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dolce-peach · 2 years

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soft and honeyed

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

summary: you and obi-wan are frequent battle partners during the clone wars. after a battle, the two of you head back to the jedi temple for some much needed rest -- and a much needed bath.

warnings: just obi being soft, implied nudity but nothing too graphic sorry

a/n: my obi-wan obsession has resurfaced 😆 pls enjoy this lil blurb of fluff and comfort bc THE MAN NEEDS IT 🥺😭 also feel free to leave some requests if you want, as i'm literally drowning in my obi feels LMAO 🥲

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire @just-another-loki-fangirl

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

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You sat down heavily in your seat, a sigh surfacing as you sank into the mostly unforgiving cushion, but to you, it was the most comfort you had in weeks. Feeling the cool air of the cruiser’s interior as it sped through cold space, you quickly realized you were so used to the planet's rather warm and humid atmosphere.

A familiar presence settled in the seat beside you. Obi-Wan. You glanced over to see his eyes closed with exhaustion.

He was a determined fighter, often pushing his energy past the limit. It was often your job to make sure he didn’t overwork himself, but you didn’t mind. Something about you mothering him was like therapy for you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his eyes still closed.

You smiled, fixing your gaze on the grey ceiling. “Watching you rest is good enough for me. Besides, I don’t sleep well in space.”

He chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll sleep for days when we get back to the temple.”

“That’s if we’re not shipped off somewhere else,” you lamented. “Do you think home has changed?”

You could almost feel his brow furrow. “Changed? In the course of a few weeks?” he said. “I doubt it. Home could actually do with some change. I bet they still haven’t fixed the flood in the ladies’ bathroom.”

Groaning, you elbowed him. “All I want is a bath. If it’s still flooded, I’m blaming you.”

It was light banter like this that got you through those weeks, and even the battles before that. It seemed like only yesterday the two of you were made Jedi knights and quickly charged head on into a war no one was ready for.

Not that you weren’t ready. You had been ready to face the trials for a while, but because nearly the entirety of the Jedi Temple seemed to be recruited, you felt unsteady suddenly being knighted. You were sure Obi-Wan felt the same, defeating a Sith lord and then being burdened with the responsibility of a Padawan.

The two of you heavily relied on each other to watch each other’s backs, and keep each other sane. Being engulfed in battles all the time was enough to make your head spin. The sound of blasters that always seemed to frighten you became white noise.

When you finally arrived back at the temple to debrief with the Council, you felt yourself relax a little as you walked through the halls. But at the thought of standing in a meeting room for at least an hour, you sighed.

The work was never done.

“Do we have to go see the Council?” you rhetorically asked grumpily. “Can’t we just meet tomorrow?”

Obi-Wan gave you a nod. “You can go wash up. I’ll give the report.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

He sighed. “Well, you did save my life at the end there...again.”

“I suppose I did,” you laughed. “That makes five, I believe.”

Rubbing his beard in thought, he smiled, his blue eyes twinkling. “Right. Five.”

You flashed a wide grin. “Well...if you insist on debriefing with the Council alone, then I guess I’ll get a head start on some much needed rest.” You playfully saluted. “See you around, General.”

The Jedi master nodded, his funny crooked grin appearing through his beard as he echoed the greeting. “General.”

Excitement filled you as you sped through the halls to your room to gather some things for a bath. It was a silly thing to be thrilled over, but if there was one thing you learned, take advantage of the tiny joys while you can.

And you knew you were going to enjoy it.

Humming while you practically skipped to the communal bathroom, you stopped dead in your tracks as you felt still water beneath your bare feet. You lifted your gaze to see the sunlight falling through the windows, reflecting on the water that covered the large tub and the floor surrounding it.

You could almost hear Obi-Wan’s laughter as you stood there, frozen and dejected.

You made a mental note to strangle him later.

With another heavy sigh, you walked out across the hall to the men’s room, fuming. You couldn’t care less if anyone was in the room. To your pleasant surprise, there wasn’t a single soul.

It wasn’t long before you filled the tub with scalding water and plenty of bubbles.

Sinking into the bath was by far the best feeling in your life. You wasted no time scrubbing layers of dirt and grime from your skin before you closed your eyes and lay in the tub, letting the steam fog the air.

“So I take it the other room’s still flooded.”

As you opened your eyes, Obi-Wan stood above you. “You and I both know that I desperately need this bath.” You crinkled your nose in annoyance. “Don’t forget, I still blame you.”

“Oh, I know,” he mused.

To your surprise, he began to undo his belt before shrugging off his robes, revealing his rather lean figure. He’d always been a rather conservative person ever since he was a youngling, but you guessed that living together in the most unpredictable circumstances made him more comfortable around you.

Scars carved his shoulders like constellations, including some new flesh wounds from flying shrapnel and rogue bullets. You admired his torso for another moment before closing your eyes, letting the heat of the water soak through your skin.

You could hear him shuffle and kick his boots off before joining you in the tub with a quiet splash.

Looking over, you saw him sink further into the water with a groan. “Too hot?” you asked.

He shook his head with a content smile. “It’s perfect.”

You smiled, gathering your robes. “I’ll leave you to it, then. The Council would have a fit if they knew I was in here.”

“Let them,” Obi-Wan replied, preoccupied with bubbles. “Just stay and rest. You deserve it.” He flashed a quick wink. “It’s not like anything’s going on.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with Obi-Wan Kenobi?” you laughed. You hesitated before settling back in the water again. “Speaking of the Council, how was the meeting?”

His blue gaze flitted towards you. “Oh, nothing exciting. They seemed pleased,” he sighed. “They’re thinking of sending us elsewhere in a few days.”

“Of course,” you said, giving a bitter smile. “We’re in the middle of a war. We haven’t the time for anything else anymore.” You leaned your head against the edge of the tub, your gaze on the window above. “This was never supposed to happen. I mean look at us, we’re military leaders now.” You shook your head. “I wish it would just end soon.”

He inhaled deeply. “Me too.”

You turned back to look at him before you found yourself rubbing spots of dirt and grime away on his cheek. He seemed to melt into your touch, closing his eyes as your thumb found more marks on his forehead. Your touch was soothing and rhythmic.

You stifled a laugh, earning a small, somewhat annoyed, “What?”

“You’d think you rolled down a rocky hill into a pile of dirt, not battled thousands of droids,” you said, your thumb brushing over his brow to the top of his cheekbone. “You’re filthy, General.”

“I apologize for war not being more of a...civilized matter.”

Shaking your head, you began tracing his features with your fingers. The edges of his beard felt prickly under the pads of your fingers as you wiped away some bubbles.

“For what it’s worth, you’re doing the best you can,” you murmured.

His lips twitched into a thin smile. “You too.” His voice was soft and rather scratchy from yelling orders through explosions. “This will all be over soon, and we’ll all go back to living normal lives.”

“Normal,” you scoffed, nudging his bare shoulder. “We’re Jedi. We’re far from normal.”

His eyes followed your hands as you grabbed a sponge and your body scrub and began scrubbing his arms. He could feel your anxiety fading away with each scrub, almost like cleaning him was the therapy you needed.

He was infatuated with you, the way your skin glistened with steam. Your expression was relaxed and flushed from the heat, even more calm than when you slept. His head spun at the thought of smelling like you.

As he turned so you could scrub his back, massaging his muscles as you went, he couldn’t help but asking a question to fill the silence.

“Do you ever wish you weren’t a Jedi?”

Your motions stopped, and for a moment, panic made the blood drain from his face, thinking he asked the one question he shouldn’t have. When you continued, he let out a small breath.

“Sometimes,” you admitted softly. “But it’s honestly been so long, I can’t see myself doing anything else. After all, we were raised here.”

He knew how you felt.

He echoed your answer in his head. Sometimes.

Maybe in a different universe, you’d be happy in the countryside on a distant planet, far from the problems of the Republic. You’d eventually settle down with a family, children perhaps, or maybe you’d live your life alone with nothing but nature for company.

Or maybe you’d still be in the middle of all the action. You’d fight and fight until there was nothing left to fight for. Peace would prevail.

Sensing his mind in a haze, you leaned over his shoulder, gently pressing yourself into him. Your chin settled over his broad shoulder and collarbone, with his beard just missing your cheek. “What’re you thinking about?”

He stiffened at your touch before relaxing. “Hypotheticals.”

You let out a soft laugh, wrapping your arms around him. “As per usual.” He could feel you smiling as your lips brushed his skin. “Learn to quiet your mind, General. Those thoughts won’t do you any good.”

He turned, facing you. Instead of shying away, you kept your eye contact, brushing his long locks back.

“I can’t help it,” he joked lightly. “Perhaps I’m in need of some guidance from a well-seasoned Jedi.”

You smiled. “You’re looking right at one.”

As he watched your smile widen, he fell into your gaze again. He knew there was no such thing as luck, but he also knew he was the luckiest man alive to have you by his side.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan #obi wan x reader #kenobi x reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #fluff #kenobi series #clone wars #obi is a softie #i stand by that #requests open

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thornsinmycrown · 3 months

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PRAYING HANDS

YANDERE!PATRICK MCKENNA x READER

warnings: [ MDNI +18 ] religious themes, yandere themes, stalking, obsession, constantly fantasizing about kidnapping (father mckenna). word count: 639

summary: you're in his mind, day and night, like a holy prayer.

Every day, he watches you pray from afar, how you come and go seldomly like the tiny flowers that grow outside the window of his room on spring, floating around the cathedral the same way the wind carries a lonely dry leaf that falls from a tree, he can't help but stutter a bit every time he looks your way when giving the sermon.

He can't decipher your glances, yours seem magnetic to him, like a deer's peering his lashes tenderly to tempt him, and the temperature of the room changes to a cozy hell whenever you close your eyes and fold your hands in front of you to pray, they look delicate — oh so soft.

Everything of you looks so soft for him to grasp, from the shiny threads that form your hair and frame your face, to the texture of your skin shimmering with the painted glass of the windows, the gracefulness in which your lips move to mumble the morning prayers and how your hands trace across your body the holy cross, he swears he can see the halo in your head once you walk in, but then why —oh God, why?— does he feel that churning inside when he sees you?

If your angelic presence's holiness is not questioned, why does he feel like he is comforted by the vision of the sweetest of all angels in hell?

Are his eyes sinning every time they admire you? Is it unholy to hold his breath when he passes so tortuously behind you through the aisles when the church closes its doors? Why are his thoughts so insistent on betraying his faith?

He can't find his resolve any sooner.

You're a God's creature and he is a servant of God, isn't it his duty to unconditionally love his every creation?

He knows he is in the wrong longing everything of you, he is aware he shouldn't be so eager to send all to the damn just to meet a caress in his cheek of the softness of your praying hands, within his soul he knows these are not God trials, these are the Devil's work to lure him. He knew well Satan was once an angel and so were you — then why couldn't he deny you?

You weren't more than a human, but that didn't make you any less than an enchantress. He imagines you in inappropriate scenarios, eyes rolled back and knuckles turning white, writhing and yearning, flesh to flesh flushed hellfire red late at night. He was never a romantic, and would never be, nevertheless, would whisper all of this nonsense like a chant into the void of his room make you come to him?

Patrick is not dumb, he can see the clear confusion in your face, your sweet features wonder what invade his mind while looking at you, and he wishes you could understand he only wants the best for you, that the pureness of his intentions should not be questioned — and how much he wants to keep you.

He grows white roses in his room, thinking they would give a bit of life to it, making it more appealing for you, he even got blankets with the colorful tones of the clothes he has seen you wear to make it seem comfortable. He hopes you like them so you can stay with him, Patrick dreams of the day when you can finally become a part of him, when you'll arrive to stay at his humble whereabouts and stay forever, he wouldn't mind if you want to or not, he would be glad to make you stay.

He prays with you in mind, prays and prays for God to let him see you again with desperation, on his knees in his praying sessions begging to his holy father to give you to him.

Author's note: I was watching angels & demons the other day and remembered Father McKenna exists so, this is a bit more of a drabble than anything else, I don't think I will do a follow-up of it unless it is well received or I get more inspiration to do another different reader.

#dark content #patrick mckenna x reader #yandere patrick mckenna x reader #yandere!patrick mckenna x reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #yandere ewan mcgregor #fay writes

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ficsforfandoms · 9 months

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The Rest Of My Life

Prompt - ‘I’d like to laugh with her for the rest of my life.’

It didn’t take a genius to figure out Christian, any fool who took a single glance at him could sum him up quite as easily as somebody who had known him since he was just a small boy. They would tell you he was a man in love, in love with what nobody could ever guess. There was never a woman in his life, Christian had no experience with love and yet his whole life seemed to revolve around love.

Christian himself would tell you how beautiful love was, how it was all one needed to be happy. He was content to sit at his typewriter for hours on end, his fingers dancing quickly across the keys in a desperate attempt to keep up with each new thought and idea that came to him.

Love was beautiful. It was breathtaking. It made the world a better place. Christian could spend the rest of his life waxing the most adoring words to describe the feeling of being loved and being in love.

He might never have been in love but oh how he had dreamed of it. The feeling of his lover curled into his chest, his fingers trailing through soft hair, caressing her cheek before feeling her lips against his, the words he wrote suddenly having a new meaning because they were all about her.

Christian wanted to be in love more than anything.

It was perhaps for that reason that Christian hadn’t protested so much when Toulouse insisted he joined them at the Moulin Rouge that evening, a place he would never usually have frequented but he knew he wouldn’t find love sitting in his room. It was one of the reasons he had left London, he needed to put himself out there, he needed to find her.

So he went to the Moulin Rouge and he stared in wide eyed wonderment at the sights, there were so many different types of people, lights and jewels shone around the room, Christian wasn’t able to take everything in fast enough before the girls were singing and his attention was pulled to the front of the room.

He was quick to join in on the festivities as Toulouse pulled him along with a giant grin on his face, the music loud and the drink in his hand cold, Christian was singing and dancing along with the rest of the crowd in no time.

You were the first to spot him, watching as he laughed with his group of friends, looking so happy and carefree, like there was nothing bad in the world. He was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but there was something about him beyond his beauty that seemed to pull you to him.

You stayed where you were though, despite wanting to make your way over to him, choosing instead to just observe him. You were quick to look away when he turned your way, focusing on the near empty drink in your head and hoping when you turned back he hadn’t disappeared from view.

Christian was enchanted in a second of seeing you. Alone at the bar, bringing a glass to your lips, Christian couldn’t look away if he tried. The flood of people separating you seemed to vanish from view for Christian, the songs and the dancing suddenly not all that interesting to him anymore. Of course how could they be when compared to you?

“Toulouse,” Christian said, not looking away from you as he called his friend's attention, “she’s beautiful.”

“So go and talk to her.” Toulouse encouraged and if only it could be that simple, for him to simply walk across the room and close the distance between the two of you.

“Oh I couldn’t!” Christian insisted, finally pulling his gaze from you to look at Toulouse with wide eyes. “I wouldn’t know what to say, what to do! She looks like a woman I could only dream about, what chance would a penniless nobody like me have with a woman like that?”

“Christian, it is easy, just tell her you think she’s beautiful and go from there. Don’t you think she should have a say in whether she wants to be with you?” Toulouse asked, smirking when Christian didn’t immediately shoot him down but instead turned back to you.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Christian said absentmindedly, his attention solely on you again. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Good luck!” Toulouse’s call was muffled as Christian made his way through the crowd, people moving this way and that, causing him to stumble his way through the sea of people before he finally made his way to where you sat alone at the bar, hands wrapped around an empty glass.

“Excuse me?” Christian started and you couldn’t help but smile at the soft voice to your right, glancing over when you saw the man from across the room standing nervously at your side. “If you wouldn’t mind the company, I’d quite like to join you.”

Your smile widened and Christian was mesmerised. He could sit and stare at you all day, already he had hundreds of words running through his head that he was desperate to type out, finally having real inspiration for his poems.

“Please do take a seat.” You told him, gesturing to the seat next to you and Christian had to control his smile at your voice, you sounded as beautiful as you looked, a voice he’d quite like to listen to for the rest of his life.

“Could I buy you another drink?” Christian offered as he gestured down to your empty glass.

“I’d like that, thank you.”

It wasn’t long before the two of you had drinks in front of you, Christian unable to look away from you for even a single moment whereas you kept glancing at him from the corner of your eyes, thankful that he seemed as captivated by you as you were for him.

“I’m sorry, how rude of me, I completely forgot to introduce myself. I’m Christian.” He introduced himself, a pink flush spreading across his check that you could help but giggle softly at, a sound that had Christian’s heart speeding up.

“Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” You told him with a smile and Christian wanted you to always smile at him like that.

“You truly are beautiful, Y/N.” Christian said, the words falling from his lips seemingly without his permission if his wide eyes and startled look was anything to go by but you just laughed again and the sound alone seemed to calm him.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” You asked him and watched as his eyebrows knitted together before he shook his head. “I figured, most men don’t speak to any women here quite so nicely.”

“That’s ridiculous! Surely somebody else must have noticed your beauty? One look from across the room and I knew I just had to know you!” Christian exclaimed, baffled at your words.

“You’re a romantic sort, aren’t you? I’ve never heard anyone speak quite like you do.” You told him with a soft smile, glad he had come to join you.

“Oh yes! I love everything about love, there’s no better feeling, nothing better in the whole world than love!” Christian told you enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but smile along with him.

Christian felt himself blush under your smile, knowing how he could get when the subject of love was brought up. Suddenly, here before you, it felt like everything he had known about love was wrong, it was so much more consuming than he could have ever thought it would be.

“I wish I believed in love half as much as you seem to.” You told him wistfully, glancing down into your drink and missing Christian’s wide eyed look of horror.

“You don’t believe in love?” He exclaimed and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in love, of course it’s real,” You said before sighing, “It’s just that, I don’t know, sometimes I wonder if I was ever made to be loved like that.”

“Of course you were.” Christian said once the words were out of your mouth and you turned to look at him in confusion, he debated whether he should carry on before deciding it was worth it. “Of course you were made to be loved, I knew the moment I saw you that you were put here, right here in Montmartre, here on this very night in the Moulin Rouge, to be loved!”

“You can’t possibly mean that, Christian.” You brushed him off with a huff of a laugh but continued looking at him, the determined look on his face had you doubting your own words.

“But I do.” He insisted. “You see, I’m a poet, I write about love and never have I met anybody in my whole life who gives my words meaning. Suddenly everything I have ever written about faceless people seems dreadfully dull when compared to what I want to write about you!”

“I’ve never been loved before.” You told him softly.

“I’ve never been in love before.” He admitted, his voice just as quiet as yours and the two of you remained that way for several moments, the noises of the Moulin Rouge muted around you.

“You hardly know me.” You finally said, not sure if it was an attempt to stop whatever seemed to be occurring or an invitation for him to accept.

“I’d like to though, more than anything in the whole world.” He told you, everything about him radiated sincerity. “I quite think I’d like to spend the rest of my life getting to know you.”

You were silent again, left speechless as you stared at the man who gave you a sheepish smile, reaching up to push his hair back nervously as he waited for you to say something. You weren’t quite sure you could find any words though at the moment so instead just nodded, strangely taken with the young man and wanting to know him as much as he did you.

“Would you like to leave? We could go anywhere you like.” Christian asked and you nodded again, allowing him to take your hand and lead you away from the bright lights.

The two of you stayed that way, walking alongside each other long after the music and singing coming from the Moulin Rouge had faded, hands entwined as you both filled the silence. Christian told you about why he had come to Paris, leaving behind a life in London in exchange for a chance to make a new one, one filled with love and poetry. You told him about your life too, telling him of the adventures that you had that had led you all the way to Paris and the Moulin Rouge.

The two of you wandered the streets for hours, barely noticing the time pass as you traded secrets and stories. It wasn’t until yawns started to interrupt your conversations that you both realised that hours had passed since you’d left the Moulin Rouge.

“I don’t want this night to end.” Christian told you, looking at you with a sad, regretful look. “I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a night like this one.”

“I can say the same thing myself. I’ve rather liked getting to know you, Christian.” You said and watched as his expression morphed into a smile.

