over heels for him. One giddy apology matched with his sunkissed smile. Then you were absolutely doomed.

How typical it is that after years of not finding an interest in anyone, the person you happen to fall for is someone who can’t reciprocate those feelings. Jedi aren’t allowed to have attachments and even if they could, you fear he’d want a fighter on his side instead.

Sure, he is ever the gentleman when you two speak to each other. He holds the door for you, he walks on the outer side of the footpath, and he kisses your knuckles with each hello and goodbye. But that’s simply because he has such a pure heart. There can’t be any other motivator under the surface of it all.

When you don’t have much on your list of things to do around the palace—the lady of the house being a very hospitable countess—then you walk around the gardens, and when Obi-Wan has to await further instruction, he joins you.

The conversation ranges amidst many different things. Sometimes it’s regarding your favorite books or poetry. Other times it’s about all of his exciting adventures, remarking on how great so many cultures are in the galaxy.

Obi-Wan is a gentleman, but he’s also a tease.

You had once told him, “I have often wanted to see those other planets, just as you have.”

And he smiled, outshining the sun, and replied, “I’ll take you with me one day.”

There isn’t a way he can keep that promise, you’re sure of it, so you had simply laughed and asked him to tell you another story.

Days like those are your favorites. Especially when you’re feeling more spirited than most, walking along the stone railing with Obi-Wan on the grass beside you, his hand holding yours so that you don’t tip over and fall.

Honestly, you sometimes only go up here just so that you can hold his hand. His skin is soft but with calloused fingertips, and it’s a comforting feeling.

It’s no surprise, then, that you’re walking along the railing again today, hand happily in his hold.

“I think it’s the quiet that I’m fond of,” Obi-Wan speaks, walking at the pace you’re setting. “To be among the mountains. That’s where I want to be.”

You offer him a smile, looking down at him. “That sounds lovely.”

He squeezes your hand, making dragonflies run circles in your stomach. “Your turn now. One place in the whole galaxy, where do you want to go?”

Pursing your lips, you delay your response with a hum. You already know what the answer is but you’ll do anything in your power to stretch out any moment with him for as long as possible.

“The beach,” you say and simply that.

Obi-Wan raises his chin. “That’s all?”

You nod. “That’s all. I’ve never been.”

He stops walking, causing your hand to tug at his when you don’t stop as quickly as he does. Looking down at him, you frown some.

“What’s the matter?” You ask.

His voice is sympathetic, though there’s a very faint grin at his lips. “You’ve never been to the beach?”

“Not once,”

“Well,” he straightens his posture, walking alongside you again. “I’ll have to take you there one day.”

Another promise you’re sure he won’t hold true to. It’s fun, when you’re young especially, to make promises of days you want to spend with someone else, but those plans usually fade away eventually.

Besides, there’s a war going on and Obi-Wan is a Jedi amongst the battle. You doubt you’ll ever watch the waves roll in, let alone with him by your side.

“I’d like that,” you mutter, knowing that your words hold as little weight to them as does his.

When you reach the end of the railing, you turn halfway and Obi-Wan keeps a tight hold of your hand as you lower yourself to sit on top of it, then he pushes himself up to sit beside you.

“Can you swim?” You ask him, swinging your legs.

He nods, scrunching up his face some. The look is clearly displeasing and you can’t help but to chuckle.

“You don’t like the water?” You press, leaning your arm against his.

He sighs. “I’m not too fond of it. Not as much as flying, though.”

“Oh, so flying is worse?”

“Flying is much worse,” he states, a finger pointed. “That’s for droids.”

“Hmm, I’ll keep that in mind.”

A gentle breeze enters the conversation, which is lovely given the temperature. Speaking with Obi-Wan in moments like these feel so special but more than that, they feel comfortable. Around him, you don’t feel the need to act a certain way. You can just be yourself.

Pushing against his arm again, this time in a playful way, you say, “Maybe the beach is out of the question then since you don’t like to swim.”

“Well,” he leans close to you as if he were speaking for no one else to hear, “just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I won’t.”

“By why would you?”

Obi-Wan’s brows furrow marginally, looking at you with an expression caught between confusion and sincerity.

“Because you’ll be there.”

Smiling at him softly, you feel a bit bashful by his genuine reply, shaking your head so that he can’t tell how easily you’re swooned by that affirmation alone.

“You’re quite the charmer, Obi-Wan.”

He grins, showing his canines. “It comes naturally with you.”

You think he’s just being a tease now, so you turn his face away from you with a palm against his cheek, and he chuckles heartily as you push off of the railing and tell him that you both should get back to your responsibilities.

Weeks after that, he hardly visits the palace as battles grow tense against the Republic. The handmaidens alongside you work in earnest for the countess’ benefit and also in preparation should an attack happened here.

If you were crossing your fingers behind your back, you would blame yourself for when battle droids stampede the grounds.

The invasion is unlike any you’ve seen and you hurry to hide away as many people as you can through the worker’s corridors, which leads out to a bunker. There is also an escape route from there but until the threat outside is neutralized, there’s no way anyone can make it out without detection.

You’re not sure what possesses you to remain in the thick of it instead of doing your usual reaction by fleeing, but you’re more focused on the safety of others by doing all that you can.

Maybe Obi-Wan’s ways are rubbing off on you. Though, regarding your secluded history, you’re not sure if that’s a good thing.

So, you keep posted by the entrance to the corridors, waving in more people who run down the hallway and lead them inside, telling them to wait with the others.

One person grabs hold of your sleeve, almost tearing the material right off of your shoulder.

“My brother,” they plead. “He’s only young. We were separated.”

“He’ll find his way,” you say, urging them to keep moving.

“Please, he can’t be on his own!”

Neither can you. This is not the kind of person you are, the type that runs into danger even if it were for a noble cause. It scares you down to your bones to think about leaving your partially safe spot by the doorway, but their wailing pushes at your sensibility.

“Alright,” you cave in. “Hide with the others. I’ll find him.”

The distant explosions around the palace are no match for how deafening your heartbeat rings in your eyes, and you feel it against your chest, at your temples, and at your wrists pulsing with an overwhelming amount that takes your feet down the hallway instead of your mind.

There are endless possibilities on where this boy could be. For all you know, he might be right where all the battle droids are. If you go to him then, you’ll just endanger him more with yourself included.

But you can’t leave him behind. Maker knows he must be feeling worse than you, especially for a young one.

Getting closer to the noise makes you less sure of everything, though. Two times already you have had to flatten yourself to the wall when a battle droid runs past, in an effect to hide from them. Every single thing that moves has you on edge, even when your mind tricks you into seeing things that aren’t there.

Yet, as you expected, you find the boy so close to the battle at hand that he may as well be in the thick of it. He’s crouched behind a crumbled half wall near the assembly hall, a fleet of battle droids ahead of him. Between you and them is a long hallway, an opening on your left and right.

Peeking around each corner, you make certain that when you gain the courage to move from your spot, you won’t collide with a battle droid or their line of fire.

It seems they’re too focused on their attack to notice him, or you, so with an insane amount of luck, you run across the opening and kneel by his side, trying to keep hidden from the flimsy cover that there is for the two of you.

“I’m here,” you tell the boy. “Come with me. I’ll keep you safe.”

He’s been crying, his fist still balled up at his cheek as the tears stream down his face. Whimpering, he holds his arms out to you and you lift him in your hold, carrying him at your side, and dash back the way you came after assuring the coast is clear.

Unfortunately, when you’re about to turn the corner, you’re met with a large group of battle droids who weren’t there before. Gasping, you manage to duck behind the wall before they can notice you and set the child on the floor, kneeling beside him.

“We need to wait here a moment. Don’t make a sound—”

Your voice is buried beneath another explosion, nearer this time as it happens right behind the wall. The strength of it shakes the ground and you wrap the boy in your arms to shield him from the smoke and rubble, hoping that the ceiling won’t collapse.

There’s gunfire and flashes of red and blue as the sounds of the droids grow nearer, and you wonder if there’s any time to run away, though you know you won’t make it halfway down the hallway before you’re shot at.

A shadow grows near and you cover the boy more, hoping to at least protect him, until a hand grabs your shoulder and you shriek, turning to meet your attacker face to face.

But it’s a face you know too well and are relieved at seeing him standing there.

“Obi-Wan!” You reach a hand to hold onto his robes and he lowers to his knee, watching you with worrisome eyes.

“Are you hurt?” He asks, bringing the hand on your shoulder up to your cheek.

You shake your head. “No, no. But the boy,” you move an inch to show Obi-Wan the child behind you. “We need to get him to the bunker.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan affirms. “Keep to my side.”

There’s no place you’d rather be right now, nodding as you follow him closely with the boy holding your hand. You’re relieved to see that he’s stopped crying. In fact, he’s quite transfixed with the Jedi leading you both down the hallway.

Obi-Wan is more strategical than you, so he keeps you all seemingly invisible to the battle droids you maneuver around, and you feel more at ease now that he’s here.

The drive you had to protect the boy is now kept under a blanket and you grow restless to get to the bunker since you’ve gone through enough excitement for one day. Once is more than enough to try and be brave. You just want to hide again.

As you all approach the door to the worker’s corridor, Obi-Wan lets you and the boy step ahead of him. You pat the boy’s back and urge him to follow the path until he reaches the bunker entrance and as he begins to run, Obi-Wan’s hand comes to rest on your back.

“Lock the door behind you,” he says, still attentive to the noise happening around the palace.

“Aren’t you coming too?” You ask.

“No, there’s still more fighting to be done.”

