#obi wan kenobi fluff

[moonyswritinq]

losing you — obi-wan kenobi x gn reader

❝ LOSING YOU ❞

SYNOPSIS➢You could never resist saying no to Obi-Wan Kenobi when he needed your help. It led to a capture by the Sith, and a near death. A daring escape, a battle of hearts and good and evil, and a climax of feelings could hopefully reveal the truth within your hearts.

PAIRING ➢ obi-wan kenobi x gender neutral reader

AU ➢ friends/rivals to lovers

CONTENT WARNING ➢ swearing, sexual tension, angst, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, depictions of fighting, battling, canon-typical violence, side character deaths, sort of protective Obi-Wan

WORD COUNT ➢ 4.5 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ i started writing this so long ago, and am now so sick of it that i hate it with my entire being. i missed posting anything for May the Fourth, so consider this my meagre contribution. hope you still enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The thousands of voices that filled your ears and the sharp glare from the sun against your closed eyelids were the first things you noticed. Slowly, you opened your eyes and took in your surroundings. You were in the middle of an arena with hundreds of foul creatures in the stands, cheering and throwing taunts when they noticed you were awake.

You tried to look further, but as soon as you moved your head a sudden sharp pain shot through it, making you wince. You didn’t remember getting a blow to the head, which meant it was probably a pretty bad one. As you stood tied to the pole with chains against your wrists, you watched a few guards drag a figure between them. They tied it to the pole next to you, and left it slumped against the ground. 

That’s when you remembered.

The fight. A lightsaber. Obi-Wan fucking Kenobi.

You two had been ambushed by the very targets he’d been hunting, and you only got caught up in the crossfire because he had asked for your help. He hadn’t needed you, and you didn’t have to accept, but something compelled you to and now you were stuck in this mess. If only you were smart enough to be able to walk away. 

Unfortunately, Obi-Wan was your weakness.

You watched his unconscious figure lean against the poll, and you couldn't help but let your eyes trail over him. They jumped from the way his strong hands hung in the handcuffs (something you definitely had thought of before, just in a different situation) to the way the sun hit his smooth skin and highlighted his cheekbones. You watched his muscular chest rise and fall steadily with every breath, and how his golden hair seemed to shine even brighter. You even let your gaze travel even more south, but it quickly jumped up again from the guilt.

You blinked and redirected your gaze before his force, or magic—something—somehow notice your staring, but it was already too late. Obi-Wan grimaced as he opened his eyes, licking his lips and clearing his throat. The dry desert air did nothing but evil to your lungs.

Finally, he looked over at you and said, “I know I’m handsome, darling, but there may be a time and place for that.”

Your eyes immediately moved to his and you found him smirking smugly at you, which you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at.

“Oh, please, you wish I was admiring you, Kenobi. I was just wondering how the hell I should get back at you.” Every word from your tongue was drenched with faux venom.

Obi-Wan lifted an eyebrow. “Oh, really? And what might I have done to upset you this time?”

You laughed humourlessly at his words, gesturing around the both of you. “Is your skull really that thick? I’m stuck here because of you.”

He looked at you sceptically. “Me? Weren’t you supposed to be the look out and keep an eye on my back?”

“No, well—yes, but it wasn’t my fault.” If you had to be honest, you had been distracted by him. Obi-Wan had sat and talked with you, always being his charming self. So, really, it was his fault you hadn’t noticed the ambush. “You dragged me into this in the first place.”

He shook his head with a smile and tried to stand up straighter. “If I remember correctly—“

“You probably don’t, you took a pretty ugly blow to the head,” you interrupted. He fixed you with a pointed look, but it only made you more amused.

“—you weren’t forced to come with. You wanted to be with me.”

You grimaced at his choice of words, but were determined not to let him in on your feelings.

“And if I remember correctly, you begged me. So technically, you wanted to be with me.”

His smile told you he was enjoying this just as much as you were, and had no plans on stopping. “Oh, you know me so well, darling. I always want to be with you.”

“Exactly what I wanted to hear,” you smirked.

Even though you loved the words coming from his mouth, they were filled with the same sarcastic venom as yours. If you had to be honest with yourself, it hurt. You tried to ignore the feeling when your eyes moved to a movement in the further end of the arena. Two convoys were starting to move towards you and Obi-Wan, with two people inside of them. Obi-Wan straightened when they were within earshot.

“I was beginning to wonder if you’d got my message,” he said.

A younger man and woman was being led out by guards and you could see the boy was also a Jedi, but one in training, from the robes he wore to the braid in his hair.

“I retransmitted it,” he said, “just as you requested, Master.” The couple were being tied to a pole each, the same way you were tied. “Then we decided to come rescue you.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes as the corners of his lips tugged into half a smile. “Good job.”

You almost laughed at his sarcasm and managed to let out a snort instead. That was the first time the man seemed to have noticed you. His eyes studied you from top to bottom and then turned to Obi-Wan.

“Who is this you are with, Master?” he questioned.

Obi-Wan glanced at you, sending you a quiet question. Who were you to him?

“They—“ he began.

You interrupted him before he could finish. You were dreading to hear the words ‘they’re just my friend’, even though you knew you could never be anything more.

“I’m his amazing partner,” you smiled. “The one who always gets him out of these messes.”

The man raised an eyebrow and glanced at his Master. “Really?” he asked.

Obi-Wan threw you a pointed look. “No, I’m the one who always gets you out of messes, not the other way around,” he said. “If you had just done your job and kept a lookout we wouldn’t be here.”

You feigned offence at his remark. “Excuse you, you were the one distracting me, which means it was really all your fault,” you said.

“So you do admit I am a distraction to you, darling?” Obi-Wan smiled smugly. 

You choked on your words and felt your cheeks burn. You knew he was unaware of your feelings, but that only made it hurt more. Maybe entertaining this sort of flirty banter wasn’t a good idea. It only made your hopes for something more to happen multiply. And that wasn’t fair—to either of you.

“No,” you bit out before you looked away from him entirely. He frowned, but turned away to converse with the other Jedi as you tuned them out.

—

Obi-Wan Kenobi was confused.

He had asked for your help on his mission because he knew you were in a nearby town, and because you knew how to handle your blasters. Really well. He had always admired that about you, even though he considered them a bit uncivilised, and he would never admit it. Instead Obi-Wan always decided to send a snide remark or comment your way, even when you were shooting perfectly.

“Maybe you should try hitting the target one day, y/l/n,” he shouted the one time you had missed your practice target.

What he didn’t know was that you had missed because you had been staring at his training with his lightsaber. You couldn’t help it; because, come on, Obi-Wan doing sword practices? He looked hot as fuck. It had made you glare daggers at him and you’d thrown the blaster his way.

“Why don’t you try it then? See if you’re so much better, Master Kenobi,” you challenged.

His smile only widened as he studied your approaching, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’d rather not, darling,” he said. “You know I have no luck with those things.” You picked up the blaster and pressed it against his chest, leaning in closer to him.

“Oh, come on, Obi-Wan,” you purred. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

His mind went blank at your words. You were so close to him now, he would only need to lean down a bit and your lips would be touching. Oh, how he wished to feel your lips on his. He shook the thought away and smiled at you.

“Yes, I am very afraid that you might be better than me at something.”

You moved away and chuckled, taking up your shooting position again. “I’m better than you at a lot of things.”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah? Care to enlighten me?”

“I can think of a few things,” you had winked at him.

The insinuation was enough for Obi-Wan’s cheeks to redden, but he turned away and left the subject at that. That was how you two always were. A few insults thrown in here and there, and even though he cared not to admit it, there were some flirty elements as well.

And that was why he was confused as to your sudden cold exterior. He replayed the conversation in his mind, trying to figure out why it had gone south. Did he say something wrong? Had he done something wrong?

He was brought out of his thoughts by the voice of Anakin.

“Master?” he asked, and Obi-Wan only blinked at him.

“Yes, Anakin?”

He sighed and shook his head. “That was the third time I tried to get your attention. What is going on?” He glanced at you on the other side of his master, at you, and lowered his voice. “Is it your partner? Who are they, really?”

“It’s nothing, Anakin,” Obi-Wan replied. Anakin seemed to ponder his words for a moment, and Obi-Wan was completely content on letting the conversation go.

Anakin frowned. “Why haven’t I heard about them until now?”

Obi-Wan quirked an eyebrow. “There are many things you do not know about me, Anakin. I like to keep some things private.”

“I understand,” came his voice, a bit too smug for Obi-Wan’s liking.

Obi-Wan turned to him. “What exactly do you ‘understand’?”

Anakin inclined his head to where you were standing. “I just want to let you know that it’s okay, Master.”

“Anakin, I have no idea what you are talking of.”

He rolled his eyes, leaning as close to Obi-Wan as he could. “I’m talking about the two of you,” he said.

Obi-Wan’s cheeks immediately burned. “y/n y/l/n is an old friend,” Obi-Wan whisper-shouted. “We’ve known each other since we were kids.”

“Come on, Master, I heard the way you were talking to each other. Frankly, it’s quite obvious.”

Obi-Wan glared at Anakin for him to shut up. He glanced at you beside him, trying to keep the younger Jedi’s words from sinking into him, but to no avail. He was aware of the insinuations that often existed in your conversations, and the way your words were too often far from strictly platonic. He knew you were good looking in the standard way, as he often saw heads turn in your direction and flirty smiles sent your way, though he had never allowed himself to think of you that way. It was dangerous territory for a Jedi and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist if he allowed himself to give in.

But now, when the both of you stood at your death row, almost out of options, it put things in perspective. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he—

A sudden cheer went up in the stadium, bringing his attention away from you. A voice sounded, in a strange language he couldn’t understand, and four doorways opened at the end of the arena. Out walked four creatures, each one horrific in its own way, and led by guards with spears. They were careful to not walk too close.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Anakin said beside him. Obi-Wan hated to admit he agreed, but forced himself to think rationally.

“Just relax. Concentrate.” He directed the words to his padawan, but they were for himself as much as for Anakin.

“What about Padme?” he asked, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention away from the oncoming monsters. He glanced behind Anakin, seeing that she was using her chain to climb the pillar.

With a smile he said, “She seems to be on top of things.”

Anakin glanced behind him, nodding, and forced calming breaths to release through his lungs. Obi-Wan looked your way, afraid he’d worry for you. Instead, you stood still, almost like a statue, looking directly in front of you. Your gaze was calculating, deadly calm, like a soldier’s calm, and your breathing was even. He didn’t know how, but you seemed to not worry even one bit at the oncoming creature.

He didn’t have time to think over it more when a creature with long claws closed in on him, throwing a leg against his chains, severing it. Obi-Wan threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack. Shouts and cheers went all around him, making him more dizzy than he already was. He tried to focus on the creature as he kept tumbling out the way, every time closer than the first. He went behind the pillar to take cover, but the monster felled it, causing it to tumble down in a load crash towards him.

Before he could understand what was happening, Obi-Wan was tumbling against the ground, rolling in a heap. The only thing was that your weight was on top of him, holding him down. He was too aware of every place you touched, shivering even through the chaos that was going on around you. You quickly glanced down at him before jumping to your feet, extending an arm for him to drag himself to his own feet. You kept ahold of his hand, tugging him along as you ran out of the creature’s path. Obi-Wan was afraid to think of what would’ve happened without you there.

He looked to the side, seeing one of the guards with a spear, taking it to throw at the monster behind you. For a second, he thought it’d worked. But then, it snapped the spear in half and continued its chase for the both of you. Thankfully, right then, Anakin and Padme appeared atop one of the other creatures, a massive horn at its front. He gestured for the both of you to get on, and without thinking, Obi-Wan grabbed your hand again and pulled you with. He helped you up in front of him. He hesitated, just a moment, before letting his arms snake around your midriff. You felt it, tensing against the feeling of him. You realised this was the wrong moment to be shy about contact, but you also realised the meaning of letting him fall against you so.

Obi-Wan let his head lean against your shoulder, ignoring the warning shouts put there by the Jedi’s so-called ways. He was tired of keeping distance from you only because of formalities. Seeing you in danger as he had done earlier, it scared him more than he dared admit. He needed to make the most out of the time you had left together.

“I—“ he began, but was interrupted by the tumbling of droids appearing, pointing their guns at the four of you.

You turned to look him in the eye, searching for any signs of reassurance there. You found none. Obi-Wan did not have a second plan, something to get them out of this major mess. He was finally out of ideas. Your lips tugged downwards at the sight of his hopeless gaze. You understood as well as he did how fucked you were.

And that’s when it happened; when dozens of lightsabers appeared in the crowding stands; they were lit in varying colours of blue, green, and, one particular, in purple. Their light reflected onto their bearers, revealing countless Jedis ready to fight. The rest of the crowd began to flee, previously cheering for the slaughter of the four of you, now cowards to the fight that would inevitable ensue.

A smile lit up your face, gazing onto the new turn of events. Maybe it wasn’t over for the two of you.

It quickly faded when more droids appeared, running over the arena to get a good shot on you. The Jedis were just as quick, jumping from the stadiums to meet the blasters with their sabers. Obi-Wan grabbed a nearby lightsaber and freed first himself, and then you, from the chains. You ran to pick up two blasters, lying nearby a fallen droid. You didn’t have time to think about the others before fire was upon you and it was all you could do to fire off shot after shot, fell enemy after enemy as your aim found its marks. Obi-Wan was soon beside you, twirling his lightsaber in beautiful circles and cutting down every droid in his vicinity. If you weren’t in mortal danger, you’d say he was enjoying himself with the way his lips formed in the faintest smile.

It was difficult keeping track of everyone and everything when all your surroundings were filled with was the light of blasters going for their mark and the glowing of lightsabers cutting into metal. Your ears were ringing, shouts and blasting muffled by the concentration of keeping your head connected to your body. All you could focus on was the next droid to appear in your path. One at a time, to keep you from losing hope and getting overwhelmed. But even you could admit that it was seeming bleak. The numbers on your side were dwindling and you felt a faint thudding in your left arm, which you had conveniently managed to ignore until now.

A sudden shriek called for your attention when the creature from before was charging for you again. You could feel your muscles locking up, the fear setting into them, while your mind was screaming for you to run. Instead, you stood there with a gaping mouth, awaiting the blow that would inevitable come upon you.

Before it did, a lightsaber cut into the creature’s path and sent its head rolling to the dirty ground, its body dropping in a lifeless heap. You turned, seeing Obi-Wan with his lightsaber raised, panting hard. His gaze turned to you with widened eyes. His legs moved before you did and managed to catch you before you fell to the ground, your legs folding beneath you. The paralysing fear was gone and in its place had an overwhelming sense of dread settled, causing your body to finally catch up with your mind. You almost wept against his robes, holding onto his shoulders to steady yourself. Obi-Wan’s arms circled you, his eyes searching you for any fatal injuries. When he couldn’t find any, he allowed his hand to smooth against your cheek, tilting your head to look at him.

“You okay?” he asked.

You nodded absentmindedly. First now you realised the closeness of him, and how vulnerable you both were in the middle of the battlefield. You turned at the same time, ready to cut down any droids, but it turned out unnecessary as the remaining Jedis had formed a protective circle around all of you, their lightsabers raised against the onslaught of droids. They stopped in their tracks as Count Dooku’s voice rang out, loud and clear, calling for a cease of fire. He was telling you how the fight was over; you were outnumbered; to lay down your weapons in arms; you were practically dead.

The Jedis looked around, uncertain on whether it was possible to win this fight. You met the droids with a steeled gaze; you’d rather die here, on the battlefield, than in some dungeon of the Sith’s. Obi-Wan looked to you and you saw the same determination reflected in his eyes. You wished to rather not die at all, but it was the lesser of two evils.

As if by reading your thoughts, suddenly battleships descended to the arena — stormtrooper ships. You let out a breath of relief; however ready you were to go down in battle someday you were glad today wouldn’t be that day.

With the help of the stormtroopers, your numbers were suddenly in the majority, felling the droids quickly and swiftly. The fight was far from over, though. Obi-Wan nudged your arm, nodding to one of the ships. You ran after him, with Anakin and Padme in the lead, onto the hovering ship and it lifted in the air. You looked around to see other stormtroopers on the ship, with only God knows what thoughts swimming behind those helmets of theirs.

“Dooku is making his escape,” said Obi-Wan, pointing ahead of him. You looked to see two slender ships  and a speeder-bike flying at full speed.

One of the troopers nodded, and the ship picked up in speed. Your feet stumbled at the change, unprepared for the sudden jolt in the metal beneath you. Obi-Wan’s arm instinctively reached out and snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him.

“Hold on,” he said.

You ignored the warmth of both his body so close to you and the sudden rush of it in your cheeks. Miles of sandbanks stretched beneath you, only fleeting with the quick speed you were travelling. Ahead, you noticed that there was only one spacecraft left in your pursuit. Hopefully, you’d be able to get this mission done with and go back to your not-so-peaceful abode; all of this were definitely more than you’d originally bargained for.

With another jolt of your ship, it threw all of you off-balance and a shriek sounded. You turned to see Padme fall out of the open door. Anakin reached for her but Obi-Wan was there within a second to snatch away his wrist, pulling him from the opening.

“Put the ship down!” Anakin cried.

“Anakin, don’t let your personal feelings get in the way!” Obi-Wan shouted back, effectively ignoring your gaze. He turned to the front and called, “Follow that speeder!”

You turned Obi-Wan’s words over in your mind. Of course he wouldn’t stray from the Jedi way, not even for you. Had you then only imagined his lingering gaze and touches that existed a moment too long? Had your mind created the delusions of Kenobi’s want to protect you during the fight, or had he only happened to be nearby to help you?

Whatever the matter, you felt it smartest to not be present for the coming fight. You called out to the two Jedis.

“I’ll go after her, you handle Dooku.”

Obi-Wan turned. “No, wait— y/n!”

Before he could take hold of you, you had dropped out the opening with bent knees meeting the sandbank, landing with a compact you were not ready for. You rolled, tucking your head into your chest and quickly jumped to your feet. You had jumped out of the ship a little later than Padme and had to walk back the distance to find her again.

She laid on the sand, outstretched, with her head resting to the side. You ran to her quickly, letting her head rest under your hand and shaking her slightly in a careful attempt to wake her up. Her eyelids slid open carefully, before blinking wide up at you. Her limbs hurried with panic in an attempt to stand up and she almost tripped herself.

“Hey, hey, calm down!” you said, disentangling yourself from her. “You’re okay, you’re safe.”

She stopped struggling but stayed wide-eyed as she let herself take a few calming breaths. Eventually she had found her voice enough to ask, “Where’s Anakin?”

“Still pursuing Dooku. C’mon, we gotta get back to camp.”

Padme’s head shook before you finished your sentence, looking around. “No, no, we gotta follow them. We gotta help.”

You swallowed, nodding absentmindedly. You wanted to help Obi-Wan but you were afraid how he would react to seeing you after the fighting was done. Would he turn you away, and ultimately let the Jedi’s ways steer his life? Or would he allow you to get close to him, invite you into his life as something more than just a friend?

You pondered these questions as you managed to find a troop of stormtroopers and commandered a spacecraft to follow the pursuit of Count Dooku. Soon enough, a castle of some sort, made of a reddened stone with high spires, reached towards the muddied sky. Your craft landed and as a ship departed, speeding faster than you could react, towards outer space.

If that were Count Dooku escaping then that meant Anakin and Obi-Wan hadn’t managed to stop him. And that meant…

Your legs started to move faster than your mind could catch up, praying that what you feared wouldn’t be true. Your feet echoed against the ground as you ran into the cave, Padme following right behind you. When you entered the hollow room your eyes immediately landed on Obi-Wan’s form.

He was alive—barely standing and taking shallow breaths—but alive nonetheless.

His hand was grasped around his knee, barely being able to keep himself up. It looked as if it took everything in him not to slump to the floor. You hastened your steps in his direction, ready to just about sling yourself against him. You catched yourself in a moment, remembering the Jedi’s modest ways.

His eyes met yours as he let his hand let go of the lightsaber. His eyes softened, almost unintelligibly, and his lips quirked into a tired smile. Obi-Wan took the barest step toward you, his leg folding beneath him. You were there in an instant, letting your weight support his as much as his was supporting you. Your arms snaked around his waist, letting your head fall in the crook of his shoulder. His head laid on yours, his hair tickling your skin. As tired, and muddy, and miserable you were you couldn’t keep from the warmth spreading in the pit of your stomach.

Obi-Wan didn’t seem to mind any of the other Jedi’s in the room as he let his embrace pull you even closer to him. He pulled back the barest inch to whisper against your ear, “Don’t you ever dare scare me like that again.”

“What, when I dropped out of the spacecraft, you mean?”

You felt him shake his head against you. “Just today in general.”

“Afraid to lose me, Jedi?”

You tried not to chuckle, but it was difficult when you felt the dangers of the day receding from your mind and all that was left was an immense relief that elated your entire body. Obi-Wan pulled away entirely, letting his hands grip your shoulders for support. Your hands had a hold of his waist.

“Losing you would affect me more than you could ever imagine.”

You grinned as you tugged him into a hug again, pressing him even more intimately against you. There was no longer any doubt as to what Obi-Wan meant to you, and as to what you meant to him. He didn’t care what the council or the Jedis thought; he’d have you as yours. And you smiled at the thought.

© 2023 all rights reserved to ❝ moonyswritinq ❞. do not plagiarize, steal, repost w/o credit for your own gain.

[bellarkeselection]

Our Little Kenobi

Request from @starvingbrokestudent Can you do a super sweet pregnancy fic with Obi Wan? Like the reader finds out she’s pregnant after fertility issues and Obi Wan is just so excited?! And how they try to keep it a secret from the council and eventually she has a baby boy?

This will be a mini series like you asked 😁

Rushing to the bathroom I didn't even get the chance to remove my lightsaber and my robe from my body because the sickness was coming on so quickly. Holding onto the toilet I puked what I had ate in my stomach feeling out of breath afterwards. This wasn’t the first time this had happened and it was the third time I had gotten sick. Wiping my hand across my mouth I gagged on the taste leaving the bathroom once I had finished. Finding my communicator out of my robe pocket I thought of the first person I could call who wouldn’t ask too many questions. “Padme, can you come to my room please?”

“Of course. Do you need anything specific?” She asked me appearing as a blue hologram.

Running my fingers through my hair with my freehand I whispered under my breath almost like somebody else was listening on the other side of the door. “Could you uh…could you bring me a pregnancy test. I can’t have the medical droids look I into this. They can’t keep a secret if there is something going on.”

“Sure, I’ll be right over.” She hung up the call making me more nervous just waiting for her to come over.

Pacing back and forth across the floor frantically trying to calm my nerves but it wasn’t working. This couldn't be happening to me. I was a Jedi knight and a leader of one of the clone armies. There was a war going on all on top of it. I heard three knocks on the door before I opened the door quickly. “Come in, Padme.”

“Here it is. Why exactly did you need one?” She asked and I knew that she would after she told me about her and Anakin sneaking around.

Taking it from her hands I went into the bathroom quickly doing the test since the waiting was killing me. Sitting on the toilet I just stared at the test in my hands thinking that my life was now screwed. “Padme, I'm going to be forced out of the order.” I croaked through tears feeling her presence in the doorway of the bathroom just watching me.

“I thought Jedi were encouraged to love. That's what Anakin told me.” She responded.

Lifting my head up I felt tears building up. “But you're sneaking around aren't you. It's exactly what me and Obi-Wan are doing…stars he's going to be upset over this.”

“Maybe he will want the baby.’ She tried being hopeful. “Wait a second I should be asking do you want it first?”

Dropping my gaze to the ground floor silence filled the entire room at that point. I didn't know how to answer her question. Being a member of the Jedi order meant that things like love, marriage, and children were out the window. Gripping my hair in my fingers I screamed dropping the pregnancy test on the floor at my feet. “I don't think I can do this, Padme. I can't…I'm not prepared to be a mother. I barely even remember my own parents after the council found me. And then there's Obi Wan…he…I have no clue what he will feel.”

“Have you ever talked about the possibility of having kids with him if you weren’t Jedi knights?” Padme came into the bathroom and sat down beside me on the floor.

Burying my face into my knees I croaked. “We took an oath, Padme. No marriage, no children, no possibilities of going to the Dark Side.”

“I’m sorry Y/n. But I am here for you and whatever you decide to do.” She placed a hand on my shoulder and we both just sat in silence with me thinking back to that night between Obi wan and I.

Opening the door, he walked towards the bed and dropped me down to the bed. My back hit the soft silk sheets before I rose up from the bed staring at him softly and brought a hand to his cheek stroking it softly. He leaned into my touch and brought my fingers to his lips, kissing them softly for a moment before releasing them. Standing tall, he lifted his shirt over his head and threw it to the ground. My heart began to beat for a second as I stared at him, my eyes directed down to his muscular chest, and blushed at the sight.

I averted my eyes with my hands covering them quickly and tried to contain my blush, he looked up at me and smirked at my reaction. “You don’t have to be embarrassed, Y/n. You can look if you want to.”

“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do…have you ever done this before.” I pointed out to him where I peeked through my fingers for a split second.

My hands started to trace his form, I began to run his fingers up and down his muscular chest softly while I began to feel his hand start to crawl underneath my shirt. He yanked my shirt off my head, throwing it to the ground only once breaking the kiss until I was not able to not joke with him at least once. “Woah….you look just wow.”