“We will do this again, won’t we? Oh, please say we will, Y/N!” Christian exclaimed, causing you to laugh, smiling brightly at him and Christian found himself returning the gesture without a second thought.

Your smile truly was contagious.

“I’d like nothing more.” You told him truthfully, giggling again as his smile spread impossibly wider as he pulled you closer to him.

“Can I walk you home?” He asked and you immediately agreed, even after spending so long together tonight you wanted to stay with him a little while longer.

The walk home consisted of much softer spoken conversation, the both of you knowing that in a matter of minutes you’d have to part ways. When your building came into sight you sighed softly and turned to Christian.

“I can’t wait to see you again.” Christian said as he reached over to brush a strand of hair away before his hand cupped your face, his thumb brushing along your cheekbone.

He gave you plenty of time to pull away but instead you leaned forward, meeting him halfway. Christian suddenly understood every word he had ever read, he realised every cliche was real when he felt your lips against his, the world around him forgotten as he kissed you back until you were both breathless and forced to pull away.

“Goodnight Christian.” You murmured, leaning up to place a lingering kiss against his lips before stepping back to memorise the dazed look on Christian’s face.

“Goodnight Y/N.” Christian whispered, keeping his gaze on you until you’d disappeared behind the closed door of your apartment building.

He stayed where he was for a few moments longer, just smiling to himself with the memory of your lips against his running through his head. You were truly unlike anybody he had ever met before, someone he knew he had to know, had to keep in his life.

Christian walked home with his smile firmly in place and let himself into his own rooms, shrugging his coat off before taking a seat at the table, his trusty typewriter already waiting for him.

Tonight I met her, the girl who gives meaning to every word of love, each line sounds beautiful and new because of her. Suddenly I know what love is, an all-encompassing feeling that I will treasure for the rest of my life, a life I hope to share with her. She’s beautiful, not just in the way she looks but in the way she talks, in the way she laughs. I laughed more tonight than I ever have in my life. I think…no I know I’d like to laugh with her for the rest of my life.

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #christian x reader #christian moulin rouge x reader #christian moulin rouge #christian moulin rouge imagine #christian moulin rouge imagines #moulin rouge #moulin rouge x reader #moulin rouge imagines #moulin rouge imagine #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor imagines

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loycspotting · 2 months

Text

So This is Love

Movie: Beginners (2010)

Characters: Oliver Fields x Fem!Reader

Oneshot / Ficlet

Word Count: 531

Synopsis: Oliver reflects on the moment that he realized he loves you.

//This is my girlfriend. The love of my life. This is her when she’s happy.//

“Oliver, this better not be a prank.” You chuckled hesitantly. You had just got off from work when your boyfriend, Oliver, called you. He said that he had something to show you and it couldn't wait. When you got to his house, you were greeted by him and his dog Arthur waiting at the door for you. He had both hands behind his back and a cheeky grin on his face. Now, you found yourself blindfolded and being led by his hand. Although your boyfriend tended to be quiet and reserved, he still surprised you with bursts of spontaneity.

“Don't worry, I promise this isn't a prank…this time.” He jokingly reassured you. As he led you up the stairs and down the hallway, he smiled from ear to ear at the knowledge of what lay behind his bedroom door. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this giddy. He loved that you brought out this childish joy in him. “Here we are.” He said as he opened the door and gently pulled you inside.

You felt Oliver move behind you and untie your blindfold. When it came off, you blinked a couple times to adjust to the light. You were standing in front of the bed and your eyes were immediately drawn to the tiny ball of fluff on the covers. It was the most adorable calico kitten wearing a tiny red bow.

“Ta-da!” Oliver whispered in your ear as he placed a small peck on your cheek.

Your mind couldn't conjure any words. It was only a week ago that you told Oliver about your childhood cat and how you had to leave her behind when your family moved states. You shared how it broke your heart to give her away and you never forgot her. Now, you walked towards the bed and scooped up the kitty who began nuzzling into your neck.

“Told you it wasn't a prank.” Oliver said while smiling proudly.

Finally, your mouth caught up to your brain but as you turned to your boyfriend all you could utter was, “How?”

“My boss’s cat had a litter and this little one was the only one left without a home.” He explained. “It was such perfect timing that I felt it had to be a sign...do you like her?”

With tears in your eyes you exclaimed, “Oh, Oliver, I love her!” You couldn't believe you’d won the boyfriend lottery. How lucky and loved you felt to have such a thoughtful partner. You turned your attention back to the kitten and gently kissed her little head. The kitty replied with a soft chirp and started trying to climb up your shirt. You cooed at the rambunctious little rascal and closed your eyes in laughter.

Leaning on the doorframe, Oliver soaked in your happiness. Your laughter was the most beautiful sound to his ears. Your smile warmed his heart like the sun. It was at that moment, he knew that he would move heaven and earth if it meant you could stay like this. At that moment, he knew that he loved you.

#ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor characters #ewan mcgregor x reader #ficlet #film: beginners #beginners 2010 #Oliver Fields #oneshot

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forever-rogue · 2 years

Note

may i request an obi-wan fluff where reader gets ticklish over his ✨beard✨ when he hugged her

old man kenobi looks so softtt and honestly he just needs a hug and i just want to comfort this man and wrap him in a blanket 🫂

AN | Please hug this man and hold him and tell him you love him 🥰 Enjoy!

Pairing | Obi-Wan x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Light spice

Word Count | 1.9k

Masterlist | Main, Star Wars

Part 2, Part 3

── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You heard the door creak open ever so quietly, despite his best efforts. He could be light and lithe on his feet, but he was still no match for the ancient, groaning door. You didn’t even need to turn around to know it was him; he always carried a particular scent that was uniquely him. It was warm and slightly sweet, almost as if he somehow belonged in this desert. You supposed that in some ways he did. If it hadn’t been for him, you were pretty sure you’d have left years ago, but something compelled you to stay there, with him and for him.

He favored your small home, loved the quaint coziness it provided, almost like a respite in the middle of the chaotic world. It was quiet here, in both a literal and metaphorical sense and after the life he’s led up until now, it was more than appreciated. But that didn’t stop him from returning out in the arid wasteland to keep an eye on the boy he swore to protect. You didn’t try to stop him. You could sense how much the young boy meant to him, and you’d gotten most of the story from him over the years, so you were well aware of just exactly who he was. So you loved him as you could, and supported him however he needed.

It wasn’t until you heard him sigh softly that you decided to acknowledge his presence, “hello Obi-Wan. I was wondering when you’d get here.”

“How did you-”

“It doesn’t take much to hear the sound of that door and you, my love, have a very distinct sigh about you,” you wiped your hands on the small rag before turning to him. There was a soft, albeit tired smile on his face, “hungry?”

“Starving,” he admitted and as if on cue, his stomach grumbled loudly. You made your way over to him, wrapping your arms around him before he could argue. You knew he'd say he was dirty or sweaty and smelly, but you didn’t care. That’s what the ‘fresher was for after all. He relaxed into your touch and almost instantly it felt like he perked up, “I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” you took his face in your hands, gently brushing a finger over his cheek before kissing him. It was just one soft, saccharine little thing, but he clung to it like a lifeline, “come on, let’s eat and then you can get cleaned up. There’s no need to rush, we’ve got time.”

Time. It still felt like a strange, foreign concept. He’d never had time before, never had the luxury of doing what his heart desired. Before it was always about duty and obligation, doing whatever he was told and never having the time for himself. Now, despite the tragedies he’d experienced, the life that was stripped away from him in an instant, he had time. All the time in the world. It was a welcome but terrifying concept.

He had the opportunity to explore the man he could have been had not been stripped from his family as a young boy, barely old enough to remember the touch of his mother or the sound of his father’s voice. That was not to say that his past was filled with regrets, of course there were some - many, but still. It made him into the person he was today. Now he could be a different version of him, the man he could have his entire life had things been more normal - had he been normal. But then again what did normal even mean?

“What’s wrong?” he detected the note of concern in your voice as soon as you set the stew you’d prepared in front of him. You gently brushed his hair out of his face before grabbing a bowl for yourself. You sat down across from him, trying to get a read on him, “you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But I do hope you realize by now that you can tell me anything.”

“Of course,” the corners of his mouth tugged into a small smile as he took a seemingly thoughtful bite, “I was just thinking…I like this. You. Being with you. It is a curious thing to think that if things hadn’t…hadn’t happened as they did that I might have never met you.”

“I don’t think that’s necessarily true,” you insisted, causing Obi-Wan to raise an eyebrow in curiosity, “I just mean…well, you believe in the force right? Not believe, I mean we know it exists. It creates connections with people, binds them together…everything is as it is meant to be. It’s easy to say that about good things, but obviously there is plenty bad too. But…I don't know. I feel like perhaps we still would have found each other in some way. I like to think I was meant to meet you, Obi-Wan Kenobi, in this lifetime and all the others.”

“Are you sure you aren’t-”

“Definitely,” you interrupted him before he could even finish his sentence, “it doesn’t take a Jedi or anything special to know that much. Or perhaps I am entirely too keen on you and like to convince myself that you are too.”

“You are not flattering yourself in the slightest,” there was a glint in his eyes as your face flushed with warmth. You looked away and focused your attention on your bowl, finding it to be incredibly interesting, “I am very keen on you too.”

“Well,” you sat back with a small smile playing on your face, “that settles that then. Now eat, I know you’re starving.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

It was late by the time you felt the other side of the bed dip under his weight. He smelled like your favorite soap and shampoo now, which just made you smile. There was something about seeing him so comfortable and content that made your heart almost burst with happiness.

“About time,” you whispered through a yawn as you rolled over to face him. He chuckled softly, a sound that practically made your whole body vibrate with happiness. Obi-Wan made himself comfortable, settling into the warmth of the plush blankets you loved so much before wrapping an arm around your waist, “you smell good.”

“I smell like you,” his hand found your face as he ghosted his fingers over your face, almost as if he needed to commit this moment to memory, “I like it too.”

“Hmm,” you made a content little sound as you leaned closer to kiss him. You might have been tired, but you were never too tired for him. You kissed him gently at first, making sure he was okay with it before getting too lost in him. His response was unequivocal as he tried to pull you closer to him. You accidentally knocked your forehead against his, causing you both to giggle quietly, “oops.”

“C’mere,” he pulled himself up so he was leaning against the headboard, and proceeded to shuffle you into his lap. You beamed at him before letting your hands settle on his chest as his found purchase on your waist, “you’re beautiful.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased, internally flourishing at his comment, but trying to remain collected. He’d told you the same thing hundreds, if not thousands, of times at this point but still made you feel a certain type of way you couldn’t quite put into words, “are you going to kiss me or continue to stare at me?”

“Which would you prefer?” there was a teasing lilt to his voice and you couldn’t help but playfully groan at him, “alright, I see you have a preference.”

“If I had a say and it was possible, I would have you all over me all the time, my love,” you grinned sheepishly as a light flush rushed into his cheeks at your affection. He liked that about you - how openly caring and tender you were. He had been bereft of the touch of another for so much of his life that he never realized how desperately he yearned for now.

He craved your touch, the feel of your soft, pliable body against his, how delicate you were. It had moved to the point where he subconsciously reached out for you, let his hand brush against yours, holding it after lacing your fingers together, gentle touches as he moved around you, steady and firm grips as he made love to you or left you thoroughly fucked out. He liked - loved - you; and he would be remiss if he was ever devoid of your touch after getting to experience it. He was well aware that permanence was not always a guarantee in life, but he did know that you would always be a part of his.

“Cheeky,” he commented softly before leaning in to kiss you. This time it wasn’t as gentle or tender as it had been earlier. This time there was a need and hunger lingering underneath the way he kissed you. The feel of his lips on your skin left fire in their wake, causing you to lean into him, silently asking for more. You could feel his lips curl into a small smile as he nuzzled against your jaw, “tell me what you need, my sweet girl.”

“You,” it was a breathy whisper in his ear that caused him to almost groan against your skin, “please.”

“Whatever you desire, I shall give it to you,” oh. Oh. Those words made you feel a type of way that sent electric shivers through your body. He always knew what to say, to make you feel however you needed. He kissed along your jaw, slowly working his way down your neck, admiring and praising how soft and perfect you felt, which proceeded to leave you almost breathless. It wasn’t until he was at the hollow of your throat that you proceeded to break into a fit of giggles. He stopped, looking at you in amusement, “whatever is so funny?”

“It tickles,” you lightly scratched at the scruff along his jaw, “I like it. I didn’t say to stop, keep going.”

“Now you’re just being demanding,” his large, warm hands had wandered under your night shirt and were splayed on your hips, which just made you ache even more for him.

“Are you going to deny me?” you managed to get out in between soft sounds as he moved to pull off your top, “hmm, my love?”

“I would never,” he promised softly, “ I couldn’t be so cruel.”

“Good,” you whispered in his ear before kissing his cheek, “I love you, Obi-Wan.”

He paused for a moment before swallowing thickly, the emotion almost overwhelming him. Some days it still felt so strange to hear those words, even though he knew, with every fiber of his being that what you said was true. His grip on you tightened before he quietly whispered those words back to you. And he meant it. And you knew it. He was all you needed. Just like you had become a lifeline for him.

Just as it was meant to be.

#obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi x fem!reader #obi-wan kenobi x you #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor x you #star wars #kenobi

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acersthings · 2 years

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Let Me Help You

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Next >

Summary: With a mission gone wrong, wounds tearing you up, and everyone in craze, you decide to keep your injury to yourself. At least, you thought you kept it to yourself.

Warnings: None! A little angst, but that’s all.

The mission couldn’t have gone any worse. You and your group were suppose to go see how the trades between Naboo and other planets were going after the events of the Trade Federation. Simple, right? Nope.

First, your jet had broken down, making you halt your journey on Tatooine. How much you had hated Tatooine. It was a hot, desert, dry planet. It was only nice at night. But, you were there at the rise of dawn. The sun was beating down on you.

Then, you got ambushed by Tusken Raiders. Of course, being a Jedi Master, you brushed them off. Not without any marks though.

Arriving at the Jedi Temple, your group was very irritated. The fact that their mission went wrong and that they have to deal with the Council. That’s not the best idea of relaxation.

You didn’t want to burden anyone with your injuries so you kept the harsh burns and wounds to yourself. It was hard. With every limping step you took, there was a shooting pain throughout your whole body. With every breath you took, there was a sharp pain inside your lungs.

Putting on a fake façade, you managed to act like your leg and whole body wasn’t currently on fire. You managed to walk without a limp and hide the pain in your face. You covered your bloody robes with your brown cloak, attempting to hide the newly crimson cloth.

Upon entering the Temple, every pair of eyes were on you. Kriffing great, you thought. The whole Temple knew of the failed mission. Meaning that everyone had questions. Meaning that everyone would have to stop you from going into your room.

“Master Y/n!” A familiar voice shouted.

You turned around to see Anakin Skywalker running towards you. Being Anakin’s superior and a couple years older than him, you were like his mentor. He came to you with his troubles when his Master wasn’t available. Or just fed up with Anakin. Anakin was one of the closest friends that you had.

“Anakin,” you smiled.

“Are you okay? Everyone heard about what happened. Is anyone injured?” The young Padawan’s questions came out at a rapid fire.

“Everyone’s okay, Anakin. Take a deep breath. You’re more stressed than I am,” you joked, making him smile.

“I was making sure. I can’t have you injured,” you and Anakin started to walk down the hallway.

“You’re swe-“

“That would mean I would have so much more work to do and honestly, I don’t think I can handle it.”

You scoffed and chuckled, “There it is. There’s the punchline.”

Anakin laughed and rested his arm on your shoulder. His weight on your back hurt. Like really hurt. You winced, but not enough for him to notice.

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat? I know you must be hungry and I-“

“I would love to, Anakin, but I must report to the Council. You know what they are like,” you rubbed your temples in exhaustion. The lack of energy and sleep was starting to take its toll.

“Yeah, you better hurry before Master Windu makes a fuss.”

Laughing, you walked past the Padawan. You felt badly about lying to Anakin. But, if he knew you were injured, he would make a very big scene. You didn’t want that right now. All you wanted was some Bacta patches and your bed.

You walked some more down the hallway, acting as if you were actually going to the Council. When you saw no one was looking, you steered the other way towards the Living Quarters.

You dropped your façade. You let go of your cloak and started to limp again. In a way, limping was making your injuries feel better.

Arriving at your door, you looked around. You swore to the stars you heard someone following you. No one was there. You felt something though. Someone. Shaking the feeling off, you opened the door. You almost wanted to cry at the comfort your room gave you.

Setting your dirty and bloodied cloak on the nearest chair, you rushed to the washroom. You turned on the faucet and rinsed your face, cleaning off the blood and mud. You breathe in deeply, groaning in pain. You looked through your bathroom cabinet to see if you had any patches. Just to your luck, there was a whole box full of them.

Grabbing the box, you closed the cabinet to be faced with a Obi-Wan Kenobi in the mirror.

“Kriffing hell! Obi-Wan,” you jumped in fear, not expecting him to be there, “don’t scare me like that.”

You realized he saw your bloodied robes and used your hand to cover up the bad markings on your ribcage.

“It’s not my blood,” you looked at the Master Jedi, who was looking at you with his piercing blue eyes.

“Move your hand.”

Those three words were only verbal response you’ve heard from him.

“Why? I-I’m fine, really,” you tried to walk past him but his strong grip grasped onto your arm.

“Move your hand,” he said, more demanding this time.

Sighing in defeat, you did move your hand. There was a tear in your robes that revealed the bleeding wounds on your ribcage and stomach. There was also a tear in your leggings, revealing a slashed cut in your mid-thigh.

Silently, Obi-Wan led you to the couch. He grabbed the patches and slowly lifted your robes. He had a first aid kit with him. Like he knew. Before you even arrived.

“How’d you know?” You asked quietly, watching him clean and patch the wounds.

“I felt it. And you aren’t that good of an actress. Anakin is easy to fool, but I’m not. I saw you wince in pain when he leaned against you, and I also saw you get off the transport jet,” he maintained his eye contact with the wounds, “this is going to burn, Y/n.”

He slowly poured a healing liquid on the ribcage wound and it burned like he said. You grabbed the nearest thing to grab. His arm. Hissing in pain, you threw your head back.

“I’m so sorry, I know it hurts,” he sympathetically looked up at you.

Obi-Wan hated seeing you in this state. He knew that you could take care of yourself, but not like this. He couldn’t leave you alone, to suffer to these wounds alone.

He finished up the wounds on your stomach and ribcage. The only one left was the one on your thigh.

“You need professional medical attention for this.”

You leaned back up and shook a Bacta patch in his face, “No. I don’t.”

Obi-Wan sent a small smile, “What is so bad about medical attention?”

“Everyone makes it a big deal. I don’t want it to be,” you shifted uncomfortably on the couch, “and I trust you. You can work your magic on my leg and I’ll be in working order in no time.”

Obi-Wan looked up at you. You two stared at each other. The only noise you could hear was yours and his heaving breathing. You could have sworn he looked at your lips but that was the loss of blood talking. But, as his eyes explained, he didn’t have to say anything. You could see the pleading look in his blue eyes. He wanted, no, he needed you to go to the medical droids.

You scoffed, “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like, I don’t know, that you’re pitying me.”

“I’m not pitying you, I just want you to get professional help.”

Looking down at him, a couple strands of hair fell in front of your eyes. You didn’t bother to move them, but he did. He slowly reached his slightly bloodied hand up and tucked the hairs behind your ear.

“Let them help you,” he held your cheek in his hand, and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, “let me help you.”

You looked down and sighed. Slightly nodding, you watched as Obi-Wan let out a shaky breath, that he had been holding in this whole time.

“I really do despise you,” you grabbed onto his hand as he helped you up. You leaned onto his side, while his arm surrounded your shoulders lightly.

“You love me,” he chuckled softly.