“Don’t fight, Obi-Wan. Come with us.”

He smiles weakly, caressing your cheek with his soft but calloused hand. “I want nothing more, but I want to protect you first.”

“But—”

You don’t get to finish your sentence as another explosion sets off, this time within the hallway you’re standing in. The distance of it not only rattles the ground but shakes you as well, and Obi-Wan is diving forward, his arms wrapping around you, to push you both behind the corner and away from the blast.

It’s a powerful explosion that takes down the support beams, effectively taking down part of the ceiling, too. The structure crumbles at the corner, creating a mountain of debris that blocks the way and so there’s no going back now.

With the push, you’re sent down to the ground with Obi-Wan above you, his body shielding you from the damage.

When at last the smoke clears, he’s helping you to sit up against the wall, his hands on either side of your face, brushing away soot and dust.

“Are you okay?” He asks, looking you over from head to toe.

Coughing, you shake your head at him, feeling the anxieties of being in danger rise like hot liquid from the pit of your stomach all the way to your throat, and you begin to cry.

“No, I’m not okay— I’m fine but I’m not okay,”

“Hey,” he coos, tilting your head enough to look him in the eyes. “There, there, my dove. I promise you I’ll get you out of here.”

“I’m scared, Obi-Wan,”

“I am too,” he brings one hand down to yours, squeezing it tightly. “But I’m a man of my word. I will protect you.”

Deep down, right through all the worry, you know that he’ll keep you safe. If not by all the heroic acts you’ve heard about and now seen for yourself, then for all the times he’s been kind to you. All the laughter, the touches, and the quiet moments just for you both. You trust him with your life and you know he’ll take care of you.

On the outside, though, you’re shaking. The explosion has startled you so much, seeing as it was so close, and the knowledge of if Obi-Wan hadn’t pushed you when he did, you might have been crushed under the rubble.

Thoughts speak louder than words but in this case your actions are screaming; trembling with your back to the wall and tears still streaming down your cheeks.

Obi-Wan’s hand at your cheek brushes featherlike circles there, effectively wiping your tears. He whispers your name, grounds you with more surety, then leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

The gasp gets stuck in your throat but you immediately still, eyes wide as he kisses you with gentle, potent lips. He whispers to you again, this time through the Force, and you hear him; my dove. Oh, my dove. I love you.

By those words alone, all the tension dissolves. Reaching a hand out to clutch hold of his tunic, you whimper against his kiss, closing your eyes and allowing his lips to soothe your fears.

With his affections, your shaking stops. He’s auspiciously sedated all the nerves you felt, making your senses crystal clear when he leads you through the storm. He keeps you far from the danger, navigating around droids, damage, and conflict.

At last, meeting the others on the outskirts when it’s clear enough for them to travel the escape route, Obi-Wan carefully helps you aboard the ship with everyone inside.

The ship itself is compatible for water, hovering there for now until the top of it will close and sail under to get away from here. Obi-Wan stands on the bay, one boot in the water, with his hand in yours as he makes sure you climb aboard securely.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, offering a smile that eases your concern. “I’ll see you again.”

When the ship doors shut and it dips beneath the water, you wonder if you truly will see him after this. With the battle, it will take months before you and the others can safely return, especially the countess. Living secluded will need to be your new way of life.

That’s exactly what it becomes. In fact, you’re away from home—or what you call it, seeing as growing up there is the earliest memory you have—for a year.

To assure the safety of the people and the countess, you travel from port to port and remain with various folk for intermittent times. You try your best to hear reports about the war and of the Jedi, hoping that you’ll hear news of the man whom you love. And who loves you.

Knowing that he does only makes the time away torturous, not truly sure if you’ll see him again like he promised, though you trust him completely. Whether the uncertainty is there because of your safety or his, or if time and events will allow it.

By the time a year is up and news reaches you that it’s safe to return, the palace is hardly such a thing at all. The grounds, the gardens, the structures, and the homes are all in ruins. It takes months to repair all the damage and by the time you feel yourself back to routine, it’s nowhere near complete.

Walking the gardens is the only comfort you get in such distressing times. The war is still ongoing and you know that at any point, you all may need to flee again. But in this place, your swirling thoughts cease. You simply exist freely amongst the flowers, swaddled by memories of walking along the stone railing with your sweet Jedi.

There’s no hand to hold yours as you walk the railing, your shoes scraping the stone as you take each step. In a silly way, you’re not entirely upset about the fact if you fall. After being away for so long, it may be the only time you feel again.

Yet, when you slip, you feel your heart sink at the expectation of hitting the grass, only for a hand to slide into yours, fingers interlinked tightly, and a shoulder pressing on your arm to prevent you from tipping over.

When you look down to see who caught you, all the breath leaves your lungs. It’s him. Your Jedi, your love. Your Obi-Wan.

You say his name excitedly, watching his lips upturn into that bright grin he’d show you on sunny afternoons, and throw away his effort in supporting you as you leap off the railing right into his arms.

He catches you like he always does, holding you securely to him as he buries his face in your neck, pressing featherlike kisses to the skin and whispering your name over and over again.

“I promised you, didn’t I, my dove?” He speaks. “I would take you to the beach.”

A relieving and altogether elated chuckle bubbles from your lips, leaning back a fraction to look into those lovely cerulean eyes of his.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” you say, smiling brightly. “I love you.”

He smiles in return, brushing a hand along your cheek. “And I love you.”

Your heart swelters, feeling full of life again. Any adversity ahead of you now is small in comparison to the assurance of Obi-Wan’s love.

A gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead and then your cheek. He ghosts a kiss on the tip of your nose, hovering his lips above yours before raising the hand he holds into the space, kissing your knuckles.

As soon as your hand moves away, Obi-Wan leans into you completely, kissing you deeply. He’s gentle and amorous, guided by an affection truthful to the words he assured you now so long ago. With fingers intertwined, he pours his devotions between incandescent kisses.

In between the marble pillars of the palace, deep within the gardens filled with heart and soul and ghosts of the lives lived before now, Obi-Wan kisses you with a crystal clear love that glimmers for time indefinite.

Taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @kyber-crystal @bloodybunnyuwu @nagitokomaeda-onthe-nintendo-ds @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @pradahux @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @iamtracyz @chogisss @nectav @disastereyebags @hellolitty @stareyeddie @liviiii98 @dameronology @overly-obssessed-with-you @onewholikesthings @shadowhuntyi @greeneyedblondie44 @doublesunsets @night-ace @mkr31011

[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​ 

[agirlunderarock]

OF AGONY AND HOPE

Story Summary: sith!Obi-Wan au, in which Sas was able to fly Padme to safety and deliver her children but at the cost of losing the man she loved. Five years have gone by since the fall of Republic, since the fall of the Jedi Order, since Sas said goodbye to the man she loves. Since then Emperor Palpatine has brought in new enforcers; Lord Vader his right hand, and Grand Admiral Abusivus a man Sas refuses to admit bares any resemblance to Obi-Wan Kenobi even when he stands right in front of her.

Pairings: Obi-Wan X Sas Vom (OC)

Chapter 3: Proposals

Chapter Summary: Sas is called into Grand Admiral Abusivus' office

Previous Chapter

Warnings: N/A Honestly its not violent or anything yet so like? Just know the general warning is that I fell asleep while typing this several times. I live and die by those typos. This story is basically lovers to enemies to lovers so make of that what you will?

Read on AO3

The Meeting room was too loud.

Despite the quiet murmurs of the Imperial Officers in the room, Brisa felt as if they were all shouting in her ears, looking at her assessing her. Under normal circumstances she could tune it out, ignore them, carry her head high and walk out without sparing anyone a single glance.

Her heart beat was too loud.

She didn’t register when the switch happened, only that she felt far away from the room itself. There was too much going on. Grand Admiral Abusivus was giving her directions, that much she was aware of. What those directions were specifically she couldn’t say. The pounding of her heart beat was slowly replaced by officers slowly filing out of the room, their footfalls echoing off the sleek walls of the war room like cannon blasts going off in Brisa’s ears. The lights were too bright. Harsh glares reflected off every surface straight into her eyes. Even Captain Dirgo’s pointed stare seemed to carry the  weight of the cold reflective surfaces that lined the doorway.

Sas didn’t remember following Grand Admiral Abusivus. Her world stopped spinning the moment her eyes met his burning yellow irises. Yet, she noted the way the Grand Admiral walked just a step ahead of her, his broad shoulders blocking most of her view of the hallway. In the back of her mind she could hear the faint echo of his words, “We best discuss the expectations for your position in my office.”

Was that where he was leading her? Sas couldn’t even be sure he had really even said those words. The back of her hand still burned with the warmth of his breath, but if she were being honest Sas couldn’t say whether or not she wanted to put the fire out.

Be mindful of your feelings, they can betray you.

Sas could hear Obi-Wan’s voice echo in her head, and despite the warmth in her chest at the memory of all the times he had said that to Anakin, she felt fear crawl its way into her throat. She couldn’t focus, the world still spun, but felt as if she were flying through a dust cloud. She couldn’t trust her own thoughts, her feelings. The Grand Admiral could and would manipulate them, if he hadn’t already. He knew the easiest ways to access her mind, he knew every feeling, thought and desire she had. 

The sudden realization that she was about to be captured, questioned and tortured, had Sas’ stomach churning. She had to get to her apartment, she had to get a message out, call for an extraction.

“At ease Captain Brisa,” The Grand Admiral’s command pierced the fog. Sas blinked as her body automatically relaxed its stance, feet shoulder width apart and her hands behind her back. "I assume you understand why I've brought you here," he finished. 