He glanced down at my clothed beasts staring at them deeply before reaching behind my back and began to unclip the straps off and tear it off me in a split second. I gasped at him instantly reaching a hand to cover my breast, he let out a growl at them pushing my hands away. “ Don’t hide from me, my darling. You are perfect.”

He hovered over me and brought his lips down upon mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and embraced more into the kiss. I felt a hard rock positioned at my lower religion, he placed his member at my center and looked up at me. “My love, this may hurt for a few minutes, I promise I'll go slowly. We can do this together, the both of us. Since….I haven’t done this before either. Are you sure you want this, I'll stop if you're not ready.”

“I want you. I want you, Obi.“ I said, gripping the bed sheets in my fingers, never moving my gaze from his. “ Please just go gently.”

Obi wan nodded his head slowly brushing some hair out of my face just admiring my face in the small light that was provided by the bedside lamp. “I want you just as much as you want me.”

Within moments I felt the pain suddenly vanish and began to feel pleasure. I began to move against him and leaned up pressing my lips down upon his. He embraced me back instantly when my fingers dug into his back. And that was the most enjoyable night of our lives.

I decided after a few days later to finally tell him what was happening. He deserved to know the situation so that we could figure out what to do next together. Standing out of his door I sucked in a shaky breath raising my fist and knocking three times on his door where it opened slowly for him to greet me. “Y/n, what can I do for you?”

“We need to talk…alone. If you have some time before our council meeting.” I almost whispered under my breath before he allowed me to come inside.

He shut the door behind himself, raising a brow. “What is going on, darling?”

“Did you remember the night we shared together? Well something I thought wouldn’t happen ended up actually happening.” Fiddling with my fingers in front of me I lowered my gaze to the ground trying to not show how terrified I was.

Obi wan was a much sharper Jedi then I thought I was though when he takes a few steps towards me. “Y/n, if something is making you nervous you can tell me. You know that right. So what is bothering you?”

“Obi, please don’t be upset. I already don’t know what I am going to do with the result. I can’t handle it if you rat me out and abandon me.” I lifted my head showing him my face was turning red with heavy tears coming down my cheeks.

Obi touched my shoulders, shifting his blue orbs down to my eyes. “Darling, please tell me what is wrong. I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.”

“I….I’m pregnant.” I croaked out lowering my head into his chest sobbing. “I’m pregnant with your child.”

The Jedi master froze for a moment so unsure of what to say. He was in the same position as yourself. He knew that the council wouldn’t allow you to remain in the temple. Yet he slowly wrapped his arms around my waist holding me gently letting silence fill the room until he finally separated the hug. “I’m not going to leave you, Y/n.”

“Wait what…are you being serious?” I sniffed clinging onto the fabric of his brown cloak for strength and his arms were still around my waist holding me close to his embrace.

He moved one hand to cradle the side of my face feeling me lean into his palm when he replied longingly. “I said I won’t leave you because you're pregnant. I know the risks that it means for us. But I’d be the biggest idiot if I left you over something we both consented too.”

“You have no idea how much of a relief that is to hear you say that, Obi wan.” I chuckled through tears with such relief off my shoulders as I fling my arms around his neck hugging him tightly but gently.

He tightened his grip around my waist, burying his face into my loose hair. His heart skipped a beat at the realization that he would be a father, he was terrified since he didn’t remember his own much. Yet there was more joy in his mind than fear. “I have been considering this for a long time. I guess you finally gave me the courage to do so…”

“What are you talking about…omg.” I gasped covering my mouth watching him lower himself down on one knee directly before me.

He revealed a tiny black box from inside his brown robe, opening it showing me a simple silver ring that had three jewels in the middle of it. His bright blue eyes poured up into mine. “Y/n, I love you. I know that we are told not to get attached to one another but I couldn’t help it. You are everything that I never knew I wanted until we started spending time together. This baby doesn’t want me to run away from all of that. It makes me want to stay by your side even more. So will you marry me?”

“Oh Obi Wan….yes.” I giggled letting him slide the ring on my finger getting to his feet. He cupped my face in his hands kissing me for the first time in a few days. I leaned up on my toes kissing him back.

Comments really appreciated ❤️ Tag list - @iifloweringnightsii

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part ii

tags: same as before except more unhinged, (slightly sith coded obi wan, no use of y/n, my unhinged take on regency era, (blaming bridgerton and pride and prejudice), probably historical inaccuracies, SMUT), idiots in love, friends with benefits though it is more than that, oral sex (fem and male receiving), fingering, piv sex, overstimulation, thigh riding, dom!obi?, ANGST AT SOME POINT(S), tension so high that they should be on medication, me shortening every uncle-in-law phrase to uncle bcs english sucks in family terms, overuse of commas because editing 42 pages is hard

a/n: HELLO AGAIN, thank you all so much for all the love you've shown, i couldn't be more grateful. sorry for the *long* wait, i just thought the story needed a little longer than a week to do its trick, and frankly i am a busy person so 7 day gap wouldn't work for me. but i hope you can forgive me with this beast of a chapter, it is my first time writing such a long one. hope you enjoy it, and see you all again soon!

also not so fun fact: i totally misunderstood the "season", thinking it should be around summer- early autumn but it was the other way around, sorry, all the historical babes (i can no longer call myself that) for the frustration. but this timetable suits this story much better, does it not?

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can't wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 19.7K

chapter two: it's a bad idea, right?

The morning or to be exact, the noon, is when you finally feel refreshed, ready for the challenges of the day. Lucky, because your relatives are more than understanding, has always been. They would scold you for going about your day as a ghost rather than miss breakfast or join only halfway to their other activities. You always try to honor their kindness, not to take advantage of the privileges as a guest, and do your best to spend time with your cousin Carolina, (The young girl has all the benefits of her young age, full of energy and excitement, fascinated by the stories she hears (from you, mostly)), and also avoid bringing a man into your room under their roof and absolutely ravaging each other-

The last one is an exception, which you are not proud of, yet not a single drop of guilt muddies your soul. None, considering the enjoyment or strengthened bonds.

Speaking of it, something tells you that you'd have been late anyways if you woke up early, thanks to him. There's indeed a mark on the side of your neck, just where it meets your shoulder. Also, your thighs share the same fate, though lightly, a few small bruises and red, irritated areas thanks to his neat beard. Thankfully, they're quite hidden except the one that's not that has you cursing at him. For how good it felt, and for his daredevil nature. 

You're scared to admit your fear for your future with him, not in the romantic expectations aspect, you would never, but for the simpler stuff like how are you going to look at his face and not be reminded of its presence between your legs. Or the unending tease he’ll become, even more so than usual, rightfully so. Make no mistake, you had pretty high expectations, and an overall picture of your relationships past it. Yet, last night was its own entity, reducing you to a mess in the most beautiful way, plucking every thought from your mind, yet dropping seeds of doubt like this.

Still, there’s a foolish smile on your face, and some soreness in between your legs, a welcomed ache.

Nonetheless, you’re not sure how to react when you descend the stairs, and he’s there, sharing tea with your aunt and uncle.

Obi Wan stands up in a blink, even before your aunt has the chance to react to your entry.

“Oh, here you are, sweetie! Just in time to join us in the gardens, and look, who’s here!”

“Hello, auntie. Uncle.” For what’s worth, you like being here, with them, and nothing changes that. You can feel the adamantine warm cloud of love in your chest. The reason you never doubted coming here.

“Lord Kenobi.” You greet him as well, though not with that big smile and sincerity you’ve just shown.

“My Lady.” His indifferent tone is interesting. Indifferent, yet indifferent as any other time, respectful and overly sympathetic. Maybe the situation isn’t as bad as you think? Yet, he’s here, isn’t he? His very presence is questionable enough.

“How good of the young man to join us, don’t you think? Though I fear it’s only due to work issues, and not out of courtesy.”

Yes, how good! And definitely not out of courtesy.

“You hurt me, Madam.” He objects, frowning his brows. “I must say this house, with its amiable hosts, has always had a great place in my heart. Last night once again proved it right, it was the best ball I’ve ever been to all summer. In fact, I was thinking of learning your contacts for the band and the cook, you inspired me to throw my own.”

You really, really try to not roll your eyes, and drop the tea that’s being offered to you now.

“Oh, no problem at all! I’ll write them down when we finish the paperwork in my study.” Your uncle says, and the absolute charmed look and excitation in his eyes have your stomach sinking. “And how are you, my dear? Haven’t you shaken out the morning chill yet?” He points to your shawl, wrapped tightly around your neck. You powdered the marks, and put on a big necklace, but then decided you couldn’t be too careful, and put on the fabric too.

“Yes, I think the weather change wasn’t quite easy on me this time.” You reach for the honey, making a show of it so they don’t put you in the center of attention.

“Did you sleep well last night?”So, it doesn’t work. And that’s about the one question you hoped to avoid.

“Despite the exertion taking place-“ Kenobi’s eyes widen, exaggerated by the teacup basically covering other parts of his face, and for a second you think he may choke on his tea. “downstairs, I say it was the best sleep I could’ve ever had.”

You hope your acting inspires the same in him too. He suppresses that little cough well, and the blush settling in his cheeks is faint, easily blamed on the warmth of the drink.

Strike one.

Irritation grows in you, rather than anxiety. Does he really think you’re that crude? That dumb? You make a point of not looking his way after that, an attitude clearly noticed by him in no time. It’s not like he has any chance of talking about it, but the alarm bell in his head rings continuously, busying his mind ‘til the opportune moment comes to talk about it.

Then, a gleeful screech of your name fills the room. In a blink, your cousin is right next to you, wrapping her arms tightly around your shoulder that you can’t properly stand up and hug her back in a normal way.

“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up all day long!” She says, hands reaching to hold yours, almost causing you to lose control of the fabric covering your neck. “We’ve got so much to do! And you were going to tell me all about Naboo! Did you really get to see the lions?”

“Sweetie-“ Despite the wildness of the affection you are given, there’s a huge smile on your face, and you almost make her sit on your lap- an old habit from her younger years.

“Come now- you promised to go riding with me. I want to show you how much I improved.”

“Well-“ your poor, poor legs are in no condition for that kind of activity. “I think it’s best if we do that tomorrow. You see, I had enough of it yesterday, I’ve been in a carriage all day.”

His smirking, twinkling eyes.

Strike two.

Your furious gaze kills that gleam quickly though. The faint smirk disappears, and he straightens his back, clearing his throat.

“Carolina, can’t you see we have a guest? Where are your manners? And give your poor cousin some space, for God’s sake!” Your aunt exaggerates like any mother of her generation, that high pitched voice screeching every ear in the room.

You should be glad to see the subject changed, but the condition of it is bitter. She bows her head down, taking a few steps away from you, but you hold onto her hand, keeping her near.

“Hello, young lady. I am Obi Wan Kenobi.” He sounds- sympathetic, though not overly. It is this sweet balance between respecting their being without the prejudices of age, but compassionate enough not to crush them under expectations they are yet to achieve. Interpreting this from just a couple of words seems a bit of a stretch, you know, still, his whole attitude screams he’s got some experience talking to kids, or considerable knowledge about the human psyche.

“He’s a friend of mine.” You explain further, trying to ease her.

“Welcome, Lord Kenobi.” She curtsies, yeah, she’s perfected that, you observe with proud eyes.

“I didn’t see you at the ball last night, I’m afraid.” Like he was there longer than an hour.

“It was past my bedtime.” The look she gives her parents tells him all he needs to know about her character, or precisely who influences her. He wonders if it was any similar to yours.  “I hope you had a wonderful time. You must’ve, because she’s an excellent dancer.” She turns at you, smiling so innocently that you can’t blame her for complicating things. “She taught me all about it, even better than my tutors.”

“Oh, no, we didn’t-“ The sentence synchronically rolls from both of your tongues, but you stop as you realize. There’s an abrupt silence in the room for a few seconds, causing anger to bubble up in you once more, and forcing you to make up an excuse to break free from this atmosphere.

“Hey,” You tug on her arm, “I’ve brought candy.” And just like that, she’s jumping all over you, bouncing with joy, “Sshh,” You warn. “First we need to go somewhere unseen.”

===

You see him again, days after, when he’s clearly learned his lesson, and gave you a window to breathe, calm your fury. The worst thing? It works. You can imagine (or in other words daydream) the next time you two see each other, which you desperately wish for it to be soon, and picture keeping yourself from stepping onto his feet, or shoving your finger into his chest. It all could not be forgotten but worked out through little warnings and explanations. Communication, basically.

And it turns out, you don't have to imagine any longer, and have the perfect opportunity to test your temper.

In a cafe. Where you sit alone. Blissfully ignorant of the couples (or to-be-couples) surrounding you. But most importantly, unchaperoned. (You had your tongue to defy any unwanted presence, and it's not like people came here alone like yourself. They came here for dates. And if anything, your presence was a litmus paper. What was to happen in marriage, if one couldn’t even keep their eyes from others in those little flirtatious rendezvous?)

(Though you knew some didn’t see it that way. A temptress, their choice of word to describe you.)

Obi Wan walks up to your table in quick, big steps that somehow don’t capture the attention of anyone but you. A further proof of that magic dust he sprinkles.  He’s dressed in browns today. It is a welcomed change. The smile on his face is unbeatably prominent, even as he follows the guide of manners, bowing his head and removing his hat before he sits in front of you. There’s no indication of his previous whereabouts in his looks and you wonder how he found you. Was he simply passing by the establishment before noticing your presence, or did he inquire about your engagements today, asking around?

"You shouldn't be here." It’s that sweet tone of yours, an alarm said in the softest of inclinations. “I have no company.” While it is redundant to both of your mindsets, the need of a chaperone for every conversation you have with strangers, you like to be cautious.

Then let me be it, he would’ve said, if it wasn’t literally the first time after your distasteful encounter. He’s not going to throw away that lesson for a shot of comedy. Or the fact that it’s hardly a request, but again- It’s not worth it. “I just wanted to say how sorry I was for the last time. It was- unadvisable to say the least.”

That- feels so good to hear, somehow. Far better than expected. You lean back in your chair, a sly smile on your face that you can’t help, and a subtle blush, a total contrast to your attitude.

“What can I say though? I don’t know if it’s still possible to be unsatisfied, but I sure felt like that if I didn’t see you again.”

Your fingers grasp the fork far too tightly, considering you have no appetite left for the desert in front of you. It’s the flashbacks from that night, and the undeniable effects it had on both of you.  

“Well, apology accepted.” 

He releases a breath after your words, visibly relaxed, amusing you further. You focus your gaze on the plate, in hopes of blending this conversation into the atmosphere around. 

You add. “Then again, don’t take my forgiveness for granted. None of my partners were this careless, and I seriously expected better from you.” 

(You're quite aware this is not the sort of conversation fit here.)

The interruption of “Oh, that will never even cross my mind.”, turns into “Partners?”, thankfully in a whisper, but sharp enough that it holds the same value as a shriek. He plays it off like it’s a frivolous question, a part of your ongoing banter, a mere thread to spin the conversation.

As if you gave the perfect impression of a blushing virgin that night. You flutter your lashes, as you take a bite. The silence is absolutely deafening, before you can continue. “There’s a reason I like traveling that much. Naboo. Correlia. Alderaan. God, even Hoth.” The discomfort in his face grows, and you fight it with an explanation, hoping that’s the reason. “Never at the same time, though, if it wasn’t obvious. It was just about having good company if I was to spend months in a city.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He shakes his head, an act of his nonjudgemental nature. “So, am I the Coruscant part of your little play?”

“No. You're the exception.” You laugh. “I haven’t- not here. I wouldn’t dare. Too little privacy. No trust. Above all, not a single soul that felt like a match of my own. Til I met you.” He deserves to hear that, right? “However I must say, the rules would be a little different here. Requires more caution. Fine work. For example, you couldn’t come and see me like this whenever you desire."

"Fair enough." He agrees, though makes little effort to follow the lesson. Actually, not even little, none. He just sits there, moulding into his chair further, a pleasant grin as he takes the world in, entertaining himself with the surrounding people. And you, of course. His piercing gaze travels back to you, every time.

Well, right. Not like you wanted him off of your table. "What do you want, Lord Kenobi?" And how did you know I would be here anyway? 

"Are you coming to the picnic on Saturday, in the Perlemian Park?"

You were certainly thinking about it. "Possibly."

"I'm only going if you are joining too." He wets his lips, an action you don't miss, and you continue to watch it long after he's done and see the next words coming out, before your brain can comprehend their meaning. "So, I'll need a better answer." 

The same lips that mapped out your entire body, whispered all those dirty things, tasted your hidden corners, drinking in the pleasure it provided…

He clears his throat, and you break out of the trance. He looks at you with a brow lifted, but the twinkles behind his blue eyes tell you it's not out of boredom. More like the exact opposite. 

"I'll be there." 

This is his cue to leave, with excitement for the said event, and a tinge of sadness for this interaction ending. You mirror his manners as he bids you a good day. 

Then, you're left alone, exactly as merely half an hour ago. Yet, the dessert in front of you is unsavory, nowhere near enough to satisfy your sweet tooth.  

It is still completely the same.

=== 

Comes Saturday, and does it come slower than possible… The weather seems like it's making one last show before the summer ends and scorches the earth, leaving everyone a sweating mess, little to no words coming out of their mouth, sprawled on the nearest surface. You seriously debate whether calling the offer off, the choice of fanning yourself to a lazy nap sounding better and better. It is in these extensive relaxations that you uncover the horrid truth- your fingers fell short in bringing you pleasure now, making you an even more sweaty, frustrated mess rather than the relaxed, drowsy mess you want to be. It is an awful revelation, bringing along many questions that haunt your every waking hour. You fear it's got something to do with him- and the best prescription for you is to stay away.

Alas, you keep true to your promise and show up. 

Thankfully the air has calmed down on said day, and sorbets are refreshing, making it more than a bearable experience. Bearable is actually an insult in this case, for it is more than that. These people are some of your oldest friends, close to your age, and share your opinions. It is hard not having fun when you are allowed to be free (just a little more than normal, though it is enough). None cares about the obscene gossip, or juices of fruit staining faces, dripping onto the expensive fabrics you all are adorned in. Laughs are loud and constant, never letting three minutes go without them. Hands are all flying around, hitting each other as a joke, reaching for the last piece of cake, taking the very dangerous road back without spilling a drop of the drink (which is, once again, a target of pranks).

Obi Wan enjoys it as much as you do, despite the fact that he doesn’t know them like you do. His life doesn’t allow much leisure time, and his choice of friends is mostly unfitting to these kinds of events, but he doesn’t have a problem finding joy in these kinds of events. Maybe it is mostly due to you, watching you in your nature, admiring the way you handle yourself among the crossfire of jokes, or what foods you prefer the most, making silly expressions as the taste of them hits just right. With every little thing he learns about you, he’s drawn closer to you. Once, he would name you a mystery, yet that would indicate the thrill was all in revelation. Now, it is the exact opposite. He gets more excited with each new question, like what is the actual story behind the “donkey joke” you are hinting at, or why do you pick some of the seemingly perfectly looking strawberries aside and pick others- or why you blush when you catch him looking at you, only to do the same yourself?

It is only in the afternoon that the buzz leaves its place for something serene. Conversations diminish, replies take longer, bodies sag and lean on the nearest surface, be the tree trunks or picnic baskets or their loved ones.

C’mon then, let’s take a walk. One proposes, and others follow, albeit slowly and with protests. You are among the latter, every cell in your body refusing to produce or use energy.

Maybe that’s one of the reasons you end up at the very back of the group with Lord Kenobi, and while you manage to stick with him unlike your friends, the distance between you and them grows and now, you can safely say that you’ve lost the sight of them. Twenty minutes ago.

So yes, you’ve been walking alongside him in silence. Far away that you don’t brush hands, yet so close that it would raise questions if someone were to see.

“I don’t think this is doing much for my somnolence.” He basically yawns.

"Should I take that as an insult, my Lord?" 

"Why would you- what did I say to make you think so?" He shakes his head, as stubborn as he's apologetic, ready to accept the accusation if your reasons are firm. Still, his heart is already pacing up, distressed. That must be the wine taking over.

"Well, am I not the only reason for your presence? And I must be boring you, if you are still feeling drowsy." 

"No- Absolutely untrue- “ He stutters, a panic to find the right words, not to be buried under your claims, he is not going to lose his chance to be by your side- only to realize the grin on your face too late.

"You little minx." He breathes out, and is rewarded by the sound of your tempting giggle. 

"Seems like I successfully rid you of your problem." You take pride. "And now, I suggest walking by the lake, to ensure its permeance."

"You mean to dip my feet in the water?" Again, he shakes his head, already rejecting the proposition.

"If you don't do it I shall." You skip, prancing like a nymph before he grabs you by the arm. 

“I don’t think that is safe.”

“It perfectly is.” You state, bewildered by his anxious urge. One look into his hand, and he remembers to let you go. The said hand flies to his hair, with an exasperated sigh.

“Okay, but – let me be by your side. And make it quick.”

The fact that he thinks you need his approval is downright funny, though you’d take issue with it any other time. Now, you are amused by his good intended worries and don’t have it in your conscience to break his heart over it, or bring up a quarrel.

So, you start undressing. Only your socks and shoes.

Still, the blush settles on his cheeks, and the light behind his eyes burns brighter as he sees the skin just above your knees naked. Not for the first time- still, he feels like turning his back on you, but does no such thing. And that is not because it defeats the purpose of his presence.

God, how could you even make you believe he wasn’t planning on having these impure thoughts?

You feel your temperature rising, and it has nothing to do with the sun. You meet his hypnotized eyes, and can still feel it focused on you. After days of dissatisfaction, its effect is multiplied by ten, making your heart race. You pray none of it is visible on your face. the last thing you need is for him to know.

He laughs when you lay the white fabric in the old woods of the docks, like the spoiled child you are. It is more than likely to stain, but more importantly, it is definitely old, creacking under every step, hence his aversion to sit beside you with a head shake. You shrug in return, and pull your skirt slightly above your knees, swinging your legs back and forth.

“Oh, this is lovely!” You say, sprawling your toes in the water. “Truly, you are missing out.”

“I believe you, my Lady.” His tone is joyful, just the right combination of trust and mockery.

You turn to look at him, a big mistake. The excess part of your dress brushes the surface, wetting the fabric, though it is the last thing you care. He is looking at you, with that charming grin, and subtle hunger etched into his gaze, screaming worship, in complete awe of the scene he's beholding, the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, holding his hand, her dress bunched up like in those ancient paintings of fairies, and endless passion for the leading role of it. It swirls the emotions deep inside your belly, the only reaction you want to avoid. Yet, you’re not immune to it. your heart skips a beat, the tingles overtaking your skin.

“Look- I see fishes!” You whip your head, the one thing you can do in hopes of breaking the tension. You lean forward, trying to get a clear view, or try to do so because you are stopped by his grip.

“That’s enough.” The command sends a shiver down your spine. “You shouldn’t go any further.”

“Fine.” You huff, the simplest protest you can manage. His touch softens as he realizes you’re going to follow his words, though takes long to let go.

A few minutes pass in the silence of nature.

“How long are you going to stand like this?” You ask, exasperated that this isn’t going anything like you imagined.

“What?”

“I feel like I’m also standing, this is hardly fun.”

“That is only the result of your own choice.”

Narrowing your eyes, you huff and climb back on your feet, disregarding the objections of the offended dock. Then, you push past him- 

He suddenly pulls you back, promptly disrupting your balance, a tactic he uses to pick you up into his arms. You scream as your feet meet the air, hands grabbing anything they can reach which ends up being his clothes.

“What are you doing?!” You yell, burying your fingers into him. With how strong your grip is, you can feel every muscle tensing under your touch. 

“I’m not gonna let you walk in that mud, after all.” He explains like it was the problem you were referring to.”

“My shoes! – and-”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get them.”

He adores the pout you have as he fetches them.

He leans his back on the tree, and you rest your arms on your knees, propped up.

“So, we are to sit here and sulk?”

“If you name it so.” His smile is borderline insulting, ear to ear. With one look, he points at the reason- your wet feet. There’s literally no choice but to wait for them to dry up. But by proposing the only solution, he infuriates you further.

“Very interesting.” You snark. “I would’ve just stood back if I knew this was what we would be doing.”

“And now it is I who might take those words as an insult. Have I somehow proven my companionship to be loathsome in the times we spent together?”

Times you spent together… The flashbacks are, as implied in their name, flash before your eyes at such great speed that by the time you realize it is not something you should ponder upon now, your heart rate is already up, the flame deep in your belly ignited once again, and even the sounds of the past are echoing in your ears. You turn your head away from him, cursing at the color blooming on your cheeks.

Oh, but the action is enough to let him know exactly what you are feeling, a song of “I thought so” on his tongue- yet he doesn’t sing it yet, realizing the underestimation of his own emotions. He brings it upon himself- a glance at you, taking in your red face (as much as possible) and bare legs, let out to the sun to dry up.

“Well, I’ll think that’s the case if you don’t say anything.” He opts to say this instead, loving to taunt you further. 

“It’s not.” You mumble, still turned to the other side, fingernails digging at your palm.

“I can’t hear you, dear.”