Yeah I do, you thought to yourself. You just smiled in response. You really wished that the whole Jedi Attachments being forbidden rule wasn’t a thing. If anything, love and emotions make you stronger. They feed into you, as if your soul needed them to survive. You know that every time you around the certain Jedi Master, he makes you stronger. Because, you know you have something to fight for. You have something to come back to after a hellish day. Like today.

“Are you okay?” His heavily accented voice disrupted your thoughts. You saw that he was walking you towards the hallway.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you shook your thoughts off and leaned onto him. His warmth and Force signature felt so comforting, like a big blanket, wrapping you up on a cold winter day.

“I lost you for a second,” he informed you, “like you were deep in thought.”

“It doesn’t matter now.”

Obi-Wan nodded slowly, looking down at you. He had to pretend that he didn’t hear every…single…thought…you just had. You had kept your walls down and he didn’t mean to snoop around, but he felt your Force calling out to him. But it wasn’t the Force. It was your thoughts about him. Oh, how much he had regretted searching into your mind.

He was screwed.

#obi wan kenobi #star wars #anakin skywalker #starwarsedit #hayden christensen #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obiwankenobi #obi wan imagine #part 2 maybe?#kenobi #ewan mcgregor imagine #star wars imagine

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deepbatched · 1 year

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The Last Echoes | Obi-Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Part 1 of ? » next part

warnings: none, obi-wan's pov, angst, not y/n (i used she/her instead) villain!reader (sometimes, she's not a sith, more like the gray revengeful character that we all grew to love), mentions of order 66 and death a.k.a. reader (and i supposedly didn’t find any warnings lol). this takes part in the series (idk if it counts as spoilers), but i’ll give little context in flashbacks. w/c: 3.3k.

Summary: On his way to rescue little princess Leia Organa, Obi-Wan Kenobi discovers not only he is one of the last Jedi who survived from the Old Republic as he tried to survive the Inquisitors, but the only lover left alive.

"I'd rather not to fight", her hair strings glowed, framing her face, sweet yet intimidating. Her lightsaber off, letting her arm rest tiredly in the side of her body, allowing herself to relax for once after hours of chasing.

Obi-Wan couldn't believe he found beauty in the gold of her eyes and peace in her intoxicating voice. He almost felt himself dreaming when hearing those words, like he was imagining it all. He pursued the ideal of a peaceful morning with the war being over, welcoming a bright future of service and duty.

Unlike her, who seemed to be drawn to self-destruction and making trouble where she went along with the separatists, now through it all, she could see the differences between them easily. But not today. Today they were the same at the sight of the sunrise, they could feel each other as they really were, no masks.

She paced slowly to be in front of him, to look directly through him, and see herself in the immensity of his blue eyes, to never forget what being gazed upon tenderness was about, and seek that part of herself that wanted peace of mind. He suddenly felt himself panting again though the fight had already been over not so long ago. It was a first time of surprises, a discovery of feelings more than words.

"A Sith who doesn’t want to fight?” He inquired out of curiosity, she disconnected her eyes from him to see the sky.

Now he wished he hadn’t said anything, but found himself incapable of withdrawing his stare.

“I’m not a Sith”, she chuckled, trailing his bold decision of words while taking notice of his lips than his eyes again.

The Sith rule says that if there is an apprentice, there will always be a master, but they were both apprentices who lost their masters, alone in the wild colliding constantly one another, caught in the webs of the Force like loose strings, waiting to be entangled by the other.

★★★

The sheer glow of the capsules were barely seen by his light blue eyes. He had definitely entered the wrong room, or at least that's what he wanted to believe, a room he wished he never in his life had to see. From the cold grayish green in the walls, the dirty floors in the corridor, some boxes all around, the more time he got in there, the more his heart was pounding in anxiety. After years of thinking the Jedi were only mercilessly chased and killed by the Empire had an actually more twisted outcome.

It didn’t matter how strong minded he tried to be, peace was long gone. His palms were cold and sweaty, his walking steady and cautious, his face stern as he witnessed the worst in the long way of Jedi fossils, kept hidden as war treasures, like their existence was a mere trophy for whomever had them there.

Tala's voice was a blurry whisper in the back of his mind while searching for the serene singing echo of his lover, a song the former Jedi heard at last, like a calling melody from the Force; a bond he hadn't felt in ten years. He saw their faces in the corridor, some recognizable, some unknown, and as slowly he began to think relief was getting near, that there was no way to be found, all of his hopeful thoughts escaped his mind.

Because, there she was.

He faltered on his way to meet what was left of her, his legs moved by his own, his memoirs full of her, reminding him of what her lovely face used to look like when she was alive. Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t know about being a lover opposed to the custom beliefs of his negotiation skills, but he knew about Compassion, and learned to love his friends and some of his enemies by equal, and that included her.

She was not his biggest rivalry, or the most revengeful, yet it pleased him to always have someone around to fight with, someone he could constantly think of outside the Council even if he had to use the "I'm planning my next move" as an excuse when he knew well that wasn't true, he could love her freely only behind closed doors in his more private thoughts and show it to her whenever he let go of her after enduring a tough fight, as he always awaited the moment of an encounter to see her again.

When the Clone Wars ended even that was gone.

He felt no guilt in falling for her, never, but he felt regretful day-dreaming with a life he couldn't have, that he couldn't give. He tried to be faithful to the Code in every aspect, and he mastered his duty, still behind his reputation and recognition, he was just a man. On the other hand, he felt the weight of not being there for her when she needed him; the Jedi Order asked high sacrifices and giving up on love to deny attachments was one of them.

Obi-Wan could imagine with immeasurable pain her cries for help, calling him in hopes of his arrival to save her from the gaits of abyss. Though that never happened.

Or maybe she fought with all her might like she knew so well, trying to stay alive a little longer, to hold on to dear life so they could fight one last time, or not fight at all, just see each other again as much as Obi-Wan awaited. With teary eyes, he looked at the unclean and tarnished glass, the reflection of his face mixed with hers, her figure black and blue, wilt and unmoving, hardly a faint reminiscence of her past self and the long gone tales about her.

He still remembered when he heard stories about her afterwards their first duel.

"Did anything bad happen at the meeting? I thought everything went exactly as expected, Master" Ahsoka asked Anakin, worried by the state of Master Kenobi.

Usually Dex's dining was a place they could go and relax after long missions like the one already passed, yet Obi-Wan sat zoned out with a frown in his face as he lightly touched his beard looking as stressed as ever; figuring out how he could almost lose after this new human-looking woman. Not able to forget her infuriated eyes, her graceful battle movements and the venomous red of her lightsaber. He could think she was atrocious; but that wasn't in his mind.

He was puzzled indeed, on her heavy pull in the Force and his own overthinking.

"Don't worry, everything went just fine. He fought with someone we've never seen and she escaped, I must say I thought she was going to win." Anakin held a grin.

Ahsoka formed an understanding look, in contrast to the General's dazzled expression.

"You know about her, Anakin?" Obi-Wan was intrigued and uneasy, desperate to understand what he had got into.

"She's a former Jedi, born in one of the moons of Iego, if she's good or evil I can't say." The young Skywalker lifted his brow mischievously, curious in the attention drawn from his Master.

"Didn't she attack General Kenobi? She must be a Sith'' concluded Ahsoka, suspicious of the woman's mysterious nature.

"I'm not sure, she helped me with some droids before attacking Obi-Wan," Anakin remembered their brief encounter, "an enemy wouldn't do that, she might be some kind of retired avenger?"

"Your Padawan is right, Anakin. Her techniques reside on the Dark Side." From the way she was holding her saber, her destructive energy and her eyes, an almost imperceptible yellow glow which couldn’t be appreciated properly by far. “Revenge is not the Jedi way”. HIs blue eyes locked with his apprentice's brown ones, reminding him what the titles must be.

"But she's not with the Separatists," Anakin replied, "I've informed the Chancellor and he assured he had never heard of her before. They’re looking out for her, whatever side she is on, she is wanted now".

"We must be careful then, these are difficult times. We mustn't fall into temptation". His tone was calm and seemed authoritative, but on the inside, worry flowed unsteady like the waters of Naboo.

Who knew the great Jedi Master Kenobi would hold such deep emotions towards a woman, that he displayed two faces to the Order he dedicated his life to. Like a hypocrite, he did not follow his own advice, and was slowly tempted by her.

Back in the present time; would it make any difference apologizing about slander behind her back to her now corpse? Undo her death? Or, lastly, make amends for all the lost time?

At first it was disdain and despite. How could she dare to try to go against the Jedi Order after being taught the ways of the Force? Such hatred could only be held by the Dark Side, shattered souls were the only ones who sought revenge, and she was one of those, representing everything he was against. However, after some encounters outside battle, it transformed into interest and appreciation…

He remembered vividly the times he saw her wandering the lowest levels of Coruscant, not with superiority or spreading hate contrary to the customs of the Sith lords, Obi-Wan felt the unextinguished light within her when she helped the people living there who didn't fear her. Unnaturally, he didn't feel disgusted; he had given himself reassurance believing she wholeheartedly wanted to do good still after all the pain she might have caused, he hoped for a small amount of salvation from her wrong doings. Maybe it wasn't too late for her.

She was a carefree spirit, so different to everything he was taught, she had no duties, no compromises, no promises to make, not rules to follow rigorously or set an example to other younglings. Free of do's and don'ts, unlike him who bear liability tattooed on his skin.

The false Freedom that was offered to her from the Dark Side seemed to quickly corrupt —if not completely, then at least,— the better parts of her being.

Eventually, it was expected from him to kill her when the first signs of their rivalry surfaced, everyone feared she would take his life away in the middle of a war where they couldn't afford to lose more Jedi's. Obi-Wan could nearly sense himself again sitting in his chair at the Temple reunited with the Council, listening to master Yoda and master Windu rambling about how daunting and threatening this new enemy was.

Regardless of the order, he did not want to get rid of her. Not when her life could be different; and even then he couldn't realize he was mirroring himself over this antagonized creature.

For his reputation he was glad, and found a certain comfort of fame, not unjustified, he was known around the galaxy as an heroic Jedi Knight, now becoming a Master. Up until now, life seemed to be for him nothing more than battle bad guys and just adventures which he liked yet, meant everything in a literal sense.

He was a strong, well-mannered, skillful and loyal member of the Jedi Council, he was known as stoic and undoubted, still he held thoughts like this, about another life, another path. Ever since Satine, he wasn't certainly the same, he thought about what ifs? instead of what's next? The Duchess opened a door he could never close on his own, eventually someone held it open, unintended of course, but who raises in him all doubts again.

He saw other’s common reality, civilian people living clueless lives, aware of the war but not fighting it; loving and caring like breathing, no vigilance or vows of no attachments, feeling completely with no fear of losing themselves in hatred and wrath; the Force was a gift he learned to accept in exchange for love.

Obi-Wan Kenobi gave everything for the Jedi way, even before Satine, it was his choice to dedicate his life to a greater good, a purpose he didn't regret fulfilling as it was the only that he knew. Although he regretted the emotional damage those feelings provoked, after meeting his hedonistic beloved, he regretted not being able to have both.

Love and peace, attachment and duty, to hold both titles with the same pride. Jedi Master and husband.

Returning his mind where it has to, looking at her one last time, eyes wide open holding pure rage in her face, legs and arms in an attack position, made him think he has lost something again, perhaps her whole being as well. The chance to be different, to renounce one of the last pieces of his past after rescuing Leia and start that long search he didn’t begun ten years ago when the Jedi Order disappeared to restart his life.

The search had ended prior to beginning.

Again, in his way it was proven there was no awaiting love for him, only infinite sadness.

He wished he knew more about her, perhaps, of her other life, the one before all the turmoil and not only the single prism of her scars. Now she was like everything after the Jedi's, an intrusive thought of his old life; the living nightmare before going to sleep.

What would he give to fight her one last time? As in the ardent past that preceded them.

Oh— he could still savor the soft viper tongue of her beloved's words, cocky remarks dripping from her lips like the sweet nectar of a flower, the taste of her sugar-coated sarcasm, even her Force signature was like a field of sassy roses with sharp thorns. To him, she had this lovable side, one that showed in the rarest moments, the essential ones indeed; when malignant forces displayed to attack him, she transformed into a caring ally.

Like one of the last times he saw her.

"Hello there." She mocked Obi-Wan's greeting, like every time they saw each other.

Obi-Wan turned around to face her, admiring once again her features, her dusky skin, thin lips and big golden eyes covered in rough black eyeliner. She ignited her red lightsaber, posturing to defend herself. Obi-Wan mimicked her, his cyan one ready to dance against hers.

“Long time since the last I saw you”, with a sincere tone, waiting for her strike, Obi-Wan wished to just talk with her like two friends that loved the other like lovers do.

“Not long enough”, she attacked first, aware of the hesitant hold of Kenobi’s lightsaber in his hand.

She could see he didn’t want to really harm her. So she settled in the mood for play, like the thousand times before when their brutal encounters had been nothing more than child’s play, a lightsaber dance that lasted as long as the battalions around them were able to.

She liked to win, and just to tease him, from time to time she left Obi-Wan battle marks, at first it was her way to put a symbol on him, so that everyone would see that she had defeated him, over time they became violent kisses that would last burning his skin in the form of scars merely for him, so he could see her headstrong love impregnated in him like poison at every glance to his naked form in the mirror.

The noise of their lightsabers striking each other was quickly lost by their companions on the field and as they moved away from the rest of the opponents, their fight diminished in intensity, barely reducing to a couple of brushes until they reached the edge of a cliff. Obi-Wan thought it was the perfect moment to promise her another fight and let her go, there were enough witnesses of her arrival and their encounter, and they were already too far from the starting point, no one would suspect he set her free.

Until…

She slipped from a rock. He took her hand and then her forearm, lifting her upper body to steady her steps and safe from the fall. He realized she was afraid of heights, and more than surprised or judgmental, he was endeared.

“For someone who jumps a lot, you seem afraid,” he pointed out mockingly at her reaction, both searching for her lightsaber on the ground.

She stayed silent as he inspected the edge of the cliff to check how mortal the fall would have been if he didn’t prevent it. He turned to see her look at the void so terrified, it didn’t produce any satisfaction or joy to see her in a state of trepidation.

“That was close,” breathlessly, she held onto Obi-Wan’s arms fearing to let go.

“Well, you could’ve just pushed me and we would be dead now,” he suggested to test a reaction out from her, her eyes lifted up to interlock with him, thinking he was out of his mind.

She didn’t think of really killing him, not now nor ever, she raised her brows surprised he would say that, but he proved already he wouldn’t do that to her. She composed her demeanor, getting far from his position, to not do something on impulse and not risk herself to slip and fall.

“Maybe I don’t want you completely dead, that would be my dead.” Her cheeks turned into flames, making her self-conscious of her own words. She was not used to being flirty in combat, she hid in aggression, though the feelings Kenobi aroused in her were foreign; she didn’t want to stop feeling them. "Because of the fall, don't get me wrong Kenobi", she justified.

Obi-Wan's reaction was just as neat as hers, a little smile appearing on his face, it was not in amusement.

He cared for her, enough to worry if she was safe wherever she was, to wonder what spending a day with her company must feel like or to talk past life threats or flirty tactics to distract one another. To share knowledge, to share feelings, to share the same space in existence.

His furrowed brow marked the start of some more teasing.

Strangely, she wasn't prepared for order 66 or its repercussions.

Because the very last time Obi-Wan saw her alive they were trying to save the other from the attack, he wanted to turn back time, to take her to Tatooine with him, to restart like she suggested too many times, to please every thought she shared through their bond about life together, but none of it was possible.

Even though he wanted to dedicate his life to her, finding her would have been his biggest obstacle. He made a promise to her, but he had a bigger vow.

Their dreams were impalpable, insane and improper from the moment of their conception, caught in the spectrum of imagination and destined to die in the back of their minds as if they were mere ideas. Crazy, never growing beyond their heads, ideas.

Although contrasting, the life of a Jedi and a Sith boiled down to the same thing, abandoning yourself to choose a life of service. Obi-Wan Kenobi was never a man who escaped from duty, and taking care of Padme and Anakin's children wasn't the exception. He was now voluntarily linked to the boy and his sister.

And her last doings, mysterious, kept with secrecy, remained unconcluded with the clash of the Order 66. So they did what they must and parted ways. Didn't matter how much it hurted them, if no one knew about what they had, they still could pretend they had nothing else to lose.

Notwithstanding the disaster, Obi-Wan Kenobi wasn't prepared to lose her too. He withdrew himself from the glass where the apparent corpse of his hedonistic beloved rested quietly, incapable of staring at it one second more, desperate to feel her. Duty wasn't over and he had to save Leia from the Inquisitors still.

Silently saying goodbye to his key piece, his last ray of fresh sunshine who's illusion served him to endure the burning suns of Tatooine, he caressed with his digits where her name was written in the keypad and stepped out of the tomb, unable to see the last wonder he had done to her. Her hidden vital signals — not traced by him blinded by his wounded emotions — and how her body became one with the Force finally disappearing in relative peace.

He set her free.

A/N: Hello there! ★ english is not my first language, so i apologize if i got anything wrong, i'll do my best to be more precise in the future. i wanted to share this before but didn't find the time to edit it and end it in a way i liked but realized it was going to be too long so i parted it in two. i hope you enjoy<3, please like, comment and reblog if you wish to.

If you want to be tagged in a next part, like this post.

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan kenobi x fem!reader #obi wan kenobi x afab!reader #obi wan my beloved #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan imagine #star wars #sw #star wars x reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader

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hwalovs · 2 years

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Hero and Leander (M)

Pairing; Alex Law, (fem) Reader Warnings; SMUT, unprotected PiV (wrap it freaks), AFAB reader, subby alex law is best alex law, kisses, cursing, just- Friends to Lovers. Alex is down-fucking-bad Word count; 3.4k

Summary; After inviting you over to work on homework together, Alex begins to understand Juliet when she compared his love for you to Hero and Leander.

THIS IS NOT EDITED

Alex was never good at his studies, he could never fully understand what his professors wanted him to if it was anything other than journalism.

You’ve known Alex since your sophomore year of college. And now, being a senior, you still weren’t used to his bold flirting or the fact you still find random pieces of women's clothing on the floor when you visit.

Graduation was just around the corner, the professors ramping up on homework and projects, swamping you in essay after essay about pointless things you were never going to use after you left the classroom.

Alex had invited you over when you talked on the phone that morning, saying you both could help each other while Juliet and David were both out at work. To him, it was the perfect excuse to have all of your undivided attention for himself. For you, it was the perfect plan to get done with your hardest essay to date.

Laying on his bed, your legs crossed under you as your eyes narrowed at the lined page in front of you, Alex knew his determination to get any of his homework done was off of the table. Especially after moaning something about your professor and how it was making you rethink your decision on going to college.

You had on his favorite sweat pants of yours, a baggy old T-shirt, and no makeup on. With your class textbook splayed out next to your open notebook, Alex couldn’t help but think you were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Alex couldn’t keep his legs still, his foot fidgeting, licking and biting at his lips, picking at the edges of his nails. He was nervous that you would notice, and you would do your normal thing of grabbing his hands and asking him what was wrong.

How could he explain to you that he was so head over heels for you, that Juliet compared his infatuation with you to Hero and Leander.

At first, he was offended. How dare she compare him to a swooning man who fell so in love with a priestess that he would swim across an ocean just to see her each night?

The more he thought about it, eventually leading him to read into the story and many others like it, he thought that Juliet may actually be right about something.

Yet, you could never return his feeling, you just went on a date the previous week. Sure, the date didn’t end well and Alex ended up taking you out to make up for it. But there was no way you reciprocated his affections.

“Can you look at this for me? I keep thinking I should add something but I can’t think of where,” you asked softly, shattering his thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” he shook his head, licking his lips as he held out his hand, “give it here.”

When you hand it over, Alex clears his throat and refuses himself the gratitude to get lost in your eyes again.

His eyes flicker over the page, eyebrows slowly furrowing until he harshly sighs, shaking his head.

“I don’t get it.”

“Huh?” You ask, looking back up from your highlighted textbook on your lap, head tilting slightly. Fuck, he was down bad.