Truthfully Sas was trying to figure out what was more disturbing to her, that her body didn't hesitate to act on his command, or the way he didn’t tear his gaze away from her. She hadn't even fully processed that she was standing in his office. Whatever challenge he had issued her and whatever composure she had mustered up in the presence of her fellow officers, dissipated in the cold tension between them now.

Sas slowly scanned his office. Of course it was pristine and organized. She expected nothing less. She was, however, surprised by the amount of objects on display. Not that he wasn't sentimental in the past, but each object was placed purposely, deliberately within view of her standing position, not the person who would normally be sitting at the desk. These objects weren't just for decoration, he was sending a message. A small statue of a Twi'lek seemed to glare at her from its pedestal in front of a large painting of a familiar Alderaan mountain pass. The statue bared a striking resemblance to one she had seen in the home of Eleni Syndulla, during a rather melancholy feast. It looked over them while they celebrated a Republic victory on Ryloth. Sas couldn’t force herself to focus on the painting behind it. She tried to focus on the other side of the room. In front of another painting, stood a sculpture of a four legged beast of burden that was native to Onderon. The same kind of creature she and Obi-Wan had ridden into the Separatist filled city with Steela and her freedom fighters. Something twisted painfully in her chest.

“Forgive me,” Brisa answered, her voice sounding much weaker than normal. “I assumed we were going to discuss my expectations for my new assignment.” 

“Most of your duties are outlined in the entry log-” He paused abruptly, looking right through Sas before his eyes settled on her again. “But you’re already well aware of those duties aren’t you?” Abusivus moved to stand in front of his desk, right in Sas’ line of sight. He absolutely knew who he was speaking to. There was no way around it.

“Sir, I’m not sure I understand-”

“You need not continue your act,” he said calmly, though Sas could easily detect the tension in his voice. “No one else is listening right now.” Five years apart and he could still read her without trying. Then again, she supposed that it was easy to read her when he had the ability to directly feel what she was feeling and could purposely tamper with her thoughts and emotions. That was the only way to explain the black hole that erupted in her chest. She felt heavy and empty all at the same time, like she would fall right through the glossy white floors, the rest of her memories and feelings drawn into her void.

Sas kept her eyes focused on the portview behind him, just over his shoulder. It was the only way she could look at him without having to actually look at him. She heard him breathe out slowly, his shoulders tensing and then falling ever so slightly, as if he were gripping something. If she had the nerve to look up at his face she was sure she’d find his auburn brows furrowed low over his eyes. She tried not to picture the expression, yet the memories of all the times she pressed her lips to his forehead, just between his brows, came rushing back to her.

She couldn’t trust those memories.

Sas was very aware of how he could manipulate her thoughts. Even though she didn’t feel the odd pressure around her head that came when someone was attempting to manipulate her through the force, she couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t. He knew her mind better than anyone, possibly even more than her own sister. At one time she had trusted him with her life, her dreams, and her secrets. She trusted him to love her as she was, to accept her past, and understand what she expected in their future. There was absolutely nothing she could hide from him. She needed to look elsewhere.

Everywhere she looked was a reminder of their shared past, of how he'd thrown everything they fought for away. Even if he wasn’t using the force, Abusivus was finding other ways to manipulate her.

 Sas’ eyes burned with unshed tears, and her throat closed. She couldn’t breathe. If she had been a weaker woman, she might have fallen to her knees, even clutched at her aching chest. Sas didn’t understand how her chest could feel so hollow and yet feel so tight. She couldn’t tell if this was her own body betraying her or if this was his doing. “Sir-” She croaked. Even to herself her voice sounded brittle and weak. She couldn’t break in front of him. Abusivus could undoubtedly feel what she was going through, she couldn’t let herself be so openly vulnerable with him.

The Grand Admiral moved to stand directly in front of her, his shoulders and the hot tears stinging her eyes obscuring her view. He hadn’t touched her, not even with the force, and yet the fire that burned under her skin and caught in her throat was his doing. He betrayed her, their friends, and their family. 

“Why did you bring me here?” Sas demanded in a whisper. She kept her hands clasped together behind her back, worried that her hands would shake, that her whole body would tremble if she wasn’t careful. “Just tell me what you want and get this over with.” 

“Sas,” his voice was soft, just as quiet as her own as he stepped closer to her.

A blaster shot to the chest would have burned less. This wasn’t the voice of the man who addressed the Imperial officers just a few moments before. This was the voice that whispered to her in stolen moments between missions. This was the voice that teased her behind closed doors, told her she was loved, that she was worth more than what she could provide to others. This was the voice that comforted her in dreams, and she missed more than anything in the galaxy. A voice she thought she’d never hear say her name again.

 His gloved hand reached out to her cheek, gently brushing away her tears. “I thought you were dead…” His other hand came up and cupped her cheek, before he leaned down to press his lips to her forehead.

Every fiber in Sas’ body screamed at her to push him away. That this man helped the Empire conquer the people they swore to protect, and yet she could only stand frozen in place. Her heart hammered quickly in her chest. The familiar feel of his breath dancing over her skin sent a tremor through her body. The tickle of his beard against her forehead was enough to make her eyes slide close. For five years they'd been apart, grown into different people and yet this simple action sent her right back to the quiet nights they spent on her ship.The back of her hand, the one he kissed just moments before, still felt heavy with the weight of his kiss.

Sas had thought the black hole had been in her chest, that every memory  she’d had of him was being dragged in to try to fill its void. With his admission, she realized that he was the point of gravity in the room. No matter how many reminders screamed at her to wake up to reality. She should be angry, had every right to shove him away but instead she found the ache in her chest soothed by his closeness. She could pretend  that this was just another quiet night on her ship. That he had been away on a long mission and was tiredly pressing kisses to her head. As always he would be hesitant to hold her, but he would hold her, assure her that he was safe. She could pretend that they never lost each other, that they didn’t lose so much more. All she had to do was keep her eyes closed.

Gradually her body relaxed and her arms fell to her sides. If these were going to be her last moments, Sas almost wanted to just let herself enjoy his touch. She could pretend that he was the man she loved. Just one last stolen moment before it all came crashing down. After all that was how they loved each other best, when the galaxy was collapsing around them. What made this time so different?

Be mindful of your feelings, they can betray you.

Sas took a deep breath. Those thoughts could not be her own. As tired of the fight and hiding as she was, Sas could not give in to those feelings she had. She had to get back home call for an extraction. That had to be her priority. Her thoughts and feelings were not her own while the Grand Admiral was around.

Slowly opening her eyes, Sas moved her head a little away from him and looked up at him expecting to see the burning amber eyes of the man in the meeting room, but instead she only found relief relaxing his face and closing his eyes. Again she could feel her resolve slipping, and again she recalled  the memory of the times she and Obi-Wan would meditate together. Some of the jedi teachings were starting to make a lot more sense to her. She had to let go of those memories, and the ache in her chest. She took another deep breath. Abusivus may look like the man she loved, but that man never escaped Mustafar; he died there, and there was no going back.

She forced herself to look away.

Behind him, on the desk, was a large piece of stone propped up on a display frame, a familiar swirl etched into its surface. It was one of the crests from the Mobari temples on Zolan, from her home. The red stony clay marked the stone as not from the temple in the capital city, but the carvings along the rocky cliff overlooking the ocean. He had been to her cliff side city, her home. Sas couldn’t help but wonder if this had been before or after the blockade was put around her planet. Her gut told her that he only could have taken the carving after it was in place.

A new spark caught fire in her chest, this one white hot and explosive. She breathed in deeply, holding her breath for a moment and letting her anger chase the longing from her heart. It didn’t matter what Abusivus could make her feel, he wasn't Obi-Wan. He might have his voice, his mannerisms, and appearance, but Sas knew better than anyone that a convincing disguise did nothing to hide whoever was underneath it. She had learned that lesson the hard way. 

It didn’t matter when Abusivus took the crest from her home world. None of that mattered. Their history didn’t matter. What mattered was that Sas had people depending on her. Padmé, Jankari, and Pyrrha were depending on her to gather as much Imperial intelligence as she could. Abusivus was just another obstacle in her way. She just had to hang onto her anger long enough to leave the office.

Letting out a breath, Sas raised her hands to his wrist and slowly lowered them away from her face. 

“Darling-” he started. She hadn’t realized she was trembling until he stiffened under her touch, there was no doubt he felt the shift in her mood. Another deep breath and she steadied her hands. “What are you-?”

“Please don’t call me that,” Sas answered as evenly as she could. She could hear the waver in her voice and told herself it was anger. It wouldn’t be good to have Captain Brisa leaving the office in such an emotional state, even if Sas was struggling between giving in to his gravity, or letting her rage devour her. Either one would make it more difficult for Sas to leave the building alive.

Abusivus pulled his hands away from hers then and straightened up. Sas didn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he answered, even managing to sound genuine. “I- I missed you.”

There was another blaster bolt to her chest. She took another deep breath, the words I missed you too nearly choking her as they fought to leave her lips. Instead she looked to the Onderon statue, the Twi’lek figure, the stone crest on his desk. She tried to imagine the dirt under her finger tips, imagine the circumstances where he took those things as prizes for his conquests. She could harden her despair, she had to. She had to go home and call for an extraction.

“I saw you crash…I thought I lost you” He started again. 

“You did. Four years ago.” She finally met his gaze. Part of her hoped she would find the clear blue eyes of the man that she adored, but still she was met with cold amber eyes, his brows furrowed low over them. 