“I said-“

The moment you move your head, you are met with his face, so close to yours, a distance he promptly closes by placing a hand at your neck, and tugging at it, ‘til your lips crash. You lose your balance once more, gripping his collars to not fully crush him with your weight. You gasp, the only protest you have in yourself, because for all your resolve to stay away, here you are, falling right into his arms. And it feels so damn good.

You gasp, pushing him. He laughs as his back hits the tree, never once breaking eye contact.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You whisper-scream, suddenly aware of the fact that while you are all alone on this field, your friends are still very much around.

“Oh, what am I doing? It is you, darling, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you were looking at me.”

You direct your gaze to the ground, embarrassment getting the better of you.

“What is it?” He questions your lack of defiance. “You had no problem before. Don’t tell me you’re scared of being seen. They should at least be like, a mile away.”

Yeah. That’s absolutely correct. Besides, you’re shielded from any unwanted visitors by the thick line of trees, and the sheer distance between there and the path. It is a secluded corner of the lakeside.

“Or is there something else that’s bothering you?” This, is said in a more suggestive tone, and its effect is only amplified by the way he holds your chin to refocus your attention. You burn under his grasp and insistent watch.

Say farewell to your pride.

You let yourself fall over him once more, kissing him with a whimper you can’t quite suppress. You feel his smirk at that, but neither of you dwells on it, for he too lets out a sound of desperation, panting as he pulls you close, placing you on his thigh. (You hear your dress positively rubbing against the grass, and dare not to imagine the green blotch that may appear.) You don’t know whether to celebrate your newfound closeness or chastise your weak will, for it creates a new wave of desire in you as you delve your fingers into his beard. Your skin lights up against his coarse hair, so familiar yet so unyielding under your touch, and to be holding his face in your hands like this only blinds you more. So blind that you only realize the movement of your hips, seeking pleasure, when he holds them.

“See? That’s what I’m talking about.” A kiss right on the left corner of your lips. “Are you haunted by that night so deeply that you are unable to satisfy your needs on your own, like me? Or hell, with another?” Even in the midst of haze, you don’t miss the way his eyes darken at the mention of a third party.

“No- only you.” You whisper, too afraid of things ending.

“Fuck.” He can’t help but burst at your surrender. “That’s my girl. Lift your hips a little for me, darling.”

You oblige without question, raising yourself on your trembling thighs. Holding your breath, imagining all the things he can do to you… He is bewitched by your neediness, the way you moan at the first contact his hand makes with your skin after lifting your skirt just above your knees so you have more freedom to move, and can directly sit on his thigh.  

Speaking of it, why? Your eyebrows scrunch as he pushes you down like that, though the actual questioning part comes a second after your clit rubs against the fabric, not his cock, the first jolt of true ecstasy you experienced in a while, but that can’t be the case for him, right? “What are you-?”

“Trust me.” He takes his sweet time to relish the expense of your neck, so close for his taking, partly to ease your nerves, and frankly it is too much fun for his own good to feel you twitch in anticipation, and your breath getting stolen away at his open-mouthed kisses, panting when he lingers on a spot for too long at the fear of him leaving a bruise. “No marks, I perfectly remember.” He has to confess after a point, and only after that point, you begin to truly relax, and have your heart beating so fast at the same time, noticing your wetness is positively seeping into his clothes.

Your jaw hangs open with a silent pant as he decides it’s enough, and guides your body, rocking onto his. It’s not something you haven’t done before, but there’s something so unique about now, maybe the scandalous location, or your depraved state, or simply everything regarding him, that you are convinced it looks like your first time. Shit, it may even be your first time, considering the previous examples are nowhere close to this, the stakes, the desperation, the payoff… You’re holding onto his shoulders like a fucking virgin, pressed so close to receive every bit of affection he's giving. It’s the damn heat, the greatest excuse on your lips for the last couple of weeks, invalidated by the nonexistence of space between you and him. It only causes sweat to pour out of both of you, like the constant drip out of your cunt, sabotaging all your attempts to gain control, and create the slightest of frustration. 

“Obi Wan.” You chant his name, unable to form any other word, and he drinks it all in, valiantly ignoring the ache in his cock. It is a hard task, a growing challenge as your knee brushes against it from time to time, especially when you try to take initiative and escape the rhythm he’s trying to create.

“Ah-ah-ah- Let me take over. You know we’re short on time, darling.”

Then, he does justice to his words as he bounces his leg, the added pressure claiming a gasp from you.

“Do that again.” What your efforts can't get you, maybe your pleads can. After all, you're just as stubborn as him, giving up easily is not on your book.

“Only because you asked so nicely.”  

You roll your eyes, though it is totally due to annoyance, and let out a moan, throwing your head back. The fresh air does nothing for your lungs anymore, just an outlet for your scandalous noises. Which, he has no complaints too, your erratic breaths warmed his neck enough, and blessed him with those sweet sounds, right under his ear. Oh, but in any other case, this was anywhere else, and he had to silence you, also which he has no complaints too. Perhaps the sole problem is missing the blissed out expressions of your pretty face, and the light in your eyes, burning for him.

“Are you close?” Like he even needs to ask, like he’s not aware of your moans turned whimpers.

“Hmmh.” Is all the answer he gets, and that’s enough for him, laughing quietly, as you feel the vibrations of his chest.

When you cum, it is indeed an earth-shattering moment, and an end to your misery, the first drop of water after thirst- so much so that you don’t care about it happening in such a short time. Your legs squeeze his firm thigh, shaking over them like the rest of you. His one hand travels to your waist, holding you steady and pressed against him. You swear you can feel every aspect of his hand over three layers of fabric, yet he’s not actually exerting that much power, treating you like a delicate flower, afraid to crush the silky petals.

You sigh as the trembles die down, your senses coming back to you one by one- the first and foremost the tension in the body beneath you. Your fingers loosen from his collars, and travel the expanse of his torso slowly, a kiss to his throat in the meantime.

“Don’t you worry about me.” His voice is slightly shaky, though it may very well be due to his exertion.

“I think I should.” Its trueness is further proven when you palm him, and he groans. Though he is insistent.

“Look at you, you sweet thing, concerned with me walking around with a hard-on.”

That has you rolling your eyes, and removing your hand. Removing your entire body, even. You settle on the grass, leaning on your elbows. Your dress is already ruined, so you’re past the point of worrying.

“On the other hand, you may want to think about this.” He points to his wet trousers, the dark stain visible even though the fabric is black.

Uh oh. That is indeed a problem, if you are to return soon. Unfortunately, your brain can’t grasp the danger, coming up with solutions like soaking him entirely in the lake… 

So, it’s no wonder that your next words are a joke.“You marked me, I marked you. We're even.”

To your surprise, it works. His laughter fills the entire forest, yours a whisper in comparison. The idea that maybe, just maybe this can be repeated every now and then, that it wouldn't harm anyone fills your chest with a different kind of cheer, a hopeful sensation that suits the summer. He's proven his carefulness, making the best of the situation without risking either of you. The rising hope in you should scare you, but it doesn't. It only makes you sprawl under the sun like a cat enjoying the heat, and join his laughter with a big grin.

“Fair. Absolutely fair.”

===

The next time you see each other again, things seem to cool down a bit. It is entirely a civil dinner, always at a respectable distance, the number of times you lock eyes are countable on one hand (though some border the edge of being a little too long), and it is all not so surprisingly, plain. Maybe it is about both of you trying to contain one’s self, so much so that the other core aspect of both of you, the humorous side is buried that night and no other person can live up to its ghost. Perhaps it is due to the upcoming end of summer, bringing out a tinge of melancholy, already mourning the past, thus your impulses dwindle down, the sparkles absent.

That is, ‘til, you are the only occupants in the saloon, after the other guests have left, and your aunts retreated to their rooms. You are reading a book, barely aware of the fact when he, sitting next to you in that single armchair drops whatever pen he’s holding, just by your feet. You’re pulled out of your trance by the sound it creates, raising your gaze from the page just in time to see him bending over to retrieve it or- ending up completely kneeling in front of your legs.

He raises his head, and you watch the way his face softly being illuminated by the candlelight, a smile you can’t decide whether charming or devilish, long abandoning his mission.

That’s the moment the air shifts, and the room feels hotter like the cheminee is lit, the heat wave has returned, and taken both of you to that lakeside, and the week before it, the frustration and despair that came with being unable to take care of yourself. You haven’t felt such a thing after, perhaps, it’s due to your fulfilled state and therefore lack of trial, but now, the need returns, like adding more to an already full cup, realization only hitting after the drops spill from the sides. The cup demands to be emptied, - translation: your soul demands whatever pleasure you can get your hands on- and the image of him causing it is certainly a preference.

(Again, it is your soul that’s demanding it- your brain would very much like to lock you away in the furthest corner of this house, or kick him, if that’s all you can manage.)

“Excuse me?”

“I just remembered how I failed to say how beautiful you look tonight.” 

“Thank you.” Your mouth speaks before you can protest the improperness of your situation. Color settles on your cheeks for accepting his compliment first. “What are you doing?”

“Collecting my pen.” He shrugs, and demonstratively takes it to his hand, yet it is once more left to the ground instead of the nearest table, with the rest of his papers. He adds, “I admire how you are an expert in navigating every social situation, whether it's a boring dinner like this, or a ball.

Your eyebrows raise at the boring part, after all, it's hosted by your relatives, and it wasn't exactly boring, maybe a little uneventful. “Not every occasion has to be full of adventure, Lord Kenobi. Slow nights like this are beneficial for the soul. Gives the mind some rest.” 

He purses his lips, like he’s been told on his bluff, the one part he emphasized to sound strong. Because, he is. He had fun tonight, the type that fills one’s heart with sweet lethargy. “I suppose you’re correct. But you’re missing out on an important detail.”

“And what is that?”

“The right company.”

You’re glad that your hands were pressing against the book, holding the page, because if they weren’t, they would be visibly shaking.

“I have underestimated how much I missed you, that much is clear to me now.” Barely speaking, or barely speaking anything important with you throughout the evening, yet he feels rejuvenated, the ache in his chest becoming prominent as it starts the heal. He doesn’t say the last part, but the sentiment is reflected in the soft sparkle behind his eyes, the hypnotic storm, pulling you towards unknown chaos, but beautiful, and promising safety in its center. That’s why you don’t protest as his hand reaches for yours, brushing your knee (he wanted to do that for some time, to feel the soft fabric that basically decorates your body), interlocking fingers, and reluctantly retreating them in favor of taking the book that sits in your lap, setting it aside. You don’t protest, despite the screams in your head, saying he’s right there why is he still there-

 “And the other thing I missed terribly, the sight of your legs.”

Your shaky inhale echoes.

His fingers gently close over your ankles, and travel upwards slowly, lifting your dress alongside. “Though I’ve only seen them twice, they might be my favorite view, ever.”

“Is that so?” You are perplexed by the confession, with a lazy grin, very much enjoying the seduction. His way with words seems like a constant threat to your sanity, but damn do you adore it dearly, a voluntary victim to its spell.

“Why would I ever lie to you?” He whispers, hands tightening. “I like them very much. But I think I would like them better around my shoulders.” He pulls your knees slightly, causing you to yelp as your back caves in, and grasps your ankles once more, proceeding to demonstrate exactly his words.

“What are you doing?” You ask, like you don’t know the answer. It is a statement, an acknowledgment, the last chance to bring some sense into any of you. You’re in the living room, in a house that is not your own, filled with people who are still very well awake, and can just decide to come in.

“Having a second dessert, if I may?” And how can you refuse, after the image is served to you on a golden plate?

“But at the lake - You were-” 

“You think I'm doing this for recompensation?”

“No, I didn't mean to imply that.” God, this is embarrassing. “I just wanted to say I might miss having my way with you.”

“I’ll be glad to take that as a promise.”

Then, it is settled. 

Still, he waits for your small nod and takes in the way you bite your lip, wishing he was the one to do so, but- priorities. Time is a valuable asset, especially now, and he has to honor his offer. That’s why he opts for a few small, open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, actively fighting the desire to leave bruises, evidence, a memory. Judging by the rapidness of your breath, it seems he has reached his goal in some way. It’s the beard- scratching your skin even when his mouth is not doing something, sensitizing the flesh and making it all too susceptible to the incoming assault. Your hand flies up, absentmindedly reaching for his hair, yet stopping a second before, landing on the couch instead- if you messed up his hair, there’s no coming back from it. He chuckles at your struggle, the warm breath making you squirm. Even if you don’t, he’s maddened by action, despite the laugh. He has you- but not really. He’s enveloped in your heat, taking in your scent, and seconds away from tasting you, but is not able to be blessed with the slight pain he'd felt if you tugged on his strands, or the untamed sounds you’d have sung in a more private setting.

So yes, he’s as torn and desperate as you. Slow nights, you said? 

Truth be told, it doesn’t matter what adjective comes before the word; slow or fast, boring or exciting as hell, freezing or hellishly hot; if it is with you, it is a good night. Otherwise, it is lacking. The world may be painted gray forever, considering you two mostly don’t get the chance to spend more than two occasions together in a week, but there can be no comparison to colorful scene of those moments.

And this is the night Obi Wan admits that fact.

You both moan, when his tongue finally meets your cunt, licking a messy stripe. It is more of a vibration than a noise- possibly for the best. It makes you jolt, and his hold tightens, and again, it is for the best, because when he decides to pay attention to your clit after his time exploring your folds is done, your limbs start to shake, threatening to fall. Your eyes roll back when things settle, and pleasure starts to build up, your juices flowing, and he drinks it all in before they have the chance to make a mess of your dress.

That is the first time he takes a break. “Eyes on me, darling.”

What is with him and that special request?

Your whine doesn’t mean anything to him, except make his cock twitch in his now tight trousers- but that has other reasons too. He waits ‘til your eyelids open once more, and you meet his gaze, and a second longer, unable to resist the urge to get lost in your hazy expression. Then, he dives back in, swirling the muscle around your bundle of nerves. In any other circumstance, you’d have thought this would be too indelicate, so straight to the point, no fun or respect, yet his way to do so is anything but those qualities. His movements are precisely designed for you, slow enough to not cause discomfort, fast enough to make the best of your unknown time limit. You’re afraid to deduce that one time was enough for him to learn you, one time to turn your world upside down, and leave you to deal with the memory of it. 

“Sweetie?” That’s the first time your eye contact is broken. The world freezes for a second before it does, and your head whips to the direction the sound has come from, to find your aunt by the door. Miraculously, she continues to stand there, unbothered by the long and protective distance which compromises of the dining table and the back of your couch, a perfect cover for the scandal that is taking place. Obi Wan stills, perhaps even stops breathing, yet he’s the one to snap you out of your shock with his grip around your skin. It is ridiculously encouraging, knowing he's not abandoning you on your own, even at the expense of getting caught, and the dread it would surely follow.

“Yes, auntie?” You gulp. Trying not to sound breathless is a clear effort.

“Have you seen Lord Kenobi?”

Your reputable smartness lags, the answer of yeah, he’s right here IN BETWEEN MY LEGS, occupying your mind.  “I think he went out to get some air, I haven’t seen him for some time.”

“How odd.” She comments, “And what are you doing there on your own?”

“Reading my book.” You smile, and hope your cheeks’ tremble isn’t too noticeable. “It’s quite good- couldn’t tell the time.”

She scorns. “Oh, now I see- he must’ve gotten bored as you were buried in your book. You truly should work on your guest etiquette, dear. And Lord Kenobi, of all people!”

“Auntie!” Your eyes widen, and you squeal a little, and feel Obi Wan giggling quietly.

“I’m just saying, that you should treat him better- he’s a good person, and obviously fancies you.”

“Auntie!”

“I mean, I like him? Don’t you like him?”

The urge the scream has never been stronger.

To escape the subsequent questions should you answer otherwise, you give in, and sag.” I do.” And the worst thing is, you actually do. Objectively, you like him, all his little jokes and sweet tongue (no pun intended), the elegant form he carries himself in, and the kind nature he never fails to live up to. Except for the dangerous extent your relationship is getting into, there’s nothing about him that you don’t like. And truthfully, even that is barely a matter you care about, proven by your current situation. 

You can feel him smile, the coarse facial hair biting into your skin, rubbing like a cat, and the sensation is followed by a kiss on your thigh. 

“Then you know what I am saying is the truth.” She raises her eyebrows in a motherly manner, a loving attempt of intervention. “Don’t stay up too late, no matter how absorbing that book is. We are invited for breakfast to the Mon’s Estate.”

Thankfully, she’s gone like that, saving you the act.

When you turn to your front again you find the need to come up with a warning to make him shut up unnecessary for he kisses you, silencing both of you. The action brings color to your cheeks more than ever in this entire evening. The fact that you can taste yourself on his tongue aside, he’s so gentle about it, like congratulating your success, or admiring your talent, pouring out his affection for you. You can’t help but wrap your legs around his wide torso, it is how good it feels. When you two part, the lack of breath gets the best of you, only then do the swarming butterflies in your stomach begin to disturb you again.

But you’re not so quick to forget the last couple of minutes. Perhaps you've spoken too soon back then at the lake, thinking this could be continued. You’d imagined the rest of this scene a little differently, letting him follow you to your room, returning the favor, but that scare has only helped you to brew a storm inside you.

“Obi Wan…” You whisper, brows cinched in concentration as he towers over you, claiming all your senses. “We can’t- we have to stop…”

“Sshh, calm down.” His thumb draws circles on your skin, trying to soothe you in one aspect, if not every. He’s not going to let you go to your bed shaken like this, for starters. “Take a deep breath.”

You try, twice before you can manage to fill your lungs in their entirety, and your achievement is rewarded with a peck to your neck. Some of the air leaves you in an abrupt exhale because of it, and he curses himself for it.

“Follow my lead.” He tries again, reclining on his knees, giving you space. It is another challenge to look into his ocean eyes, and match his pattern, but you manage, your heart beat semi-regular after a minute or so.

Semi, for said eyes and your bare pussy are face to face, and all common sense loses its importance, burned by the fire inside you.

“Obi Wan- please…”

“You sure?” He will be very disappointed if you change your mind, but he has to ask, play the sensible part. And ignore the constant throb in his trousers that has become even more unbearable after you confessed your feelings.

“Just… make it quick.” Oh, are you seriously requesting an orgasm like ordering a cake in a café?

“As you wish, love.”

He starts out the same, just playing his game a little faster, and he holds your hand as he does so, the small detail as efficient as his moves. But, the final blow is his other hand, prodding against your entrance. The flood of memories doesn’t help either, as you remember that night. A loud moan threatens to leave you, and you slap your palm against your mouth. He stops ‘til you are secured, praise in his eyes, and pushes the two digits in, stretching you out in the way. Your fingers are nothing in comparison, and he notices it immediately, the way your walls hug him. 

Though, he’s an expert, and can absolutely manage to take care of you properly, so there’s nothing but pleasure, your slick channel welcoming the intrusion. It is not long before he feels the resistance fading and returning in a new form, as your climax approaches, and your muscles begin to quiver.

With your noises secured in your throat, the only form of communication is your connected hands, squeezing each other sometimes enough to risk breaking fingers. He understands what you mean perfectly, reaching up to a certain speed, then keeping it the same ‘til you start trashing, legs violently shaking around his body, and juices dripping, this time more than he can clean up. If any other time, he wouldn’t stop ‘til he feasted on every drop of it, but he withholds himself, respecting the clouds of danger. He’s glad to have helped with your anxiety, yet he doesn’t want to carry the ease to dangerous level and make you susceptible to be swayed in whatever direction.

Well, the image of his messy, wet beard certainly sends you through the wrong one, but already your nerves are not able to take more risks tonight, so you just bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, and lower your legs to the ground as he starts by cleaning out his fingers. It is hard to believe any man would try this much to indulge in your every aspect, but here he is, careful about even the smallest part.

Damn, you want to take him to your room and let him have his way with you so bad- but this is enough adventure for a night.

“Good night, Lord Kenobi.” You say, fixing your skirt, and standing up on shaky legs with your book clutched in the tightest grip against your belly.

“Good night, darling.” He nods, a content smile. “Send my compliments to the chef. “

===

“Lord Kenobi?”

You’re justified in your shock, enough to express it out loud in the middle of the jewelry shop, the last place you’d expect to run into him. Of course, he’s a neat and subtle man, and his appearance reflects his statue, though in a very calculated yet effortless manner. His pocketwatch is a family heirloom, so you’ve been told, a chic piece he takes great care of, and while his cufflinks are always elegant, it is never that eye-catching. It only compliments its wearer, you dare say, a final addition to an already completed painting.

(You never denied his handsomeness, and this is an objective opinion. Don’t read much into it.)

His supposed loneliness coupled with the fact that he looks utterly lost and bored, your curiosity is aggravated further.

Also, bumping into each other? What is this, a trick of fate?

“Madame.” He bows, and moves to press a kiss to your hand, the tradition not forgotten. His shock is easily ridden, unlike yours. The small blush on his cheeks and the wide grin on his lips tell contradictory stories, not that you’re judging, but the evident thing is his excitement.

“What are you doing he-”

“What a coincidence-“ His interruption is most unexpected, along with the high pitch in his voice.

You tilt your head, further dazed, but before the suspicion creeps in (you would be terrified to turn your gaze and find women’s accessories laid out for his picking on the table, for somebody else or for you; the latter being the lesser evil, but still disturbing), another joins, though he doesn’t seem to notice you at first.

“How helpful you are being, Obi Wan!” The tall young man with light brown hair calls out, necklaces hanging from both hands. You have a feeling that if he wasn’t busy, there would’ve been a physical reaction as well, a friendly pat on his shoulder, perhaps. “Don’t you know this is important? I need-“

His sentence is broken when he catches your attentive gaze, and realizes you are a part of this conversation as well. You’re amused by how glass-like he is, full of emotions and not afraid to show them. He looks at you, and back to Obi Wan, who finally decides it’s time for an introduction. The expression of recognition flashes through his face in a second as your name is revealed, but you can’t reflect it back fully. You have heard of Kenobi’s best friend or as some call it, brother, although barely from the man himself. You've witnessed how Kenobi's eyes lighten up with pride whenever Skywalker was mentioned, and stories- summaries of their adventures together that he told. The shortness of them wasn't a result of his unwillingness to tell them, but the circumstances of your company, never long or alone enough to visit them in their deserved entirety. 

To be honest, Anakin doesn't know much about you either. He and Padme prefer the countryside by the sea, especially during the summer, thus he and Obi Wan hadn't had the means to talk often lately. He senses the situation, by the slight tension in the older man's voice; this strong, confident man crumbling into pieces for some unknown reason. 

“Pleased to meet you, my Lady.” He makes a small cursty, which you mirror.  

“Likewise, Lord Skywalker.” 

“I’m afraid I’ll need my friend back to keep his promise.” The chains in his hands shake as he speaks, reminding the absurdity of it all. You’re not disturbed by it though, for all is concealed under his charismatic voice and mimics. He’s pretty and he knows it, which gives him all the tools to captivate others. Now you understand why people speak about him like that, moved by hearing his name alone.

“Oh, not a problem at all. We were just saying hello.” Entertained by the interaction, your anxiety is somewhat diminished, enough to let him go without an explanation. Also, the way that he rolls his eyes, and clenches his jaw is very cute, you dare say.

“Promise? I never promised anything.” He murmurs, but it is still audible for you as he follows his friend. And the rest, which makes you laugh whenever you remember it. “Anakin- she's your wife, you know her better than me. How exactly do you expect me to help you?”

“You always had a vision when it comes to beautiful things. Not like my eyes, which are only accustomed to the dirt and grease of machinery.”

You have to bite the inside of your cheeks to stop grinning, while you start talking with the salesman about the bracelet you’ve given them to restore. They make you sit and wait for a couple of minutes, all of which you spend trying to not spy on them. Fortunately, the shop is quite crowded, and their conversation is a part of the low grumble. A cup of tea is placed in front of you, as well as some new pieces they think you might like.

The one that catches your attention is not among them, however. It is a ring with a blue stone, the tone too similar to something you can’t put your finger on. It is too big to be for a woman, clearly designed for the other sex, but you admire its elegance nonetheless.

“Here is your piece, Madame.” The young salesman returns with a package, just in time to stop you from reaching it.

“Thank you.” You take the precious item back into your hands and inspect the handwork. It is shining once again, polished, and the place you accidentally broke it is now attached, the handwork barely visible.

You release a deep breath, praying graces. You would’ve never forgiven yourself if the family heirloom was forever damaged from the incident. You almost cried when it happened, a stupid game you were playing with Carolina before a ball, when you had already gotten ready and she was counting the minutes to her bedtime.  

“That is beautiful.” Obi Wan joins you once more, now looking more relaxed. Your eyes search for Anakin and find him waiting for a package, reaching for his wallet. Mission accomplished. “May I?”

The chain slides into his hands, and wraps around your wrist under the watch of the young boy with a wholesome smile. He must think you two are engaged in some way, and there’s no turning back from it.

“Would that be all, Madame?”

“Actaully I-“ You remember about the ring, and even if you just want to unravel the mystery around it, the words have already left your mouth, and the entire tray is placed on the table.

Oh. Oh. With him next to you, suddenly it all makes sense. You’re holding the color of his eyes on your palm.

“That is beautiful too.” He remarks, embracing his role a little too much.