Leaning forwards, you crane your neck to try and read what was confusing to him, eyebrows furrowed with that small frown on your lips as you lean in close. His attention was completely void from the paper and solely focused on how your hair tickled his cheek, and your lips were so close he could lean forwards just the slightest-

“Oh!” You smile, finding what you were looking for, “that’s just a typo, I was gonna fix it when I got back home but I can just-“

Alex had stopped listening. He didn’t mean to, but your lips were too enticing to be ignored.

He thought, that if he focused hard enough, he could smell your perfume from that morning, or maybe it was your shampoo?

It didn’t matter to him, anything you did, anything you wore, Alex thought it looked best on you. He swore that when the sun rose each day, it was to warm your skin. He thought his heart was loud enough to hear across the apartment when you stretched, arms rising to the ceiling and your damn shirt showing him skin he yearned to kiss and touch.

He had to stop himself from leaning forwards to steal a kiss from you each time you applied Chapstick. Or, when you would be eating a snack and would lick your lips, effectively wiping away the remaining crumbs, he had to shift in his place to hide his arousal.

“Alex?” You're looking at him again, with those concerned eyes and downturned lips. He was nervous that his voice would give away his thoughts, but he licks his lips and swallow the lump in his throat. He wishes the blood would rush to his head, to aid in his thought process instead of down between his legs.

“Yeah?”

“You still with me?”

His head jerks a little too weirdly in a nod, his eyes looking anywhere but your eyes. Instead, focus on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you. So so badly. You were still close enough, he could just move the littlest bit and finally, do what he’s wanted to since the day he met you.

Pushing away any of his remaining doubts, his eyes meet yours again, and he jumps directly into the raging ocean.

“Can I kiss you?”

His voice is so timid you almost don’t hear him. It stuns you into silence, never hearing Alex so nervous about something. Staring at him, you process what he said slowly. The final pieces of the puzzle finally click into place and you lean forwards slightly, nodding your head gently.

Hands moving to grip your cheeks gently, he tilts his head and leans towards you, finally kissing you.

His lips are soft, gentle, and almost nervous. You don’t think you can feel him breathe until his chest shudders and his head tilts further, pulling you closer gently.

Smiling lightly into the kiss, you place a hand on his cheek, tongue sliding lightly against his lip and you swear he shivers. Your thumb gently rubs at his jaw, sucking at his lower lip until he inches closer, hands dropping from your cheeks to your thighs. He hopes you don't feel them shake over your sweatpants, but you do. You feel the smallest of tremors as he moves them up slowly, stopping when they bump the bottom of your hips.

He tastes like cigarettes and toothpaste, but you don't care. You moan softly and inch closer, the textbook falling from the bed. Sliding his hands underneath your thighs, he pulls you onto his lap. The essay was forgotten somewhere on the bed, the only thing he was focusing on was you and the way your weight settles perfectly on his aching cock.

You’re the first to pull away, smiling as you leave light kisses down his jaw, sucking on his neck. He tilts his head back, giving more space for your lips and he doesn't notice his hips canting upwards against you, grinding against your cunt. Lightly pushing at his shoulders, he leans back onto his elbows, extending his legs to push his heels into the mattress, grinding harder to satisfy the burning in his gut.

Hands sliding up his shirt, your fingers dance across his skin, lips kissing up the side of his neck until you place your lips next to his ear, “take this off, baby.”

He doesn’t think he’s ever taken his shirt off faster, throwing it to the ground as you lean back, settling more of your weight onto him, looking over his chest and stomach with dilated, lust-filled, eyes and a smile that makes him blush.

“What?” He asks softly, hands grabbing the sheets and stopping his hips.

It takes you a second before you grab the base of your shirt, lifting it over your head and dropping it to the floor, leaving you in your sweatpants and sports bra.

“Fuck,” he pushes himself up, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist while planting kisses across your chest, down the valley of your breasts. He slides his fingers under the elastic, pushing the fabric up until he can plant kisses across the skin he thought he would never see.

He thinks, that for a moment, he’s just daydreaming. Maybe his thoughts were becoming too vivid when he zones out, but that's wiped from his mind when you whine softly as he sucks onto the skin of your collarbones, your hips greedily rolling down onto his.

Your fingers move into the band of his pants, gently pulling against it with a faux pout, “wanna take this off for me?”

Nodding, he pulls away and pulls at the sports bra, your hands briefly leaving his pants to raise them, letting him take it off and throw it to the floor. But his touch never leaves your skin for longer than a few seconds, always roaming your body with a need you’ve never seen him possess before. His cheeks are a bright pink, hair messy as he falls back onto the bed and grabs your hands gently, catching his breath.

“Are you sure?”

You laugh, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his lips, “I should be the one asking you, my love.”

His response takes a second, heart racing as he decides if he wants to say it. Yet, he finds his lips forming the words before he can stop himself, fully drowning himself in his lust.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time, darling.”

The fire in your gut grows at the fuel he throws onto it, burning bright and hot as his lips glisten under the light from your kisses and his eyes focus entirely on you. Just on you. You were the center of his universe at this moment, just as he was the center of yours.

“Good thing we’re on the same page then,” you coo as you pull his pants down, thumbs hooking into his boxers along the way.

There's a small, light trail of hair that leads down to his cock, which was hard and leaking, a small bead of precum leaking down the tip. When your hand wraps around the base, Alex whines, hips thrusting into your grip while his hands shoot to grab the fabric of your pants. He’s wanted this for so long, that when he imagined your touch it was nothing like this. He thought that you would be the one under him, withering from his mouth and fingers, your hands grabbing at the sheets in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

But it was him under you, desperate for your hands and your mouth on his skin. He was grabbing at your pants to ground himself so he wouldn’t begin to think this was a dream. He wanted to be in your warmth when he barreled into ecstasy by your touch, not by himself in his bed with a fire in his gut he was too embarrassed to do anything about.

Your hands leave his throbbing cock to pull your pants off, discarding them with his and his attention goes to your glistening cunt. His fingers leave the bed and slide up your thigh, stopping just short of touching you to look up, waiting for your nod of approval before sliding his fingers through your folds, moaning lightly at the wetness on his fingertips.

You let your head roll back with a moan when his fingers press into your clit, circling the small bundle before sliding down to slide the tip of his finger into you. It was easy, your hips pressing into his hand until he was knuckle deep inside you, circling his finger against the pillowy flesh. His other hand leaves the bed, thumb pressing lightly into your clit while his finger pulls out slowly, adding another and thrusting back in, curling them once more.

“You’re, fuck,” you whine, hand pressing against his chest, “You’re doing so well.”

Smiling, he bites his lip and speeds up his thrusts, adding more pressure to your clit, and focuses solely on how your eyebrows furrow or how your eyes clench shut when his fingers press into that spot.

He doesn't stop when your hand grabs his wrist, hips canting down into his thrusting fingers, he’s determined to feel you clench around his fingers, to cover his fingers in your come so he can lick it away.

When he feels you flutter around his fingers, he smiles, pressing down onto your clit and thrusting his fingers in until his knuckles bump against your skin, curling his fingers, “Come on, darling,” he encourages, your whines turning into moans, head falling back as your hips ground against him.

When you come, your hips stutter, and he moans softly with you, slowing his fingers while continuing to circle his thumb.

“There you go,” he sighs, stopping his thumb when your hips jerk away, breathing deeply until you finally set your shaking hips onto his thighs, his fingers immediately going to his mouth to lick away your taste.

Your hand envelops his cock once more, and he whines around his fingers, sucking and licking away your taste while you rise up onto your knees, angling your hips over him, and slowly sliding down. Both of you moan in the satisfying bliss. He was thick inside of you, the stretch an addicting feeling you know you'll crave hours into the night. His fingers leave his mouth to grip your hips, denying himself the want to thrust up and take you hard and fast just like how he imagined.

Hips rolling, you rise up once more, but you freeze, watching his eyes flicker from between your thighs, to your face. His eyebrows furrow, and when he tries to pull you back down, to bring your warmth back around him, you press a hand to his stomach.

“Please,” He whimpered. The blunt of his nails digging into your thighs. His hips threatened to buck up into you, cock throbbing with need, but you still didn’t move.

“Please, what, Alex?” You’re taunting him. Smirking at the sight of his burning cheeks and swollen lips, spit and come made his bottom lip glisten in the light, his tongue licking it away as he clenched his eyes shut, head pushing back into the bed before looking at you again.

“Just-“ he tries again, hands moving back to your hips, thrusting up to try and entice you to move, to bring him any form of relief. He was fidgeting, any type of relief be brings to himself, you take it away, cooing down at him with a tilt to your head.

You begin to pull away, smirking at his desperate incoherent babble of pleas when the tip stops just short of leaving your cunt. His feet plant against the bed, and he tries to bring your warmth back, but you won’t allow it.

“You can do it,” your hands move from his chest, thumb tapping against his chin and fingers card through his hair.

He doesn’t waste a second after that, “please, fuck me- do something, just please, darling, I need you-“

You drop your hips back. Leaning down to swallow down his moans and whines while grinding against him. Your thighs already burn, an ache in your knees you haven't felt in a long time, but you don't stop. You aid the fire in your gut with the sweet relief of Alex and his beautiful sounds and wild hands against your skin. He kisses along your neck, your shoulders, any place his lips could reach.

His hips buck up to meet yours, the sound of skin on skin filling his room.

“So good to me,” he babbles, stuffing his face into your neck while his hands grip your waist, “wanna-” he says again, cut off by his own whine.

Pulling away, you grab his face and look at his fucked out face, “what do you want, baby?” you moan, hips stuttering as your thighs burn.

“Fuck,” his arms wrap around your waist tightly, stopping your hips and flipping the both of you over, dragging your thighs higher onto his waist while thrusting hard and deep.

It's his turn to swallow down your moans and whines, your hands threading into his hair until he lifts to grab your wrists, pinning them gently above your head.

Your back arches off the bed, head thrown back as that familiar coil begins to tighten in your gut, hips canting up to meet his.

“Wanna make you come,” he whimpers, hair falling into his eyes as he watches you, not wanting to miss anything.

Hips non-stop, pelvis rubbing deliciously against your clit, you drown in him; his scent, and his sheets, the way his cock hit that spot just right, in his breath against your skin, and the lingering kisses across your jaw.

One of his hands drops from your wrists, licking his thumb briefly before circling your clit again, smirking at the way your moans rise in pitch, hips jerking into him.

“Come on, darling,” he encourages again, cursing under his breath when you clench tight around him, his hips stuttering, “want you to come around me, being so- fuck- so good to me.”

Hips thrusting into you harder, thumb pressing just the slightest harder, you come. Alex thinks he forgot how to breathe, your cunt clenching around him so tightly his hips almost stop.

“There you go,” he growls, grinding his hips against yours to help you ride out your high. His hands let go of your wrist, and you wrap them around his neck, gripping his hair tightly and pulling gently. His thumb leaves your clit, and he kisses down your neck, sucking onto the skin while you catch your breath.

“Wan’ you to come, baby,” you coo, kissing the side of his face.

“Don’t wanna end this,” he retorts, his hips slowing, pushing from his orgasm to drown in your more. Your hands cup his cheeks, nose bumping into his as you give him the softest kiss he’s felt, your tongue gliding against his easily, moaning at the faint taste of you on his tongue.

“Use me, Alex,” you whisper, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist, urging him to speed up, to fuck you harder, “I’m yours, baby.”

It’s the nail in the coffin, “Oh, fuck yes.”

Pushing away from your neck, he kisses you tenderly as his hips begin a brutal pace, the bed creaking as he wraps an arm under your knee, pulling your leg up onto his shoulder to get deeper, to feel all of you clench tight around him.

When Alex comes, he does hard, his hips grinding into you as he whines. Leaning down to bite onto your neck, grip on your leg tightening as he rides it out. His forehead is sweaty, and his cheeks are bright red. Your moaning so sweetly under him, he thinks he may as died and gone to heaven.

His hips slow to a stop, but he doesn't pull out, wanting to stay in your warmth for as long as he can. Lightly trailing kisses across your neck and jaw until he meets your waiting lips, sucking on your bottom lip until he can lick into your mouth.

Your thighs burn, and when he slowly drops your leg from his shoulder you wrap it back around his waist.

“Alex,” you whisper, pulling away. He only hums, going back to nuzzle his face in your neck, “We gotta clean up,” you lightly rub his shoulder.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“Wanna stay here forever,” his voice slurs as he begins to lay his remaining weight onto you, arms sliding under your body to lock you into place.

“Jesus- Alex, your sheets are gonna be ruined!” you chuckle, threading your fingers through his hair as his cock softens inside you, come beginning to drip down onto the sheets.

“Let them be ruined, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Jesus Christ, fine. Ten minutes.”

Alex only hums, knowing neither of you would get up until Juliet or David get home. Even then, Alex wouldn’t let you get up, he didn’t want to leave the warmth of you, he wanted to stay until his sheets were soaked and ruined. You knew this in your mind, and you were okay with it.

Ewan McGregor Tag List; @citrusmando @lluckpng

Wanna be tagged? Send a comment or a message and I’ll gladly tag you!

#alex law imagine #alex law x reader #alex law #alex law imagines #shallow grave #shallow grave x reader #shallow grave imagine #Ewan McGregor #Ewan McGregor imagine #ewan mcgregor x reader

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miseries-mistress · 2 years

Text

WE SHOULD BE LOVERS | CHRISTIAN

Synopsis: Christian didn't quite know how he ended up in the electrifying atmosphere of the Moulin Rouge when he should be at his typewriter, lost in his own story, but he had caved upon his friend's consistent begging for him to step away. Now he was subjected to a glass of mediocre alcohol, but something across the room, something that would forever alter the course of his life, caught his attention; you.

Warnings: female reader, the reader works at the moulin rouge, sex work, christian is love-struck, little bit of angst, fluff. W/C: 3579

Notes: i promise i'll write some of ewan's less popular characters. when i wrote this, i had just watched this movie and had a ton of writing inspiration. this could be better, tbh

em masterlist

Christian could safely say his entire life revolved around love. Without love, he had no purpose, simply existing between the world of the living and existing. Without love, he would have remained in London, taking a job as any man would, completing the endless cycle of disdain without the heart to change it. Without love, Christian would be no more than any other man.

All he needed was to love and be loved in return.

It wasn't until his eyes befell a beautiful woman dressed in what appeared to be silk for the appearance of men that he truly understood his words; you.

You stopped his heart from beating in his chest, you slowed down time, and you brought him on top of a cloud- free from the world and the misery it brought on your lives. In his eyes, you were the symbol of beauty and all things divine; in that instance, you became everything.

Your body swayed with the beat of the music, lips parted, tainted with layers of makeup, your voice lost in the sea of hundreds, or what felt like hundreds. Although you lacked a genuine smile, Christian could tell from your carefree expression that the Moulin Rouge was your home, and he was merely a spectator to bear witness to your love.

Toulouse, beside him, nudged his ribs, but Christian refused to rip his gaze away and meet his friend's, afraid that if he took his eyes off you for a second, you would vanish into the ocean of brightly colored dancers.

While he wanted to memorize every detail of your face with a brush of his hand, reality dunked him head-first into frigid water and back into real life. He needed a name; he needed yours.

"Have you found someone?" Toulouse asks while Christian's eyes remain hardened on your twisting figure as you turn over on a man's lap. An unprecedented flood of jealousy sweeps him off his feet, the force of it surprising even him. That should be him with his hands roaming over your delicate figure, drawing lines across the skin sheened with sweat. His lips should be caressing your skin, pulling ragged breaths from your lips that were parted so sweetly-

He threw his head back, chasing the lust-corrupted thoughts back into the box in the back of his mind, sealing it shut with a deep breath. A part of him didn't know where these feelings had sprung from. For heaven's sake, he didn't even know your name. Yet he found himself infatuated with your every move, yearning for your pretty lashes to flutter over to where he was seated.

"Yes," he whispered an answer to his friend's question, watching with dilated pupils as you and the tens of other dancers lowered themselves onto their knees before their partner. "Who is she?"

Toulouse followed his friend's eye line and sighed when he saw your face. Of course, Christian would be interested in you.

You, Harold's songbird, a woman with the voice of an angel but the heart of a sinner. Anyone who had ever been to the Moulin Rouge had heard of you, but very few got the privilege of actually meeting you, for you only held private meetings with the wealthiest due to your status. There was no way you would ever agree to meet with a writer, one as new as Christian, no less.

"That's Songbird," Toulouse shook his head knowingly while Christian reveled over your name. Somehow that seemed to fit you perfectly. It matched your flowy, graceful voice that peaked above the rest as you twirled around the man, your hips moving to the music pounding in his ears, drowning out the sinful thoughts he tried so desperately to tame.

Toulouse swirled the drink clutched in his hand before downing the liquor. He would find a way to arrange a meeting with Songbird and Christian, even if it was the last thing he ever did.

—

Christian isn't entirely sure how Toulouse arranged a meeting with you. He just told Christian to go to a specific building and what room it was. Christian shook his head, dispelling those thoughts. He should be focused on the opportunity he was presented with as he followed Toulouse's directions until he was led to a run-down building. The paint was peeling off the sides, revealing the stained brick underneath as the light that was supposed to illuminate the name of it flickered once, then twice before flickering off. Women roamed the streets in corsets and other scandalously-clad clothing next to the building, and feelings began to brew in his gut when Christian realized what kind of building this was; a brothel. Despite his trepidation, he entered, slightly astounded that the receptionist didn't even bother to look up from his book, allowing Christian through and up the stairs.

205. Christian searched the worn-down plaques outside the rooms, his mind wandering as he did. What was he going to say to you? You had never seen him before, yet Christian was preparing to confess his infatuation with you. He felt nothing less than stupid, the regret already being to bleed into his skin and seep into his bones. On top of that, you would never reciprocate his feelings, you didn't know him, and your job prevented him from doing so.

Maybe if he just talked to you, things would work out okay. He's a poet. He could do this.

Unbeknownst to him, you had caught his gaze locked onto you from across the room the moment you entered. You were nothing less than intrigued when you found him staring so intently at you. Of course, he must not have seen your wandering gaze, but that didn't matter. What caught your attention the most was his young and youthful face, for most of the men that entered were well into their thirties, but what pulled your attention to him was his eyes. They weren't dull or ridden with lust but glistening with an emotion you don't think you've ever encountered before. You knew you couldn't go up to him, putting aside the man driving his grimy hands over your body, but how you simply longed to speak with him. No one would ever want to talk of you. This was a brothel in Montmartre, for fucks sake. No one came here just to chat.

Christian halted outside the room, double-checking the piece of paper with the room name scribbled on it. He twisted the doorknob, and to his immense surprise, it clicked and opened, creaking on its hinges. Christian took notice of the room with brightly colored walls, varying decorations spread sporadically, and the neatly cleaned bed with freshly fluffed pillows. It seemed to capture the spirit of the Moulin Rouge, your spirit, and he thought it fit you perfectly. The door clicked shut behind him, and he set his hat on the rack by the door, his ears perking at the sound of gentle footsteps.

"And I thought the writer was never planning to show." You emerged from the curtains, your hair cascading over your bare shoulders, and he had to force his eyes away from descending any lower down your stature dripping with lace.

"Oh, hi, I-I'm Christian." He steps into the room, watching you stalk towards him. You were glad you could hide your emotions so well because the shock would have been written all over your face. It's the same man from before, the one that had caught your eye. A part of you was saddened by the revelation that he would be gone before sunrise, disappearing into the night without a trace of him for you to cling to, but that's just how these things work, and it was even more silly for you to get your hopes up of pursuing something more than a short-lived exchange steeped in impiety. You just had to play your role, receive your money, and you would remain off the street for another day. You had to focus on that, not the dashing man with a name that rolled off his tongue so easily it sent goosebumps down your arms.

"Songbird," you replied, and Christian felt like he was going to evaporate then and there. Your voice was marred with seduction, but it trickled with honey and Gods; even your voice was pretty. Then, you place a hand on his chest, and Christian battles the urge to step back, completely baffled by the connection.