“Sas-”

“Tell me you didn’t have anything to do with the blockade around Zolan. Tell me you didn’t attack my home!”

Silence fell heavy between them. Abusivus loomed over her, his jaw clenching as his gaze hardened. Sas wanted to strike him, demand an answer, instead she let herself feel the sting of his betrayal as she dug her nails into her palms in a tightly clenched fist. Whatever comment he had been about to make was lost under the weight of her demand. Sas had seen the look before. When he was choosing his words carefully. She was an enemy now, and she knew well enough how Abusivus used to negotiate with his enemies. The only reason he was paying her this decency was likely for the sake of their past relationship. He took a step away from her, nine years of war suddenly seeming to weigh down his shoulders as he leaned back against his desk.

“Perhaps I wouldn’t have needed to take such measures, if I did not have to clean up after your messes,” Abusivus said at last as he stroked his beard.. 

That was worse than a blaster shot. A tremor ran through her as she tried to make sense of his comment. “You just said you thought I was dead.”

“I did. When I first caught your trail, I wasn’t so sure-”

“What trail? Nothing has happened-”

“Does a missing intelligence officer on Onderon sound familiar, it should.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh then perhaps on Naboo? Ryloth? Or maybe the ambush on Jabiim sounds familiar? It goes without saying that many troopers and agents went missing in the early days. If Saw Gerrera, or Cham Syndulla picked off  a few agents during an investigation, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”

Sas held her breath. She knew exactly what missions he was referring to. She hadn’t stayed in Imperial Intelligence for so long without avoiding combat zones and running into old faces. Each that he referenced however weren’t exactly huge blows to the Empire. She had been sure about that.

“It's incredible really that an officer not trained for combat could survive so many large scale skirmishes, but you seem to be at the center of each one. Of course when I first started looking into these encounters I thought we just had a very lucky officer on our hands, that perhaps we just kept sending in one of our best as she’s proven to get results. It’s not unheard of, after all.”

There was nothing Sas could do but stand and listen. Her lungs ached with every word she wanted to shout at him. She could just walk out. That would be the smart thing to do. She could walk out, be careful that no one followed her home, and hope that Crix could call an extraction for her before it was too late. She couldn't leave just yet though. Sas couldn’t break down and she couldn’t storm out, she still had people depending on her.

"There were two conclusions I could have arrived at, this of course after conducting my own investigation," Abusivus continued. “The first was that Rola Brisa was indeed just a fresh face and eager to prove herself. The second was much more fantastical, however there was no record of anyone recovering your body from the temple, and yet you had been reported as killed in action. I’m guessing someone, probably yourself, made sure that information was in the databases. There was even speculation that you had something to do with the death of Senator Amidala. Though, with you being here, I’m guessing that she and her children are alive and well.”

 Sas stayed silent, not wanting to confirm or deny any of what he was beginning to realize. Maybe he already knew, or had always known. She wasn’t sure she really wanted to think about how long he possibly suspected she was hiding in Imperial ranks.

 He paused for a moment studying her, as if for a moment she was one of the trophies in his office he could turn and examine however he pleased. She supposed she was in a lot of ways, though that was hardly a reassuring thought. "However, that isn't what I wished to discuss, not now anyway," he said seemingly more to himself than to Sas. “Against my better judgment I looked into the fantastical option. There was something…comforting in knowing you were still carrying on this pointless crusade-”

“Stop, just stop!” The words burst from her. “Just stop talking!” Sas squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t listen to him say that. She couldn’t talk about this. None of it made sense to her. She couldn’t believe it was all for nothing, that his friends, his people died for nothing. She felt the tears spill over her cheeks, and she took a deep breath trying to focus on the pounding of her heart in her ears. She needed to control herself. If she shifted now, she’d never leave his office alive.

“I’m sorry-”

“Are you going to kill me?” Sas cut him off. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his pristine uniform seeming more like restraints as he stroked his auburn beard. “Why would I do a thing like that?”

Sas still didn’t look in his eyes. “You did just tell at least a dozen Intelligence Officers to report to you if they found out anything about me.” She didn’t like this game. She just wanted him to be straightforward with her. 

“Ah, I supposed that would be your natural conclusion.”

Sas gritted her teeth. For just a moment she had been willing to pretend that the man in front of her could make her feel whole again, that she could somehow look past the situation they found themselves in. Something in the casual tone he used to answer her made the hair on the back of her neck stand up.

“Then what the fuck do you want from me?” She said at last. 

Abusivus’ lips quivered upward briefly as if he were amused by her question. He stroked his beard once, then twice, letting the silence stretch on between them.

“Can you just get on with it-?”

“Patience,” he said, the small grin still in place. “Forgive me for wanting to pick my words carefully before I make a proposal.”

Sas hated the way he said that. She knew he phrased it that way on purpose. Five years apart and he was trying to get under her skin in the worst ways possible. She crossed her arms over her chest. It was the only way to hold herself back from slapping him across the face. Not even when he had been a Jedi did he ever joke about that. While she always knew a marriage and a life after the war together was never in their future, she never would have thought it would have come to this conclusion. They were on opposite sides of the war now, and he had thrown away everything they had fought together for. Somehow he still had the nerve to make jokes about a proposal.  

“Just spit it out,Traitor,” Sas said at last, her body trembling with the build and mixture of emotions warring inside her chest.

“Oh no my de-” He stopped himself and shut his amber eyes tightly for a moment before continuing. He let out a breath. “You understand that I found you, right? Had anyone else had the sense to dig deeper they would have found you. If anyone else found you, you'd already be in an interrogation chamber.” He said, his tone almost seeming annoyed, but his brows had that little furrow they always got when he was thinking hard about something.

 Had he not cut her so deep, she might have felt sympathy for the brief hint of anguish that crossed his features. She might have even taken his warning seriously. But this was Abusivus, not Obi-Wan, and Sas wasn’t going to let him make her feel so vulnerable again. She kept Brisa’s face in place, watching him with serious but tired green eyes.

Abusivus continued when there was no answer. “I can petition to have you cleared of any charges, Sas. You wouldn’t need to disguise yourself any longer-”

“So what's stopping you? Shouldn’t be difficult for someone like you.” All he was offering was empty promises. Once upon a time they had sworn to each other that they wouldn’t do such things to each other.

“Might I ask what information you’re specifically looking for at this time? Obviously you’re spying for someone.”

“I’m not feeling inclined to share that.”

“I should have guessed as much.”

“Is that all you wanted from me? To figure out who I’m working with and what they want? I would have thought a sith lord would have had a more tempting offer than to just clear my record.” Each word felt like a crack forming in a pressurized tank. She felt too many things, but he needed to know how he hurt her. What he was doing to her. She needed to relieve some of the pressure.

The faintest hint of a smile came to him. “I believe you’ve turned down better offers with much less at stake. You must forgive me for that very poor attempt.”

“I don’t have to forgive you for anything.”

Again the Grand Admiral shut his eyes for a heart beat too long. “I don’t suppose you do, and I should understand why. It is a shame it has come to this.”

“I’m not so sure it would have ended any better for us in another life,” Sas answered simply. She would have preferred it wasn’t this one, she would have preferred an ending where she died before having to know how wrong things truly went.

“I like to imagine there is at least one reality where we end up happy.”

“You’re purposely trying to distract me. Just  tell me what you want or kill me.”

“Sas,” he started again, and for a moment she caught a glimpse of the man who lit up her world and kept her going during the clone wars. The one who kept her safe and made her feel loved. “I need your help. I can’t do this without you.” He looked to something behind her for just a brief moment and she got the feeling they were running out of time. “What if I told you, that your perception is flawed? ”

“What if I told you, I’d rather get back to work,” Sas answered. She still had people waiting on her, but she was going to be more careful about her words. 

If she were being honest with herself, and she was very worried that she couldn’t be in that moment, something about his tone sounded familiar. He was asking her for help, but she wasn’t sure what exactly he needed help doing. He said her perception was flawed. She could only assume that things weren’t quite what she was expecting them to be. He hadn’t killed her yet so that at least was a good start. There was more to it though. 

Sas turned away from his gaze. Hanging on the wall next to another painting of the Naboo countryside, was something that looked like some kind of schematic. The longer she looked the more the halls looked like tunnels twisting and knotting underground. She blinked and it hit her. It was the layout for a Geonocian factory.

Abusivus’ offer reminded her of the one Count Dooku made him nearly ten years ago when they had been captured on Geonosis. Dooku had told the truth then. Maybe Abusivus was telling the truth too. Maybe he hadn’t really fallen.

She looked back to the Grand Admiral. The corners of his lips pulled upward ever so slightly. 

Perhaps Abusivus planted that thought in her head. There was only one thing to do; be smarter than Obi-Wan had been when faced with this same choice.

“I want the clean slate, pay raise, no questions asked, and I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Sas answered at last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As always thank you for reading! I hope you are enjoying this story so far! It was meant to just be a one shot and has taken on a whole life of its own lol And like always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for the love on the last two chapters!

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[galacticwildfire]

Star Wars Fanfic OC boards

Sharing moodboards from the star wars stories I've got up

Hope. | Poe Dameron

Illicit Affairs | Obi-Wan Kenobi

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[nageill]

Grieving is Normal

Fandom: Star Wars, pre-The Phantom Menace.

Character(s): Obi-Wan Kenobi; Korre Ver (OC).

Pairing(s): None.

Word Count: 910.

Genre: Angst.

Summary: There is more than one way to lose a friend. Two Jedis, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Korre Ver, learn the hard way.