“I think it would suit you.” Now it is your turn to accessorize him. He is silent while you do so, taken aback by the unorthodoxty of it all.

“I’m not sure-“ Is all he manages to say, though can’t stop looking at it. It is ridiculously so well fitted around his finger, the fate pulling all strings to give a message.

“It compliments your eyes.” You defend yourself, perhaps a little too lively but you have no shame. It is the truth.

“The Lady is correct.” The boy joins your side, or does his job. “It is a most excellent match.”

“I might think about it.” Is how far he budges, returning it, and checking up on Anakin from where he’s standing. 

“How much do I owe you?”

“Please, allow me-“

The audacity? The though is reflected in your face, which makes him blush at his unnecessary offer.

“With the ring.” You add, and it is all said and done ‘til he has time to get rid of his embarrassment and intervene.

Then, you make him take the package from you, your fingers wrapping around his. “You’re allowed to have nice things, you know?” There’s not an ounce of sarcasm in your tone, only gentle suggestion. “You don’t have to wear it, but I want you to have it.”

“Thank you.”  

And you’re gone before Skywalker can catch up.

===

You truly don’t expect to see him wearing it, you really don’t.

But you’re proven wrong so, so badly.

He doesn’t take it off.

When he takes on his promise, and actually starts working on the ball he’s supposed to throw, the first thing he does is request for your uncle’s help. Then your uncle entrusts the job on you, and you’re spending hours with him like that, securing the musicians, bargaining for the food supplies, preparing invitation lists… Truly, that’s it. You too are surprised to accompany him that much and engage in nothing outside of the mission. Truthfully, a little concerning in the grand scheme of things, the inevitable result of your relationship improving, real sincerity. Although you have zero problems with the fact, enjoying it far too much. You don't care about how your contributions are secret, for your efforts surpass the limits of help that are considered friendly, and fully acknowledge that it is gonna be a damn good ball. 

Also, while you hate to see him distressed, it is a look on him that you are guilty of adoring. The nervousness is like a little crack in his shell, a way to see a part of him that rarely sees the daylight. And it is for something so feeble? Only half of his effort would be enough for a wonderful ball, and he still tries to do more, and gets agitated over that? You are cruel for laughing at that, you confess. But it is more of a balancing act, rather than a mock. Somebody's gotta play the sane part, lower the tension. 

You're ready to help with that, too.

“Do you think I should hire-” 

You're at his study, the place you've been sitting since the morning. Time flies with every cup of tea, and plates of biscuits, but after a while, things inevitably get boring. For you, at least. He's quite focused, brows scrunched, tie slightly loosened. You see him looking at the list that you've put together in the beginning, the possible ways to entertain his guest. 

You've already arranged the services of more than half of them. Twice the amount that would be considered enough.

And he's still going over it?

“That's enough!” Your open palm lands on the surface. 

Obi Wan doesn't expect your outburst. He doesn't flinch, but his mimics change in an equivalent way. His lips part, causing him to relax that clenched jaw -oh, you might have a point. 

“You. Need. To. Relax.” You’re now less frantic, due to his irresistibly clueless expression, though still firm in your cause. Fuck, how can he look at you with those doe eyes and expect you to… do anything! 

You get up, and reach for the papers, sending them in a far corner of the desk. While you do so, you are basically halfway in between him and the table. Putting the teacups and the pot back on the tray (it has grown cold a long time ago), you turn to him, almost sitting at the desk in order to fit that narrow space. The bashful smile on his face (as if he wasn’t enjoying the perfect view of your ass seconds before) breaks your heart once more.

Putting your hand on his shoulder, you mirror his emotion. “It’s gonna be a splendid night. The kind that people will talk about it for years. And I’m not exaggerating on that one. I would’ve said the same thing days ago, all before the last additions, too.”

It is a challenge to feel the warmth of your skin, and not lean against it. “You’re right.” He tugs on his collar, taking a deep breath. “But you know- I’ve never planned a ball in my life, and- I just need it to be perfect.”

You giggle, and replace your hand on his cheek that is colored with the confession of his little perfection obsession. You welcome the slight sting of his beard, like a habit, and caress his cheekbone. He dares not move, or even take a breath, only watching your pretty face focused on his, and relish the feeling of your thumb across his features.

“It’s going to be just that.”  You might’ve said, or a joke about his troubles, but words scurry off of your mind as you stay like that, squished in place as you try your best to comfort him.

“Can you kiss me?” The thought seems lunatic when uttered on a whim, but it has crossed your mind too, you must admit. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” There's an undeniable urge to use his words back at him. 

Your back has to bend in an uncomfortable way for your lips to touch, but you have no complaints about it. The touch is so soft, laden with affection in the purest kind. It is obvious in every way, the movement of your mouths, determined to preserve the sweetness and sweetness alone, and the itch in your palms, mapping each other out over and over again, and the determination of your lungs, using every last drop of oxygen before demanding an exchange. 

“T-thank you for that, dear.” His eyes open after a few seconds, with a sheepish smile that causes him to speak in whispers.

It’s about to get real dangerous for you, if he keeps being this cute. 

“I’m not about to say we should've done it sooner, for it is a complete waste of our time repeating a truth well known, and I've already used that trick before, but maybe we should do it again.” 

Okay, but how does that kind of sass sound cute from your perspective?

“Don't push your luck.” You say, fingers smoothing his hair, and his complaint dies on his throat visibly. He purrs, eyelids closing. That's the moment you decide to press a small peck to his lips for all his troubles. It lasts longer than intended, and while it's definitely different than the previous one, him gripping your waist telling a different story. The weight of them is welcome nonetheless, and it serves as an anchor, like you two could be molded into a statue if he held it long enough.

However, he is the one to break the stillness, shifting in his chair- first of all, how dare he, you're doing the acrobatics here-

Oh.

He notices that you've noticed it. Clearing his throat, Obi Wan lets his hands slide to the table, just a centimeter away from your body. “It’s been some time.” His face remains focused on the floor.

Didn't he even take care of himself?

You push his shoulder back, and he takes it a step further without a blink, sliding away with his chair. 

What he doesn't expect, is for you to stay exactly where you are, only this time on your knees. He has to gulp once, then twice, because he finally looks at your face, smiling back at him. 

“May I help?” Admittedly, your fluttering gaze was unnecessary, and tips him even more. You don't miss the way he stabilizes his hands.

“By all means.” 

You start by unfastening the buttons of his tan trousers, letting your forearms rest on his thighs. He aids your quests by lifting his hips a little, being freed from the constraints of the fabric-

There he is.

You bite your lip at the sight, and the sight is not just his huge cock, already hard and weeping for you. It is about him, and the redness that creeps up his neck, the way he hisses and bites his knuckles at the cool air hitting his sensitive skin, how he claws at the armrest waiting for your touch. His head nearly hits the back of the chair when you finally do, a small moan leaving his exposed throat.

Well. You really should’ve done this sooner.

Your thumb swirls around his head, more fluid leaking out as you do so. Thus your fingers slide down his shaft easily, and he is coated in his slick in no time, along with your palm. It twists around him without rush, leaving him to wander in that dream like state without mentioning a finish line. You want to ask him, ask him how he likes it, or make him cover your hand with his, guiding you, but you also want him to stay just like this, eyes fixed with that heavy lidded gaze, partially obscured by that infamous strand of hair that refuses to be tamed like others. His mouth hangs open with loud breaths and sometimes graces you with sounds of his pleasure.  

“Harder.” The only instruction you need.

You clasp tighter and shudder like him, taking pride in your work. He can feel the strain in his muscles fading second by second, the problems in his mind are plucked out one after the other, replaced by your soothing words you repeated constantly for days at this point, and expert hands, creating the same effect on his body.

“Like this, Lord Kenobi?” You require you still acquire his opinion, a feedback, and his title rolls off of your tongue unintentionally. Honestly, there’s no explanation you can make even to yourself, but you are already over it as his cock twitches under your palm, and his groan fills the room.

“Y-yes. You’re doing- so good.”

That must be some sort of karma, for he is above the concept of revenge, but you’re left with an itch to grind your legs together at his praise. If you do that, you’ll probably feel your wetness smearing all over your skin, you’re sure of it.

And you’re determined not to be distracted.

Your other hand joins the game too, starting to massage his balls. That makes him tense under you for a moment, but the tension dissolves quickly, leaving him dizzier.

“Fuck-“ Even the simplest swear word sounds hypnotizing on his lips, “you’re perfect. Don’t stop.”

Like you had any intention to do that.

On the contrary, your intentions evolve in the direction after his words, perhaps even a little bit further. You lean in and lick a stripe up his length, the tip of your tongue dancing around his head, fully tasting him, before you take him to your mouth fully.

His hand flies up, shaking as it comes down, held back by the strongest of wills from delving into your hair. Instead, it inches closer to your cheek, and returns to the position before (because he may have just lost five years of his life feeling the way you swallow him), half-stabilized over the armrest. His head rolls back once more, unashamed to release his moans with your every move. The most sinful one comes out when you use your throat, gagging around his thickness. You repeat it, and he whimpers, earning an equal sound from you too.

This time, you don’t have to ask him anything. The eye contact as you recover your breath, and continue to stroke him tells you everything you need to know, tells how much he enjoys it.

“Please- darling-“

You don’t try to choke on him again, but keep a rhythm with your tongue and your palm. He reaches climax quickly nonetheless, throbbing in your mouth and coating it white. Obi Wan feels sorry for not warning you, a sense of guilt rising alongside that pleasure, but it once again came over with lust as you gulp it down without a blink. He even fears he might go hard in a second, against all the rules of nature. You provoke that in all ways possible, pressing small kisses to his shaft, occasionally licking it, and letting your head rest on his thigh.

“Thank you.” It is so out of place to say that for this kind of act, but it is the sentence that is spoken, breaking the silence.

“You’re welcome, my Lord.” Thankfully, you raise your gaze just in time to miss the way his cock moves. You straighten your back and throw your shoulders back, stretching like you’ve just woken up.

So cute and so filthy.

“I’d like to return the favor.” He says, the action fueled only by his kind and generous soul.

“Some other time.” Your smile reflects the acknowledgment, not mocking his advances. “I am expected from home.”

“Ah, pity. Send my regards to your family.” He can’t help but feel envious of them. Do they know to treasure your company, not take a second of it for granted? Do they know what you did to him, before joining them? Would they be as accepting as ever, aware of your scandalous affairs?

Of course not.

But even then, you’d deserve much better than what they would treat you like. Your courage alone is enough to make the world bow down to you.

And what if your family means something other than your blood, your relatives? What if it was a stranger, a man undeserving, but had you to himself every night, when you returned home from your daily activities? A lucky fool who had the blessing of knowing you’d be by his side soon, every damn day.

His fingers turn into fists as you clean yourself up, so pretty in your ignorance to his gaze, brows slightly furrowed as you smooth out the wrinkles on your dress.

“Shall do.” And with your cheery voice, he doesn’t even notice his grip is unclenched.

===

Red isn’t his color. Some say it suits him well, that the stark contrast is eye-catching, but he doesn’t like to carry it. At this point of his life, it’s not even about his clothing choices, he prefers anything over that pigment in every possible scenario; the sheets, the carpets, the flowers… He makes a point of avoiding that powerful color.

Not today, though.

He has no word over how you dress and for once, tries very hard to stay neutral, not verbalize his choices when you mention the outfit you’ll be wearing in his ball, and it is a successful endeavor. (Knowing you and your stubbornness, it would probably only damage the bond between the two of you, something you’ll quip for years, or God forbid, keep you from attending at all.)

In the end, you wear it, and he ends up where he doesn’t want to be. Drowning in that bloody cloud. Without remorse, for the first time in his life.

For once, he finds himself chasing after it, taking joy in its liveliness, surrendering to the dangerous promises it makes. Your presence brings energy to every room you enter. The candles seem to burn brighter, and the warmth in his chest is not solely a result of both of your accomplishment of the spectacle. Obi Wan smiles ear to ear, eyes almost closed because of it, and he wants nothing more than to dance with you all night long, bury his hands in that expensive fabric and feel the burn in your cheeks, painted with the same color. He doesn’t even mean it in a perverse way. He wants to celebrate the payoff of your efforts, let the pride be felt, and enjoy the treats like all the guests, or even more than them (it would be more than fair to do so), together.

Alas, the society you both live in isn’t the type to accept such things. In order to not taint the event with the bitterness reserved for that principle, he doesn’t ask for more than six dances, or follow you around the saloon like a lost puppy. While it is never enough, he counts and cherishes the accidental eye contacts, and your hands holding his in dances, or the different circles you ran into each other and have snippets of various conversations. He accepts every compliment with your name tied behind his tongue and feels relieved with each passing hour, realizing how perfect everything is going, thanks to your pieces of advice and restrictions. He is light as a feather underneath all those layers he had to put on for the evening, without the pressing intention of taking it all off as soon as possible.

But, there are two sides to every coin, and here comes the other side, halfway through the night, the prejudice he had returning sinisterly.

He does a decent job of suppressing his jealousy, for all the purposes he’s thought of before. He can glance over when you dance with a stranger, or two, ricocheting on the stage and putting on a show for everyone. He chooses to admire the beauty you’re radiating, shining like a rose after the rain. It keeps him occupied for a while. But when an hour passes and you’re not even looking at his general direction, way too engulfed in your conversation with them, he feels a distaste rising in him. The red bleeds into his heart, poisoning him. It slowly takes over, and by the time you throw your head back with a burst of laughter that echoes in the room, he’s entirely filled with it. His hands twitch with every dream of ripping the source of that poison from your skin in a cove meant for just the two of you, away from all the vultures that eat and drink and savor his doings and yet ready to crucify him at his slightest flaw.

Obi Wan is one step away from sending everyone to their homes when you escort that man to the garden. Honestly, the only reason he doesn’t is because you return in a minute or two, the tip of your nose giving away all he needs to know- it’s chilly.

And he didn’t even give you his jacket?

On the second thought, it’s best that he didn’t, because then Obi Wan wouldn’t even bother to get rid of the crowd to have his way with him.

“Lord Kenobi.” You manage to catch him alone, on the balcony. He’s up there to calm his nerves, over you, unbeknownst to you. Unfortunately, his progress is lost the second he hears your voice, and it is truly an effort to act otherwise.

The night is on the brink of ruin for him, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. This is why he tries so hard.

“I must congratulate you on this beautiful ball. It is a night to remember.”

“Don't say it like the honor doesn't belong to us both.”

You shrug, as if whisking all the credit away. But your eyes twinkle with pride. 

“I haven't had this much fun in ages,” You chirp,  “I would've begged for another one already, if I hadn't witnessed the toll it took on you.” He covers his face at the mention of the state he has been in for the last couple of weeks. “Oh God, don't.” 

“Oh God, you just didn't expose yourself like that! When will you start enjoying this?” Your laugh is a hidden giveaway of how many glasses you had tonight. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed for those who may inquire.” Your lips. Wrapped around his cock. Mapping out his neck. Keeping his secrets.  “Remember that every word that comes out of my mouth is said by a person who attended all types of feasts all over the continent for a decade now. I grew up around these circles.” Shrugging, you add. “Perhaps that was my undoing.”

“Undoing? I could never call you “undone”.” Ironic, how you make him forget about before and continue to concern him with totally different subjects.

“You’re right.” Thoughts come out a little slow, but your effort is evident on your face. “I just had too many opportunities to start over in new places, experience everything that I was curious about, and that all led me to discover exactly what I liked, what I wanted from life.”

“How’s that a bad thing?” 

“I’m not willing to let that go anytime soon.” You can’t help but notice that it sounds like some sort of prison of your will, but that’s not a discussion you can have tonight. “Anyways, Obi Wan. I must be going now, just wanted to pay my compliments and wish you good night.” 

“I thought you’d stay the night-“Well, that’s definitely not the case, “But it is so early?”

“You know our houses are not so close, any later than this and I’m going to fall asleep on the road out of habit.”

Yeah, that’s why he thought it would be perfectly reasonable for you to stay over. 

“I see.” And he wishes he had gone blind and deaf. “Then, allow me to bid you good night, my Lady.” 

He takes your hand, placing a kiss you can very much feel despite the fabric. What he doesn’t expect, is for you to press your palm against his chest in return, because he doesn’t know of the urge you have to not leave. It is a split second of override, before you can command your feet to move again, blissfully unaware how tender that moment was.

===

A day. A full day. That’s how long he can refrain from seeing you. Funny, the meetings have become a habit for him, and although he needed you back then, he needs you more now, for completely different reasons, and you’re not there that morning- and why would you be? There’s no arrangement that demands your assistance anymore. Your praises are all said and done, and if to be repeated, it wouldn’t certainly be a matter that required urgency for you to show up at his door.

And maybe, you have other places to be, other doors to knock. Perhaps you’d enjoy a change of air.

So, he has come to yours.

Naboo. Aldreaan. Correlia. The cities churn in his mind, alongside your image in every one of them. The flowers in your hand as you roam the fields of Naboo, the coat that doesn’t do much for the redness on the tip of your nose while you lodge in the mountains of Alderaan. The exquisite jewelry you wear to a Correlian masquerade, outshining every debutante in the room. He imagines the people hypnotized by your presence (what can they be, other than blessed), or you gliding among them (after all, discretion was your powerful suit). And the worst of all, he thinks of the man escorting you, claiming their dances, bringing you a glass of their rare wines, walking with you in the natural scene, their savage arms around you, their hands groping your curves, pulling sweet sounds from you.

(No, the purpose of his visit was not that. )

He invites himself in from your open balcony, catching you as you start your nightly routine. You’re taking off your hairpins, when he does the courtesy of knocking on the glass, startling you just a little. You jump, but thankfully do not scream, the reflex somehow suppressed. Truth be told, it’s not because your shock actually dwindles. If anything, it is redirected into a different question, going from “What the fuck was that?” to “Why the fuck is he here?”

“Good night, darling.” He gestures for you to sit again, and you do, returning to your chair in front of the vanity. Your head has to crane in a strange way for you to see him, but thankfully, he comes closer and solves the problem, eyes meeting through the mirror. And his face lights up as he sets foot in the room, like he too has forgotten everything but this moment, his jealousy and desperation left behind the walls. That’s how the question of “What are you doing here?” is not immediately articulated.

 Instead, you say, “Good night, Obi Wan.”

“I see I managed to visit you just in time.” Look at him, fixing his beard, laughing nervously. He just climbed to the second floor, and his heart only got racing now.

“Lucky you.” Honestly, you don't think there's a “wrong time” in his perspective, at least when it comes to you. A few minutes later, and he'd see you in your nightgown. Would that deter him from setting his foot in here? Most, most, most likely, no. Don't dwell on that thought, though. “And what do I owe the pleasure?” You try not to focus too much on the fact that you have him and your bed in the same frame, through the reflection. 

“I thought I would see you today.” Is that sarcasm in his tone, or a little bit of self-humiliation?

This must be some sort of a Shakespeare play, right? 

Oh my God, it is. 

“Ah.” You fiddle with your hairbrush, the eye contact broken, your attempt to stop any matter from escalating this night. Any matter. Not that you had any questions when it came to his morals, he probably was the one person you’d never doubt, but in terms of his intentions to be here tonight startled you in a much different light. “I slept in late today. Didn’t even leave the house.”

Oh. That makes quite the sense.

“Actually I still feel a little bit exhausted.”

“That’s because you had too much fun without me last night.” A treacherous scoff falls from his lips as he shakes his head. The moment that the tides turn. The one that brings back all the crude questions.

“What? No? What do you mean?” For all your effort to remain calm, you look alarmed, that tired face with doe eyes showing it all, and he feels sorry for a second, troubling you over his overthinking ass.

Then, he spots the bracelet you wore last night, lying haphazardly over a piece of paper on the corner of the table. It looks very much like a letter.

It’s not hard for him to advance his speculations.

“I think you know it already.”

“Obi Wan.” You twist to actually face him, your arm on the back of the chair. “Why are you here?”

He takes a few steps back, as if the air is stolen from the short distance between the two of you. He runs a hand through his hair, undisturbed by its messy result. You can see him biting into his cheeks, trying to select the right words. In the end, all that effort seems unnecessary, because when he speaks, the sentence can’t be any simpler. “Who was the man you spent an hour with last night?”

Wincing, you take a few seconds to process. It’s not about the answer, but his motive, his audacity that irks you. You stand up and speak. This time, your voice is sharp as ice. “That’s none of your business.”

He blinks a few times, so sure of his righteousness, and determined. “You were in my house, at our ball, dancing and talking with strangers and not even glancing in my direction for the better half of the night. I think it’s some of my business.”

“I was by your side for much longer than it is acceptable, Kenobi, do I need to remind you? We danced six times and greeted the majority of guests together.” You’ll not let the truth be ignored. “Any longer than that and there would be rumors all over the society today, and even I would’ve heard about it despite staying here all day. I didn’t come this much by pushing boundaries at every fucking chance I get. I picked my battles, the thing you seem incapable of.”

“So, am I to understand, this thing between us,” The look on his face dares you to deny the existence of it, “is not worth picking?”

This is the possibility that scared you. And for good reason, it seems. You close your eyes, in order to not roll them, and purse your lips. He uses the moment to reach for your arms, like he could appeal for an answer from you. “Don’t you love what we have?”

You couldn’t feel any worse under the warmth of his hands, affection pouring out of them despite the rage in him. “I love what we had.”

“Had?”

“It’s obvious that we can’t keep doing this, is it not?”

Confusion leaves its place to anger once more, for all the wrong reasons and his face darkens. “Oh, I see. You secured yourself a new entertainment, and now you have to get rid of the old one.”

You shrug out of his hold, distancing yourself from him. The source of the problem is not what he claims it to be, and it infuriates you, along with the accusations he taints you with.  “Don't you dare reflect your own degeneration on me like that! It’s not about my damn cousin’s damn friend, it’s about you!” It is nearly a scream, the highest pitch that wouldn’t grab attention. Still, reflectively, you turn your head to the door, which you had luckily locked. “Leave now, you bastard!”

Honoring the part he was assigned in that theatre play, he focuses on the wrong part of the words, the crumbles of information giving him hope, and dim his doubts. “So there's nothing between you and him?”

Seething, you are red with fury, taking a sharp breath, pointing your finger at him like a gun. “Get. Out.” 

“Is there?” 

Your tongue is determined not to let him hear your words, despite the truth in them. It will not lead to any good. 

But so will his closeness.

When did he get so close? 

The moment you look into his ocean eyes, the decision to say anything is deemed impossible. The decision to do anything, actually. His arms cage you against the cluttered table, and yours end up on his chest, though without any intention of pushing him away.

“Answer my question, and I will.” 

How could you? How can you be able to resist his utmost sincerity, the desperation in his behaviors and the brutality of his words contrasted in the way he looks at you, the caging without actually touching you. Your suffocation is only a result of your inner turmoil, the desire to spit out the truths, clear his heart and give in to the love he's handing out, but terrified of the places it will take the two of you.  

“I’m waiting, darling.”  You can’t help but watch his perfect lips move, his voice licking your skin. 

You gulp, an action he doesn’t miss, and dares to laugh at it. Obi Wan can see the exact moment your gaze returns to being that of an eris, though the flames remind him of a different time.

A very different time. 

“I hate you.” It is perhaps the most childish thing you’ve ever said in years, and it shows. 

So, that’s his cue to kiss you.

For all your claims, still, he doesn’t miss the small moan you let out, swallowing it with pride. Your soft lips move against his like a habit, anticipating every move and the next, a choreography you both know all too well  albeit in a much swifter tempo. Your hands wrap around his neck, pulling him closer but his stay in the same spot, afraid to disturb you, though gripping the edges hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Though, when he tugs at your bottom lip, asking for more, you grant him that, your tongues joining the dance. You whimper, the action triggering your inhibitions to loosen up, like each second wipes the doubts away. It is a sugared water, only serving to increase the thirst instead of quenching it. So you don't stop drinking it.

Not til you absolutely have to.

“No, you don’t.” 

Two seconds have to pass for you to understand his response. With his breath still warming your cheeks, even brushing them with his nose, yes he dares now, the statement is the undeniable truth.

However, not that you're ready to admit it. He already knows too much, all the things you like, all your weak spots, all of your soul.

“Yes, I- oh” And he's not the one to endure your lies. His fingers delve into your scalp, putting traction into your hair ‘til you have to tilt your head back to release the tension, forcing you to look at him through your lashes. Still, eye contact is not what he seeks, for he has as much a chance of getting lost in it as you. He uses the expanse of skin you offer, and dives in for that specific spot that has your legs going limp. It has two consequences: Firstly, you are stuck between him and the table, the latter supporting you too little that the weight rests almost entirely on his body, every plane of him touching yours. Secondly, the angle puts the mirror in the corner of your sight, and you have a maddening view of what’s happening. It is enough to make old ladies screech and faint, and artists to slave to immortalize the scene.  

“You’re a bastard.” You murmur the last bit of objection, solely for the object of throwing it out of the tip of your tongue. He hears, though quite unbothered, the retort to break you further leaves his mouth readily.

“Call me whatever you want, dear, you’re the one begging for it.”

Of course, you only pant in return. Even when he threatens to nip and bite at the sensitive nerves, you don’t stop him. Furthermore, your calf twists around his as much as it is able in that impossible posture. An invitation.