"What's your real name?" he inquires, breathless at the contact, his eyes roaming over your face touched with enticement, which he longs to pepper with kisses.

The question startles you in a way nothing has before. No one had ever bothered to ask your real name, content with your cleverly crafted persona, and somewhere hidden beneath the many layers of your skin, your heart involuntarily flutters. Most men by now would be discarding your clothes with haste, having their way with you, yet this man– Christian, was actually talking to you. It was like he knew you longed for meaningful interaction with him, and you welcomed the change.

You chuckle and pull your hand free. "You need not worry about that now, my dear," you purr, sliding your hand up Christian's chest to the collar of his shirt.

Much to your surprise, Christian stumbles back, his eyes those of a frightened animal while they seem to meet everything but yours. Now you're confused. Isn't that what he came here for? Or unless you did something wrong? You swallow the lump that seems to be growing in your throat. You can't mess this up. Everything depends on your customers and the money they bring.

"That's not what I meant. I wanted to know who you were because..." Christian trails off, his voice sheepish.

"I saw you dancing earlier, and I was infatuated with you." You raised an eyebrow, pacing around the man, practically trembling with anxious energy. Did he really feel the same, or was this careful deception that you were too blind to see?

"Really now?" Christian was at a loss for words, for all his poetic speech was lost upon him. Why couldn't he think straight? He surely didn't expect, out of all things you could have said, that you would question his confession. The nagging insecurity he so fruitlessly tried to oppress wondered if he was doing this right. All he wanted to do was know more about you and fall deeper into the spiral of... love? Is that what he was feeling? He craved love, the experience, the feelings, the affections, all of it, and now in the face of it, he found it hard to piece together a couple of coherent words. Quite typical of him to mess up such a chance.

"Yes. I saw you dancing, and I was amazed by it."

"I seem to have that effect on people."

"You were breathtaking– I mean, you are breathtaking. I just wanted to find a way to talk to you." You were growing more fascinated by the second. Did all he really want to do was talk? Did he not care about sleeping with you? No, you shook your head. Of course, he wanted to sleep with you. That's what he was paying for. You internally slapped yourself. Why would you ever foolishly think he could want anything else but sex?

"You sure all you want to do is talk?" you suggest seductively, purring as your hands run down his side. It was undeniable now that Christian was much more charming than all the rest. Ebony strands that hung neatly and delicately fall over his pale complexion, and you fight the impulse to run your hands through them.

Wait…

You shook that preposterous thought from your mind. Christian is nothing more than a customer who will leave before sunrise only to never return. Though you had to admit, his demeanor was far from what you usually encounter. While he held an embarrassed half-quirked smile, there was a hint of cheekiness behind it, almost boyish. His eyes were a strange, impossibly soft blue with flecks of silver amidst the penetrating rays of the moon, glittering like a thousand of the brightest stars. His cheeks flush a hazy shade of pink at the question you had forgotten you asked.

"I'm sure," he nodded stiffly. Christian debated whether to touch you, but his nervousness seemed to temporarily disappear with your hands roving over his chest. His hand moved to push back the hair that strayed into your enrapturing eyes, and your breath caught in your throat. The touch was so gentle. You've been touched before many times in your life, but you can't recall an instance where the touch felt innocent, pure. Even with the slightest bit of conversation exchanged, you felt yourself falling deeper into the velvet of his voice, entranced by the validity of his words.

"I truly do admire you, and if it's okay, I would like to get to know you better because…because I think I'm in love with you." You chuckled, lifting his chin with the point of your finger. You've heard this confession from more men than you could count. It was refreshing from the stern and cold attitudes you seemed to encounter more and more often, but it was different, exciting even for men to believe so much into your persona of a temptress. While it gives you hope for a better feature, it leaves your male counterparts embarrassed, either stabbing away in a furry or apologizing bumblingly.

"Thank you, Christian, but I can't love." Christian stepped back, and you barely contained your disappointment, the crease between your eyebrows deepening as he looked stricken, if not appalled, by your confession.

"You can't love? A life without love is existing between the lines of the living and dead. A life without love–"

"-keeps me off the streets, Christian," you mused, smoothing out his dress shirt. It was endearing how passionate he was about love, a feeling you couldn't quite wrap your head around, for you've never seen what love looks like. You've heard stories from the other girls about the weightlessness of love or the singular greatest feeling of genuine joy it brings them, but you've never seen it or felt it, for that matter. Your parents were no example of what love is, as told by the other girls, and living in a brothel surely is no accurate representation of it. So what was love, really? A feeling? A sensation? A reaction? Was it like hope or lust? Or was it fear that seemed to twist inside your gut at the thought of him leaving?

"Love is what lifts us up into where we belong!"

"Love doesn't pay or bring food to the table, Christian."

You didn't understand why you were arguing with him about love. Sure he had caught your attention, but you couldn't comprehend why you were indulging in a fantasy you didn't belong in. It was ridiculous, and if you two weren't intending to sleep together, then he was just wasting your time. You needed the money, your rent bill was due, and you were fifteen dollars short, which also happened to be the amount your customers paid for your service. You needed the money, and that was the cold, sobering truth.

You took a step away from him, but he swung around you.

"All you need is love, Songbird."

"You're a writer! If you can't pay, then–"

"Give me one night," his voice dropped an octave. The silkiness of it sent you dissolving into a puddle of stricken desire on the floor. His lopsided smile never dropped; if possible, it brightened at your breathless expression.

"I can't, Christian. My life demands–"

"Then run away with me."

"We just met!"

"I don't see why that has to stop us."

"You don't even know my real name."

"Only because you won't tell me."

"There's no way because you can't pay." His smile dropped, and you could see the gears turning in his head, straining to think of anything to get you to stay. He knew you felt the same as him; he saw it in your eyes and demeanor, but your job prohibited it. If he could put the material idea of money aside, he knew you could be happy with him. He just needed one chance to get you to stay. Call him a love-sick fool, but he wouldn't give up on you. This connection, like electricity coursing through his very being when he was around you, set his soul alight, and now he was burning with that same passion.

"Just one night, in the name of love, just one night."

You found yourself giggling as he twirled around, finding his way back into your eyes. His irises were so expressive with a mixture of childish wonder and fantasy with swirls of adoration doting within his playful demeanor. This was not how it was supposed to go. You weren't supposed to fall in love with a customer. You needed to eat and afford your rent. You couldn't do that and the Moulin Rouge if you indulged in your fascination.

"It's impossible." That was the right thing to do. You dismissed the thought entirely before you ran away with it because you knew that if you stayed any longer within Christian's intoxicating presence, you would never leave and bind yourself to the endless devotion of love.

"All you need is love," he sang sweetly, his breath inches from the shell of your ear, sending an array of goosebumps down your arm. You froze. The erratic beating of your heart pounding in your ears was all you could hear before his lips parted, releasing a breath that traveled straight down your spine, fogging your head with an unfamiliar haze of an even more unfamiliar emotion. "Don't you see, darling?"

You had to stop, push the man away, and find someone willing to pay for your services. Before you knew it, the back of Christian's hand faintly touched your face, running down it briefly. His touch was as light as a feather, like he feared you would break. You could get used to this feeling of being loved by a man who only wanted you to return his affections. His hand lingered for a moment longer before returning to his side, the phantom of his touch the only reminder that it was real. You felt yourself being drawn in, dizzy under his intoxicating presence, engrossed in his sparkling eyes that seemed to dazzle even brighter under the moonlight seeping through the curtains.

"Don't leave me this way. Your tantalizing touches breathe life into my soulless body."

"You would think I would possess enough sense to turn away."

His lips quirked into a crooked grin, bringing butterflies erupting from the depths of your stomach. "You would think so."

You can't...

The bitter reality brought you crashing down from your euphoric high. You wouldn't be able to make any money, and Christian certainly couldn't support two people, no matter how talented he is. You take a step back, away from the center of the room. You can't.

"We can't. It's unrealistic, a reality we cannot afford to indulge in." You dropped your gaze. Not so deep down, you knew your words were empty, but you had already fallen too deep into the rabbit hole to climb back now.

Christian's face dropped, his heart sinking into his stomach. As selfish as it may sound, he needed you, your love, your touch, your body, everything. He needed it deep within his soul. He longed with every fiber of his being for that feeling of being loved in return so much, so he was afraid it was blinding him. But how could the love he harbored for you be so wrong when all he wanted to do was envelop you within his embrace and whisper words of reassurance into your ear?

"Just one night," he whispered in a desperate plea, his eyes squeezing together while you felt your back hit the wall, sliding over your exposed skin. "One night to show you where love will lift us up to."

Every thought concerning the future was haphazardly thrown from your mind leaving you breathless in the present. There was no need to worry about money, security, housing, or any of it while Christian looked at you so dearly.

"What if I fall?" your voice comes out as a whisper as your eyes find his freshly shinned shoes. Christian's calloused forefinger slips underneath your chin, raising your head, so your eyes meet his, and you discover a sense of solace among them.

"Then I'll catch you when we land."

353 notes · View notes

buckyarchives · 9 months

Text

EARTHQUAKES CAN BE A FLIGHT RISK, TOO. [1/3]

modern obi-wan kenobi x female reader

w/c: 8k

!!!: obi-wan is referred to as ben. family trauma, jealous asshole men, anakin is dead and it comes up a lot.

heavily inspired by im with you by wkemep

ao3 / masterlist

“...ladies and gentlemen, can I please have your attention? We regret to inform you that the current blizzard in Chicago has delayed several flights… for more specific information, please go to the customer service desk for your respected airline assistance. We are sorry for the inconvenience.”

The airline speaker announces like a mantra to a less-than-pleased crowd at O’hare international airport.

Watching as sun-kissed families that are more than ready to go home sit around barricaded by the feet of snow piling up on the floors, and behind and ahead of you people with permanent scowls as they come to the realization they'll be stuck in this airport for more than expected.

The line to the few customer service desks has loomed and looped around the place, from where you stand it looks like it never ends. You look forward and at the back of a pitch-black head of hair, a tall man in a suit taps his fingers on his leather briefcase and groans for the 10th time in the past few minutes, (yes, you're so bored you began to count). The snowfall outside was more of a blessing rather than a curse for you, you wear a small smile, completely unbothered by the long line ahead of you.

New Year's Eve is tomorrow, and tomorrow is your annual new year's party.

Your friend group has done it since high school, it's like a sort of reunion, and the only thing keeping your friend group alive. It seems no matter how far apart or distant any of you've grown, everyone manages to make it back to this party. You’re sure some of the reason is for the fact the girl, your best friend, that throws it every year is absolutely loaded. You're less than excited to go this year, though.

A loud, stressed yell of a man in a tacky Hawaiian button-up makes your head shoot up. You'd been watching the family at the front desk for a moment now, the stress of the toddler whining and the teenager complaining has probably gotten to the father. You understand, yet it still doesn't give him the right to yell at the customer service attendee just doing his job. You shake your head in disappointment.

“A bunch of barbarians.” is whispered with a thick accent behind you, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to where it might have been directed at you.

You think to turn around to find out, but you don’t and keep looking ahead at the father yelling and successfully keeping the line looping around the airport.

“Honestly, I can't tell if the yelling is more embarrassing or the absolutely disastrous excuse of a shirt he's wearing.” the man behind you comments and even if he isn't speaking to you, you can't stop the snort that leaves you unprovoked.

“The socks and sandals combo, I think,” you mutter back, hoping in lands. It does, a small breathy laugh comes from the man behind you. Smiling to yourself, you still haven't turned around, yet.

You do - instead - shift your eyes to the large windows. The world is covered with snow and the bright lights of the city. A dystopian feeling washes over you that you're sure only comes from being at an airport this late, or so early in the morning. Time is irrelevant in the sense you only need to know how long it will take you to grab gum and some caffeine while also being able to make it to your boarding gate on time.

You snicker to yourself, accepting the fact you'd be completely okay with your flight being canceled or missing your boarding time.

The line erupts into chaos, it happens so quickly. The Hawaiian shirt must have blown his top, taking a step back and causing a domino effect to the line. The businessman with no bits of patience falls back on you and before you can even get a yelp out, hot coffee pours down your sweatpants and solid arms brace your fall.

The world moves on though, everyone's eyes don't stop looking annoyed, at their phones or flight board. The man in the Hawaiian shirt continues to yell, and apparently, so do you.

“Asshole! I spent a good 4 dollars on that!” you push yourself out on the arms of the mystery funny man behind you and barrel forward like a goddamn tank, you'd barely got a few spits out of that drink! Grasping at his shoulder to get his attention, the man whips back fast.

“You got your coffee on my shoes, you bitch!” his finger raises to your face, he's tall. You should feel intimidated but irritation blinds you and your rage doesn't stop your shouts.

“Me! You're the one with no sense of surroundings and bumped into me!”

“Listen here, young lady – “ he begins to step into your space, tower over you and fear suddenly washes over you. Flinching as his pointer finger waves around, you shut your eyes and an arm from behind you brushes past your shoulder.

Blinking your eyes open, 5 fingers are spread out and pushing the businessman back, whose gaze is looking past you now.

“Please back off the girl, sir.'' His voice is stern, an interesting contrast to the sarcastic tone from moments ago. It sends a chill down your spine and you haven't even seen his face yet.

Your eyes trailed from his hand down to his cream hoodie sleeve, slowly he steps in front of you and between the man. You notice his side profile, a large mole on his cheekbone and then the back of his sandy blonde hair as he speaks to the man.

“Do you know how much these shoes cost? Just for coffee to be spilled all—”

“I suggest you settle down, turn around or you'll have to argue about your cheap shoes to airport security,” he speaks with a stern, calm tone. “And with this layover, you do not want to be stuck in airport security.”

You're not sure if it was the threat itself or the intimidating aura this man suddenly gave off, but the businessman turns around with a stank in his eyes and a grumble leaving his lips. You're impressed, to say the least.

“Are you alright?'' The sandy blonde hair turns around once the threat is seemingly gone, his voice is less stern and replaced with a surface-level worry. You notice his eyes, they're piercing through you.

Your fingers run down your wet pants, it's warm but bearable, not noticeable.

“Uh, yes, I think so.” just startled and damp, you almost say.

“I'll get you another cup of coffee once we survive this line,” his Atlantic blue eyes dart from your hands to the head of the line, and then back to you.

“You don't need to, you weren't the one to bump into me.” you wave his offer off, “anyways, you did enough with that dude.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, with a surprising amount of concern in his voice for a stranger that literally fell into him.

“Yes, I'm sure,” you say, suddenly feeling like a deer in headlights as he stares at you. You reach your hand out, offering your name.

His smile catches you off guard, it's warm and reaches his blue irises, and the sides of his eyes crinkle. It's genuine and very, very pretty.

“Ben Kenobi, it's nice to meet you.”

The line moves, thankfully, and you're reminded of the fact Ben had technically stolen your spot. He notices as well.

“Oh, dear. I’m sorry, I didn't mean to step in front of you.'' He gently pushed you in front of him, with a gentle hold on your upper arm. His hands are impossibly warm, you don't like physical touch, much less from a stranger at an airport. But this was okay. He coughs and you turn around, he might as well disappeared then, except for the fact his presence loomed over you to an uncomfortable extent.

Time is still irrelevant and you notice how quickly the line begins to move now, the airport has seemed to get a grasp on the situation as the flight plan board begins to flicker with dots of green and another customer service worker starts a new line. You almost forget about your coffee-soaked pants until you begin to move to break off into a new line, conveniently having a suitcase full of clothes.

The boy behind the desk looks barely eighteen, maybe just a babyface. Either way, you can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. His ears and cheeks are tinted red in stress and his eyes dart wildly in anxiety, you do your best to be considerate.

As he begins to punch in the number for your flight, you wait patiently, and out of the corner of your eye, you see Ben at the desk next to yours. Glancing over, he glances back with those piercing blue eyes. Have you ever seen something so blue? You smile kindly, one of those smiles you give to someone whom you're not friends with, but not strangers. It's fitting.

“Thank you for your patience, ma’am.” you hear, he clears his throat and you notice his anxiety diminishing. “We are still watching the blizzard before we can get a confirmed time of departure for your flight from Chicago to San Diego. Please be patient and keep watch on the flight information boards and announcements going forward. We are terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

You nod and thank the man for his help, he smiles at you, watching his shoulders slack a little. Honestly, you'd rather stay camped out around cranky kids than step foot in the state of California right now. You have no complaints and an unusual bounce in your step as you go to find a place to rest until you hear more news about your flight.

A part of you wonders why you even agreed to go this year, a moral obligation to the unspoken tradition that's been going on for over a decade now? Probably. To see your best friend? You see her normally, you don't need a stupid New years party to see her. You know he will be there and just for that fact you're dreading it.

Seeing him by choice should be considered self-harm at this point. Especially since the last time you saw him, because you know once you see his stupid smile the cycle will repeat and you'll be head over heels. Your eyes dart back to your flight schedule. Delayed. Good.

Your name is shouted from behind you, faintly you hear it and have to let yourself hear it again before turning around. Ben comes walking close with a military backpack slung over one shoulder. He's still calling out your name before you ground yourself enough to respond.

“Hey, Ben. Updates on your flight?”

He shakes his head and wears a bittersweet smile, he doesn’t seem so down about the blizzard either. You wonder for a moment if he too is versed in the art of balancing on earthquakes just to fall, because that's what this is, whatever you're doing right now.

“Nope, off to terminal D to wait it out.”

Your eyebrows perk up in surprise, “terminal D, huh?”

“Would that be where you're headed as well?” he catches on, the end of his lip quirked up slightly. You notice the freshly groomed beard. It suits him but you also notice the razor cuts lower on his neck, it makes you want to laugh.

“It would be.”

“In that case,” his eyes darted to the terminal entrance, a sense of familiarity was in his eyes. “I think you should let me buy you a new coffee.”

Wow, this man is stubborn.

An amused smile paints your face, and you almost laugh. Not sure why. Thinking to protest, but you remember a conversation you had with your therapist. Looming over your shoulder telling you to say yes to good things more, even if you believe you don't deserve it. This could be a good thing, or this could be nothing and you steal a latte from this man and never see him again. Either way, caffeine does sound good.

“Okay, Ben. Lead the way,” you say and Ben smiles, he tells you there's an okay coffee shop in this terminal he swears by. You trust him and watch the back of his head as you walk down the terminal.

Your palms are slick as you grasp at your suitcase handle, the clicking sound as the wheels hit the grooves in the airport floor turning to white noise. Trying to cast out any thoughts of this party, or actually attending it.

“Where are you going? If you don't mind me asking,” he asks, the sounds of the world come rushing back and Ben’s walking next to you now.

He must have slowed his steps for you, his eyes are still so blue even under the dull lights. You didn't realize you made it to the cafe already. It smells warm of vanilla, a stark contrast from the artificial smell of cleaning products the rest of the airport gave off. Ben is still looking at you.

“San Diego,” you answer plainly as you step into line. Two blonde-haired teen girls stand in front of you, giggling about something. In Front of them is a college-aged student with heavy bags and headphones over her ears, she's ordering something with too many shots of espresso.

Ben laughs, “Me too. La Jolla.”

“Clairemont.”

A beat of silence. Ben rocks on his feet and puts one hand over the other in front of him, his eyes darting to the menu. “What will you be having?”

You hum, overwhelmed by all the options. Maybe this is the time to try something new, you think.

“just an iced latte with espresso.” old habits die hard. You always get that drink, no matter the cafe, no matter the state, no matter if a handsome and polite stranger offers to buy you anything you’d like. Maybe you should have gotten a matcha or a cappuccino to make yourself more interesting.

“Alright.” he nods.

“Thank you,” you mutter.

“It's no problem,'' Ben smiles and it's so genuine, it feels strange to be on the receiving end of such a genuine smile from a man you met only a few moments ago. “If you want – you can grab a table or change out of those pants while I order.”

You look down at yourself, the sweatpants are practically dried now and you really didn't feel like digging through your bag in the middle of this cafe. “Thank you, again.”