Author’s Notes: Just a little something I wrote up for @koiwrites, based on a random idea I had from our timeline with our Star Wars roleplays.

Cross-Posted: AO3.

Emotions were a natural part of life, and despite the popular opinion of Jedi throughout the galaxy, they were natural to the Jedi as well. They were not immune to emotions; they experienced them as well. They are not living statutes, cold and emotionless like a simple rock. No, they feel. If anything, Korre believes, they feel too much. With the Force, it is impossible to be connected to it and not experience every emotion that exists.

The Jedi simply do not dwell on it. They do not wallow, allow themselves to drown in them, or be consumed by them. They experience them and let go. That is the teaching of the Jedi. It is healthier to do so rather than to bottle them up inside, to try and deny them completely, less to fall into temptation from the Dark Side, either from lack of compassion or being controlled by them.

Therefore, the heartache the young Twi’lek is currently feeling is only natural. She has suffered a loss. Grieving is normal. She can experience this emotion and let go. Still, it is painful in the present moment.

Ris could not have left more than ten minutes ago, and yet, it felt like an hour to her breaking heart. The news of the young Jedi Knight leaving the Order caught Korre by surprise. Of all the news she expected to hear, this was certainly not it. She knows such a decision has not come lightly to her friend, however, and she must hold fast to the belief that the Force is guiding her elsewhere. That is where Korre finds her comfort, even among her tears. The Force is still with Ris, it will protect Ris and guide her even outside the Temple walls.

Still, she cannot say that she will not miss her friend all the same.

It is only when another approaches that interrupt her thoughts and tears.

“Korre, what is the matter?” Obi-Wan asked with a slight, worried frown, concerned.

“Oh, Kenobi,” Korre greeted him, wiping her eyes and taking a calming breath before lowering her hands to see him. She bowed her head slightly in greeting, weakly smiling at him. “I will be alright. I’m just missing Ris. It was so sad to see her leave.”

However, her friend’s laughter only confused Korre. She would have expected out of everyone here at the Temple, Obi-Wan would miss their comrade the most. “Don’t fret,” he began, “The diplomatic missions Ris and Master Coul go on never take too long.” He grinned, thinking that would reassure her. “She’ll be back and making sweet-sand cookies for your younglings before you know it.”

“Diplo—No. She’s not…” Her voice trailed off as realization hit her. “Obi-Wan, Ris hasn’t left for a mission. She’s leaving the Order,” she gently explained. “You…didn’t know?”

His blue eyes widened in shock. “What? What do you mean she’s leaving the Order??” Obi-Wan demanded, his voice growing much louder so quickly, a twinge of panic to his tone. 

What could have happened? Ris was the most rule-abiding Padawan and Knight the Temple probably ever had! What could she have done to be forced to leave the Jedi Order? The very thought that she would have voluntarily resigned from the Order, so soon after being promoted to a Jedi Knight, did not even cross his mind.

“I do not know. She did not tell me what prompted her to leave, only that she felt it was what she must do. Master Coul is returning her back to her family’s home back on Naboo today,” Korre explained calmly. She felt guilty breaking the news to Obi-Wan this way. Ever since they were crechemates, Obi-Wan and Ris shared a close bond. Why hadn’t Ris told him? Perhaps she could not find him, but still, it seemed so unlike her friend not to personally tell Obi-Wan she resigned.

“What prompted–she’s choosing to leave?” Obi-Wan sputtered, almost stammering.

The green Twi’lek nodded, a slight frown tugging at her lips. “That is my understanding, yes,” she confirmed. She did not need to sense through the Force to know her friend was hurt, upset. No, the intense emotion radiated from Obi-Wan like steam.

“Where is she?”

“She told me goodbye just before you came. I believe she might–”

However, Korre did not get a chance to finish answering his question before Obi-Wan was running out towards the landing pad. She hoped he wasn’t too late…

A hope which was dashed when Obi-Wan sulkily returned not even ten minutes later.

Disappointment, sadness, confusion, and anger burned brightly off his aura as he walked past her. Korre’s heart now ached for him as well. As much as she cherished her own friendship with Ris, she knew Obi-Wan hurt even worse.

“Kenobi!” she called after him, and he stopped, turning to look back as she crossed over to him and hugged him. “I’m sorry,” she murmured quietly, not able vocally expressed the depth of her concern but communicating it through the Force.

Obi-Wan at first tensed from the sudden embrace, too wrapped up inside his own head to fully appreciate or welcome the gesture, but he quickly relaxed. There was a comfort in his friend’s arms, a deep sense of understanding and empathy that, while it did not extinguish the flurry of emotions he felt right now, it did help to temper the pain. He hugged her back, perhaps a little too tightly. “Me, too,” he mumbled. “Me, too.”

[autumnillustration]

Ahsoka: He's nine. Nine-year-old boys are allowed to pick their noses. I'm willing to bet my boots you picked your nose at nine.

Obi-Wan: I did not. Did you?

Ahsoka: I was never a nine-year-old boy.

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM. Link to fic)

[corinthianism]

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last updated: march 26, 2024

MARVEL

loki laufeyson - from the void, with love — by whirlybirbs (my fav fanfic of all time!!! i think about this fic several times in a day bro) - riptide — by starks-hero - the tailor* (series) — by birdofhermes (ao3) - time after time (series) — by goldencherriess (ao3) - a friend from work — by cozy_the_overlord (ao3)

thor odinson - god of fertility* (request) — by charnelhouse - highway don't care (but i do, i do)* (part one, part two, part three) — by spacelabrathor

peter parker (andrew garfield) - agree to disagree — by delicate-dorothea - nerdy peter (request) — by webslingingslasher - good boy x bad girl trope (request) — by webslingingslasher - hold you here, my loveliest friend* — by p3mybeloved - your friendly neighborhood sensitive spider* — by jin0 - glad you're home — by withahappyrefrain - the mechanics of a soul — by irndad - 3 is the magic number* — by withahappyrefrain - crush — by ptersparkers - as it goes — by forever-rogue - here comes the sun (part one, part two, part three) — by withahappyrefrain - stability, reciprocity, and a romance for the ages (series) — by privateanxieties (ao3 - need an account to read)

steven grant (moon knight) - hold me close — by stormkobra-5 - gift of min* — by astroboots - puzzles* — by stormkobra-5 - first time* — by luvpedropascal - domestic adonis* — by peterman-spideyparker - where it starts — by silversweetpea - fallen from heaven, grown on earth* (series) — by davosmymaster (ao3) - call me poe* — by kittyfandom (ao3) - elemental — by batsingotham (ao3) - the boy with the thorn in his side — by eating_flowers (ao3)

marc spector (moon knight) - not him — by loud-mouth-loser - it's worth it, it's divine* — by the-archxr - i'm getting to know someone — by davosmymaster (ao3)

wade wilson (deadpool) - tea and sympathy (series) — by bucketsoffrogs (ao3)

SHERLOCK (BBC)

sherlock holmes - your hidden strength — by okay-j-hannah - sublime dexterity* (part one, part two) — by daydreamtofiction - literally everything by starks-hero

SUPERNATURAL

sam winchester - playing house (part one, part two) — by uncouth-the-fifth - baby i'll stay (heaven can wait) — by uncouth-the-fifth - move over.* — by ggwritesstuff - where's your head at?* — by beau55515 - birthdays: sam winchester style* — by karleekarma (ao3) - the comforts of home — by zepskies - under the hood* — by shawslut

dean winchester - whether you like it or not — by kbeautimous (ao3) - reading you wrong — by zepskies - cherished — by thatonewriter15 (ao3) - soft touch — by wearywinchester - i love her, that's why* — by kaleldobrev - drivin' me crazy* — by lis-likes-fics

castiel - salt n' lick* — by aperfectgrace (ao3) - a bite of apple pie (series) — by ac_deanc (ao3)

THE SANDMAN

the corinthian - bring me a dream* (series, ongoing) — by placeinthemiddleofnowhere - nihil — by lis-likes-fics

dream/morpheus - sweet dreams (are made of this) — by stranger-nightmare

CRIMINAL MINDS

aaron hotchner - from eden — by heliotropehotch - gold star — by honeypiehotchner - love, an abstract concept — by luveline - honeymoon phase* (series) — by hotchsbitch (ao3)

THE BOYS

soldier boy (he's absolutely horrible but so. so. hot.) - break me down* (series) — by zepskies (go read their other stuff too!) - talk to me — by zepskies

homelander (also absolutely horrible. would sleep with him.) - if i can't have you — by watchstarscollide - milky white* — by after-witch

GAME OF THRONES

jaime lannister - i'm not made by design — by ichorai (this legitimately changed my brain chemistry)

STAR WARS

obi-wan kenobi - like turning on the light* — by full-time-make-believer (deactivated acc) (this also changed the trajectory of my life) - where it wasn't* — by 221bshrlocked - your thoughts are loud — by spidersbane - empty me out* — by 221bshrlocked - house of memories* (series) — by meshlasolus - bad idea, right?* (series) — by mischiefling (ao3) - you make me feel like dancing — by saradika (ao3) - it's a wonderful lie — by firstofficerwiggles (ao3) - temptation's kiss — by karasong (ao3) - you make my dreams* — by wickedscribbles (ao3) - like a living mirage — by karasong (ao3) - broken drought* — by rosalindbeatrice (ao3) - never grow up — by doihavetoloseyoutoo (ao3) - never ending story — by kybercrystal (ao3) - volveré* — by kxnobi (ao3)

din djarin (the mandalorian) - the savior* (part one, part two, part three) — by dindjiarin - significant — by softlyspector - touching din — by archieimagines - uncharted territory* — by pedrito-friskito - creed* — by wheresarizona - home is wherever i'm with you* (part one, part two, part three) — by saradika

DRACULA (BBC)

count dracula - the székely* (series) — by theplumsoldier

LOTR/THE HOBBIT

thranduil oropherion - a boon* (series) — by inksplots (ao3) - beauty and the beast (series) — by tamurilofrivendell (ao3)

DOCTOR SLEEP

dan torrance - of monsters and men* — by helaintoloki & obitwo - domestic life (headcanons) — by thornsinmycrown - smut alphabet* — by daincrediblegg

[duckysprouts]

hamilton quote in 2023 again? yeah

now animated

[4ndeka]

Its my bestie @cc-kote's bday today!! So i did a little codywan for him, as a treat (he also has a kick ass fanfic about them check it out)

[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."