“And what else would you let me do to you? Would you let me take you to your bed?”

You nod, frantically. “Yes, please Obi Wan- take me”

That’s a sentence straight out of his dreams.

The second your feet touch the ground, both of you gather the ends of your dress, yanking it out to throw it haphazardly on the floor. Your stays and chemise follow the same fate, then it is his jacket and shirt. He taps on your thigh, like he would let you walk the five meter distance between there and the bed, you jump, a little shakily (not that you ever had questions about his strength). Fuck, it excites you how easily and softly he lands you on the edge of it. You reach for his trousers, but he stops you and urges for you to scoot back, and lay down.

Because that’s the best way he can rid you of your shoes and stockings.

Your knees stick together as he works on one foot, and the other. The shoes drop with a loud thud, making you bite your lip, close your eyes for a moment and pray nobody investigates. It’s no wonder that after that small break, your pupils meet once more. How ironic that it is the cause of your concern, and the only solution.

You can feel his fingertips skimming the top of the only clothing left on you. While the touch is stimulating enough, it is the fact that you have to spread your legs a little to allow him to undress you, giving him a view of your wet pussy.

Nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but that doesn’t affect the way you tremble.

Throwing your head back, you let him slide the stretchy fabric down. Slowly. Like his piercing gaze isn’t enough. You’re squirming by the end of it, all thoughts of getting him out of his outfit gone (-or delayed, should you still believe yourself.)

Thankfully, he takes care of it, the sounds of his buttons unfastened echo in the room. 

Though he has no rush to join you. 

You turn your face to search for what's taking him so long, a whine in your throat when he kneels. That's unlike him. 

You feel cold without his body looming over yours. And he has a hard time not to do that, not falling for the flush of red and your hard nipples. Especially when you're so gone that you may come undone just from that.

He'd like to see that. 

But he has to make you understand how you keep him in that state, ignorant of his troubles, even as the solution is obvious and wanted by both sides, however the other can't accept it out of simple stubbornness.

Thus, he plays the deaf now, as he grips the supple flesh of your thighs, squeeze and move as he pleases, exposing your core to air while he busies himself with other parts. He claims you with his lips, mapping out, pushing you down to the mattress every time you jolt because he’s so close just a little to the left- But perhaps the worst is his vulgar taunts, whispered, to himself mostly, a way to speak out the anger.

“Are you this wet for all the men you hate?”

“No.” You cry, not able to stand the accusations. “It’s you.”  And it is the truth. There are no other men on the planet that you would bear being treated like this by, or attempt to change their opinion of you. But now, you need him to know that. You can’t imagine a future with his back always turned to you, or be subject to his very much forced small talk with empty, or worse, hatred filled eyes. It is a reveal of a side of you that you had to keep hidden and downplay, to be free at the end of the day, give both of you an opportunity to walk out, but it doesn’t matter if the said fallout leaves his judgment of you sour. You care about his perception, and would do your best to change it should it be mixed with lies. Truth, and nothing less, is what he deserves.

A wave of relief floods his heart, that simple answer is all he wishes to hear. There’s also a bit of rage, for knowing you’d never admit it in any other circumstance. Alas, the smile appearing on his face is unstoppable. Even as he finally begins to eat you out.

A moan leaves your mouth at the first contact, which is nothing more than a small kiss. That bad, uh? As he licks everything he can reach, it turns into a whine, because it is evident he has no concern about making you cum quickly, or in a normal amount of time. He just continues to do whatever he was doing before, exploring every nook and cranny, and marking, like he intends to commit this moment to his memory. It may not have been his first time, (or the second), but he’s doing it for himself now, your desperation sadly not a priority. You also suspect he’s doing it to drive you mad, using his previous experience and remembering how sensitive you got when his beard rubbed against your skin.

“Obi Wan-“ Your back arches, a hand reaching for his hair. He stops it all by jostling your legs with a hold that could leave imprints. It takes half of your willpower to stay in the place he put you in, and that means you only have the other half to process the indescribable pleasure he’s giving. It is gonna be fast, whether he plans it or not.

“Could you actually throw this away? How can you pick anything else over this?” You knew it would be a hard transition. The magic he created is haunting and ready to jump on you in those dark corners, even after many years. There is no cure for ghosts, after all. The thought now seems impossible, the last thing that could cross your mind. Simply impossible. He emphasizes by nudging your clit, every single movement forcing a sound out of you. “That's right. I’m going to remind you how good we are together, make you feel so good that you'll forget anything but us.” 

The passion in his words scares you, but it would be a lie to say they don't excite you in some way, making your heart flutter in your chest at his devotion and to be able to still feel safe only supported by the honest bond you two have. You chant his name as he smothers himself in your folds, sucking and flicking your raw bundle of nerves. He loves to feel you twitch when you are overwhelmed, but not enough to climax. 

Then, he scrapes your clit with his teeth, and you're gushing, head thrown back, a silent scream in your mouth. The hot lava inside you doesn't cool down, paying its visit to every part of you, making stars explode behind your eyes and body trash against the sheets. To be perfectly honest, he didn't expect this much either, his strong muscles tightened to keep you from closing your legs, a string of curses muttered at the obscenity of it all. As always, your bliss only augments his own, especially at the sight of your essence flowing out of you. He has to drink it all in. Thus, he doesn’t stop, unbothered by the subtle sway of your hips, or the slight tug at his strands. He has no objection to them, on the contrary, he would encourage them if he didn't have to abandon his task to say the words. The slow movements of his tongue create constant stimulation in your already delicate nerves. Your second orgasm crashes you like a clap of thunder, leaves you sobbing and shaking. It uses all the energy in your already spent muscles, wipes every argument from your mind and removes those troubling emotions from your soul. The interesting thing, is that you have no oppositions to the matter. Why would there be? Could there be a sweeter arrangement? Isn’t it better than a dream? You speak the truths, and he worships you. You pay him the respect he deserves, and he tries to honor it in every chance. You don't complete his personality, you enhance it, and in return, he uses everything in his power to make your day better. 

It is not that simple, a voice speaks from the back of your head, but it's too silent to have an importance. 

Likewise, some of his ideas are dismayed just as easily. Pity. He had every intention of taking you from behind, not letting you get away before painting your ass red, and watch you crawl back to him still even when he teased you that badly, but you seem too gone, too weak to lift your hips up. And it is not a big deal anymore, because he's equally excited to have you like this, lying on your back, legs hugging his torso. Like your first time. The parallel is unintentional, but more than welcomed. How much and how little has changed since then? He leans in for a kiss, and fuck, your mouth is greets him too purely, like he's not covered in your slick. There's something more than lust that drives you, evident in the way you move, like you’re carving out a promise on his lips. The sounds that you produce are not in desperation, but gratitude, not weary of the periods of suspense but glad that it is over. His fingers travel the length of your abdomen, all blame on him for the coldness of your skin and the way you shiver. When he circles your nipples with his thumb, you sigh, and press yourself to him. 

“You take care of me like no other, Obi Wan.” You whisper as you cup his cheek. You should’ve told him sooner. It was the least you could do. 

He has no answer, and he doesn’t need one. Holding your wrist at the sides of your head angrily and meeting with your tongue is more than enough of an explanation, just like the one you made a little too late, beautiful controversies. You both are unaware of how your hips rub against each other, without hurry, ‘til his cock catches your entrance. Your breathing becomes erratic, considering you didn’t get a prep or had any in some while, and he’s big. 

“Are you gonna let me in, sweetheart?” 

“I need you.” You almost wail, despite knowing it will be too much. It’s not about pleasing him, either, for these things are not given up as sacrifices, ever. What matters is that you’re together, and that is always good. “Please, I want you.”

Could he ever refuse?

He takes his time, relishing the surrender of your tight walls, and brave noises, replied with his own moans. Your pants are guiding as much as they are troubling, making him even harder. He swears he’s about to burst when you outright sob while he brushes your areolas. Your back raises, an attempt to get his fingers a little higher, and your eyelids flutter close with the movement.

Make no mistake, your face scrunched up in delight is a sight to behold, but he can’t compromise having your eyes closed, sparing him from that glossy, burning gaze you have when he tears you apart. He needs to see them lose all coherent thought, see those doubts fly away and light up with pleasure.

“Look at me, dearest.” Right, aren’t you more than acquainted with his most important wish? He pleads, the softest tone that spilled from his lips tonight. Your heart skips a beat although you’re not exactly capable of processing that information. Needless to say, you don’t oblige to his wish, not when you are so spent. 

Obi Wan groans, his hand flying up to turn your chin. At that moment, all fall silent. You get lost in his stormy eyes, and so does he. Though his cock twitches in your quivering channel, that’s not the point.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He blurts. Then, the other truths demand to be told too.  “I don't like the way they look at you. I don't like how they don't know how blessed they are by your presence. Shit, I hate it when they know it too. I hate to think those who got to memorize you this closely, even those you knew before me.” 

Even those you knew before me. “Obi Wan, you're-” 

“Crazy? I'll admit, I am crazy when it comes to you.” 

“I never-” You have to drown a whimper as he continues his deep, slow strokes, “asked for any of it.”

“Of course, dear. I know, I know it's not you, but them. But I can hardly stop myself from reaching out and pulling you out from their sigh. Or wrap my hands around you, let them see what we share. They wouldn't dare anymore, if they knew the lines you left on my back.” It takes an incredible amount of will not to thrust into you faster, with where his ideas lead him to. “Would you let me mark you from the inside?”

Fuck, why does his words make their way into your heart without ringing those alarm bells you have ready at all times? How does he move past them so easily? 

Or do you let him, and take those rings as a cheery tune of his nearing presence, and not a warning as they must be?

“Yes!” The feeling of him finishing anywhere but in you suddenly sounds so disgusting. You want his warmth, even though you're burning already. 

His lips find yours, kissing you so hard that you'd thought he wanted to silence you. But surely, you know better, that's definitely not the case. You get to drink his sweet moans as his hands envelope you further (like it's possible). In return, he's right there to swallow your gasps, the proof of how you push yourself for him. The rest of the world stops, the urge to fill your lungs no longer necessary, nothing but the rhythm you've created, and clouds you've climbed on. 

He senses your peak before you do and gives you a brief space to breathe, praises falling from his lips that you can't hear, as you shake and let out whimpers, quite loud, for you've grown used to him muffling them. He follows suit, not able to resist your walls clamping down on him, painting your insides with a heavenly moan. 

It takes a second for both of your bearings to return, for the night to evolve into a chilly summer night it was simply meant to be. The coldness is especially remarkable as sweat cools down. A towel wipes them rather quickly, but it's never as warm as having the other around. Your usual remedy, a nightgown, is no use either, even if he helps you put it on. It is such a whiplash that makes you question everything about the last hour. You're left with burning cheeks as he collects your clothes from the floor, hanging them on the divider, then his- but he does the same to them?

“What are you doing?” You croak, a minute of silence for your vocal cords. “I don't cuddle.” That's a harsh sentence, but it's the truth.

“And I don't leave the person I love in the middle of the night to freeze.” He's holding a candle, the only lit candle in the room, and his face is illuminated beyond anything else and it could be said that he is the source of light. 

The person I love. His words break down the last resolve you have, and you're left to figure out how you feel about it as he kills the flame, and slides  into the sheets behind you. You'd think the sensation of his chest pressed to your back would keep you wide awake, but no, it's weirdly new yet familiar, enough to lull to sleep. Also, his scent is mesmerizing, and you never had it this close and constant. 

And for him, he had no trouble whatsoever from the start, but this is far better than expected, that he is sure he is living the best moment of his fate. The softness of you, in his arms, drifting into heavy dreams. It is a treasure for him to see that you can relax beside him, allow him to feel the regularity of breaths, showing your most natural self. 

But the morning is anything like the night.

You wake up from the orange lights of the rising sun, when he gently combs your hair out of your face. There's a fatigue in your muscles, alongside that sweet tinge of pleasure still lingering, making it all bearable. Your skin runs hot where he holds you, your back, your waist, your intertwined legs… The slight prickle of his beard is not pronounced when it's rolling on your shoulder, especially as it's followed by small pecks. He's unable to resist, your intoxicating smell pronounced in the cove of your neck, right under his nose. Only when he feels somewhat satisfied, and you seem a little more conscious, the tonus of your body increasing, he talks. 

You weren't ready for his morning voice.

“Good morning, love.” His hand rises to soothe the redness rising where his chin was pressed. Delicate all over. “I’m afraid I must get going, for both of us’ sake.” 

You give an affirming hum, and swiftly roll out. Your body betrays you without delay, a shiver seizing you, protesting the lack of his heat. You shake your shoulders, not so subtly but it's not like you can cringe. It is your band aid, and you're ripping it out. 

You reach for a robe and put it on rather easily for your questionable nerves and state of mind. 

“Darling?” 

“Yes, you should really get going, Obi Wan.” Fuck, that sounds still more aggressive than you are, or you ever intended, a mirror of the storms in your mind. 

“What's the matter?” He's awfully quick to put on his trousers and come near you once again. He looks into your eyes, unobscured by your hair, and then there's that look of reveal on his face, the point of no return. He says your name, a final plead and a warning.

“You must leave soon.” This time, you’re a little softer, but it is nowhere near normal, considering what you shared.

“You think last night was a mistake.” He’s never sounded colder, and you have to focus not to bite your lip. The stern expression on his face is unbecoming of him, but it’s also a great reflection of his fidelity. Now, the other side of the coin shows itself, with his icy eyes and clenched jaw.

“I never-“ said that. Though, is there any possibility of you explaining what you feel? The doubts, the unfamiliarity of these feelings. Could you say, I’m not sure about this thing in between us, without creating the same effect of his claimed words?

There’s a second of silence, as he’s giving you one last chance to speak up. You know, you know that the moment you try, he’s going to break that heartless look, and put his loving hand out.

“For someone who thinks it was a mistake, you don't seem regretful at all.”

“Because it's not, and I don’t!” The confession is for him, but it is hard on you. But that doesn’t mean you’re willing to repeat it. “But it can become one. This has to stop. We can’t go further than this.”

“Why?” He’s trying his best not to raise his voice in this quiet, quiet hour.

“Because this is just- just an infatuation. It will go away. And to remember this time as a good one, we have to be careful, and we’re starting to lose that sense.”

An infatuation. That is the strangest insult he’s ever heard, but the worst nonetheless. An infatuation. The more he repeats the word in his mind, the more his anger grows, with a goal to show you otherwise.

“This is not what happened last night, and you know it.” He was as clear as day, and you honored that likewise. There was no lie. “If this is about you getting pregnant, I swear -”

“No, that's not it.” For once, you show something about the bond you have. “I have no concerns about you, or the whole society, should that happen. I’d even happily move away somewhere nobody knows my name and raise them.” 

Why is that option uttered, when there are far easier choices to make? “You’d rather build a new life than marry me?”

You remain silent once more, owning the coward you are. This is exactly why this wouldn’t work, anyways. He shakes his head, catching himself still thinking of ways to convince you, to work through the problem. He even thinks of walking out of the main door, and running into your father's study, forcing your hand in marriage.

You can see that thought play in his head as his gaze becomes fixated on the door.

"See. That's why.” You beg. “This is just an obsession, and you are maddened with it. You can't see reason, or listen to the sound of it, and I can't watch you make decisions like this. Is this how you actually want to treat me? Blackmail your way into marrying me?”

“So, this is what you think of me.” Blackmail. 

“No, Obi Wan, are you even listening to me?” You cover your face with your hands, a moment to recollect yourself. “Do you know when my next trip is scheduled?” 

Oh. You and your infamous life on the roads. 

“In three days. And do you know I already postponed it once?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we have very different lifestyles, and they are not compatible.”

“Or maybe, you are running from something so long that it has become a habit.”

“I do it because I like it. Because I promised people that I would see them before the end of autumn.” The latter part of your answer is not in your favor, but his, a product of overthinking. You discover that a little too late. He sees it too, along with the fragile curl of your lips, but doesn’t use it against you. Not anymore.

“I wish you a safe trip, then.” That’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to regret your preferences, as he takes a step back, and dresses himself in a blink with perfection. It causes you to feel vulnerable, like his stoic face and impeccable outfit which somehow looks even more put together than yesterday, when he was helped to put it on, paints him like a statue of a Greek god who is putting you on trial.

A trial that you fail.

Yet, by not punishing you, he gives you the worst sentence: Incarceration with your conscience.

[grippingbeskar]

Hi can I get a soft fic or some soft headcanons for what it’s like to sleep next to Obi Wan? Maybe how warm he is, how active he sleeps, if he cuddles and so on? 🥺

this is one of the cutest asks i have ever gotten. i hope this is okay, i tried to include everything but i didn’t wanna do just lil points bc obi-wan is filling my brain rn. thx for the ask!!!! xx

also idk why i think this, i just BELIEVE that obi wan wears really comfy clothes to sleep bc he’s always wearing his robes so he just wants to b comfortable sknddnnx okay bye.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Seven knocks in a pattern only Obi-Wan would recognise ring out as you try to keep as quiet as possible waiting in the hallway. The guards should be on a skeleton crew right now, meaning you had about thirty seconds to get inside before being seen.

As soon as you finished the familiar pattern, though, he swings the door open and all your senses are filled with him. Two warm arms wrap around you, tight and secure, and even though the lights are off you can tell exactly what he’s wearing— soft sweaters were practically his wardrobe when he was off duty.

Wordlessly, he pulls you forward toward the bed. It must be past 1 in the morning, because you finish your shift on watch around 12:30. These long night shifts seem to drag on longer now that you have someone waiting for you at the end of it. His arms stay wrapped around you, warming you up from a night out in the cold as he guides you down, body pressing against you from behind as he wraps you in the covers.

“How was work?” He mumbles against the back of your neck, kissing you softly on your shoulder.

“Cold. Long. Glad it’s over.” You feel him smile, and his arms wrap further around you. He was always like this when you slept together— keeping you as close as possible like you’d slip away during the night.

“Glad you’re here.” You can feel his breathing start to slow, obvious that you woke him with your loud entrance.

His arms get more relaxed around you, and one runs soothing lines up and down your side slowly as he starts to drift to sleep. You hardly need the comforter he’d wrapped around you— with him pressed behind you so close he was giving you enough body heat that you hardly remembered how cold it was outside.

You let your eyes close, knowing you’d be in the exact same position when you woke up. Obi-Wan was nothing if not dependable, and even in sleep he manages to be exactly where you need him. If you were tossing and turning he would move with you, letting you make yourself comfortable on top of him, or intertwined with him. Whenever you ended up he was there, so close you could bury your face into his neck or the soft fabric of those jumpers he always wore to sleep.

“Goodnight, my love.” He whispered before his arm grew heavy on your hip, the weight a comforting anchor. Even when you followed him into sleep, you could of sworn you were still smiling.

[stardust-kenobi]

Reminiscence

Part Three

Read Part 2

Obi Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan has been recognized in Mos Eisley, and with the Inquisitors monitoring the city, the two of you must temporarily relocate to avoid being found. During this time, your rampant nightmares persist.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, one bed trope (is this a warning or a promise?), mention of death and violence

A/N: buckle in bitches we are getting some spice. but not like spice like drugs. Like SMUT. ITS FINALLY GETTING SMUTTY

gif cred: @mcgregor

“The girl is too close to you, Master Kenobi” Master Windu’s voice carried heavily through the empty room.

“I am training her the same way I trained Anakin. There is no special treatment” Obi Wan claimed.

“Others on the Council disagree”

“Well, let them. I am doing my duty as has her Master. Nothing more” Master Kenobi insisted, careful not to get too defensive.

“See to it that it stays that way”

“I shall”

Footsteps drew closer to the door.

“And Obi Wan,” Windu called to him again.

“Yes?”

“I should not need to remind you of the laws forbidding romantic attachments to your padawan” Windu spoke firmly.

“Yes, Master Windu”

The guilt of eavesdropping weighed heavy on your conscience as your ear remained pressed to the door. You scurried away and found your seat on the bench outside the council chambers, hearing Master Kenobi’s footsteps approaching the door. The thumping inside your chest would be hard to hide.

It was probable that Obi Wan didn’t know the subject matter of his sudden meeting with Master Windu. Otherwise he would not have brought you, even if you did remain outside the door. There was undeniable tension between the two of you, there always had been. Maybe it was the force, or perhaps just human nature, but a spark ignited every-time he was near. You know he felt it, too.

To your unfortunate surprise, others were taking notice. You thought it was subtle, harmless, but apparently not.

Maybe someone saw the two of you pressed against each other during your training, staring deep into each other’s eyes. Maybe that person caught a glimpse of how you broke a nervous sweat just being that close to him. Or, maybe, they took note of how many seconds passed before you pulled away from each other.

It was an accident, you tripped and fell into him and he caught you. It was only one time, and you swore to yourself it would never happen again.

Regardless, you were treading through dangerous waters, and you expected that things were going to get awkward with Master Kenobi for a while. Your desire for him could never outweigh the honor of becoming a Jedi, an opportunity you’d be a fool to throw away.

You couldn’t look him in the eye as the doors slid open, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“Let’s go. We are going to be late” He said flatly, referring to the Senate meeting starting soon.

“Yes, Master” You said softly, debating whether or not to bring it up. Ultimately, you decided to be brave and ask.

“Is everything okay?” You asked vaguely. You’d be embarrassed to give away the fact that you were snooping on his meeting.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Everything is fine” He replied, sounding unsure and convincing seemingly at the same time. He looked to you, his eyebrows lifted in curiosity to your inquiry.

“Good” You smiled nervously back to him.

As you strolled the halls briskly with him, you passed a number of Jedi, visitors, younglings, and senators. Not a single eye was watching you, but somehow it felt like the world had a magnifying glass upon you two like a science experiment.

As you passed an empty corridor, you almost lost your footing when Obi Wan pulled you to the side, finding a broad marble pillar to hide behind. This was a mostly unused wing of the Temple, he knew this as well as you did.

“Where are we-” You began, confused, but were cut off by Obi Wan’s frantic motions. He put your back to the pillar and got dangerously close to you again. Your breath hitched in your throat

“Listen to me, my young Padawan”

“Okay”

“I don’t know what you heard in that meeting but,” Obi Wan breathed out with dread, “this cannot wait until later”

“I heard most of it” You confessed, omitting the part where you shoved your ear to the crack in the entryway in order to do so.

“I see”

“I’m sorry” You shrunk into yourself, ashamed of your spying.

“No need for apologies. Just listen” He started again, but not without a great deal of hesitation, “There is something about you that makes me forget myself…you make me blissfully forget what is right and what is wrong. It’s not your fault, but I fear what may happen if I continue to train you”

“Master, what do you me-”

“I cannot focus when I am around you. I cannot control my desire for you. My mind wanders and it is torment to me”

Your mouth may have dropped to the floor if you had allowed it to. You’d never directly spoken about the tension. It was almost as if not speaking it into existence meant it wasn’t really happening and didn’t have to be addressed. You had no idea what effect you had on him…

“I have to request you be reassigned. I’m sorry”

Your heart shattered in response. He couldn’t be serious.

“Please, no,” you pleaded, “I’ve already been transferred once, please don’t make me go through that again”

His eyes grew sorrowful and full of remorse. Master Kenobi knew of what you’d been through and how much progress you lost when you were reassigned to him from Master Ti.

“I know, little one, but it must be done. I’m sorry.”

“We can…we can figure something out. Please, can we at least try? Obi Wan, I know I’m not innocent in this. I struggle to focus around you as well. But it’s a challenge I’m willing to learn to work through. We can both work on this, it doesn’t have to be this way” You rambled, hoping to convince him otherwise.

Obi Wan fell silent and searched your expression for how you really felt.

“We are capable of a fresh start. I think we owe it to ourselves to try” You debated to him.

“Very well”, He spoke softly and you sensed a feeling of relief from him, “but if there is temptation again, I won’t reconsider a second time”

“I understand”

After that day, you grew distant from him. This absolutely broke your heart, but it had to be done. You turned yourself cold and forced yourself to focus only on your duties as a Jedi in training. Obi Wan was never the same either. You both still cared deeply for one another, but you knew to continue your behavior and allowing temptation to take over would be your downfall.

“I’m proud of you, Y/N”

These were the last words Obi Wan spoke to you up until your reunion. You held onto these words for years until they faded into an obsolete pile of hope that wasted away with your memory of him. Your heart ached all the time without him there.

“Gather your things” Obi Wan stated frantically as he returned home from his work. He startled you in the middle of your reading.

“Uh, o-okay” You stuttered in confusion.

“We need to leave” He continued whilst packing his clothes into a bag.

“Obi Wan what’s going on?”

“I think I’ve been recognized” He stopped in his tracks to weigh the gravity of the situation.

“By who?”

“An inquisitor” He swallowed hard.

“Do they know where you live?” You hesitantly asked.

“I’m not sure. I don’t want to risk it. We have to go off planet. It’s not safe on Tatooine”

“Where will we go?” You asked while you gathered what little belongings you had.

“Batuu. Just long enough to lay low. A day or two. They’ll move on eventually”

“Are you sure you want to take me?” You asked timidly. In this situation you didn’t want to complicate anything. You would understand if you needed to stay behind.

“You go where I go” He turned to you, holding your shaking hands in his palms.

You nodded with a reassuring smile.