Ben just nods and you roll your suitcase and yourself to a table, it's sitting next to the glass window and looking at a middle-aged man passed out on a bench. You hope he doesn't miss his boarding time. A group of adults with fruity drinks laugh together, surrounded by luggage.

your fingers brush your hair out of your face, taking a deep breath in and just settling, only for a moment. Glancing back to the front, Ben is ordering and the barista has a smile on his face. With a look of familiarity in his eyes as he speaks to Ben, it's obvious they are speaking about more than just coffee order, he must be an old friend.

Quickly, the unknown but apparently familiar barista glances towards you, and back to Ben's face once he notices you were looking too. That was embarrassing. His face is painted with surprise, and happiness when he looks back to Ben, just before you could look away and dwell on your own life.

Ben comes walking back, you sit up straighter so maybe he doesn't get the impression your rethinking all your life choices up to now. You know? Bad first impressions and all.

Well, you may have already checked that box now. Great.

“So,” he smiles, setting two cups down. A piping hot chai with lavender and honey and your drink, a simple latte. “What's in San Diego that you've decided to travel to during a blizzard?”

“Uh,” you stutter, do you lie so as not to get into the dread of why you wish to not be going? Hmmm, he is a complete stranger as well. “Well, I didn't technically choose to travel during this. Mother nature as her own mind.”

Ben chuckles, “That is true, I guess.”

“A party.” you spit out. “A New Year's party, I've had it every year since sophomore year.”

“Oh, college or high school?”

“High school.”

He sits back, an amused smile, maybe even a little shocked as you’re in your early 30s now. “Wow, long-time tradition.”

“Yeah.” you breathe, sipping at your latte. It is pretty good, you are glad you followed this stranger into this cafe. Better than Starbucks, god, you could roll your eyes.

“Excited?”

Your eyebrows furrow, “excuse me?”

“Are you excited about the party?” he clarifies.

Are you this out of your mind? Nothing feels real right now.

You pause, almost choking on your own words. Do you lie?

“Yes.” you keep it short and simple, gritting your teeth.

Ben hums, seeming not too convinced. You had never been a good actor before.

“Sorry,” you say before Ben could even ask if you were lying, “I'm not good at small talk.”

“That so?” his eyebrows quirks up, “big talk then. What first? Politics? Religions? The meaning of life? Pineapple on pizza?”

You smile, “It's criminal, fruit doesn't belong on pizza.”

“Oh, have you tried it?” a cheeky grin falls to his face and he leans forward.

“I don't feel I need to, I know it will taste horrible,” you say.

Ben just laughs at you and it's warm and genuine and it's nice enough to wear it rings in your ears and for a moment, muffles out any thought of him. You think, maybe you can get used to this. Once again, your eyes find the world around you and you begin to notice more and more stressed passengers scrambling for their brains and flight times. You sigh, a part of you wishes you could care so much.

Ben observes everything too, he looks almost nostalgic. You've known this man for only twenty minutes and he's been the most interesting or mysterious man you've encountered in a while. You're not sure which word is best to describe him yet, you haven't decided.

“All hell is going to break loose soon, we’ll have to make a game plan,” he says, deadly serious and it makes you smile. It's never been that easy.

“Game plan?”

“Of course.” Ben sits up straighter. “We’ll need to find food, shelter, chargers, and entertainment. In order of importance.”

The question slips off your tongue, “You seem familiar with this, do you travel a lot.”

An emotion flashes across his face, it's unknown to you, but it didn't seem very positive. You'd wish you held your tongue, instead, you sip your coffee.

“Somewhat, more as a kid than now.” you're trying not to overanalyze the way he sounds sad when he said that like it was a pain to come back. It's probably nothing. You sip your coffee again and so does he.

Ben's eyes glance to the clock, “well, we should probably get to it.”

It's funny, you don't realize this now but the way he doesn't need to ask, or you need to request teaming up on surviving the O’hare international airport blizzard. But you do, you get up and follow him again as he begins to ask you about your favorite food, if you're vegan or gluten-free. Maybe it is the bonding over coffee and assholes that molded this, an unspoken bond within 30 minutes. It's quite impressive, you think.

You just hope he doesn't turn out to be creepy or some serial killer luring you in with his charm and blue eyes, it seems like a recipe for another Ted Bundy. But within those piercing blues, you see kindness and a sort of pain you would only be able to recognize in yourself. Maybe you have a strong intuition, or maybe you're stupid, but you continue to follow him into a small convenience store.

The air still smells like a cleaning product, you catch a whiff of garlic when you walk past a certain aisle and then cold air once you reach the back. You grab a water and soda, a few strides to the right and you turn around, one thing of pringles and gum. You look up and see Ben's hair bobbing up and down as he walks down another aisle, just before he shows himself in front of you with handfuls of his own snacks.

“All good?” he asks you, checking up on you. It's sweet.

“Mhm.”

The cashier rings you both up, once again, Ben knows the cashier.

“Haven't seen you around her in awhile, Ben.” her raspy voice speaks, she looks to be in her 60s with a head of shoulder-length gray hair. She balanced red glasses on the tip of her nose and wears a soft, apologetic smile as she greets him.

“Can't stay in Chicago forever,” he says, you think about what that means. He said he traveled a lot. Maybe you think too much.

Her hand grazes over the bag of m&m’s, the yellow-colored pouch ones with peanuts. Her face goes sour, a stark and surprising contrast from the happy customer service mask you recognize. She holds them in front of her like it was a flaw, but she doesn't say anything and lets Ben notice it first. He does.

“Oh,” he says, almost like he surprised himself that'd picked them up and carried them all the way here. “Habit. I'll put them back.”

Habit?

You watch the interaction with a solid confusion from start to end, feeling like an outsider watching from within, an inside joke you can’t seem to grasp. From the apologetic, embarrassed, and solemn faces – it definitely isn't funny though. Ben speeds up, grasping the package all too tightly with his eyes trained on the ground and then he disappears around in isle.

The cashier looks back at you, she doesn't know you but she knows Ben. She smiles, it's a sad smile and she understands your confusion.

“They were his little brother’s favorite.” is all she says, you're still confused and your brain urges you to ask more. It feels way too personal though, and Ben is already back with empty hands.

He pays, you pay. You try not to think too hard about what it means and why she looked so sad telling you that, you don't think to ask either.

________________________________

Ben's palms are hot and sweaty as he wipes them on his pants, he's doing better. He's talking to new people, new people being a very pretty stranger during a flight delay. Only one small slip-up, it wasn't his fault really, muscle memory because normally Anakin would kill him for not getting his m&m’s. Maybe he should have just bought them anyway.

He passed the terminal D sign, he could navigate this place blind. Your railing close next to him looking around curiously, shelter. That was the next part of the game plan.

“Over here,” he mutters, glancing at you. Show you a mostly deserted corner, a free outlet (rare), and close enough to a flight board so each of you'd be able to keep up to date. Not like Ben really wants to see those red words turn green, shamefully.

You settle in, you drop your backpack, and park your suitcase against a wall. Ben goes straight for the outlet with his charger, got to hog them before any iPad kids can. You follow and sit next to him on the large window sill, his phone buzzes alive and he's met with a picture of Leia and Luke crawling onto his shoulder. It was when they were only 5 years old and they'd taken a trip to the beach for Ben's birthday, it was also the last time he'd seen either of them. He bites back a frown.

“Cute kids.” your voice brings him down to gravity, and his head started spinning in the convenience store. Forgetting you were looming over his shoulder. “They yours?”

“Oh, no.” Ben gulps, “my niece and nephew, they're twins.”

You just smile and not, not saying anything else.

“You should probably change out of those pants. Do you have something else to change into?” Ben asks, eyeing your stuff.

“Oh, yeah. Thank you for reminding me.” you jump down from the window sill and zip open your suitcase. Ben watched as you rummage through your clothes to pull out a pair of black shorts, “I'll be right back, save my spot?”

“Of course.”

And you headed to the restrooms.

Ben looks back down at your wide-open suitcase, he's not nosey or creepy, but he notices the short and sparkly dress laid out on the top. It looks incredibly fancy and even a little skimpy. He thinks you'd look pretty in it.

You come back in no time, legs on displacement and Ben notices your beat-up converse, little doodles along the soles. Ben smiles to himself.

“Do you mind if I ask?” the words leave his mouth without permission, and he glances back to the sparkly fabric absolutely intrigued. He's probably crossing some personal line right now, but his mind can't stop thinking of your face - compared to now, at least – when he asked if you were excited. You say yes with a disappointed look while sitting in a long line knowing your flight will be delayed with a satisfied look in your eyes. It's curious, but Ben thinks he understands fully.

“Are you actually excited for this party?”

You look like you've been hit with a brick, for a stranger to be able to suspect your real emotions so well, to be able to read you, to detach that carefully crafted method of acting. You look down at your shoes, clench your fist and look back up at him. Smiling, it's not genuine, but it's what he would call a smile, “no, not really.”

Ben nods, he understands.

You huff and shoulder slack, sitting next to him. The secrets out and the boulders on your shoulder begin to lift, slightly. The overbearing weight that you could still be eating on a slight soon still hangs heavy over your head.

“It's horrible, but I was actually so excited to find out about my flight delaying.” you laugh to yourself, it's self-depreciative. “It's just…” the words begin to slip out of your mouth, “I've known these people forever and obviously, you go through a lot with people you've known that long, but we still make an obligation to go to this party no matter what. This year though, some of my relationships with people there are a bit shakier than usual.”

“I understand,'' Ben breathed out. His voice shakier than usual, now he won't let the water break the damn, he's sure of it.

“You do?” you light up ever so slightly, looking at him with sudden curious eyes. A sense of understanding and someone to bear your burdens with, your shoulders look even more relaxed. Ben wants to curse at himself when he notices your lip quirked up when you start to speak. “What troubles face you on the other side of this stupid flight.”

Maybe he won't let himself crack, maybe.

Ben gulps, “Yes, uh.” he thinks, should he? “My family–”

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” You seem cautious, but Ben would be a hypocrite if he didn’t even vaguely explain his situation after you practically spilled your guts in the wonderfully terminal D of O’hare international airport. “I know how some family drama can be.”

“No, it's okay.” he laughs off your incredible consideration, breathing heavily. Why does he do this to himself? Just don't mention Anakin, he tells himself that it's going to make any difference once he opens his mouth. The damn always breaks.

You nod and sit patiently, attentively and it makes Ben's chest thump. What is wrong with him? He frowns with pink-tinted ears because what good has come from learning to pretend?

“My sister-in-law and I don’t have the greatest relationship, currently…” Don't mention him, don't say his name. “So I haven't seen my niece and nephew for a while.” your eyes widen, not because of the simple fact of what he said. No, you feel bad about asking, obviously, it's a sore subject. You think you should have known, but you didn't. “And no good has really come from that either, I've pretty much been digging myself a hole with her and the kids over the past few years and well, their tenth birthday is in a few days so I'm trying to make steps to apologize for my absence.”

You don't say anything, but you understand. Ben can tell by the way you're looking at him, you know there more though. You don’t push or prod, you wait.

“But it's very scary, as you can tell,” he says, avoiding eye contact and looking at his sweaty palms, he's still sitting on the window seal with blinking city lights just past you two. The cold feeling on the large glass panels calms him and single-handedly keeps him back from breaking down. Ben learns to find comfort in the dangerous blizzard, strange, isn't it? He's never liked the cold before.

“I feel guilty for being happy about the delay, I should be excited to see them.”

A beat of silence, he shouldn't have said that. A failure of an uncle, a bad listener, and a bad person. He's just laying it all out too, ironic. Just as he called himself a hypocrite.

“Well all my best friends are at this New years party and you don't see my moping around about this flight delay, hm?” you say like it's just that easy, maybe it should. “Don't feel too guilty, you are nervous, you're human.”

You're human.

______________________________________

It's been an hour, you think.

Actually, you're not sure about it all. having not checked the time in a while, much more occupied by beating Ben at uno. It's been borderline embarrassing having handfuls of cards as he yells uno for the 8th time. But hey, you're learning things about each other whilst doing it, and how bad is getting to know a charming, handsome stranger with a toothy grin even if he's absolutely killing you with +four cards.

“Uno!” you look up to see a cheeky grin and unfortunately, one uno card in his hand.

“You have to be cheating!” you murmur.

“Sorry, I'm just very good at reading people.” he quips back and you hate the shine in his eye as he speaks, it's making it very hard to be mad at him.

“You know, if the shoe fits.” you nervously put down a green five, eyes glancing up at him as Ben watched you intensely. His face is empty and calm, but Ben puts down his last card and you erupt into a pained groan. “This is horrible for me!”

Ben just laughs softly, grabbing the deck of cards and yours and beginning to shuffle them once more. You originally planned to sleep off or even finish that book you've long neglected during this delay, anything to not think, but this. This was an alternative you were okay with.

Most of the airport got the memo, keeping watchful eyes on the flight information and listening ear to the announcer. For those that could – slept, read, snacked away. Parents did anything to keep their children quiet or entertained. It was a sort of humility you'd only ever see during such a situation, it helped the doom brewing in your chest.

“So what did you say you did for a living?” you ask, as Ben hands you another seven cards.

A new discovery was made soon after you got to know Ben. Small talk is much more bearable whilst multitasking, so those awkward beats aren't filled with even more awkward little “interesting” or “that's so cool,” which are most of the time, very ingenuine.

But the small talk you started with had slowly snowballed into big talk, or whatever Ben has called it in the cafe. You'd learned Ben's favorite color was blue, he was thirty-nine. obviously, he's very good at uno. That one you figured out on your own, besides that, it's been purely basics.

“Well, I am currently unemployed.” Ben swallows, putting down a red nine.

You put down a red-three, “almost forty and unemployed. You're brave.”

“Are you shaming unemployed people?” he deadpanned and his certain sarcastic demeanor makes you giggle.

“No! I've been there once, you know,” you add, leaning back to get a good view of your cards before getting another down. “I just mean, what do you do with your life?”

“Mope.”

“Be serious, Ben!”

“Okay, okay.” he settles, putting down another card. “I am currently living off the government's money, army back pay. I read books, and visit cafes. Read books in cafes, draw pictures in them too, but only sometimes.”

“Army?” that would explain the military bag, the non-humanly straight posture, and definitely the traveling.

Ben looks away, almost embarrassed when he speaks, “Twenty years.”

You want to gawk, but that'd be rude. Should you say thank you for your service? Based on his demeanor now, you don’t think that's a great idea. It's always forced and no one really means it anyways.

Instead, you ask probably an even worse question. “Why'd you leave?”

Ben's figure taps rapidly on his card in hand, he's trying his best to keep eye contact with you but you can tell it's hard for him. You regret asking him that, maybe you should have stayed in your comfortable small talk area.

“My brother,” Ben starts, barely holding himself together by grasping at the uno card. “He passed almost 10 years ago and I decided then I would leave since he had just had children.”

Oh, that’s what the moment in the convenience store was about. You think about this place and everyone that seems to know him, assuming they knew his brother as well. This airport must bring some conflicting memories.

“That was very considerate of you, Ben.” You answer honestly, your mouth feels dry as the syllable leaves his mouth.

“It was hard.” Ben looks down at his hands and shuffles the few uno cards in his hands. “I’m not a patriotic person but the military was my life. I left to help my brother's wife and didn’t realize I would need help after making that decision.”

There’s a beat of silence. You feel an uneasy rage for Ben, rage towards the corrupt military system and how it treats its veterans. That’s definitely something that can be hashed out another time.

“I failed her.”

It scares you how sincere and accepting he is of the phrase that he spoke, too comfortable with his failings like it’s a second skin.

“What are you doing?” You ask softly.

Ben's head shoots up, confused, caught off-guard. “What?”

You nod ahead, urging his response because you know he heard you.

“I, uh,” Ben stutters for the first time since you’ve met, which arguably, isn’t that long. “I’m getting on a plane, to see my nieces and nephew for their birthday.”

You smile, not bothering to say anything, hoping he gets what you were getting at. Maybe you’re an optimist for everyone but yourself, or a fool. Ben looks ahead at you, intense eye contact grows and you feel his stare in your stomach. It’s strange.

Ben knows what you’re saying, knows that you see he’s trying, and do not believe he’s a failure. You see it, and you’ve known him for less than a day. Scary.

“Uno.”

Ben looks down at your hands and sees one card, he smiles.

_______________________

“Do you have any pets?”

A few more hours pass, and an empty uno card and another solo trip for caffeine later. The careful question games continue.

“No, but I used to have a husky.”

You gasp, almost choking on your spit since the dynamic of hanging your head upside down off a bench didn’t agree with that exasperation. “That’s so cool.”

“She was very pretty,” Ben says, he sounds a little occupied but not annoyed. It’s nice and helps with your overwhelming boredom. “Do you?”

“I wish,” you say. “I think my landlord would crucify me, my plants will suffice.”

“Do you name them?”

“What?”

Ben laughs like he knows the question itself sounds a little ridiculous. “Do you name your plants?”

“No, I don’t think I’d be able to keep track.” You look at Ben from the corner of your eye, he lay covered in a tan-colored shawl.

The airport had started to grow chilly and your choice of camping out by the large windows maybe wasn’t too practical, the pretty lights make up for it. Ben looks comfy, his black sweats and crème colored sweatshirt make him look too good, way too good. A man that knows color theory is dangerous. Hoping he doesn’t notice your lingering glances.

“I’m assuming you name your plant then.” You taunt.

“Oh, yes.” He pauses to yawn, “any sane person would.”

“Are you calling me insane?” You spring up, blood rushing to your head and leaving you a little dizzy. Shooting playful daggers at Ben, failing to hide the quirk on the corner of your lip as you speak.

“What? Never.” He’s dripping with sarcasm. Rolling your eyes, you get to your feet and make small strides to sit next to Ben.

“I thought about being a landscaper,” Ben adds.

“Oh, so you like plants that much?”

He chuckles under his breath, “I guess you could say that. Being able to design spaces and make nature more beautiful than it already is – deeply interests me.

“I say go for it.”

Ben's head cranes and he looks at you, looking for something in your features. He must have found it because he looks satisfied when he turns away and says, “I might have to.”

Ding!

Both of your heads shoot down to your phone as it lights up, just some random email, probably about work or some store you signed up for sending you more 30% coupons.

“Are those your friends?” Ben says, eyes still looking at your phone. Not the email, your wallpaper. In photos from last year's party, everyone sat on the couch, some on the floor in front, and some laying on the back above everyone. “I’m sorry if I’m being nosy.”

“It’s okay,” you laugh, despite the sting in your chest thinking about the memory. It’s fair though, considering you were in the same scenario earlier, prodding about his life and generally being nosy. You had forgotten that photo was even in your wallpaper album, the phone turns off and back on to re-notify you of the email, and a new photo is replaced. “And yes, those are my friends.”

“You seem awfully happy and close to dreading this trip,” Ben adds.

“We are close but,” you drag out, contemplating your words. Bens watching you so attentively, almost zoned in on your face and lips. His eyebrow quirks with curiosity and anticipation.

“But?” Ben prods, not that you mind.

“It’s stupid.” You drop your head shamefully.

“I doubt that.”

“You’ll laugh.”

“Oh, I doubt that even more.” He says under a breathy life, an amused smile dances on his lips.

“You’re laughing right now!” You accuse him, but Ben's eyes dance around your face first, looking for something. His mouth opens to speak, he knits his eyebrows and draws back.

“Excuse me then, I’m serious and definitely will not laugh,” Ben says, you want to smack the grin on his face.

You also really want to know what he was going to say before that statement.

Groaning, “Fine.”

You breathe in once and another out, “there’s this boy, we’ve had a complicated relationship for many, many years now. Last year it kind of all came to a stop after some… decisions. We haven’t spoken for a year now and I’m just, I don’t know, dreading seeing him.”

Ben hums, and you watch for a response. For him to laugh for being so stressed out over such a silly reason, especially in comparison to his problems. Not that it’s a competition.

“That’s certainly not stupid.”

You want to roll your eyes, sarcastically you murmur, “Sure.”