[dracowars]

Hi love! Could I request an obi Wan X reader where it’s late at night and he finds her reading in a library and he joins her?

peaceful | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader

word count: 0,6k

summary: where obi-wan joins y/n in the library

a/n: enjoy <3

warnings: mentions of war

universe: star wars

With your face bathed in a soft bluish glow, you scroll through the pages of the holobook that sits on your lap, only reading the titles of each chapter to see if there is anything relevant to you. Sitting with your legs crossed, you lean against the back of the armchair, which is located right by a large round window and has recently become your new favorite spot. It is only here that you can finally rest, letting your mind wander, and enjoy the rain gently pattering against the window, hiding the dark and busy city beyond.

Coruscant never sleeps and, apparently, neither do you. Especially not these last few days, considering you only have one day left until you embark on one of your longest and probably most dangerous missions so far. For this reason, you try to acquire as much knowledge about the planet and its habitat and inhabitants as you can in the short time since the Jedi Council gave you the instructions.

It is always hard to keep your cool in times of war, but it is moments like these when you can just sit here in the Jedi archives, alone, thinking about everything and nothing. For some inexplicable reason, it gives you a sense of security. The mission will probably cost you the last of your strength, but the end of the Clone Wars is in sight, and if this single mission can bring you a little closer to the end, then you will do just that. Giving your all and fighting for your values, for what is right.

Your eyes get caught on a chapter you find useful, and it is only when you change your sitting position that you suddenly feel a change in your surroundings. You do not even have to look up to know he is here.

"Still out and about at this hour?", you tease him, carefully putting the book aside before looking at him because let's face the truth, you can't take your eyes off of him for more than a few seconds. As soon as you do look at him, however, your heart aches in your chest.

The man in front of you has seen a lot of terrible things in this war and it only makes you want to end it even quicker. His hair is disheveled, probably from tossing and turning back and forth for hours to get his well-deserved sleep, which was obviously not granted to him in the end. Obi-Wan only returned to Coruscant today after being sent out to Kamino for several days, and has to leave again tomorrow, with you. Which is why you made it your task to spare him as many difficulties as possible, dealing with the necessary information intensely.

"I knew I would find you here", is his answer as he sits down on the armchair next to you, a small smile on his lips as he can't help himself but to softly run his hand over your head. "And before you tell me to leave and get some sleep: I can't."

"I know", you respond sadly, only knowing too well how it feels to run on low fuel and still not being able to fall asleep, letting the misery of this galaxy behind. Grabbing his hand, you push your palm against his before closing your fingers around it, squeezing lightly.

Reaching over you with his other hand, Obi-Wan grabs another holobook that you have carefully searched out a few hours ago, leaning back in his seat. But not before placing a soft kiss on your hair, whispering 'I'm proud of you' along the way.

Your heart painfully beats for this man. You know that all of this, everything you have build up, can be over tomorrow, and yet he does not disturb the peace you have built around here. He fades in perfectly and, with your hands intertwined, reads on, the soft glow illuminating his beautiful face.

You can't wait for all of this to be over. Because once it is, you will finally make him yours. And he will finally make you his.

[where-fantasy-meets-reality]

"We're Not Promised Tomorrow." Chapter 20 "...How Do I Say I'm Sorry?"

Pairing: Obi-Wan x Fem. OC

W/C: 5.2 K

Warnings: lots of angst, injuries, fighting, high emotions, blood, panic, stress.

A/N: Happy New Year everyone. I hope the holidays were good to you all and if you do not celebrate then I hope the season was filled with lots of joy, laughter, and good vibes. The angst train continues in the chapter but this is its last stop (for now evil smile) after this chapter, the fit will turn a coroner into one of my favorite parts of this whole fic. If you have made it this far, I appreciate you sticking with it. Thank you all for any support that you give and happy reading.

Masterlist can be found here.

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

Emily had cleaned her whole apartment, sterilized everything, and had thrown away Obi-Wan's torn and bloody tunic.

She placed his boots next to her tea table, folded his pants, belt and gathered his lightsaber, placing them on one of the sitting chairs in her living room

It was late; by her recollection, it had to have been at least a half hour after midnight. She was exhausted and emotionally drained. The dull throb in her head seemed to match the pain in her soul. 

The 7 P.M sparring session felt like it was a lifetime ago but it had been only hours since the incident. 

She had checked on Obi and he was sleeping soundly. He didn’t have a fever anymore and she had used the Force to again assess his injuries. His nose was almost completely healed and his insides were improving. Thank the Maker for Bacta. 

Emily had changed her clothes when she had stopped by her room. She changed into her clean black sparring pants and a white short-sleeved top and laid down on the couch in the darkness of her apartment; the only light that came in came from the floor-to-ceiling windows that brought the chaotic, outside world of Coruscant inside in her sanctuary. 

The fight that happened earlier in the evening seemed like forever ago...but the ache in her heart was as strong as it was the minute Sorv had entered the Arena and challenged Obi. Rolling over, she buried her face in the pillow and pulled her blanket up over her head, creating a cocoon of safety. She wanted to kick down the door of her bedroom and run to him. To throw her arms around him and break down all over again. To be completely vulnerable with her person was something she needed right now, even if she was royally pissed at her person.

She was so happy that he was alive and going to be okay. Yet, She also wanted to scream at him and tell him what an inconsiderate jerk he had been. Additionally, he acted like a complete macho, overprotective, stubborn male peacock who needed to strut his stuff to prove a point.

Attempting to sort through her emotions and control them (like a good Jedi) she allowed her mind to wander as she rolled back over and stared at the scenery outside of her wall of glass. The lights twinkled on the buildings and spreaders raced in all directions; it was truly the planet that never slept. 

“Maybe he was right. Maybe Jedi aren’t supposed to have personal relationships. It’s not like we have training with how to handle ourselves with our own emotions....let alone other people's emotions.” 

She drifted off to sleep as her stomach twisted itself in knots. 

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

Emily could feel distress around her. It was bearing down on her as if it was trying to suffocate and swallow her. She had become hot and sweating. Restless from tossing and turning, as if she was trying to fight whatever was bearing down on her; It was as if her body was trying to burn itself from the inside out. 

The feeling of sweating and burning woke her up, causing her to sit upright and gasping for air, fighting the suffocation.  For as hot as she had been in the dream, when she woke up, the apartment air was cool and the mood peaceful. Assessing herself, she wasn’t even warm or that sweaty... nothing like what she felt while asleep. She looked around confused. 

Her t-shirt and pants were dry, with no sweat or liquid present. 

She extended herself through the Force, still confused. Had it just been a dream or a vision?

No, the source of heat and stress was coming from the apartment; that was shown to her through the Force. She could feel the pull of heat and an oppressive weight centering around her.

She tried to follow its weight to the source, her eyes darting around her quiet apartment. When her eyes landed on her bedroom door, it felt as if her head were on fire. 

“OBI-WAN!” She gasped in a panic. 

She vaulted off the couch and sprinted the short distance into her room, practically breaking the door open with the speed and weight she hit it with. 

She burst into the doorway and found him in a pool of sweat and fidgeting in his sleep.

“No, no, no, no, no, I thought we were past this!” She hissed as she ran to him and ripped the covers off of him. 

Turning, she ran out of the room to her refresher and grabbed two big towels and a small one. She turned on the faucets and soaked them in cold water. Emily ran back to her and placed the cold towels along his body.

She laid the compress on his forehead, dabbing at the sweat, and then sprinted to the galley-style kitchen to grab some ice and more towels.

Making two makeshift ice packs, she placed one on top of the forehead compress and the other by his side, the two main sources of heat. 

She was already tired and worn out and didn’t know how much use she was going to be so the ice and cold compresses would help her bring down his fever naturally, buying her more time and wiggle room. 

Kneeling, she placed her hands on his chest and stomach and started commanding the Force to flow through her. 

She visualized everything she loved about him. His smile, those amazing blue eyes that gleamed like the oceans on Naboo, his wit and his corny jokes...how he was always a gentleman; usually so full of care, love and gentleness. The way he silently cared so much about his friends. What a great Jedi he was; centered, balanced, and brave. 

Oh, how much she loved him; If love was tangible. She visualized the fever being cooled from his body, visualized her mending his muscles and tissue, healing him. 

She had sat there and commanded continuous use of the Force for hours and hours. She would not give up on him despite how she felt about him at the moment. She had loved him her whole life, she would die trying to save him if she had to.

Emily felt like she was losing her grasp on reality. She had never healed someone for this extended amount of time. She was becoming woozy and she felt like her energy was draining itself from her body. 

 She was unaware of his state as her head slumped forward and she passed out.