“I know a man who owns an Inn on Batuu. He lets me stay there unregistered. With the Empire’s new protocols, no one can have a room at an inn without proper registration. I pay him under the table, no questions asked. Unfortunately this has happened a couple of times”

“Will he be okay with you bringing a guest?”

“He will have to be. I’m not leaving you here”

As the civilian transport ship exited hyperspace, you couldn’t help but gasp. Just in the few days you’d spent on Tatooine made you miss greenery and oceans, both of which came into view as the ship made its descent.

You’d heard of Batuu years ago, it used to be home to a separatist outpost in the days of the Republic, therefore you imagine there was probably a heavy imperial presence. If you tried to go anywhere else, Obi Wan would have to register as a guest, which would scan him, and it would alert the inquisitors searching for him. This deal was your best bet at safety for now.

As a former Padawan, you were likely flagged in the imperial records as well. Anyone they don’t have a death record for is still considered ‘on the run’.

“Head down, walk calmly” He whispered through the shield of his hooded robe as you descended the ship's open ramp.

You did just that. As you walked through the streets of Batuu, you noticed the scattered stormtroopers that paid little attention to you.

“How far are we?” You asked. Every step you took helped to fry your nerves. You swallowed your fear and kept walking, trying your hardest not to think about what would happen if you were caught.

“Not too far now” He barely spoke above a whisper.

The path that carried you through town narrowed significantly, covered now by lush forest instead of power lines and artificial lighting. You were nearly alone now, traveling down a stone walkway that began to feel like you two were walking through a fairy tail. You still mostly kept your head down. You could never be too sure.

You cautiously tilted your head up and caught a glance of an extravagant structure that towered over 20 floors. Elegant music trailed into your ears as you approached what looked like a resort, of some kind. The whole building stuck out like a sore thumb and drowned out the rest of the town in comparison, which you assume is why it’s tucked away outside of town. The exterior reflected the light like an Alderaanian palace, and the balconies that scattered up and down the length of its height held partygoers and travelers with credits to blow.

“This is the Inn?” You stopped, your jaw dropped.

“Not what you were expecting?” He smirked. That little devil, trying to impress you.

“Not quite” You laughed.

“I guess I never did describe it, did I?”

He’s so smug and doesn’t even realize it.

You hadn’t seen something so extraordinary since before the rise of the Empire. Since before you both went into hiding.

Obi Wan watched in adoration as your face twinkled under the shining lights. Your face was lit up like a child entering hyperspace for the first time. It excited you, staying somewhere this fancy. But it excited you even more to be staying there with him.

The interior was just as amazing. Everything shimmered and glistened, accented in gold. You could wipe the awe off your face, meanwhile all the guests in the lobby seemed incredibly adjusted to it.

“Many of them live here, they only rent out a few of the rooms. This is an interesting crowd but if you pretend like you belong, they won’t even notice us” He said, leaning over to you.

You nodded and looked around to observe the other guests. They all had a drink in hand, each one of them laughing or talking amongst a group. Their clothing reflected the exact establishment you were standing in. They were eccentric individuals, the types you’d seen plenty of back on Coruscant, but you can’t recall seeing these types of party goers around within the past few years. They all had this look in their eye, though, like they were avoiding the deep sorrow and regret lingering within them. You felt sorry for them, but also envious of their denial of what life had become.

“Hello, I’m looking for Satja” Obi Wan spoke confidently to the front desk. The receptionist looked startled, as if she’d seen a ghost.

“One moment”

“How do you know this guy again?”

“Long story”

A short man appeared from around the corner of a hidden office.

“Obi Wan!” The man shouted in glee when he saw him. You flinched at the call of his real name but then noticed, yet again, the partying hotel guests couldn’t care less. This was an interesting place.

“Satja, how are you?” Obi Wan smiled pleasantly at the man.

“Just fine, just fine. Business is booming as you can see!” He cackled, gesturing to the busy lobby.

“Yes, it seems so!”

“But hey, I don’t do it for the money”

“Satja, you only do this for money” Obi Wan scoffed playfully.

“You got me there”

“Listen, I won’t keep you. Just the usual, please” He softened his voice with the request.

“Nesa, take a quick break honey, I’ll take care of this one”

Satja shooed away the receptionist, who looked equally confused and pleased to be given a break.

“I gotta warn you, Obi Wan, Empire is cracking down. Don’t know if I’ll be able to do this much longer”

“What do you mean?”

“Bunch a’ troopers came in here last week asking for registration logs. It’s hard to fake those documents when you occupy a room without proper registration” Satja said regretfully. Obi Wan tried to hide his concern.

“But hey, I’ll keep helping ya as long as I can, I owe you my life”

“Thank you” Obi Wan nodded humbly. You decided that was a question for another day.

“So who’s this? Girlfriend?”

You cringed at the question, hoping he didn’t feel the pressure to say yes or no, so you spoke for him.

“Just good friends catching up” You smiled back.

“Oh yeah, we gotta lot of people that come here to ‘catch up’. I gotcha” he winked and cackled at his own comment again.

“Oh I’m sure you do,” You joked back to him.

“I’ll spare you the details of why we are here but 2 nights would be greatly appreciated. Whatever you have”

“You got it, my friend. 250”

“Why so much less than usual?”

“I gave you the ‘catching up’ special” Satja nudged him and began cackling again. You couldn’t help but laugh too, it was utterly contagious. Obi Wan was red in the face, trying to hide his smirk but failing completely.

“Satja” Obi Wan groaned

“Oh I’m just teasing. None of these jokers let me get in a good laugh around here”

“I thought it was funny” You corrected.

Satja high-fived you and looked at Obi Wan smugly. He worked some things in the data pad and took the credits from Obi Wan.

“Alright, pal. Room 16028G”

“That’s one of your nicer rooms isn’t it?” Obi Wan looked at him in astonishment.

“We just had a cancellation. Consider it my little gift to you”

“Thank you, Satja” You said graciously.

The walk to the elevators was filled with even more amusement. There was something fascinating to observe at every turn.

As the door to your room flung opened, you gasped. Similar to the lobby, the room was a perfect embodiment of elegance. The best resort accommodations that credits could buy. You weren’t used to this indulgence of luxurious things, you never had that in your life. The Jedi Temple is all of its glory paled in comparison. The room wasn't huge. It was a typical size, maybe a little larger, but the décor was beautiful.

“This is certainly nicer than the room he usually gives me”

“Wow” You mumbled. It was all you managed to say.

“It’s nice having company this time” He turned to you.

You smiled back at him as you set down your small satchel on the settee.

As you both took in the breathtaking view from your balcony and unpacked your belongings, you decided to pretend, just once, that you’re on vacation. Hiding from the empire should not be considered a vacation, but you must enjoy it if you can. Being with him was truly the only vacation you needed, anyways. The fancy inn was just a bonus.

“Dammit”

“What is it?”

“I guess I didn’t pack any clothes to sleep in” You rubbed your forehead. You were so frantic to leave earlier that you forgot to grab something, anything, to sleep comfortably in.

“You can borrow my tunic, here” Obi Wan offered kindly and tossed his clean sandy colored shirt to you. You recognized it as a shirt he typically slept in.

“Thank you”

You changed in the refresher and opted out of wearing anything under the shirt he let you borrow. It didn’t swallow you whole, but it was a bit longer than the bottom curve of your ass, and he’d never know you were naked beneath it. The idea of that…excited you.

“Are you okay with sleeping with m-…next to me?” Obi Wan asked as you exited the refresher.

“Of course. Besides, it’s a pretty big bed. I think we might lose each other in there” You joked.

Your heart raced inside your chest as you laid your head down on the pillow. He slept next to you that one night on Tatooine, but somehow this felt different. You hadn’t touched or kissed each other since the night at the cantina and that was almost a week ago. Nothing had been awkward, the moment just hadn’t felt right since then.

You turned away from him as you were too nervous to look at him lying next to you. It should be impossible to sleep right now, but you needed the rest, and you could only fight your heavy eyelids for so long before they defeated you.

“I probably won’t drift off to sleep for a while” Obi Wan whispered to you.

“I’m pretty tired now. I’ll probably go ahead and sleep”

“Goodnight, darling”

“Goodnight, Obi Wan”

A fuzzy cloud swept over your mind as memories began to flash back in front of you. There were screams. Distant, blood curdling screams. The child you protected kept disappearing from behind you. And a Jedi in your path kept falling to his death over…and over…and over. It was a loop… a horrid loop that grew louder and louder with every go around.

You couldn’t breathe. You gasped for air but your lungs failed you. You tried to scream but it was empty and silent. No one was coming to save you, but could you even save yourself?

A new vision came before you that was an unfamiliar loop in your nightmare. It was…Obi Wan. He stood before you, petrified. A red glow grew brighter behind him.

“Obi Wan?”

“Y/N, help me”

“I’m coming”

“Help, he’ll kill me”

A modulated breath pushed through a villainous mask. Everything went dark as Obi Wan pleaded for his life. His screams were cut short. You cried for him but he was gone.

—

Your eyes shot open and you leaned up in bed. You were breathing heavy and you must’ve screamed or cried in your sleep because Obi Wan was already moving to comfort you.

“I’m here, darling, I’m here” Obi Wan called calmly to you, “Sssh, it’s alright”

“Obi Wan” You whispered with realization of where you were.

It wasn’t real. I’m with him. I’m okay. He’s okay.

“Yes, I’m right here. Take a deep breath” He consoled you, scooting closer to you in bed.

Despite your best efforts not to break into a full on sob in front of him, you fell apart like shattered glass as he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your cheeks became soaked with tears before they seeped into the cloth of his shirt as you wept shamelessly in his grasp.

“They never stop, Obi Wan” You cried, trying to calm your breathing to prevent hyperventilation. The nightmares were back in full force again.

“I know, dear, I have them too” He spoke with sorrow.

“You do?”

“Yes. They’re debilitating” He said as he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, tucking your head under his chin. Being shielded by him was like being wrapped in a warm, blaster-proof blanket. “Waking up to one of those nightmares just to remember you’re alone in the desert is…hard”

You tried to calm yourself but your nerves were absolutely shot.

“It wasn’t real, you’re alive and you’re safe”

“Thank you” You whispered. You were so grateful for his presence in that moment.

"I'll hold you as long as you need"

You began to calm gradually as your mind processed and distinguished the difference between your nightmare and reality. You and Obi Wan sat there in silence for a while. He stroked your hair and kept your cheeks dry as your tears fell. You smiled to yourself, he was so selflessly kind.

"How are you feeling?" He asked after your tears had dried from your eyes.

"Better... a little freaked out, but I'm better" You sighed.

"I find it difficult to go back to sleep after one of my nightmares. Sometimes I just don't fall back asleep at all" He noted.

You nodded in agreement, but your mind immediately sparked a bad idea. When you would have difficulty falling asleep, oftentimes you would masturbate to ease your nerves. Sometimes you did it because you were horny and wanted to feel that pleasure, other times it was strictly an effort to chemically balance your brain back to normal and allow sleep to come easier.

"I have a trick to falling back asleep" You said, wondering if he'd ask what it is.

"Well good, so you'll be alright tonight?"

"Actually..." You winced, suddenly afraid to admit it.

"What is it?"

"I can't really do that...method...right now" You crawled across your words slowly.

"What do you mean?" He pondered, his eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

"I usually do it...alone" You emphasized. Your body may have been behaving by memory, but you felt yourself growing aroused just at the conversation of pleasuring yourself.

"Alone, like whe-....oh" He stopped himself when he realized. His eyes scanned the room before snapping back to you. Your face had changed and your tears had dried, and he could see in your eyes that you needed a release, "Well that's only natural. I'm sure it works well as a sleep aid"

"I could go and do that in the refresher, I suppose" You offered.

"No, you can do it in bed, I won't disturb you" He said sweetly. He sounded so innocent but you know just how much it would rile him up if you got yourself off right next to him, “I- I could um, I can go on the balcony and give you the privacy”

"No it’s okay, i'll be quiet" You whispered. He groaned softly in response, “unless you’re uncomfortable with me doing that beside you” You implied, the conversation felt tense as you bounced back and forth with what you were planning to do.

“No, darling, mm, not at all” His voice grew flustered as his imagination ran wild. You giggled to yourself at the effect you were having on him. You loved it.

You moved to pull away from his hold and you were faced with a restraint…his arms subtly tightened, causing an even filthier idea to flutter into your mind.

"Would you help me?" You whispered up to him sensually, and by no accident, you hoped to entice him.

"Yes" He breathed, his words were failing him, but he was dying to put his hands on you. He was a gentleman, after all, he never wanted to make you uncomfortable with the first move.

You sat up, pressing your back into his chest. You turned your head to him and stared deep into his hungry eyes. Your gaze traveled to his lips, so warm and needing attention. In a gentle motion, Obi Wan pressed hard into your lips, bringing his fingers to run through your hair. He let a moan of relief and satisfaction seep into your mouth.

You’d found yourself locking lips with him three times now since you found him, but as he slipped his tongue over your lip and into your mouth, you understood that it would actually go somewhere further this time. You were ready for him. You wanted to give yourself to him completely.

He slid his right hand between the curves of your thighs and motioned for you to open your legs. The miserable, radiating ache for him was pulsing harder with every inch that he moved across your skin.

His fingers were trembling, shaking with the anticipation of over ten years of pent up desire.

“Is this okay?”

“Mmhm” You hummed, so overwhelmed with need that you couldn’t think straight.

Your legs opened wide, pushing the pure white, luxury linens to slide off your knees.

The only light pushing through the room was the blue of the moonlight. Batuu was known for its large moon, it casted more light than most planets’ did. It allowed visibility for Obi Wan to see every inch of your body that you exposed to him without a single light turned on. It was romantic, like it was just you, Obi Wan, and the stars that lit up the galaxy. Nothing and no one mattered to you in that moment besides him.

His fingers found the hem of your shirt, his shirt, and slowly lifted the material to reveal that you wore nothing underneath. He immediately broke the contact against your lips to catch sight of your most sensitive area.

"Gods, Y/N” He faltered, “You weren’t wearing anything under this?”

“No, I wanted to be naked under your clothes” You purred.

His jaw clenched hard, like he was trying to stop himself from ravaging you right then. You felt his cock growing hard as it pressed against your lower back.

His hand idled at your inner thigh as he used the other to wrap around your body and hold you up against him.

“Touch me, please” You begged.

He waited no longer as his finger began to caress your slit. You could feel how wet you were, practically dripping for him, any part of him. He ran his middle finger through your wetness and a guttural, primal moan crawled from his throat.

“You’re already this wet for me?” He asked, his voice barely breaking a whisper.

“Yes, all for you”

His fingertips found the bud of your clit, and gave it the contact it so desperately begged you for. The electricity and fire that coursed through you the second he really touched you was overwhelming and you almost couldn’t handle the sensation.

Obi Wan used a perfect rhythm to rub delicate circles against your clit. You started to moan softly, suddenly finding yourself to be shy with him.

“Let me hear you, darling” He whispered softly against your ear. A wave of chills shot down your spine.

Your whimpering grew louder, messier. It was no question any longer how he was making you feel.

“Feels so good, Obi Wan” You breathed.

“I’ve wanted to make you feel good for so long, Y/N. I always wondered what my name sounded like falling off those beautiful lips”

You bucked your hips into his motions, but he firmly grabbed around your waist with his other hand to hold you steady. He halted his pressure against your clit and redirected his digits to your wetness. He caressed your entrance gently, taking in the magnitude of your desire for him.

He inserted one finger, and you arched your back in response. it wasn’t even the actual feeling of having something inside you, it was having him inside you that lit a fire upon your skin.

With every inch of his touch, he listened to the way your body responded. He watched how you reacted to the different ways he pleasured you, wanting to be in tune with what felt good for you, and getting off on that himself.

His finger thrusted in and out slowly, letting you adjust to one finger before adding a second. His thumb moved to return attention back to your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. There was such an intimacy about being pressed against his chest and him looking down and watching you writhe under his control.

“I’m g-getting close” You muttered as the release slowly crept up to you.

“Come around my fingers darling” He groaned. His words and consistent pacing of his fingers sent you over the edge.

It burst open and washed over your body, radiating from your core and trickling out to your limbs. You felt it deep in your bones. You whimpered and moaned his name while you came and your walls clenched around his fingers. Through your own euphoria, you were able to hear the sounds of approval that came from him while he watched you lose control in his grasp. You floated down slowly, your climax riding out longer than normal, pleasantly surprising you.

He removed his fingers slowly, and gently massaged your clit again. The sensitivity jolted your body but it felt so good. He pulled away, and you watched as he placed his fingers in his mouth to savor the taste of you. You let out an unintentional moan. You wanted more. You needed more.

“You taste as sweet as those pretty little noises you make” He praised, turning your head back up to him to kiss you with a greater passion than before. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and it drove you crazy.

“Do you think you could sleep now?” He asked so innocently.

“No” You answered breathlessly.

“Would you like me to do that again?”

You melted at his offer. This man probably hasn’t had sex in years but he’s still not expecting anything from you in return. It turned you on even more.

“I want you” You breathed, still allowing your lungs to catch up after riding your high, “to fuck me”

Obi Wan released a deep moan and attacked your swollen lips again.

“Anything for you, darling” He whispered against your mouth.

He took over and gently lifted your only piece of clothing off your body. Obi Wan then laid you down on your back. As he hovered above you, he cherished the sight of you naked beneath him, exactly what he said he needed that night you went to the cantina.

“Stars, you are…absolutely breathtaking” He stared in awe, allowing his eyes to roam every curve of your being. His hand stroked delicately over your breasts, feeling the peak of your nipples under his rough skin.

“Somehow, you look even more gorgeous than I always imagined” He smiled, finally looking back up to your eyes, “I didn’t even think that was possible”.

You blushed and reached for the hem of his shirt to help him pull it over his head. There were not enough hours in the day to properly allow you to study the intricacy of his body. He had scars and rough edges that told a lifetime of stories. You were enthralled by the sight of his bare skin, and you wanted it pressed against you immediately. There was a masculine broadness about his chest that was speckled with hair that made your heart skip a beat.

Obi Wan shyly chuckled at your admiration. You stared up at him and lost yourself in the expression on his face. Neither of you had ever said it out loud, but in that moment you knew he loved you. A man could not possibly look at you the way he was and not love you deeply. It almost brought a tear to your eye but now was not the time to get emotional

You tugged lightly at his pants that you desperately needed him to remove. He smirked before getting up and standing to the side of the bed to pull them off.

There he stood, completely exposed to you as you were to him. His size was impressive, and you didn’t mean to let a gasp fly from your lips but he was flattered by your reaction. You wanted to take him into your mouth and pleasure him how he did for you, but when you moved your mouth toward him, he stopped you.

“Darling I cannot wait another minute to be inside you”

You shivered in anticipation. He moved back onto the bed and hovered over you, hips resting between your legs. Your heart began to flutter again. You hadn’t had sex in a long time, and somehow this felt like the first time all over again.

Slowly, he pushed his tip at your entrance and took a deep breath in before he thrusted all the way in. Your breath hitched in your throat before he bottomed out, burying his cock fully inside you. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the feeling of being completely connected with one another.

He kept his thrusts slow, careful to let you adjust to him before changing pace. The curl of his hips with each motion brushed the sweetest spot inside you, repeatedly driving you insane.

Obi Wan did not break away from your gaze but only seconds at a time to look down and watch your bodies fuse together so beautifully.

“Obi Wan” You whimpered softly.

“Y/N, Gods you feel…s-so amazing” He moaned through his praises, “You are so beautiful”

“Oh my gods” You cried out, feeling another release approaching. Obi Wan was wise to, once again, listen to the way your body reacted to him.

He pulled your knees up and placed them against his chest. With this angle he was able to hit that sweet spot even easier. Your moans grew louder and he could feel your walls clenching around his length.

“That’s it, darling there you go…come on my cock” He praised, encouraging you. You melted at his words, so aroused to hear him talk like this.

Words could not form through the intensity of the wave that crashed over you this time. You lost control of your moaning and fell apart so gracefully beneath him. Stars formed to cloud your vision as you floated on that high. You cried his name over and over, letting him know just how good he made you feel. As you eased back down from your euphoric high, Obi Wan lowered your legs down and slowed his thrusting.

“I’m getting close, darling, where do you w-”

“Inside me. I’m on the pill” You reminded him so as to not let him worry about that possibility.

Obi Wan trembled against you as his whimpering grew louder and you felt him twitch against your walls. You held his face and pulled him deep into a kiss as he spilled himself inside you. He moaned through your kiss, sending vibrations across your lips. You felt him grip the sheets beside you as he came down from his high.

Gently, you broke away from him. As you looked up, you ran your fingers through his messy hair, and smiled sweetly at him. That was everything you ever imagined it would be, and you already wanted to go again, despite how tired you were.

“That was well worth the wait” You whispered to him.

“Yes, it was” He spoke softly back to you and planted a delicate kiss on your lips before laying down next to you. You laid your head on his glistening chest and listened to the thumping of his heartbeat, otherwise, It was silent between you two for a few moments as you both soaked in the reality of what just happened.

“I would’ve waited a lifetime for that” He said, turning to you, “I would wait a lifetime for you”.

“10 years alone sure feels like a lifetime” You muttered.

The two of you rested silently as you settled back into reality. You could not stop smiling, not matter how hard you tried. As you glimpsed Obi Wan you caught sight of a grin on his face that he, too, couldn’t get rid of.

Soon after, Obi Wan brought you a robe and the two of you sat in the chairs on your room's balcony to watch the Batuu sky and listen to the party going guests wind down for the night.

“Do you remember that day that Master Windu had to talk with me about our relationship?” Obi Wan randomly asked.

“Yes, I remember that. I also remember you trying to get rid of me” You teased playfully.

“I am sorry for that.”

“That was only, what, a month before all was lost?” You pondered.

“I think so” Obi Wan concurred, and dropped his head.

For a few moments you both stared at the moon in admiration. You looked over to Obi Wan, observing the way the moonlight danced over the texture of his skin. You never got tired of looking at him.

“I never stopped thinking about what you said,” You began, reminiscing back to that conversation, “how you said you couldn’t think around me…that you had forgotten what was right and what was wrong”

“It was true. In all my years I had never let anyone or anything distract me that much. My feelings for you terrified me” He smiled somberly.

“How did you feel about me, really?”

“That is a conversation for another time” He nervously chuckled.

"What? Why not now?" You laughed in response, surely he was joking.

"Y/N" He spoke softly and shut his eyes, wishing you'd drop the subject immediately.

“Are you serious?” Your tone went flat.

“Please drop it, Y/N” He pleaded.

"No, tell me why you don't want to talk about it!" You raised your voice, something you'd never done to him before. It shocked you, but you so desperately wanted to know that your greed for information reared an ugly head.

"Because it hurts! It all hurts. Reliving every second of what our lives as Jedi used to be rips me to pieces” He snapped, taking you by an unpleasant surprise, "I can't talk about this anymore" He concluded, his tone riddled with painful anguish. He wouldn't look at you, he couldn't if he tried.

Before you could speak another word, he rose from his seat and returned inside, leaving you alone on the patio to stare into the night sky.

You were angry with yourself for pushing him. Of course it hurt, you knew that as well as he did, so you should've known better than to insist upon the discussion. It did not sway your curiosity. Your mind still pondered how he may have felt for you back then. As he said, it's a conversation for another time.

Truly, you were still confused about his feelings for you now. You'd just made love and it was everything your heart dreamed of since you first fell for him all those years ago. You'd been too foolish to admit to yourself that it was love that you felt for him, not just friendship, not just tension, not just attraction.

It is love.

Part 4 is here!

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If I missed anyone or you would like to be removed, please let me know :)

[biggestsimponhere]

could you write an angst to fluff piece with the prompt “Go after him/her/them” where reader and obi wan get into an argument and anakin (seeing how happy reader makes obi) convinced him to go after the reader and they confess their feelings <33

Go on - Obi-wan Kenobi x F!reader

Warnings - None, it’s just fluff with a bit of angst

“Alright what’s wrong with you?” Anakin said as he pulled obi-wan out of the room and into the hallway. “What’re you talking about anakin?” Obi-wan said looking much more annoyed than usual. “You’re pouting” Anakin pointed out. “i am not” Obi-wan said disgruntled. “Yes you are, did you get in a fight with y/n?” Anakin pressed looking down the hall in your direction. “What makes you think this has something to do with her?” Obi said following anakins gaze. “Just go after her, she makes you happy Obi-wan, i’m serious” He said nudging obi-wan in that direction.

Obi-wan walked away from Anakin heading down the hallway to where you stood. You turned your head at the sound of footsteps but quickly turned it back at the sight of Obi-wan walking towards you. “Don’t” You said before rushing off. “Y/n!” Obi-wan called as he chased after you. There aren’t many places you can hide on this ship and Obi-wan is determined to find you. “Y/n?” Obi-wan said as he approached a small broom closet, he was about to open the door when Cody stepped in front of him. “Cody? What’re you doing” Obi-wan said confused as to why his path was now blocked. “Nothing Sir” Cody replied.