“I’m serious,” Ben affirms. He does sound incredibly serious, you shift nervously in your seat. Your knee brushing against his thigh as you sit with your legs crossed, Ben tenses slightly. “Don’t undermine your feelings. I understand your nervousness, I know I do not know the full story but may I share some advice?

“No one is stopping you.”

Ben yawns once more, excusing such actions before continuing. “This boy, no matter what experiences you’ve had, he’s just a boy. I don’t think you should put so much weight on it and let him ruin your happiness. You shouldn’t worry too much about the past, it’s happened and you can’t change it, focus on the now.”

You snort, “Easier said than done.”

Ben makes a sound of agreement before facing you, leaning in way too close. He raises a hand and taps the temple of your forehead, “It's all up here, once you put in the work, your mind will fill in the blanks and adapt.”

You feel his breath as he speaks, much less focused on his words of advice and rather trying not to drown in the pair of Atlantic blue’s absolutely staring you down. You feel vulnerable and stripped down under his glare, but warm and seen.

With another yawn, Ben and you share another knowing glance. “I think your mind wants to sleep, Ben.”

Ben purses his lips, as to protest before realizing he is defeated. Before he can reply, you reassure him, “I’ll watch your flight.”

So you do, and Ben sleeps. Pretty quickly he had fallen asleep and your shoulder burned when eventually his head dropped on it. You didn’t mind, quite the opposite, it was just a new sensation you weren’t mentally prepared to hash out in the particular circumstances.

Looking down you see his scruff, sandy hair with blonde highlights that look way too tempting to run your hands through. His lashes are long, you're jealous. The colors he wears make him look warm and comfy, you see a scar on his forehead and cheekbone, next to his

Mole. If you looked closer and maybe if it wasn’t winter, you’d see freckles littered across his nose.

Thinking about how he called himself a failure, kept his niece and nephew as his wallpaper despite how long it’s been since he’s seen them. You wonder what his plants' names are and if he has a favorite, you hope he gets to become a landscaper. Imagining him in a cozy sweater, at some warm cafe with a cappuccino and sketchbook drawing beautiful gardens and decorated patios, just to turn them into reality.

You fully understand what you're doing is a dangerous game, you know this routine in and out. The wondering, the gawking, and imagining. You’d always romanticize and fill in gaps with romance, it’s what brought you to your current dilemma. Now you sit with a stranger, in a Chicago airport with him sleeping on your shoulder as you imagine yourself sitting across from him in coffee shops.

_______________________

“....Flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

You shifted your head, eyes blinking open to the fluorescent lights above you.

“Last call for flight 213 to Clairemont airport is boarding at terminal D, gate 2….”

That's your fight, you sprung up, not realizing your head has been resting on a still-asleep Ben’s lap. His neck rolled back onto the edge of the uncomfy airport benches. You ruffled your hair, looked at your watch. You'd been asleep for maybe an hour, your eyes searched for your flight on the board. It was indeed boarding, finding Ben's shortly after. You would probably jump out of a plane right now if you missed it because you fell asleep.

Ben needs to see his family and if you're the cause of that not happening… you'd never forgive yourself. Your eye found the number 215, Still delayed, which is still unfortunate but good for now.

You wished you had time to bask in the innocence and calmness on Ben's face before having to wake him up, you were on a time schedule though.

Gently placing a hand on his shoulder, the fabric of his sweatshirt was way too inviting. “Ben, Ben, come on sleepyhead. Wake up, Ben,” you spoke softly, you saw his eyes begin to lull open.

“Anakin?”

Your eyebrows knotted, reeling back, “What? Ben, wake up. I have to go.”

“Anakin, i'm sorry.” his voice was rough from sleep, and sorrow filled. His voice almost cracked in his dreamlike state.

Looking at your watch again, You need to go, but you weren't inconsiderate enough to leave without saying something. Your hand grasped his shoulder and shook him gently, his eyes shot open and his breath caught up. For a moment, you wondered if you should mention the name, better not.

The life came back to Ben, frantically looking around to check where he was before his eyes found you, fully conscious this time. His name left his lips quietly.

“I have to go, they did the last call,” you babbled, beginning to gather the small amount of things you had out. Phone, charger, snacks… check, check, check.

Ben was shifting awake and to his feet above you, you noticed him peering at the flight plans as well. “Uh, do you need any help?” he came to your aid as you somewhat frantically stuffed and zipped your bag up.

You found yourself stuck in a gaze with him again, his eyebrows were slightly furrowed with sleep still lingering and he swallowed nervously. Suddenly, your mouth felt cotton dry.

“Don't forget what I told you, okay?”

Your chest feels heavy, a strange feeling creeps up your neck that makes your stomach feel uneasy. Reeling up and preparing for this to end, like some fucked up story or abruptly ended song. Slick palms grasp your backpack strap and suitcase handle, as you now stand face to face.

“I won't.” you swallowed, “thank you, Ben.”

Ben smiles, it's small but so genuine and so sweet that your teeth begin to ache.

You think it's appropriate to say goodbye now, but it feels wrong, so wrong. Maybe you’re selfish and the thought of saying bye to him despite the circumstances leaves a bad, yearning feeling in your mouth and doom deep in your chest.

“Good luck,” you decide, the implication doesn't hurt any less but it feels like you're letting yourself down easier.

“And to you too.” Ben nods.

You begin to turn and find your gate. It feels like your body hit a brick wall, your knees don't move except to let you turn around and look back.

One last look.

“Hey, Ben,” you say, and god, his eyes are piercing. Even with so many feet between you, this was a dangerous tightrope you were balancing on now. “You haven't failed anyone, and don't dig yourself a hole and give anyone a reason to think you have, yeah?”

“I promise.”

Then, you turn back around and prepare for the flight ahead.

Comment to be added to the tag list to be the first to hear when part 2 and 3 come out!!

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan my beloved #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan x reader #obi wan star wars #star wars fic #fanfic

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maes-flowers · 1 year

Text

For them, For us [6] (Obi-wan x Reader)

Summary: Following the Kenobi series, two former Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Y/n Marilla are grieving the lost of Anakin, Padme, and the jedi purge. After pledging to watch over Luke Skywalker and spending ten years in exile and making a life together, what will happen when the mistakes they made in their past come back as a new threat?

Warnings: Canon typical violence but that should be it

Authors note: IM ALIVE AND BACK BITCHES ive been working on this on and off for the last few months that its gotten way longer than i was planning and I still have 14 pages that I spilt off from this for the final part and maybe a epilogue as well but I've missed this series so much and if you enjoyed this very overdue update please let me know down below!

Prologue - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

You and Obi-wan watched Leia comfort people with Lola as the explosions grew closer together, the small droid beeping happily at a little boy and his mother. She must've sensed your presence because she turned around and smiled as you waved her over.

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground as you stood behind him, when Leia walked over clutching Lola.

“They're scared.” she said, another explosion boomed outside. “She keeps their mind off of it.”

“Maybe I should borrow her too.” Obi-wan suggested.

Leia looked at him confused.

“Why?”

You sighed and placed a nervous hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

“Leia, Ben and I…” you swallowed nervously, this was harder than you thought it would be, Leia watched you with big eyes as you sucked in a deep breath.

“We’re going to go after Vader, but you're going to stay here.”

Leia's eyes grew wide and she shook her head in protest.

“No! No way! You can’t just leave me here!” she shouted.

“We’re the ones Vader wants. If we go he will follow.” Obi-wan explained gently.

“No, I'm not letting you!”

“Leia, please.” you begged.

Everyone was looking now, worry and fear as they heard what the two of you were planning to do. The woman who Leia was talking to moments ago now stood up and looked at you and Obi-wan confused.

“Wait, what happened to all of us staying together?!”

Another explosion went off, making you run a frustrated hand over your face before you looked at her with an exasperated look.

“Roken needs more time to fix the ship, this will give him that time!” you sighed, clasping your hands together like you were begging. “You have spent ten years protecting the Jedi, this is our chance to return the favor.”

“But we're so close!” Roken argued.

“Roken, you know this plan makes sense!” you replied grimly.

“No, we need you!” Sully now chimed in.

“It’ll buy you the time you need! You must get these people out of here, you are all the future!” Obi-wan exclaimed looking down at Leia. “You are the future! You're what's needed to survive.”

Leia looked away from his piercing gaze, you could've sworn you saw her eyes watering with tears but before you could get a decent look at her she turned around and ran away.

“No!” she shouted and ran around the corner.

“Leia!” you went to go after her but Haja intercepted and placed his hands on your shoulders to stop you.

“She needs to be given space.” Haja suggested.

“You must promise us that you'll get her home, Haja.” Obi-wan begged. “As soon as we’re in the clear.”

Haja’s gaze flickered between yours and Obi-wan's faces, and it was the most serious you've ever seen the man in the short time you knew him.

“You have my word,” he promised. “Although, I know the words of a liar and a fake jedi may not mean much to you.”

“It means everything to us,” You placed a hand on his chest and you watched as Haja’s face softened at your words.

“Go get your things, I'll go talk to Leia.”

🖾

You were putting medical supplies in your bag when Roken walked in, holding something brown in his hands as he walked up to you and Obi-wan. There were no words spoken as he handed Obi-wan the object he was holding, once you could see the line of dashes you sniffled and gently ran your hands over the holster Tala had used in her final moments. The leather wasn't too damaged, just some scuff marks and scratches that could be repaired. You glanced up at Roken and mouthed a silent thank you, not wanting to break the moment of silence for the person you all lost. Roken pursed his lips in acknowledgment before he left the two of you alone.

Looking back down at the holster you sighed, you don't have a blaster anymore and quite frankly didn't like using one but you didn't want it to go to waste if you had brought it with you and ended up dying tonight if things went the worst way possible.

“Can you teach me how to shoot?” Leia's question to Tala coming back from the depths of your memory.

“I think we should go talk to Leia now.” you whispered looking up at Obi-wan

“I agree.”

It didn't take too long to find Leia, a perk for the smaller ship you were thankful for since there weren't many places for her to hide which led you to find her in a corner with Haja kneeling in front of her, whispering in her ear while Leia looked down at her lap. You grabbed Obi-wan's hand and placed Tala’s holester in it.

“I think you should give it to her.” Obi-wan looked slightly surprised but he clutched it tight in his hand, a silent gesture that showed you he was thankful for the opportunity. Haja heard you talking and said one more thing before he stood up and left the three of you alone.

“Thank you Haja.” you said gratefully as he walked out.

You and Obi-wan walked slowly to Leia, who stubbornly kept her gaze on the floor as she refused to even look at the both of you.

“You said you'd take me home.” she said, bitterly.

“I wish that we could, Leia.” Obi-wan said regretfully. “Really I do.”

Obi-wan thought for a moment before he spoke again.

“Please tell your father we tried.”

Obi-wan kneeled on the ground and held out Talas' holster, handing it to Leia. she ran her small hands over the material slowly.

“Roken found it before we got out, she would have wanted you to have it.”

“It's empty.” she observed and you held back the urge to laugh as Obi-wan rolled his eyes.

“Well, I wasn't gonna give you a blaster, Leia. you're ten years old.”

He sighed.

“But you won't always be.”

You kneeled down next to Obi-wan and put your hand on Leia's leg and squeezed it gently to grab her attention. When she finally looked up at you, and you ignored the slight sting behind your eyes as you stared at her. The reality of leaving her alone and this being possibly the last time you saw your niece crashing down at you at once. Your mouth opening and closing repeatedly trying to find the words to explain what you wanted to say to her but your mind came up short. You stopped trying to talk when she jumped down from where she was sitting and came to hug you, freezing for a moment before you melted into the touch and wrapping your arms around her small frame tightly, your cheek resting on the top of her head as you sighed.

You wanted to remember every feeling of this hug, just in case it was your last. After a few more moments you forced yourself to pull away from her strong grip, and kissed her forehead.

You watched bittersweetly as she jumped into Obi-wan's arms next, his arms wound tight around her just like you did moments ago and closed his eyes for a second. When she pulled away from him she looked at both of you with pleading eyes.

“Come back…Please.” she whispered.

You and Obi-wan hesitated, it was unfair of you to promise something like that when you were so unsure on how this was going to play out, you didn't want to give her false hope.

But you couldn't say no to her, no matter how hard you tried.

“I promise.” You and Obi-wan said together.

You prayed desperately you would be able to keep that promise.

🖾

You and Obi-wan split off from each other, going to one side of the medium sized hangar below the ship as Roken prepared the dropship. You wanted to meditate to clear your mind before you left while Obi-wan attempted to speak to Qui-jon.

Obi-wan was prepared to die if it came to it, giving his life to fix a wrong he had a part in to do what he could to fix a trail of death and destruction that has been carved in the large expanse of the galaxy over the last ten years. However, you were not prepared to lose Obi-wan or die at the hands of someone you knew long ago. No, not at all.

You were terrified.

You never questioned the Jedi when you were in the temple. the training, the robes, the almost dehumanizing set of rules in place that have been embroidered so deeply into you it could've been visible on your skin. You always believed you were the one that needed to change, the Jedi had this practice in place because they were good and if you messed up then you deserved punishment from the council themselves, and you as well as Obi-wan stood by as they broke Anakin down and manipulated him as they told him the same rhetoric they told you and Obi-wan and hundreds before you.

Flashes of memories came to mind as you stood in the hangar of the ship, chances to make a difference, to stand up for a kid who was claimed to be the chosen one but was never given any choices of his own. A basic human right stripped away in the name of protecting peace and bringing balance to the force.

Anakin, Obi-wan, as well as yourself lost a freedom you never got to experience due to the jedi order, and even when it crumbled to the ground like a pile of sand facing a gust of wind the reprecisions of the choices you've made and the jedi order played a direct hand into giving the galactic empire its power which led you hiding away for ten years as you were hunted down for something you didn't ask to be apart of. The fear of being found and the unhealed trauma you and Obi-wan experienced held you back from truly living for yourselves and for each other.

You wanted to live in peace with him. You wanted to love Obi-wan to the point he would feel suffocated in the best way possible, to kiss him, to hug him, to bicker, to give him a part of you no one else would receive and vice versa.

You wanted to heal.

And now that the chance to do any of those things were at stake and you were scared for what is going to come next, scared to face the result of many regrets.

“You okay?”

You turned around and saw Roken, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall. Nodding as you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes as if you could force the tears back into your tear ducts, clearing your throat you looked back at him.

“Yeah, I will be.” a lie filled with hope slipped out. “The dropship ready?”

Roken nodded.

“I'm about to let Obi-wan know, figured I'd grab you first.”

“Lead the way then.”

You followed Roken to the otherside of the hangar where Obi-wan was in silence, hoping once you saw him his presence would calm you down enough for you to be able to support Obi-wan in any way he needed.

He was sitting on a supply crate, holding his lightsaber in his hands as he inspected it with unease, Most likely trapped in his own thoughts just as you were moments ago.

“Are you ready?” Roken asked him as you walked over to him, your body gravitating to his side like an unknown force was pulling you. “The dropships ready.” Obi-wan stood up, clipping his lightsaber to his belt.

“You don't have to do this, you know.” Roken said, giving one more shot at convincing the two of you to stay. “We can still fix the drive!”

“I have to go.” Obi-wan said.

Roken shook his head and stared at him for a moment.

“It's not about us, is it?” he asked. “You want to do it, it's about you and him.”

A larger explosion shook the ship hard, making you grab Obi-wan's shoulder to balance, you looked at Roken with pleading eyes.

“Keep them safe.”

“Keep yourselves safe too.”

“Roken,” Obi-wan called out. “There are not many leaders left, but people follow you…don't stop.”

Roken smirked and shook his head.

“I'm just getting started.”

🖾

Obi-wan set a path to the nearest planet in the outer rim, not wanting to risk going back to Jabiim where the possibility of imperials were still there. Even now he expertly avoided the shots aimed at your ship, dogging and rolling with ease. You watched out the window as the large imperial ship stopped following Rokens transport.

“Entering the atmosphere.” Obi-wan said.

Your hands curled around the armrests of the co-pilot's chair as the ship rattled roughly as you approached the planet. The next minute of rough turbulence made you hold your breath before it smoothed out and you could make out the terrain of the planet below you. The sky held a dark bluish tint above you with murky gray clouds casted out making it darker than it already was, all around were pillars of rocks tall enough they reminded you of the tall buildings of Coruscant.

Obi-wan landed the ship in a small circle of clear land and powered down the ship, his fingers moving quickly across the control pad turning off the engine. You unbuckle your seatbelt and stand up and look over your shoulder at Obi-wan. He stood up and shrugged off his robe, a loud chirping noise came from his pocket as he pulled out the object and held it up to his face.

Lola beeped excitedly at him and you and Obi-wan looked up at each other and smiled, of course Leia would find a way to comfort you both even without her being present. Obi-wan handled the small droid with care and gently placed her on the dashboard, placed his robe on the pilot's chair, and took a calming breath and opened the door.

“Obi-wan.” you called out quickly, he turned to look at you with concern. “I love you.”

You watched his face soften and he reached his hand out and rested it on your cheek.

“I love you too, starlight.”

Nothing else had to be said, you will be happy if your final words to him were those.

A warm breeze hit your skin as the hatch door lowered, your eyes held a hard gaze at the tall rocks surrounding you as you focused your mind on the target of the soon to be fight and not your emotions. It didn’t matter if it was Anakin or Vader, only one side will make it off this planet tonight.

And you will fight until there is nothing left to ensure it was the two of you.

But you could still feel the anger, fear, and sorrow building inside of you. The control of your darkest emotions had lessened greatly since the fight on mapuzo and the fear of slipping even deeper scared you.

You weren't sure if you could stay in the light and fight Anakin at the same time.

Reaching for Obi-wan’s hand you gripped it tightly, the force of it making him look over at you in worry. He squeezed back with even more force than you did and for a moment everything else drained away.

Then you saw a ship enter the atmosphere and you were dragged back to reality.

Sucking in a deep breath you allowed Obi-wan to drop your hand as the two of you walked down the ramp and far away from the ship to prevent any potential damage. Your boots crunched loudly on the rocky terrain below you as a cold wind swept up your gray vest. You watched in silence as his ship grew closer and closer until it landed in front of you.

The hatch to Anakins ship opened and your hand went to the hilt of your lightsaber as a cacophony of modulated breathing filled the air as he descended down the ramp, a silhouette of black slowly coming toward you like a reaper.

Planting your feet firmly in the ground, you rolled your shoulders, hoping your false confident stance will turn into real confidence. Your eyes flickered to Obi-wan, his blue orbs looking like a stormy gray under the dark sky as you watched his jaw tighten under the weight of his teeth as Anakin began coming towards you. You gripped your lightsaber hard enough you felt the stinging bite of the groves in the metal go into the skin of your hand as the man in black stopped a mere couple feet in front of you.

“Have you come to destroy me Obi-wan?

The blue light from Obi-wan's saber then quickly illuminated the air around you a rich blue as Obi-wan raised his arm in position.

“I will do what I must.”

“Then you will die!” Anakin's modulated voice bellowed as the crimson red light from his lightsaber tainted the air around you, as he moved quickly to jam his blade into Obi-wan's jugular. You parried the blow and swung up from under and knocked your saber against his and rolled to avoid Obi-wan's strike the kickup of dust getting in your eyes as you stood and spun your saber in your hands before changing your grip to stab him in the back, the heat of your blade burned a hole into his cape before Anakin sidestepped away from you and grabbed the back of Obi-wan's neck, lighting him off the ground before throwing him at your feet.

Obi-wan recovered swiftly and rolled onto his feet and yanked you behind him and blocked the attack as he went for both of your heads.

You and Obi-wan knew how Anakin fought and he knew how the both of you fought which created a repetitive game of attacks that forced the three of your further into the rocky terrain of pillars and gravel below your boots leaving you unsteady as lightsaber created a rainfall of sparks as the grinding of mineral surrounding you as Obi-wan shoved Anakin back until Obi-wan raised his hand and used the force to try to throw a rock down on Anakin's head.

Anakin easily caught the rock's weight as the two fought for control before he forced pushed the rock over your heads making shatter on impact once it landed on the ground.