The sunlight was coming through the blinds as it peaked into the bedroom apartment. 

Emily had passed out on the floor, her head still resting on the side of the bed, hands still on his stomach and chest. The cold, wet towels had pruned her skin and made her shiver.

There was a faint beeping noise that was bothering her, causing her to wake up. 

It wasn’t coming from the bedroom, it sounded from somewhere else in the apartment.

She was too tired to move. Maybe if she ignored it would stop? Then she could just go back to sleep.

After two minutes of continuous buzzing and beeping she begrudgingly got up and stumbled into her living room. 

The sound was coming from Obi-Wan’s pants. 

She sleepily fumbled with them until she found a comlink in his pants pocket. 

“Master Kenobi’s Comlink.” She said groggily. 

“Who is this?” The voice on the other end sounded.... hostile... accusing and even a bit...stunned... as if they weren’t expecting her to answer; which in fairness to them, they weren't. 

Their tone caused her to become more alert. 

“Who is this? You called this line?” She didn’t want to give anything away that she didn’t have to. 

“This is Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, his mission partner... Now I ask again, who are you?” 

She relaxed. 

“Hi Anakin, sorry for the guessing games, it’s Master Marblu.”

There was a pause; he didn’t answer right away. 

“Hi, Emily.” He sounded lighter, more smug sounding. She pictured that stupid, self-satisfied smile she was probably wearing. 

“Is Obi-Wan there? He was supposed to meet us at the hangar for a mission this morning, and he’s late….very late. Considering he's never late for anything, I knew something had to be up.” 

Someone was giggling in the background…Emily listened harder...yes it was definitely a girl giggling. 

“I don’t think he’s gonna make it to the mission today, Anakin. He was in an accident last night in the Arena. We were sparring and he did something stupid and he’s pretty injured. He’s sleeping right now and he couldn’t move if he wanted to.” 

“Is he alright?!” Anakin's tone had changed quickly from amusement to worry. 

“He is fine now. He was worse last night. Like I said, he’s sleeping and his injuries are healing for the most part. I patched him up last night, I have a med kit in my apartment. Are you able to do the mission without him? I could step in if you need me to.”

She didn’t want them to worry about him if she could get him on the mend and keep him there. She additionally didn’t want to leave him alone in her apartment in that condition, but she didn’t want his team stranded either. Maybe Xira could babysit him while she was gone if she had to?

“No, that's okay Emily, but thank you. You just take care of him for us while we’re gone. We’ll be back tomorrow afternoon and we’ll check in on him. Keep me posted if you need anything, I’m always here.” 

“Thanks Anakin. I’ll keep you posted and he’s in good hands, I promise I’ll take good care of him.”

“Well now, don’t take care of him too well if you know what I mean, he’ll become spoiled.”

Now he and the female voice were laughing. What were they insinuating? 

“Bye Anakin and Ashoka.” She spoke in a sing-song, teasing tone. She had a hunch of what they were getting at despite them supposedly being in the dark. 

“Bye Emily.” He teased her back.

The comlink disconnected. 

Well there was no going back to sleep after that, she was awake now for sure. 

She noticed that the chronometer in the bedroom read 8:30 A.M. as she took the towels off of him and put them in the hamper in the refresher. His bandages would need to be changed again but she didn’t want to wake him up just for that yet, it could wait a while longer. 

She made herself a cup of cinnamon tea but kept the pot boiling; he’d be awake soon and knew how he'd love a cup. 

She had a blend that she had gotten from another healer in the Medical Wing that was specifically designed to help speed up the healing process as it was loaded with special vitamins and herbs. 

She was sitting on her couch reading the morning news on her datapad when she heard the bed shift and squeak in her room. 

“He would try to get up by himself.” She huffed irritatedly, rising to her feet. 

“Nope; lay back down.” She commanded as she briskly walked back into her room. 

He ignored her. 

She placed her hands on his shoulders and gingerly forced him back on the pillows. 

“There’s nothing you need that I can’t get for you.” She told him, sitting down on the side of the bed as she helped him settle himself. 

He made a grumpy "hmph" sound as he fumbled with the covers. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked, touching his forehead. His skin felt the coolest it had since the event. 

She took his face in her hands and titled it slightly in different directions to examine his nose. “Your nose has healed and isn’t broken anymore, so that’s good.” 

He sighed as he surrendered to her fussing. 

“I’m fine, I just wanted to get up and stretch... you don’t have to help me. I don’t want to inconvenience you.” 

“No, you need to stay put.” 

He put his head back on the pillow and huffed in annoyance again. If she hadn't been so angry with him from the night before, she would be amused with all the huffing he was doing. Like an annoyed Bantha calf who was being smothered by his mother.

His groggy voice brought her out of her daydream of a little Bantha calf taking a temper tantrum. “What was the horrid beeping noise this morning?”

As soon as he asked the question, a wave of recognition washed over him causing him to jolt forward and grab her hand despite the dull ache of pain in his side. 

“THE COMLINK! I’M LATE FOR A MISSION!”  He tried to use her as leverage to get out of the bed but she stopped him. 

“Easy killer, easy. They already called looking for you and I sent them off without you, you need your rest, plus you couldn’t go in this condition if you wanted to.” 

He formed the same irritated expression that was on his face during their fight last night. 

“You answered my comlink? What was your excuse for having it? Where was I? What did you tell them? And that wasn't your call to make...” 

“Slow down and calm down. First off, I told Anakin that you were hurt because you did something very stupid in the Arena last night, which you did, and that you were too injured to show up today. I told him I had to take you back to my apartment to heal you and I was letting you sleep. And guess what, like the independent, big boy he is,  Anakin wished you well and went on his mission with Ahsoka and the troops. I told him enough of the truth and surprisingly well it works well...when people listen.” She smiled a sarcastic smile. 

He rolled his eyes and looked away from her. “He has a big mouth, he probably found it amusing that you answered and now he won’t be able to keep his mouth shut about it; fantastic.”

“Mmmmm I disagree. He was amused, that’s for sure but I think you're making a bigger deal out of it than he did. Nothing incriminating happened last night, for once, and we can honestly abide by that story if we have to. Someone’s bound to notice the damage in the Arena and the trail of blood that you dripped from the Arena to my apartment. ” She folded her arms across her chest. 

He shook his head and chose to move on and drop it. He was tired, sore, and still angry about the previous evening. Yet, one fight with Emily was enough for a lifetime, never mind two in less than 24 hours. As angry as he was, he didn't want to fight with her again if he could help it. 

His hands felt the sheets on the bed that were still cold and wet. 

Changing the subject, she scoffed at the annoyance of damp, cold sheets. “Why is the bed all wet and cold?”

“You were running a very high fever at various points in the night. I grabbed a bunch of towels and ice packs and threw them on you... I sat down to heal you and further bring it down too. Last I remember it was about 4 in the morning and I was blacking out from exhaustion.”

There was no emotion in her words. They were blank and matter-of-fact. Like he was just another patient again. She had kept up that demeanor since last night. Obi-Wan knew what she was doing; she was detaching herself from her emotions to not fight with him either. 

His eyes snapped to hers, “You had to heal me again?….." His mind started racing as he was now fully processing her words. You were able to hold out for that long after everything that happened last night? For almost two hours?” Unlike her, his expression and voice was full of emotion as he was starting to understand what it means when someone loves you. 

“Yup.” Short, sweet, and to the point was still her preferred method of speaking to him. 

Before he could say anything else she got up from the bed. “I want you to drink a cup of tea, it's a special health blend from a friend who’s a healer and will help you get better quicker, so no arguments. We can't have you hanging around in this bed forever." She spoke to him from over her shoulder as she left the room. 

Leaning back against his pillow, he let out a long deep breath and blinked rapidly; he was misty-eyed. That’s three times now in 24 hours she saved his life or sacrificed herself or her well-being for him. 

While he was still being a total jerk....an ass....completely terrible to her. Even though he could tell that she was insanely angry at him, she had done everything to save his life. He knew she still felt this way, if he extended himself, he could feel it in their bond and her in her Force signature. 

“Because that’s what you do when you love someone you fool. You stand by them and take care of them through thick and thin....even when they do not deserve it." He stared at the ceiling. 

Alright, enough now Kenobi. Be a man, when she comes back you need to use your words. You are always preaching to Anakin about patience, humility, and using your words. It's time to listen to your own teachings matter how difficult it is." ” He spoke to himself, self-loathing brimming. However, this new experience did give him a new perspective on Anakin's Padawan years. 

Emily came back shortly after his thoughts had settled with a steaming mug of the ruby-colored tea. “Drink.” She commanded as she handed it to him. 

Normally, he liked tea and this one was very pleasing. Fruity, with a hint of spice; very flavorful. He took two large sips and could feel the warmness spreading through his body. It tingled as it flowed through him. 

He closed his eyes, relishing in the relief it brought. 

“Wow, this stuff really works...I can feel it going through me, and I've only had two sips...”

“Keep going; finish the whole thing.” It was a pointed order from her. 

He wanted to talk to her instead of focusing on the tea, that was more important to him. But if he knew her, she wouldn’t let him do anything until the cup was finished. 

He took the rest of it in large gulps that burned his throat, but he didn’t care. 

He placed the mug on her bedside table. Rising slightly and shifting his position to be more at eye level with her, he took her hands in his. 

His touch caught her by surprise; and threatened to make her crack; allowing all the emotions she had been holding back to burst. She was still angry at him, figuring her curtness had communicated that. She had stuffed all of her emotions down and was being a “good Jedi.” 