“You’re standing in front of the door for a reason cody, what is it?” Obi-wan said pointedly. “General L/n ordered me not to let anyone in there, sir” He said still blocking the door. “Commander, move” Obi-wan said sternly. “I told her i wouldn’t, sir” Cody said back. “Y/n, please just let me in” Obi-wan said looking past Cody. A small sigh could be heard from the other side of the door before you spoke. “It’s alright Cody, let him in” You said just loud enough to be heard. Cody finally stepped aside and Obi-wan quickly opened the door to find you sat huddled in the small corner.

He quickly crouched down in front of you after closing the door. “I’m sorry y/n” Obi-wan said, gently setting his hand on your knee. You stared at it before slowly putting yours on his. “It’s alright Obi” You said quietly. “No it’s not, i hurt you and i really am sorry” He said softly. “I forgive you obi” You said looking up at his face finally. He smiled softly at you before moving closer to you. You watched his eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, yours quickly following suit. The two of you leaned in at the same time smiling as your lips finally connected. His lips were soft and the kiss felt like coming home to freshly baked cookies.

As the two of you pulled away you laid your foreheads against each other as your breath mixed in between the two of you. “Can we go back to your quarters? I’m tired” You say rubbing your eyes. “We can do whatever you want darling” He said pulling you up. The two of you exit the small closet, you stop and thank Cody before heading to Obi-wans quarters. “Go lay down my love, I have a few things to do and then i’ll be right there” He said kissing you on the head before walking to the table. You nod, dazed. You walk to his bedroom and shut the door behind you. Stealing one of his undershirts and a pair off light pants, you wrap yourself in one of his robes before laying down.

You quickly fall asleep. Obi-wan walks in about an hour later to you sleeping peacefully curled in his robe. He smiles at you adoringly before shedding his robes leaving him in his light undershirt and pants. He sighs softly as he climbs into bed next to you. You turn, waking slightly at the movement. “Obi?” You say softly, slightly opening your eyes. “I’m here darling” He says sliding under the blanket. You curl into his chest and he holds you close. “I missed you, i hate it when we fight” You say, breathing him in. “I missed you too my love” He says softly. “I love you” Is the last thing you hear before you drift back off to sleep.

[deakyjoe]

Unspoken

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Jedi!Reader (no pronouns used)

Category: fluff, forbidden love (almost), angst (maybe)

Summary: You and Obi-Wan take a moment for yourselves to reflect.

Warnings: fluff, angst (??)

Word count: 600(ish)

A/N: In honour of Star Wars Day, I decided to write a short fic about my other great Star Wars love. May the 4th Be With You.

Coruscant was too busy, too hectic. There was no space to think. Just think. You missed the grand beauty of Naboo and the barren simplicity of Tatooine. Except for a few upsides, it was safe to say that this planet was not fit for you.

Yet you had little choice but to live here for the majority of your time.

There was a viewing deck that you visited frequently, a place of solace, that was usually empty of any other beings. So that's where you headed when the bustling surface of Coruscant became too much for you to handle.

When the door to the deck slid open, you were surprised to see that someone else was already there. And they were sat in your spot.

You cleared your throat to make them aware of your presence and, startled, blinked a few times when you saw it was Obi-Wan.

He smiled softly at you and beckoned you to join him. "Hello."

"Hello." You replied, taking a nervous step forward. "I'm not disturbing you, am I? I can go if you'd like."

Obi-Wan shrugged and gestured to the seat next to him. "It would be impolite to send you away. This is your spot, is it not?"

You didn't know he was aware of that so you just nodded and sat next to him.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments, just gazing out at the skyline.

He was the one to break the quiet. "It's peaceful up here. I understand why you like it so much."

The idea of Obi-Wan being observant enough of you to notice something like that was... strange.

"It is. It gets me away from... everything." You explained, not want to divulge further.

You were pleased when he only hummed in acknowledgement and didn't pry for anymore.

"Coruscant can be overwhelming." He agreed, seemingly reading previous thoughts you'd had in the past. "As can bring a Jedi."

That shocked you. So you asked a probing question. "Do you ever dream of leaving?"

He glanced at you. "The Jedi Order?"

"Yes." Your mouth went dry.

"Sometimes." It seemed Obi-Wan was full of surprises.

"Me too. It seems... free." You paused. "More free than this."

"You think this is restricting." It was more of a statement than a question.

You nodded, returning your attention to the horizon. "Aspects of it."

"Such as?"

"I have no real choice over my life. I do what the Order tells me, no questions asked."

He just hummed in acknowledgment again.

"Do you find it restricting?" You couldn't look at him, not directly in the eye anyway, despite knowing he was looking at you.

The speed of his answer was jarring. "Yes."

You swallowed thickly, daring a glance at him. "What do you find restricting?"

He appeared to ponder if for a moment, taking in the view for the first time since you'd walked into the room. "Unspoken things must remain unspoken."

Oh.

You knew where he was coming from, not denying to yourself that you felt the same. You just didn't realise the thing was mutually unspoken.

There wasn’t anything you could offer him that would make up for what he was implying. So you just returned the sentiment. “Yes… they must, unfortunately, remain unspoken.”

Silence swept across the two of you again in a chilling wave as the reality of your restricting lifestyle took hold. Yet, there was a part of you that hoped, one day, maybe some things could be said aloud.

But for now, all you could do was wish.

A/N: pov: me writing this quickly as I get ready to go to karaoke night at my student bar.

[coffeeandbatboys]

MASTERLIST

270 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION MASTERLIST | 300 FOLLOWER CELEBRATION MASTERLIST (coming soon)

RP BLOGS

Characters I Write For

Marvel

M. Murdock, B. Barnes, P. Quill, comics C. Barton (platonic for MCU)

Star Wars

P. Dameron, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clones

Top Gun

M. Mitchell, B. Bradshaw

DC

J. Todd, W. West, R. Harper

Misc.

S. Harrington, P. Curtis,

Rules

Fem!reader only. I do not write nsfw, toxic relationships or age gaps. Aside from the angsty sad fics this is a wholesome fic blog.

Prompts: drabbles | songs

An Actual Banana Pudding Recipe

Tags:

Mutuals

#coffee’s cowgirl shit

header by @saradika-graphics

[embrassemoi]

𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 (𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒)

─── The frigid cold of Orto Plutonia was more tenacious than predicted. But Obi-Wan manages to make it warmer.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Contents: fluff, established (secret) relationship, obi being cute, bullying Ani, one suggestive joke, no beta, 1.2k+

Notes: Takes place sometime during S1E15 :Trespass of the clone wars :) also here’s the original request

“Marker… this a joke.” 

The frigid cold of Orto Plutonia was more tenacious than predicted. It swept underneath clothes, chilling and biting at the skin with its coat of frost and endless expanse of snow. 

Her hands, she concluded, were the coldest. The gloves the Council had issued were thin, allowing for dexterity to properly yield her saber, but provided no warmth. Her jacket, yet lined with artificial fur, did little overtime to shield them from the wind as she shivered at the bone-chilling gust of wind ruffling through. 

She lowered her chin into her scarf and coat, only glancing over to Obi-Wan who shuffled closer to her as Anakin proceeded to complain. 

“One. Hilarious. Joke.” 

She curled and flexed her fingers, noting how numbness settled into them. 

“Argh! Blast!” 

She and Obi-Wan turned their heads to shoot Anakin an amused look, but he doesn’t seem to notice, only staring out over the frozen field, looking forlorn. 

A series of muttered profanities spewed from him – face a blotchy pink as his arms wrapped tightly around his waist. Anakin did a poor job fighting the shivers racking his body. 

She would have laughed at him had her face not been frozen into a similar grimace. 

“Something the matter?” Obi-Wan asked, amusement lacing his voice. 

“I’m not in the mood for your teasing right now, Master.” 

“It’s an honest question. Maybe it’s something to do with how violently you’re shivering.” 

“Ah, yes,” Anakin drawled, “must be because of the sun.” 

“It is lovely out.” 

Harsh and howling, they fell silent when the wind hit them again as they trekked further across the horizon. Anakin could be heard sucking in a pained breath and the sounds of fresh snow crunching under their boots. Even Obi-Wan turned his back sharply against the breeze, shielding both of them while several clones in the distance huddled closer together for warmth. 

Anakin groaned loudly, pulling the hood of his jacket further down to shield his face. “Why is it so kriffing cold!” 

She was foolish that it was impossible to get any colder than she already was and with a cloud of breath bursting out from her along with a laugh. 

“Perhaps it’s because it’s winter,” she shot back, fist curling and uncurling. 

A pointed elbow knocked her in the side as he grunted something inaudible. 

“Have I mentioned that I hate you?” 

“The Jedi cannot hate, Anakin,” Obi-Wan breathly exhaled. 

She, however, found herself smirking. “Not since Naboo.” 

“Oh,” he drawled, “I’m long overdue then.” 

Obi-Wan forced down his smile while keeping his eyes fixated on the building they’ve been monitoring, senses alert and mind ready for impending danger. 

“Okay,” Anakin hissed out dryly. He spun around, looking at the General as he slowly began inching his way back down the fill. “I can’t do this. I’m going to see if the Senator or droids need me.” 

“May the Force lead you to some warmth, then,” Obi-Wan replied, only to hear Anakin spout how the Force can ‘stick it,’ much to his dismay whose only response was another wearily sigh. 

Both Jedi cast one look back towards Anakin’s disappearing outline before reflexively turning towards each other. They drew closer, walking in companionable silence until more violent winds halted them in their tracks. 

“Let’s finish securing the base,” he said hurriedly. 

Never had she agreed to an order faster. 

• • •

Time was easily lost. 

They had spent hours making certain the security around the perimeter of the abandoned Republic base was stable and void of any suspects. But even inside it felt colder: the damaged heat generators broke down with long-disused fireplaces. 

With what was left, the day eased into dusk as exhaustion wore down on her, the mission becoming far more violent than originally intended.

She pulled herself into a secluded room and stared out to the open sky, catching a glimmer of streaking starlight and letting tranquillity settle through instead before shifting into a meditative state. 

Perhaps it was the calling of her name or the unwelcome chill engulfing the little bare skin still exposed, but she snapped out of her reverie as Obi-Wan stepped in, closing the door behind him and stood by her side. 

Silence fell around them for a long, blissful moment, letting the stiffness roll from their shoulders. 

He turned to her eventually, giving her a thoughtful look and murmuring, "I’ve been looking for you.” 

“I tried to find somewhere warmer.” 

By her side, her fingers twitched: burning from the cold before rubbing them together in hopes to convert the friction into warmth. 

Instinctively, Obi-Wan reached to grasp one, pressing a kiss over her knuckles. 

“I told you to pack warm,” he muttered, pulling her close to his chest. She watched his mouth curl upwards. 

He beckoned her into his arms, feeling the hot air brush against the nape of her neck while he dipped his head to press a kiss to her jaw and cheek. A shiver thrilled down her spine. 

“We could always share body heat later.” 

Obi-Wan sighed with a low humming laugh that managed to break out a few giggles from her. 

And yet, he continued to observe her with a faux-skeptical arch of his brow, standing beside her with cross arms as though he wrestled internally with a sort of dilemma. He looked at her with a strange intensity and she felt just the slightest brush of his signature against her own. 

His fingers raised to tip her chin up, tenderly letting his hand brush against her cheek while his azure gaze greeted her. 

“I want to show you something.” 

Slowly, he tugged off his gloves before hers – not without protest – as his hands cupped hers into a ball. His eyes fluttered shut as he concentrated: the Force around them shifted, pulling out something deep within Obi-Wan. 

A small gasp tore from her. 

A flicker of warmth materialized in the space between them while his signature flowed outwards. It ebbed away at the cold filling their bodies with warmth and he continued to emit light. 

Like this, with the little light still left to reflect off the blinding white snow, it glinted off strands of his auburn hair and made them burn like gold. 

“Better?” he asked, eyes fluttering open with a slight pink hue on his cheeks. 

As the cold released her from its hold, her body relaxed into his warm embrace. She could feel her hands again, that dull numbness vanishing the longer he held them. 

“Better.” 

He hummed and like muscle memory, Obi-Wan briefly let his signature expand out, checking for anyone close before leaning in, pressing warm lips against hers and sliding his hand down the base of her neck. 

It was soft, without urgency, and everything felt like an unravelling of heat – open-mouth kisses that held no meaning other than just being content to be near each other, to simply have something just for them at that moment. 

She kept breathing him in, feeling her head swim and body effervescent. 

It was only the sweeping cold that managed to work past the walls and barrier of warmth that stopped them. Obi-Wan’s signature flickered intensely, feeling another wave of warmth wrapping around her dotingly. 

“You have to teach me that one.” 

He gently pressed his forehead against hers. 

“I don’t know. I like holding you like this.” 

[honestlywtfisgoingon]

The Purest Love: An HoM One-Shot

OBI-WAN KENOBI x PADAWAN!READER

description: obi and little one’s first time 🥺 (towards the end of chapter 50 in House of Memories)

warnings: smut. like the whole thing plus a tad of fluff. also no protection (wrap it before u tap it guys) but i figured they weren’t that careful since…spoiler… oh and btw mention of ewan’s canonically huge dick

a/n: ahhh this was so fun to write! i literally could not stop thinking abt little one and obi during this scene and ty @meshlasolus for ur blessing lol. *words in bold are excerpts from the og fic*

words: 2,307

"Obi, I know I want this. I know I want you," you said, beginning to push his vest off of his shoulders. "I have trusted you with my mind, I have trusted you with my heart... And now, I'm trusting you with my body."

"I will take care of you, I promise..."

Obi-Wan was not only a man of his word, but a man who loved you; that meant not only would he keep his promise, but he would bind himself to it until the end of his days, and all the days after, just as he had bound himself to you.

you; who now lay beneath him in your barest form, not a single thread keeping him apart from experiencing every inch of your body. It was nothing short of ethereal, the feeling he had as he felt the softness of skin he had never touched before, fingertips grazing the very top of your inner thigh, so close to where you were inviting him tonight. You gasped loudly when he finally made contact with the heat in between your legs, your eyes widening.

The talk you had beforehand let him know that you didn’t want him to stop even when that flicker of nervousness showed on your face. It wasn’t that you were afraid, no, you were excited.

He introduced his touch carefully by drawing small circles on your clit. The way your eyes fluttered at the contact had him groaning already. Encouraged by your reaction, he sped up his ministrations until you felt a sort of tingling feeling. It flared up and down inconsistently between his kisses, frustrating you who was so close to being sent over the edge with this feeling you had never experienced before.

“Obi,” you called him

“Yes, my love?” he said while gazing down at your starry eyes and glowing cheeks.

“more,” you pleaded before lifting your head slightly to meet him in a kiss. While your lips were still on his, he honored your request and slipped his fingers between your folds. When he inserted his middle finger into you up to the knuckle, you moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Maker, it’s like a song,” he whispered in awe while placing small kisses across your face. You let out a small giggle at his compliment that was cut short when he curled his finger inside your pussy. You reached out and gripped his upper arm which was flexed as he continued to slide his fingers in and out of you, adding another and stretching you out even further.

“I want to make sure you’re ready,” he whispered as though he didn’t have you dripping on the sheets already, your body clearly aching to take him. He knew how painful it could be, but he wasn’t sure you were.

As you and Anakin’s guardian, he was obligated to give you two “the talk” but he gave as little detail as possible, preferring to be ran over by a bantha than have to explain the intricacies of sex to his padawans. He never expected that he would fall in love with the grown woman you became, and he would be the one to show you what it was, properly, with love and care. The thought of you in pain was the last hurdle in his mind before he let himself go into you completely.

“I am,” you nodded gently and squeezed his bicep for reassurance. He sucked in a breath and kissed you deeply, as though he needed you like air. In truth, he wasn’t sure that sentiment was entirely wrong.

He wrapped a hand around your waist to pull your body flush with his. You felt his heart beating against your chest, the rhythm vibrating through your pores and syncing up with your own to where you could barely tell them apart.

He lifted himself so that he could see you, wanting to look into your eyes as he finally made love to you. The image he was met with would be the death of him; your hair splayed out across the pillows, creating a halo that, combined with the moonlight caressing your features, made you look like a goddess. And he was going to worship you like one.

Obi-Wan used a hand to brush a few strands of hair off your forehead then cupped the side of your face with it. His thumbs brushed over your cheekbones, his freshwater eyes never leaving yours as he used his other hand to reach down and position himself.

He slid in slowly, but his hands, although large, could never have prepared you for the sheer size of him. You hissed out as his length pressed tightly against your walls. He added more of himself, inch by inch until pain quickly turned to pleasure. You almost found it a miracle that you were able to take all of him when he finally bottomed out.

His head fell in the crook of your neck as he let out a shuddering breath and continued to move. With every thrust, your reservations ebbed and gave way to a plethora of sounds you never knew you could make. When Obi sucked on the skin just underneath your earlobe, you couldn’t control the whimper you let out, or the way you bucked up your hips. The sudden movement on your end made him groan loudly…so you did it again. He met your thrusts and you continued to move against him until he placed a hand on your hip, pressing you into the bed.

“let me, my love,” he whispered before you let your hips relax, opting to pull him down for a kiss. This was something you were more experienced with, and you knew he liked it when you slipped your tongue in ever so slightly. He opened his mouth and greeted you with his own tongue, both of you enjoying tasting each other.

Obi’s hand slid from your hips to your thigh, bringing it up so that it was hooked on his waist. The new angle gave him access to a spot inside you had you throbbing around him every time the tip of his clock brushed against it. You tightened around him, every ridge of his dick imprinting your walls. He felt so good that it made your fingers pressed against his back retract, which no doubt scraped the broad plane of skin. You felt his brows furrowed against your forehead when your nails pressed into him.

You apologized profusely through your open connection with him in the force, but he wrapped his signature around you in reassurance. After all, he had sustained far worse than a little scratch, the evidence painted on his body through the scars you now traced.

A force bond was something you’d never thought you’d use in the bedroom, until now of course. Both of your minds were open to each other, and you knew he was thinking the same. Not only was the communication helpful, but it was beautiful, the way your bond had created a language only you two could understand. What was being spoken right now was more than I love you. Those three words weren’t even close to describing what was being exchanged by way of your dyad at the moment.

You saw flashes of images, and you realized they were memories of you and Obi from your mingled perspectives. The first time you kissed, one of the many times you crawled into bed with him after a nightmare, even the time you made him cry. Every single one was filled with love. The good and the bad, because there really is no bad with a love like yours. He was going to memorize every detail of this moment to add it to the mosaic of memories, the first out of many times he would make love to you.

Maker, felt him up to your stomach, filling you up so completely, so perfectly, as if your body had been waiting for him since long before this moment. He made your back arch and your toes curl as sparks once again crept over your body. It seemed he was feeling the same as he pulled your other leg up so that you both were wrapped around his waist, opening you up to him so that he could chase both of your pleasures. As he pumped himself in and out of you, you laced your fingers in his hair and used it to tug him down into a kiss. It worked better than you imagined, spurring him on with such fervor to where a sheen of sweat began to cover both of you.

His hand cupped your breast gently, his fingers then moving to circle your nipple as he did with your clit. Your mouth made a small “o” as he stimulated a new part of your body. You didn’t know if it was the way he was touching you, or the fact that it was him touching you, that made you feel like you were floating.

While his hands were busy, you dipped your head to the side, placing soft kisses all over his neck. You felt the subtle scratch of his beard. You loved that you could be a little buried in his facial hair when you kissed him there. He groomed himself to where it was soft and the perfect place for you to find comfort besides his chest. You felt his cheeks drag upward as he smiled at your affections. You traced your kisses from his neck up to the side of his face, stopping to brush the tip of your nose up and down with his as your eyes closed, savoring the moment. It wasn’t long after that they were rolling back into your head as he pinched one of your nipples.

Your breath caught in your throat and he dipped his head down to capture one of them in his mouth. You looked down and he was staring up at you with such intense adoration you couldn’t help but blush. It was funny, how he still made your heart flutter even though you had gone far past the beginning of a relationship, and had given yourself to him completely.

As he swirled his tongue around the bud of your breast, you sighed satisfactorily, your fingers lazily grasping at the sheets to ground yourself when the pleasure made you feel almost dizzy. As he moved back up to kiss your lips once more, he dragged his tongue up and along your sternum, leaving a wet trail that gleamed in the moonlight. His hands traveled with him, sliding along your arms and eventually lacing his fingers with yours. He held your hands to bring them up on either side of your head. You squeezed his hands, finding that holding them was your preferred form of finding stability while he made your hips roll and your back arch underneath him.

“such—a good girl. You’re doing—so well—little one,” he said the words between kisses placed in the shell of your ear. Although his breath was warm, it sent a wave of chills over your body. An incoherent sound of joy was the only response you could manage, and he wouldn’t deny he was rather pleased with the fact; that he was making you feel as good as you truly deserved.

His own words were lost as his hips stuttered from the creeping up of his orgasm. You were close to the edge as well, meeting his thrusts as he lost the will to hold your natural reaction down. With his last couple of thrusts, he found the will to say one last thing before your bodies fell off the tip of your building bliss.

“I love you,”

“I love you too,”

With your proclamations, both of you became completely overwhelmed by the euphoria that flooded your bodies. There was no possible way to hold back yours and Obi-Wan’s myriad of affections and moans. With his last bit of sense, he crushed his lips on yours, muffling the two of you, but the shared vibrations on your tongues only added to the experience. Every muscle tightened and every nerve sang as you felt Obi-Wan’s white-hot pleasure spill into the very deepest part of you. The legs you had wrapped around him pulled him close so that you might have every last drop.

When the adrenaline gave way and there was feeling back in your fingertips, you used them to brush Obi’s hair out of his face. The slick of sweat held the strands back for a moment before gravity caused them to fall again as he continued to hover over you. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before rolling off of you and onto his side. He propped himself up with his forearm and gazed down at you who was gracing him with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Your lips were plush and wet, eyes glossy post-orgasm, and yet you still looked the picture of innocence. Nothing was lost this night, only given freely. The purest kind of love.

“I’m so proud of you,” Obi said softly and tilted his head with a small smile. His words made your heart swell, and you replayed them in your head as you watched him get up to go find some water and a cloth.

He'd made sure you were cleaned up before pulling the sheets over you both and hugging you tightly to his chest, unwilling to let go for even a moment. Nothing compared to you, he was convinced. You'd given him the greatest pleasure he ever felt, and you weren't even trying to. That was the power you had over him, the bewitchment that he did not struggle against.

"I love you, little one," he whispered against your hair, kissing it and focusing his energy on lulling you into sleep along with him.

[thesassypadawan]

🖤💛Tag List🤍💙

🖤💛Soooo I finally decided/am getting around to making a Tag List!

💙🤍If you're interested in being added... Please comment below with which Space Wizard/Dark Daddy/Hockey Loving DILF fics you would want to be tagged for!

[bellarkeselection]

If I wasn't busy with college assignments, I would be writing for Obi-Wan again 🤣

[uyuartik]

bad idea, right? (obi wan kenobi x f!reader) part iii

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated, and i can’t wait to hear your opinions! i am also crossposting on ao3, feel free to interact there as well.

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight. 

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say. 

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.  

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan. 

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered.  You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

 A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

 ===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention. 

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence. 

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.” 

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing?  “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”  

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

 “I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

 === 

 “I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning. 

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.” 

[audreysmusings]

you, entirely | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x female!reader

part I

summary: obi-wan kenobi’s relationship with the reader over the years. reader is a senator & the pair navigate their complicated relationship over the events of episode I & II.

setting: breaks in between the movies, please don’t think too hard on it because the timeline is a bit fuzzy to me in general :)

word count: 5.7k (HOLY SMOKES)

warning(s): canon typical violence, me not fully understanding the prequels & politics please forgive me, probs some inconsistencies with star wars canon, kissing

author’s note: hey everyone! i promise i’m still working on “your friend, ben” i just have had this story stuck on my mind for a while. i plan on expanding this into a second part because we don’t really see what the intro alludes to with it’s angsty description (it will come, i promise!). i’m nervous about how this will be received only because i’m not as well versed with the ins & outs of the prequels. that being said, i still hope you can find something to enjoy within this.

thank you!

What are we? You had asked him. Doomed, forbidden, foolish. Those were the words that came to mind. Good, heavenly, wonderful echoed in his mind, louder. Obi-Wan could not understand how something so right could be the very antithesis of his being.

He had been warned of this very thing. He had been told to guard his heart. He had been told not to stray from his purpose. He did not listen. He couldn’t help it, really. He was convinced that it was fate, something even Master Yoda could not deny.

Something so strong that no amount of training could stop him from loving you. It was blunt and forceful, ironic considering his devotion to the force is what kept him from you.

It had started off innocently enough, merely as a pursuit of companionship with you. When you had first met Obi-Wan it was before the true weight of the war was known, before the death of democracy and freedom. Both of you were far younger and more hopeful. With blazing eyes and determined hearts, you each shared a passion for helping others.

That was probably the first thing Obi-Wan noticed about you, your selfless and compassionate nature. You’d admired his strong sense of duty and morality. It was a shame you’d grow to become a threat to those traits.

Your first encounter was simple enough, Obi-Wan was assigned to oversee your appointment as a senator and your induction into the Republic. The ceremonies had gone well, no need for Jedi interference after all, and there was a party being hosted in your honor.

After Obi-Wan essentially lived as your shadow over the three week long process, you’d grown to enjoy his company and, though you’d never admit it aloud, crave it. Obi-Wan always told you the truth, something you valued considering the lack of it in politics. He was a righteous man with a good heart, you didn’t take his character for granted.