“Your strength has returned.” Anakin mocked before his helmet turned to you. “But the weakness remains!” he shouted before picking up a boulder and throwing it at you, you sliced through the rock and covered your head as the pieces landed behind you.

You watched as Anakin slammed his forearm into Obi-wan's nose and the loud crack that followed, the quick blight of pain allowed him to sweep rocks under Obi-wan making him land on his back. You ran for but went stiff as he used one hand to keep you back as Obi-wan scrambled to get footing Anakin slammed his other hand on the ground, quickly quaking and cracking before a sinkhole formed, swallowing Obi-wan.

“That is why you'll always lose!”

“No!” you screamed.

You watched in horror as boulder after boulder was thrown in after Obi-wan until the sound of his screams were buried under the rocks. Suddenly you felt your legs get pulled to the ground and your back hit the gravel beneath you as he began to drag you with the force. Shards of rock and dirt tore the fabric of your tunic and went into your back as you dug your nails into the solid earth below you to hold yourself back.

Once you were at Anakin's feet you felt the tip of his boot slam into your stomach, you gagged at the force of air leaving you as dark spots filled your vision. You didn't have time to think before you were dragged up a rock and shoved against it, your skull bouncing off the hard matter as you and Anakin's helmet were just a few mere inches apart.

“Did you truly think you two could defeat me?” the modulated voice hissed with detest.

You gasped and struggled in the tight grasp of his robotic hand, the warmth of blood ran down the back of your neck.

“You have failed.” he pointed out

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping you moving, the wheeze’s from your throat loud as the pressure around your throat grew.

“I have seen your potential, Y/n” He said. “Join me and you will no longer be a failure to people. You can be powerful and feared.”

You let out a weak laugh and shook your head.

“I would much rather be a failure trying to do the right thing than to be feared by doing something wrong.” you choked out.

Lifting your leg as high as you could, you planted your foot on the chest plate of the suit and pushed him back causing him to stumble and lose his grip on you, you fell to your feet.

It's been too long since you had to actually calculate and analyze someone in combat and it showed. You were reacting and not thinking through your next moves. If Master Stass had seen it you would have been ripped a new one.

“Focus Y/N, what is his weakness?” you asked yourself. Stumbling forward you truly looked at Vader for the first time, not as the man you once knew but who he was now.

And he was Large

That meant he was slow, his prosthetic limbs also didn't help with that either. All you had to do was be quicker and be relentless, give him no room to breathe let alone react.

Grabbing your lightsaber you began to sprint, pumping your legs as fast as they could go you jumped and landed on Vader's back. You slammed the hilt of your lightsaber over and over into his helmet. Forcing your anger and sorrow into every hit and not stopping when you heard a crack.

Vader's gloved hand reached up and yanked you over his shoulders by your wrist and threw you into the ground below. You activated your lightsaber and slashed at a boulder, and quickly used the force to slam it into his chest making him stumble back. Shooting your hand out, you force pulled him back to you and spun your saber and shoved the hilt into the underside of his jaw, Vader grunted in pain as you slammed your boot into his stomach.

You were enjoying it, your anger growing and fueling your muscles to slam hit after hit into him and you grinned when you were able to slash a cut across his armored chest. It was service level but the heat from it alone had to burn the already charred flesh underneath.

But Vader grew tired of your attacks and was able to grab ahold of the nape of your neck he pushed you face first into one of the large boulders and then hauled you backwards before he shoved you forward again. You face smacking the rocks until you hear a crack in your nose.

You let out a pained shout and when he went to smack you into the rock a third time the ground below began to rumble and shift beneath you.

The ground crumbled as an explosion of rocks exploded from the ground revealing Obi-wan climbing out of the hole he was buried in and going straight to Anakin. Taking advantage of Obi-wan reemergence you swung up and slammed your fist into his throat. Anakin choked for a moment before he refocused on Obi-wan, His lightsaber lighting up the determined look on his face as he slashed his weapon at his former best friend, you watched in amazement as Obi-wan maneuvered quickly around Anakin and parried every attack sent down on him. The clashes of light turned the air around them a bright purple luminating the fight better than the natural glum sky above them ever could.

Obi-wan forced pushed Anakin into a rock a few feet away and you flinched at the pained shout he let out as he fell to his knees. Obi-wan raised his arms above his head and rocks lifted in the air and began to plummet them at him. Anakin slowly worked himself up from the constant blows and threw himself at Obi-wan, tackling him to the ground.

You ignored the rubble that was embedded into the skin of your back and sprinted towards the two of them, the limp in your step slowing you down more than you wanted to admit as you made your way to Obi-wan who recovered quickly from his fall and was standing again. His gaze shifted to you for a moment, eyes wide in adrenaline and Anakin followed his gaze that soon landed on you. Flinching when he raised his hand to use the force you waited for the pressure around your throat, you were too tired and too injured to focus on putting up a mental block from him but the crushing pain never came.

Opening your eyes you saw Obi-wan interlinked their hands and was shoving the hilt of his lightsaber into the box that rested on Anakin's chest repeatedly.You heard Anakin's desperate wheezes as he tired to fight back but more and more sparks shot out as he rammed it harder and harder into his chest before force pushing him backwards and using a bolder to knock him down on his knees, Obi-wan panted before he sprinted and sliced his helmet. The metal burned orange near his head as Anakin kneeled to the ground, Obi-wan stumbled back away from him. Sweat and blood dried to his skin and beard.

Where Obi-wan saw the moment to stop you couldn't, you could end this nightmare right here and the bloodshed would be over.

You reached your hand toward Obi-wans and force pulled his lightsaber out of his hands and into yours, Obi-wan snapped his head towards you as you walked right up to Anakin's kneeling form, his head was tilted down so you couldn't see his face.

Your chest heaved as you held both lightsabers in front of his neck, the blades crossed over each other.

One move, and he would be dead.

“Y/n!” Obi-wan warned, but despite knowing you should listen to your husband you couldn't bring yourself to care.

“Was it worth it?” you seethed. “Losing everyone you loved, everything you were, for this?”

Anakin just wheezed.

The lack of response had you kick him, the force of him bringing him closer to the ground as his wheezing grew louder. You felt like you couldn't breathe, the pain was beginning to choke you and you blinked back tears and out of the corner of your eye you could see his lightsaber a couple feet away from him and you blinked.

He was unarmed.

Suddenly it was like your consciousness had gained the reins of your mind again and you realized what you were doing.

“There's still good in him.”

You've lost too much thanks to Anakin. Your freedom, your friends, your family, and your home.

You refused to lose yourself to him as well.

Deactivating the light sabers, you looked over at Obi-wan with tears in your eyes as he stepped forward and pulled you away from his former Padawan and took back his lightsaber from your shaking hands.

Then Anakin began to laugh, weak and almost breathless as he kept his head hung low.

Until he looked up at the both of you.

“Weak and pathetic.” he seethed. “Coward!”

You and Obi-wan watched in horror as half of his charred face came into the light, burned to the point his skin looked like leather leaving him almost unrecognizable.

Obi-wan lowered his lightsaber in shock at the state of his former brother.

“Anakin” Obi-wan called out softly.

You watched as Anakin stood up and you froze as bright yellow eyes burned into you like the fires on Mustafar.

You couldn't believe those eyes are the same one that held childlike wonder the first time he saw rain.

“Anakin is gone.” he said, his voice distorted from the modulator being damaged. “I am what remains.”

You watched Obi-wans teared up and let out a shaky sigh, his face crumbling in guilt.

“I'm sorry, Anakin.” Obi-wan cried. “For all of it.”

“I am not your failure Obi-wan.” Anakin said. “You didn't kill Anakin Skywalker.”

A twisted grin pulled at the burnt skin of Anakin's cheeks.

“I did. The same way I will destroy you and her.” he spat.

You ignored the tears that burned at your eyes, threatening to fall as Obi-wan shook his head.

“Then our friend is truly dead.”

You watched the man in front of you sway as he held his lightsaber, ready to fight again.

Obi-wan put away his lightsaber and you quickly follow suit, this fight was over. And the truth was the man in front of them both now was someone who deserved to die but despite everything you or Obi-wan couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You bit the inside of your cheek as you looked at the man who used to be Anakin Skywalker, the little boy you held at night, helped train, cooked for, and loved like he was your own blood.

That little boy was gone and what remained in front of you was a stranger you resented.

“Goodbye…Darth.” Obi-wan said before he turned and looked at you and without a single word he put your shoulder around him and supported your weight as you both walked away together.

Beaten, bloody, and exhausted.

Together.

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#star wars #obi wan star wars #obi-wan x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #Obi-Wan Kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #anakin and obi wan #ewan mcgregor x reader #Ewan McGregor #sw fandom #SW Fanfic #obi wan fic #star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars prequels #star wars angst #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi

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dolce-peach · 2 years

Note

oh can I request an obiwan x Jedi!reader? Where they are on a mission and get hurt and tend to each other's wounds and it ends up really sweet and soft and so one of them confesses and they have their first kiss?? You can change any part of this if you want and if it's too specific! Also, no pressure ❤️

home (is where you are)

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader

warnings: injury; obi's pretty worried; kinda suggestive; sleazy men 🙄; momentary mentions of abuse, trafficking, drug use/dealing, and gambling

a/n: eeee squealing bc this is adorable! took kinda a diff turn than i was expecting, but hope you like it -- tysm for the submission, anon 🥰 also mullet!obi is so pretty just LOOK AT HIM 😭😭 feel free to send in more requests 😭💖

permanent taglist: @kaitlynmalikisnotonfire @just-another-loki-fangirl

** TO MAKE A REQUEST -- please check the status in my bio **

masterlist

----

You shifted uneasily in your outfit, the fabric scratching your skin. It showed more than you would’ve liked, hugging your body tightly. You’d give anything to change back into your warm but comfortable robes, but you had a job to do.

Going over the plan again in your head, it seemed simple and routine, nothing that you hadn’t handled before. But a simple drugs bust seemed like something the Republic security force should be handling, not the Jedi Council.

“How much longer, Obi-Wan?” you groaned into your comms piece hidden in your ear. You walked into the club and quickly scoped out the occupants and an exit route.

“Not much longer,” came a low reply. “Just act natural.”

“Says you,” you retorted, searching the crowd for him as you neared the bar.

He was adorned in a fitted suit. The style was rather conservative, but still looked lovely in the soft light of the hanging lanterns. He had brushed his longer locks back, revealing his freshly shaven beard. You couldn’t help but smile in his direction before turning towards the bar for a much-needed drink.

You sipped your drink, sighing as you adjusted your outfit yet again. “Explain to me why we need to wear these stupid disguises.”

“In order to oust these dealers, we have to look the part,” Obi-Wan explained patiently. “For what it’s worth, you’re beautiful. Are you -- are you drinking?”

You were unfazed by his previous comment and rolled your eyes as you took another sip, its sweet taste on your tongue. “I need something to help me through the night," you pointed out. “Besides, this isn’t our first rodeo.”

Before Obi-Wan could protest, his voice came in low. “There he is, approaching the bar,” he warned you. “All we need is information. The authorities will handle the rest later.”

“But what if things need to get messy?”

“Luckily for you, I’m good at cleaning.”

“Hilarious.”

“Who might you be?” the dealer mused, his eyes floating up and down your figure.

You smiled, locking your gaze with his. “Whatever you want me to be.”

He chuckled. “Good answer,” he said. “How might I help such a pretty creature?”

“Be careful,” came Obi-Wan's voice through your earpiece.

Pouting, your finger circled the rim of your glass suggestively. “A friend told me this is where I should come to find paradise...if you know what I mean...” you trailed off. “I need some help forgetting an ex.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “Must be some stupid bastard if he dropped you.”

“Maybe,” you said. “But how do you know it wasn’t me who cut him off?”

He licked his lips. “You look too soft.”

You downed the rest of your drink. “You’re sweet,” you breathed as you leaned in. “So what do you think? Wanna treat me?”

“Tempting,” he chuckled. “Follow me.”

As you followed him out of the thick atmosphere of the club, you lightly bumped into Obi-Wan, who slipped you your saber. You tucked the hilt into a cutout of your clothing.

The dealer led you to a larger room, more of a warehouse than anything. Your hand immediately shot up to cover your nose from the strong smells. Looking around cautiously, you noticed several armed guards surrounding the work area, where droids and masked workers were busy packaging up the goods.

“This is it,” the dealer said, gesturing. “What do you think?”

“Quite impressive,” you said. “You must be proud.”

“I am,” he said pompously. “You want to know what I think?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Enlighten me.”

His hand shot out, catching your throat in a bruising grip, slowly lifting you off your feet. Panic flooded your body as he nearly dug his nails into your skin. You clawed at his arms, but his hand was unforgiving.

“I think that you’re a Jedi, and you’re not who you say you are,” he said as he pulled his blaster from his belt. The armed guards began making their way over.

You tried laughing. “Oh, don’t be like that,” you managed to croak as you struggled. Seeing his unchanging and rather serious expression, you sighed. “Fine, fine, you got me,” you said with a small smile. “What gave me away?”

“I know your face,” the dealer grunted.

“Well done, you,” you said before quickly drawing your saber and cutting his blaster in half.

He yelled in shock as he staggered back into some oncoming guards. They began shooting blindly at you, hoping one of their shots would land. Unfortunately for them, you were quick on your feet. Even though you had a drink, your senses were on high alert. The only thing that ached was your neck.

You should’ve known it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Obi-Wan!” you shouted into your earpiece. “A little help would be great!”

“On my way,” he said, his voice taught. “Get out of there if you can.”

A blaster charge singed your shoulder. “That’s going to be a bit difficult!” you protested, deflecting a charge to one last standing guard, leaving the dealer exposed and unprotected.

“Jedi scum!” he growled, pulling a smaller gun from his belt.

Before you could react, a flash of bright blue shot out from behind you, effectively slicing the dealer’s hands clean off. The stench of charred flesh cut through the sweet scent of the drugs.

“Rather unoriginal for an insult, don’t you think?” Obi-Wan shot.

“You chopped my kriffing hands off!” the dealer wailed. “Who do you think you are?”

“Frankly I think you deserve much worse,” Obi-Wan said. “Let’s see, dealing illegal drugs, gambling, trafficking, abuse...I'd say you ticked all the boxes for a one way ticket to prison.”

The dealer's eyes were bloodshot. "I'll kill you!"

By that time, undercover officers came in and took the dealer off your hands.

You felt yourself relax a little, but then the pain began settling in. You knew you’d have a bruise on your neck for weeks, as well as scarred skin from that blaster. Slowly inhaling, you leaned against the railing before Obi-Wan rushed over.

“Thanks for stepping in,” you said.

His fingers swept over your injured shoulder, earning a hiss from you. His expression was filled with worry as he offered a hand. You gladly took it, and he swung your arm over his shoulder to escort you out the back door.

By the time the two of you got back to your speeder, you could feel yourself getting drowsy. Maybe it was the alcohol, or the powdered drug spores in the air.

“Home,” was all you could say.

“We have to get you to the infirmary,” Obi-Wan said as the two of you made your way back to the temple.

You shook your head, feeling yourself fading fast. “I’m fine. I just want to go home...”

As Obi-Wan called your name, you didn’t realize you’d given in to the dark.

A cool sensation to your shoulder was the first thing you felt when you came to.

You opened your eyes to a familiar ceiling. Shifting your gaze to the side of the bed you lay in, you noticed Obi-Wan hard at work trying to spread ointment on your shoulder. His blue eyes were focused on you, on your skin, then the next moment, they were focused on yours.

“You’re awake,” he said with relief. “How’re you feeling?”

“Tired,” you admitted. “I’m never doing that again.”

He smiled through his beard. “Rest. You’re safe now.”

“Of course,” you said, your eyes soft as you looked at him. “Thank you.”

“Although,” he began, “you were a bit reckless.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sometimes you have to be a bit reckless to get results, especially with slippery drug dealers.” You sighed. “And if that means putting myself at risk, then so be it.”

“You sound too much like Anakin,” Obi-Wan groaned.

You laughed. “He has a point, though.”

You were quiet when he ran his fingers over the marks on your neck. Even as his touch was like a feather, pain still erupted over your sensitive skin. Your eyes widened at remembering the sensation, a small whimper escaping your throat. You let your guard down for one second because of your arrogance, and you paid the price.

Obi-Wan bore concern in his eyes, along with a mixture of other emotions that couldn't be mentioned. “A cold compress ought to do it.”

Just as he got up, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. He looked back at you with surprise.

“Stay,” you whispered. “I’m fine.”

“But you’re in pain,” he said softly. “I’ll only be a moment.”

“I just...I need you,” you insisted. “Please.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but ended up sitting back down at your bedside. He held your hand in his, his callused thumb laying gentle strokes across your skin.

You didn’t know where this sudden desperation came from, and you hadn’t felt that way since joining the Jedi Order. You were only an infant when they took you in. You knew you were safe, but there was always some part of you that was fearful. Fearful of the future, fearful that you’d end up a failure, fearful of the people that could leave you.

Although Obi-Wan was a bit older than you, something about him made you feel safe. Maybe it was his presence within the Force, or his warm smile that caught you off guard, or the way he glanced at you across the room during meetings. He gifted you a certain warmth.

Or maybe it was all in your head.

He gently said your name, bringing you back to the moment.

“What's troubling you?”

You furrowed your brow. “Nothing.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I know that look,” he pointed out. “You’re hiding something.”

“Am not,”you insisted.

Seeing that as a battle he wasn't ever going to win, he sighed. “Now will you let me get you something for your neck?” he asked softly.

You shook your head.

He chuckled. “Will you let me take you to get something for your neck?”

That you could do.

Without a warning, he scooped you up in his arms and carried you to the small bathroom attached to his room. He sat you on the counter while he wet a rag with cold water.

He did his best to be as gentle as he could, pressing the cold into your bruise. Your eyes never left his, watching him concentrate.

“I’m sorry,” he said, breaking the silence. “I never should’ve sent you in on your own.”

You shook your head. “It would’ve been too obvious. Besides, I volunteered --”

“I could’ve lost you.” His jaw tightened as he wet the rag again. “It’s...it’s my greatest fear. Losing you.”

“Fear?” you echoed. “But I thought...”

“My fear and strong attachment to you,” he finished. “If left untended, could lead to...”

He trailed off into silence at the inevitable.

You took his face in your hands, making him meet your eyes. “You won’t lose me, not now not ever,” you said. You smiled. “You’re impossible to live without.”

His blue eyes were glossy. “Wh-what?”

“You, Obi-Wan Kenobi, are impossible to live without,” you repeated. “You are my haven. My home. You always have been. It was only a matter of time since I met you before...” You let go of his cheeks, looking away with embarrassment. “Obi-Wan, I --”

You were suddenly aware of how close he was. He was stationed between your legs as you sat on the counter. He had leaned closer as you held his face, now only inches from your lips. You could feel his sweet, warm breath against your skin, along with a desire for more.

But you couldn’t. You shouldn’t.

He was close, so close.

Too close.

Your mind was in a thick fog.

“Can I...?” came the almost inaudible question.

You gave a small nod, your eyes only on his lips.

He leaned closer until his lips pressed into yours for a moment before pulling back. His eyes were wide as he searched your gaze for any signs of panic. When you sighed, grasping onto his robes to keep him close, he took that as a signal to kiss you again, deeper.

You had always heard what kisses could be like, but you never thought you'd ever experience one yourself.

His hands slowly trailed from your thighs to your hips and waist, holding you with so much caution and anticipation, as if you were going to break. You could feel his fingers trembling as yours trailed up his chest to his neck.

Your mind was lost, but you didn’t feel that it was.

His lips fell away from yours, and you sighed.

“Obi...”

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You brushed your lips over his cheek. “Don’t apologize.”

He whispered your name in your ear, along with a ghostly, “I love you.”

As he lay fluttering kisses over the bruises on your neck, your breath hitched in your throat. You closed your eyes, imprinting the sensation in your mind.

“I love you, Obi-Wan.”

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