That is until he touched her and he looked at her with those eyes that made her heart stop beating, reminding her of a calm ocean after a rocky storm. 

She tried to pull away from him, but he put up a gentle resistance, keeping her in place. 

“Please. Don’t run from me.” Obi-Wan whispered to her. His glossy blue eyes looked at her seriously. 

She could see the sadness in them and could feel it in his Force signature. His voice was soft and quiet as if he was afraid to use it. 

“What is it? I'm sure whatever it is, it can wait, you need your rest.” Her voice was raspy and throaty. She shifted her eyes to his hands, if she looked at his face instead with those beautiful eyes, she was going to become emotional again and she was tired of crying. The rollercoaster of emotions had taken its toll on her. 

Yet Obi-wan held fast. He moved so that he held both her hands in one of his, and used his other hand to lift her chin, ever so gently, so that their eyes met. “I owe you the biggest apology. Emily…you saved my life three times yesterday, and if you hadn’t done it the first time, then you wouldn’t have been able to do it the other two times. I was able to have that fight with you because you saved my life, and I chose to take the path of frustration, arrogance, and anger in the moments when I should have been thanking you and telling you how grateful I am to you; because I am grateful. I am so incredibly grateful...Throughout his childhood, I was always there for Anakin, but no one was there for me in that way....he was like Padawan, kid brother and son all mixed into one. I didn't know someone could love me that deeply to you...My Darling; sometimes I can't believe that someone loves me enough, let alone that you are that someone...that you love me enough to fight back for me like that, to push yourself to your brink more than once, for me.” 

Her lip started to quiver.  

"I love you more than anything...but please, you have to understand why I am so angry with you....even if I shouldn't be. Please tell me you understand how you have not made yourself a target of that sick and vile human....the thought of him makes my skin crawl and my blood boil...I almost can't bear it..." 

His eyes bore into hers as he gripped her hands tighter. "why Em? Why did you do that? He's going to harass and toy with you every opportunity he gets... His focus was on me and I was trying to keep it there..." 

Emily’s eyes were watering.  “......He was hurting you….” The tears started falling rapidly as her breath came out erratic gasps. 

That was it. It sounded so basic, so simple; but it was no less true. She would never let anyone hurt him if she could help it. It didn't matter that it was someone who was once a friend and fellow Jedi, but had now become a borderline vindictive and manipulative psychopath. 

Obi-Wan softened. He couldn't stand to see her cry, and she had been doing so much of that lately. 

 Leaning forward, he used his thumb to wipe away every tear that fell from her warm and gentle chocolate eyes.

As she attempted to control her breathing, He gave her that half-smile he was famous for. 

 “It seems as if someone is as protective of me as I am of them.” 

They chuckled together while he now held her face in his hands. His thumbs continued to dry her tears...the lightsaber-worn pads of his thumbs rubbed themselves soothingly into her skin.

“Emily, the thought of leaving you alone in life makes me worried sick. If I had died, my last thoughts would have been about you. How much I love you and how sick with regret and worry I would be that now I can’t be there for you, that you would have been at his mercy in that moment ... I know what I did was wrong, I should have listened to you and denied his challenge.....Yet I don’t regret fighting him, he needs to be stopped and I wanted it to be me who did it. I’m sorry, I’m still angry about what happened. I don’t like what you did. Just as you had to witness your fears last night, one of mine is not being able to protect you; it’s who I am and I won't apologize for it. Now that you stepped in, you technically have to fight him to finish the challenge. He’s not going to forget about that.” 

“I’m still upset too. If you hadn’t accepted then none of this would have happened. I told you to just walk away, and everything would have been fine. I understand why you’re upset, that you don’t want me to fight him because he’s unstable, but I couldn’t let him hurt you, I just couldn't, I snapped. I’m sorry, I was scared and angry. Then when you started yelling at me, between what Sorv did, Mual's visions, and what I saw during the fight, I just lashed out at you in anger, I said things I shouldn’t have and I’m sorry.” 

She removed his hands from her face and held them. 

Obi-Wan returned the jester, holding her hands lovingly. “Then let's agree to disagree because we aren’t going to get anywhere; we were both right and we were both wrong it sounds like. We had our reasons for the way we reacted. To be perfectly honest, I can’t fight with you. It hurts me too much and it’s a waste of time because it’s not going to solve or change anything. Not only that, we’re allowing him to come between us, and I won’t allow that, not him. If we’re going to fight then let it be about something better than him. I’m sorry I was horrible and rude. Thank you so much for being there for me. My Dear, I love you. If this situation comes up again, I pray I’m around. I’ll let you do what you feel you have to do when the time comes because I do know you can handle yourself, but I will step in and end it if I have to; I’m done with his games.”

She leaned forward and gently hugged him, mindful of his side. Her head was buried in the crook of his neck. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned back so that they were resting on the pillows. 

“Obi-Wan there isn’t anything you can’t protect me from. You’ve never failed me. The reason you failed last night was because you fought fair and he didn’t. You aren't a monster like he is and I don’t know if you ever could be, but that’s why I love you and not him. I don’t want you to be a monster. Yes, I agree. We did what we did, it is what it is and we have our reasons. If he comes back looking for another round, we’ll go from there. But honestly, I don’t know if I even accept his challenge, it’s not worth it. He’s not right in his mind; I’d rather involve the council sooner rather than later.”

She couldn’t see his face, she was still buried in him. He raised his eyes to the heavens and thanked the Force she didn’t feel the need to go after Sorv. He wouldn't stop her from accepting his challenge, because that would be the double standard that they argued about, but he’d absolutely go with her to the challenge. Knowing that she would have to fight that madman made him want to turn into a monster if it meant protecting her.

He placed a loving kiss into her hair. “We’ll go from here if it ever comes up again. We seem to have an understanding. For now, let's move on. My time with you is more precious and important than to waste it arguing about him and his foul games. I love you, I will always protect you, and stand by you. Always.” 

She lifted her head and kissed his lips. “Why do you get to have the big mushy lines that quell my anger and suddenly I’m in love with you all over again?” She was smiling. 

“Ah, because that’s just it My Love. I’m a stupid fool who is hopelessly and uncontrollably in love with you. And unfortunately for you, My Dear, you happen to love this fool back. I mean...I’m irresistibly handsome and charming so you have no shot of resisting me and I get infinite chances at making you smile again.” He teased her.

He closed the distance and attempted to kiss her but she was laughing. He still kissed her anyway. 

Emily giggled, turning into his advances, and easily found his lips. 

“I don’t know about infinite chances but you might be onto something with the charming and handsome part. And you're right. I do love you back. Sometimes I’m scared at how much I love you back and maybe it’s okay that you know that.” His beard tickled her as snuggled back into him. 

He held her close and rested his forehead against hers. The day had started with them being miles apart from one another even though they were under the same roof. Now, the distance was gone and their hearts were whole. 

They lay there for the morning, drifting in and out of sleep, content to be next to one another. 

By early afternoon she had changed his bandages. She ran to his apartment and grabbed him a new, clean tunic. They changed and dressed and went to speak to the Jedi Council.

 They gave their somewhat altered, slightly rehearsed statement of the story together, to Council. Rehearsed and altered only in the sense that they left out their argument and this morning's words of love; everything else was as exactly as it happened.

After they were dismissed, Jedi Master Sorv Deprov was escorted by two temple guards into the Jedi Council Chamber. Normally Obi-Wan sat on the council but given that he was involved in this matter, he was not allowed to sit as an active council member during Sorv’s questioning.  

Master Derprov neither accepted or rebutted the charges against him as Master Windu repeated the accusations and Master Yoda questioned him for his side of the story..

 When the council spoke to him, the Jedi master in question simply just stared back at them, blankly; void of all emotion. 

Luckily for Emily and Obi-Wan, their story matched up with the cracks in the Arena wall and the pool of blood on the ground, because Sorv, mysteriously, had not a scratch on him.

Given the fact that Sorv made no effort to defend himself or add any input to the story, and given his reputation for struggling with aggression, the Council unanimously ruled in Obi-Wan and Emily’s favor.

Sorv was suspended from the field until further notice, temporarily stripped of his clone regiment until his sentence was served, and was confined to the Temple and its grounds. Additionally, he had to engage in group meditation with Master Yoda three times a week to gain control of his anger and emotions. 

“I accept my sentence.” Was the only thing Sorv said during his questioning, the empty stair plastered to his face. His eyes were hollow, void of emotion…Master Yoda thought that even rage would be acceptable…normal for the master even…but emptiness ... the elder Jedi found that even more concerning. 

“A closer eye I will keep on him, during the meditations, I will.” Yoda thought to himself as he watched the suspicious Jedi be escorted out of the chamber.

@nanagoswife @transcending-time @sillynilly27 @kirstenvldfan21 @the-clones-and-me @tamnight @lucyysthings @naughtyry @nicole-lightfoot

[cc3542taki]

Fanart for The Legend Of Liob written by @killbothtwins

"She had gotten a picture of Cody vaulting over the kriffing rock. The sun was behind him, explosions and blaster bolts dotting the background. His face was set in determination and apparently heroic fire, although Cody thought he really just looked annoyed about the stray lightsaber. 

Paintbrush made it into a poster, styled as a stained glass window, and put it up in the bunk room on the Negotiator. "

I just couldn´t resist drawing the picture that was forming in my minds eye while reading this passage.

This fanfic is a favourite of mine that i suggest you go read if you love yourself a little humor in a very well written galaxy far far away.

[prahacat]

when the horrors catch up and you take an evening off to batch-process