You’d insisted on him making an appearance at the party and with enough convincing on your part, he obliged.

You kept me safe this entire time, the least I can do is let you to partake in the festivities! Sort of a means to an end, you had told him.

Obi-Wan had argued that since there was no danger there was really no reason for him to celebrate.

You then commanded him that your first act as a senator would be demanding Jedi involvement at the party, specifically, a dance.

So obliged maybe wasn’t the right terminology, forced was more fitting.

Nevertheless and ever the dutiful Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi made his appearance. What harm could acting as your shadow for one more night do?

Though he loathed politicians, he found himself enjoying the evening. Even if he was just watching as a figure in the background, he could see the joy radiating off of you in your smile and how thrilled you were for your future. It was something you’d worked hard for, after all.

You had been busy chatting with your guests and attending to the caterers, making sure to thank them before you recognized Obi-Wan. You approached him with a grin and refrained from pulling him into a hug, instead extending your arm for a handshake.

His hand grasped your own and he shook it gently, a small smile forming on his face.

“How do you feel?” You asked excitedly.

“Glad that you stayed safe.” He answered sincerely.

“Thanks to you.” You pointed out. “I’m grateful, truly.”

“Well, on behalf of the council, I’d like to congratulate you on the beginning of an exciting career.”

Your nose wrinkled at his formality, “Hearing you refer to politics as exciting has got to be a bigger surprise than you actually showing up here.”

He chuckled lightly at that, “I suppose so.” He then continued with a hint of a smirk, “But if I remember correctly, this was an order from you, Senator.”

The emphasis on the way he said senator made your stomach flutter, but you shoved the sensation down. You rolled your eyes at his retort and broke eye contact, glancing around as live music started to play and couples began to pair up.

Before you could say something fill the silence, Obi-Wan spoke up.

“I would have come either way.” He announced. “I must admit while this is not my scene, I’ve enjoyed your company.”

You turned back to him with a shocked expression, his admission leaving you silent.

“For a politician, you don’t seem to have a lot to say.” He quipped.

You blinked at him, dumbfounded, and cleared your throat before speaking, “As a politician, I’m not used to blatant honesty. You’ve simply surprised me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

He frowned slightly, “Is that good or bad?”

You eyed him with an amused expression, “For an all powerful Jedi, you seem to have a lot of questions.”

He laughed and you joined in, embracing the warmth that came from the interaction.

“You really are a politician.” He said, laughter still evident on his expression.

“And you really are as noble as they say.”

Obi-Wan smiles and his eyes only seem to amplify the tenderness behind it.

“I have something for you.”

He quirks his brow up at your statement, “Oh?”

You fumble in your pocket before pulling out a silver pendant attached to a brown leather band. It’s engraved with the Jedi emblem and a branch of leaves weaving through it. You hand it to him and he gently places it in his palm, tracing the indentions in the silver stone.

“The branch represents friendship and good-intent, it’s a message for anyone who encounters my planet, one of hope.” You explain, watching as he inspects the piece.

“I hope it’s not too much or anything, I just wanted you to have something as a token of my thanks.”

He looks up with an unreadable expression and pockets the trinket, “It’s perfect, really. Thank you.”

You nod, “I wanted to give it to you before you left, you know, as something to remember me by.”

“I don’t think I’d be able to forget you.” He admits.

“Now you’re really mocking me, Obi-Wan.” You say lightheartedly, refusing to even acknowledge the vulnerability from his last statement.

Obi-Wan’s mouth opens to reply, but a man comes to your side and offers you his hand.

“I’d love a dance, Senator.”

You smile gracefully and accept the man’s offer, bowing to Obi-Wan before mouthing a silent goodbye.

He watches as you dance with the man and twiddles with the pendant in his pocket. The words ‘it represents friendship’ echo in his mind. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t touched by your actions. Obi-Wan had grown fond of you over the past few weeks, something he wasn’t sure what exactly to do with.

As the party died down and guests started to leave, the young Jedi still remained. He was leaning against a column in the foyer before you finally noticed his presence after waving goodbye to a guest.

Your furrowed your brows when you saw him, “You’re still here?”

He nodded, “My job isn’t done yet.”

“I haven’t requested anything else.” You replied, confusion evident in your voice.

“I believe I owe you a dance.”

That surprised you.

Two for the Jedi, none for the senator.

“I was only teasing when I requested that.” You explained.

“I know.”

Obi-Wan extended his hand towards you. You cocked your head at him with as if asking really?

He offered you a reassuring smile and nod in return, beckoning you towards him. A childlike grin, despite your best efforts, found itself upon your face. You approached him slowly and bowed before placing your hand in his. His other arm went around your waist and you placed your free hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. The music playing was somewhat slow and let the two of you fall into a nice pattern of swaying.

You felt the warmth radiating off of his body and decided to lean into his touch, craning your neck to speak lowly in his ear, “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I don’t mind.” He answered simply.

You pursed your lips and continued to sway with the music, “I didn’t realize dancing was part of a Jedi’s duty.”

He shrugged and dipped you slowly, flashing you the most infuriatingly handsome grin, “It’s not. I just happen to be good at it.”

Your head rolled back as you laughed at his cockiness, something you didn’t expect from him. He joined you in laughter and as you faced him once more it became clear how close your bodies really were.

“Besides, it’s the least I could do.” He offered.

“For what?” You asked him.

The music swelled and he then spun you out before pulling you back into him gently.

Ever so close.

“As a thank you. For your company.”

His cool breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“It was my pleasure.” You respond, never breaking eye contact.

You continue to dance together, both of you pretending not to notice how close you’ve gotten and how the air around you has shifted. The music has slowed significantly and you continue to look at one another while swaying, your eyes reflecting what could only be described as tenderness.

His gaze flicks from your eyes to your lips and if there ever was a time where a kiss was expected, it was now. Obi-Wan slowly leaned closer into you, leaving your noses brushing against one another, your lips one slight move away from touching. A silent question hung in the air, a question asked by him, with an answer expected from you.

But you knew it wouldn’t do any good. He should’ve known that, but he didn’t seem to care. You were frozen, not giving into the moment, but not wanting to give it up either. It was a weird feeling, to want something so bad and withhold from it, only to keep the tension of it alive.

Just as the weight of everything started to crush in on you and you considered the possibility of leaning in, the song ended and couples around you broke contact, bowing to one another. You both stayed locked in your embrace. It felt as if the air around you had stilled and no one else was around.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding before breaking the contact and smoothing your gown. When you look back at the man in front of you his expression is unreadable, yet again.

You nod at him, hoping it says everything you’re feeling, but knowing that’s not possible.

He smiles, understanding an implied thank you from you this time, “It was my honor.”

You start to walk away, but he reaches out and squeezes your hand gently.

“I look forward to hearing about everything you do, Senator.”

You turn around and smile warmly, “And I, you.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he’d see you again, but he kept the pendant from you, he didn’t delve too far into why. He kept it fastened to a loop on his belt, a reminder of your friendship.

It was a year or so before he saw you again. You both had changed a lot since then. You were well into your career, a successful one at that, and he had been busy with his padawan, Anakin Skywalker.

You were relocating permanently to Coruscant to be closer to the senate and more involved in your work. What you hadn’t expected was to run into Obi-Wan Kenobi right as you arrived at the capital.

“Senator!” A familiar voice called out.

You recognized the smooth voice instantly as he called out your name this time, no title necessary. When you turned around, you were face to face with the Jedi master and his padawan. He looked good, you noted. His hair had grown out and his features were somehow even more handsome than before.

“Master Kenobi, it’s a pleasure.” You greeted warmly, a genuine smile gracing your face.

His eyes twinkled and he returned the smile with his own brilliant kind.

The kind that would make you swoon.

The kind you needed to stay away from.

“The pleasure is all mine, I’ll have you know I’ve been keeping up with your career since just a year ago.” He admitted, almost bashfully. “You’re a force to be reckoned with.”

You chuckled lightly, “I’m honored that a humble senator like me would even cross the mind of a grand Jedi master, you must have an abundance of free time.”

Obi-Wan’s gaze shifted to the young man before him and he shook his head, “Not with this one around, I’m afraid.”

You directed your attention to the padawan and smiled kindly, “You must be Anakin.”

He nodded and extended his hand to yours, “I take it Obi-Wan has mentioned me before?”

You take his hand in yours and shake it firmly, “No, I only assumed.”

Anakin seems somewhat dejected. Obi-Wan arches his brow at your comment and you smile knowingly.

“You’re not the only one who’s kept tabs over the past year.”

“I’m flattered, Senator.”

Anakin’s eyes shifted between the two of you, you chose to ignore it.

So did Obi-Wan.

“Well, Obi-Wan, it’s my first time in Coruscant not confined to the Senate building and I can tell I’ve been missing out tremendously.”

He nods.

“What might a humble senator like me do on her off hours in such a place?” You inquired.

Obi-Wan considered your statement, taking it as more of a proposition than anything.

“Allow a friend to escort her wherever she pleases.” He answered finally.

You grinned at the Jedi and felt a warmth envelope your chest.

Maybe this move wouldn’t be so bad after all.

After he had dismissed his padawan, Obi-Wan dedicated the rest of his day to allowing you to explore the city and showing you all of his favorite spots.

He brought you to Dex’s for a meal, showed you an art exhibit that was his personal favorite, and even brought you to the temple gardens. You made note of a shop he pointed out mentioning it was where he bought good teas from.

You noticed through your trip that Obi-Wan was far more open now, something you think was good for him. He teased and even flirted, another thing you certainly weren’t going to complain about.

It felt as if you’d only seen each other the day before and no time had passed at all. The sound of his laughter was something you didn’t even know you had missed. His time in your life just a year ago, while significant, was only a three week period. It was strange how much a shared past could bond two people.

When you stopped for caf in the city, Obi-Wan was messing with his belt under his robe, “I want to show you something.”

“You’re making it very easy for me to take this in the wrong context.” You teased, eyeing the way he was fumbling with his belt.

He huffed lightly in amusement, “I assure you Senator, I would never.”

He continued to struggle before he grinned and extended his palm towards you, proudly displaying a stone pendant attached to a leather band.

You gasped lightly, “You still have that, after all this time?”

He nodded, “Of course I do. It’s a token of friendship, you don’t throw that away.”

You chuckled at his seriousness, “You’re right.”

“I’ve kept it fastened on my belt, I wasn’t sure why, but I just felt the need to keep it.”

“Politician’s guilt.” You joked, taking the pendant in your hand, examining it.

Obi-Wan smiled at you, his eyes crinkling in the corners.

“I’m impressed it’s not blown to pieces by now with all the action you see.” You mused.

“Actually I’m impressed you didn’t throw it away after I’d given it to you.” You said casually, running the smooth stone against your fingers.

He furrowed his brows in confusion, “Now why would I do that?”

“I didn’t think you liked me. You were so serious, so stoic.” You teased.

He frowned, “I’m not stoic.”

Maker, even his frown was handsome.

You grinned at him, “There, that’s what I mean!”

His frown deepened, “What?”

You tried to hold in a laugh, but your amused expression betrayed you.

“What is so funny?” He insisted.

His frustration only made his sharp features more handsome, but you’d never tell him that.

“Your expression, it’s the very face of stoicism itself.” You finally explained.

Obi-Wan scoffed and rolled his eyes, “That’s just my face!”

You shook your head and laughed lightly, “Besides, it was clear you didn’t like politicians, I never considered myself exempt from that.”

“You’re crazy! I was in awe of you Senator, your passion was remarkable and if anything, I was intimidated by your presence.”

You shrugged, “I don’t remember it like that.”

“If I remember correctly, I came to your after party and danced with you.” He argued. “I don’t see how you could misread my feelings towards you.”

“A party I requested your presence at, and a dance I demanded from you.” You countered.

“I told you I would’ve come either way.”

You pursed your lips, “Then I guess we were both equally as clueless.”

He sighed, “I suppose I’ll work on my stoicism, but you need to work on reading me if we’re to continue this friendship.”

You grinned and placed the pendant back in his hand, “Deal.”

Obi-Wan had ended the night by escorting you to your new apartment and with a gentle kiss to your the top of your hand. You were shocked by his informality, but in no way was it something you’d dare to bring up to the Jedi. He did not address the intimacy from the moment so you went along with it.

That was the start of his fall from grace.

Since that day, the two of you stayed close companions. He’d be seen escorting you to and from senate meetings, making sure you arrive safely. You could be found seeking out his company whenever you got the chance. Whether it was exploring the capital together or simply meeting for tea in the afternoon, you always made time for each other.

At the beginning, Obi-Wan was frequently questioned on his apparent attachment to you. He’d always write it off as looking out for you, pointing out that he witnessed the start of your career and had maintained a healthy friendship with you since. It seemed to satisfy those who inquired.

The questioning did not stop on his end however, you were also constantly asked of the nature of your relationship. You insisted it nothing more than a sense of safety and protection, something engrained in your being since the start of your career. You teased that it was his way of keeping himself from being lonely.

The two of you became a well known pairing across the capital, something the council did not approve of, but couldn’t really do anything about. Obi-Wan had assured them time and time again there were no attachments outside of the kind you have for an old friend or colleague.

You just happened to be both.

Besides, they had no reason not to trust him. You didn’t harm his image in any way, in fact, you seemed to have enhanced it. For a Jedi who hates politicians to be seen so close with a Senator spread the message of unity within the capital. Something no one would deny.

It wasn’t until a rather compromising conversation that made you worry of the Jedi’s affections for you.

“I think I’m going to get married.” You had told him.

Your announcement had shocked him, you weren’t courting anyone or known to have any close relationships besides him.

Instead of showing his surprise he simply sipped his tea and set the cup down, “When’s this happening?”

You sighed, “Well, my team seems to think it will help my image. An alliance with someone powerful is what they want.”

He hums slightly, “What do you want?”

“To not have to be married to be taken seriously.” You answered honestly.

Obi-Wan nodded in understanding.

“But, the more I think about it, the more it seems to be a reality I need to face.”

His brows furrowed, “You’re powerful enough without an alliance or marriage.”

You placed your head in your hands, “I know, I know. It’s an insult really, but one they continue to throw in my face until I eventually give in.”

Obi-Wan moved closer to you and bumped his shoulder against yours gently, “They should know better than to expect that from someone as stubborn as you.”

You chuckled and returned the gesture, leaning into him slightly, “You’re right.”

“Besides, what happens when you find someone you love and want to marry?” He asked.

“I don’t think I will ever marry.” You confessed. “Not for love anyways.”

Obi-Wan frowned, “What else is there to marry for?”

“Wealth, power, influence.” You listed out plainly.

“You’re sounding like a real politician now.” He said with a teasing lilt to his voice.

“I know. It’s a shame.” You sigh dramatically.

He laughs at your antics before taking another sip from his cup.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do about this, Obi-Wan.”

“Don’t get married.” He offers. “Tell them you won’t do it unless it was for love, that way you never have to. Then it’s an honorable lie.”

You consider his solution, nodding thoughtfully.

“That would work.”

“Don’t let it get out though, otherwise you’ll have loads of people hoping to woo you.” Obi-Wan warns, half teasing, half serious.

You chuckle lightly, “I doubt anyone would care. If anything I will have sealed my fate as the spinster senator.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Obi-Wan says. “I think you’re far more alluring than you realize.”

His comment makes you pause. It was frustrating how much of an effect his words had on you. Obi-Wan was always able to make something monumental sound like the most simple and true statement in the world.

“I think you’re far too fond of me to see reality.” You say finally.

You were right. He was far too fond of you.

Instead of arguing further, Obi-Wan basked in the silence you shared. Not an awkward kind, it was natural, comfortable even. Something he’d grown used to over the past few years.

Still, he could sense you wanted to ask something. It was radiating off of your body every second you spent in silence.

“You want to say something. I can feel it.”

You shift slightly towards him, resting your hands on your knees, “I’m not sure if I should. I wouldn’t want to offend you.”

His nose wrinkles, “I know you well enough to know you’d never miss an opportunity to offend me.”

“It’s a serious question.” You explain.

He hums, “Ah, I promise to answer it seriously then.”

You take a deep breath, choosing your words carefully, “I’ve just never heard of a Jedi having opinions on love.”

Your question doesn’t bother him. He nods in understanding.

“We don’t.” He answers. “But my master was more liberal in his approach to such matters. When I was younger, it was something I thought about often. How could we call ourselves protectors without love or attachments? I think love, whether it’s platonic, romantic, or familial, it strengthens us.”

He continues, his voice growing soft, “While my duties prevent me of experiencing it, I think of marriage as sacred and a celebration of love. Not something for politics to exploit.”

The words rolled right off his tongue so naturally, it was hard not to be somewhat affected by his confession, but you knew better than to go down that path. You weren’t sure what to say without compromising your heart even further, so you opted for telling the truth, a bitter one that stung.

“I think that’s beautiful, Obi-Wan.”

“I do too.” He affirmed.

You stay silent, your face pinched in contemplation.

“What?”

“If it were up to you, would you do it?” You almost whispered, fearing your words would shatter the tranquility around you, scare him away.

He doesn’t respond, he only looks at you earnestly before taking in a deep breath and nodding.

You don’t say anything.

“Knowing myself, I probably would’ve tried to marry you by now.” He confesses.

Your body stills next to him. With those words, it was Obi-Wan who had effectively shattered the air around you, leaving both of you helpless and surrounded by the aftermath of his sharp tongue.

He reaches out to take your hand, but you avoid his embrace with a swift recoil of your hand. It burned hot where his fingers had lightly grazed yours.

Your name falls off his lips, soft and light, but you interject.

“I think it’s best if you leave.”

Obi-Wan didn’t argue. In fact, he agreed with you. He wasn’t sure what came over him to be so honest, so blatant, and so not the Jedi he should be. Instead, he was a fool going down the very path he was instructed, begged, not to.

After he left, you spent hours revisiting various tender moments you’d shared, analyzing them and going down a tunnel you knew you shouldn’t. That one comment had managed to offset years of pushing away feelings and burying them deep. It made you reconsider your stance with the Jedi.

But before any headway could be made, Obi-Wan had come back to your quarters that night with an apology for his behavior. You accepted and only wished you two would not address the interaction again. He agreed.

It was a month before you saw him after that and the circumstances were far from glamourous. He’d been injured critically on a mission and it was entirely your fault. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a simple humanitarian trip you were taking to an outer rim planet. Obi-Wan was there as your guard, per your request, but you had assured him it wasn’t anything more than a peaceful visit. You were wrong.

It was a blur mostly, how everything went down. One minute you were in a crowd handing out rations and supplies with your crew and the next thing you knew there was a loud rumble and screams. You had reacted quickly, warning the people around you and helping them to what you hoped were safe buildings. The ground was shaking from explosions and smoke and dust quickly filled the air.

You kept assisting people around you and directing them to find shelter. The explosions were getting stronger and felt closer, adding more chaos into the mix. You kept searching for others in need of help, coughing as you made your way through the area.

Another explosion went off to your left and you stumbled a bit, but kept your balance. Rubble and debris was falling all around you and it became clear that this was no accident.

You relented on and were helping people who had fallen when you felt a firm grip on your arm, immediately recognizing Obi-Wan’s familiar hold on you.

“Obi-Wan!” You exclaimed in relief. “We need to get these people out of here! It’s not safe.”

His gaze was full of worry and he kept his hold on you, yelling above the chaos, “Senator, I need to see you safely aboard your cruiser!”

You tried to pull away, but his grip did not budge, “Not until we ensure their safety!”

“The only person’s safety I am concerned of is yours!” He insisted.

You shook your head vehemently, “My presence is the reason for this, it must be, and I will not let these people suffer because of me!”

The ground shook once more as another detonator went off, his grip on you loosened as you both stumbled.

“Please, come with me back to the ship!” He pleaded.

“We can’t leave like this!” You argued.

You managed to pull away from his grasp and started to run towards the smoke when Obi-Wan yelled out your name. You turned around to look at the man and beckon him to join you when horror etched itself upon your face.

Above the Jedi was a crumbling column and the debris was beginning to fall. You couldn’t do anything except watch and make your way towards him as fast as possible, crying out his name. That was the last thing Obi-Wan saw.

When he woke up, the first thing he felt was warmth. He could feel your presence, your very being. It engulfed him. You were worried and concerned. He felt a firm weight in his hand, it was yours.

You had been at his side since your crew brought his unconscious body on board. You felt horrible about being the reason he was pinned under the rubble, even more so being the reason for the attack in the first place. The Separatists had somehow got word of your humanitarian mission and had sabotaged it with a bombing.

You immediately arranged for aide to be sent to the planet. The only thing that kept you from staying was making sure Obi-Wan was alright. Things had been shaky since the marriage conversation and this seemed like a time to rekindle.

As he stirred awake your face lit up and you exhaled in relief.

“Obi-Wan.”

His name was like a lifeline when it left your lips, heavy and full of feeling.

He opened his eyes and turned his head towards you, squeezing your hand lightly.

“You’ve been out for a couple hours.” You explained. “You sustained some damage, but a lot of the larger debris managed to miss you.”

“Lucky me.”

You nodded, “A few days spent in bed and you’ll be fine.”

He hummed in acknowledgment, not sounding too thrilled at the prospect of being bedridden.

You took your free hand to fix his hair, carding your fingers through his soft auburn locks.

“Obi-Wan, I want to apologize.”

He shook his head lightly, closing his eyes, “It was not your fault.”

“It was. You would not have been near that column if I had just listened to you. You would not have been on this trip if I had not requested you. Your being here, hurt, is because of me.”

“I agreed to go on this trip, I chose to accompany you, it is no one’s fault.”

You shook your head, “You’re too kind to say it’s my fault, but it is.”

“You cannot go down that path. I’ve been there, it won’t lead to any good.” He insisted.

“I’m still at fault, no matter what you say.” You argued.

He huffed out a small breath, “Are you going to argue with me while I’m injured?”

You sighed and continued to stroke his hair, relishing in the way reacted to your touch, “Still, I’m sorry.”

He kept his eyes closed, “I’m not.”

You didn’t respond.

“You’re safe. That’s what matters.”

“Not to me.” You whispered. “I need you around, Obi-Wan.”

He opened his eyes to be met with your glassy pair.

“There isn’t a time in my career where I haven’t had you at my disposal, General.” You continued with a shaky voice, “I must admit that I have grown to care for you over the years, a little too much, I think. I just want you to be safe.”

‘A little too much,’ echoed in his mind, Obi-Wan smiled lightly.

“I am safe.”

You sighed again, but didn’t say anything.

“You forget yourself, Senator. My duty was to you, to keep you safe. I did my job and I have no shame for it.”

Your hand moved from his hair to cradle the side of his face, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. He let out a contented hum at the movement.

“I wish there was a world where we could exist without all of this, then. Where we could just have each other.” You said quietly.

His cerulean eyes gazed back into yours earnestly, “As do I.”

You smiled at him sadly and leaned down to press a soft kiss on his forehead.

“Get some rest, General.”

You volunteered to take care of Obi-Wan when he returned to the capital and he did not refuse you. Part of it was guilt over his injury, but another part of it that you’d never admit to was simply wanting to take care of him. Obi-Wan never let people help him, he always went about things on his own and you knew it wasn’t good for him.

But he let you take care of him and that alone spoke volumes. You’d spent most of your time making his teas, reading together, and even cooking together. He insisted on helping with the food, he didn’t like to be still for so long.

Every night, you’d go to the balcony of his apartment and watch the sun set. It was something simple and serene, something that required no negotiations or arguing, something you could simply be in.

It was a solace to you both. Normally you sat in silence, but on the second night of his recovery, Obi-Wan broke it.

“If it weren’t for your company I would have returned to my duties by now.”

“You’re all better, then?” You inquire, staring off at the sun set.

“I think so. I’m restless.” He replies.

“You can still be restless and injured.” You counter.

Obi-Wan stays silent.

“What would you do on a day off, General? Perhaps there’s something light we can do tomorrow to abide your restlessness.” You suggest.

“I’d find you.” He answers.

You turn your face towards his and feel warmth spread across your cheeks at his words. His eyes are on you, inviting and tender.

“You’ve found me.” You manage to say, softer than you’d like, suddenly feeling like the air around you is thick.

“It appears so.” He muses.

You turn away, but can still feel his eyes on you. It makes your blood burn.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Would you like me to stop, Senator?” He asks, accenting your title teasingly.

You bite the inside of your cheek to hide a smile and clear your throat.

“No, I only think you’ll regret missing this brilliant view.” You say carefully.

“I don’t think I will.”

You let out a shaky exhale and put on a brave face, “Obi-Wan, I need you to listen for a second.”

“Okay.” He says pliantly.

You sigh and bask in the silence before speaking, before breaking the dynamic you’d grown to love, “I understand your want, Obi-Wan, and please don’t think I’ve not felt it, this care we have for each other. I have yearned over the years and pined and wanted. Truly wanted.”

You break his gaze, looking to the sun set once more, “My comfort has for these feelings has been knowing it, we, cannot be.”

He furrows his brows in confusion and approaches you, resting his hand on your arm gently, “I don’t understand.”

You look back up at him through your lashes, your gaze wistful, “But now you’re here, looking at me with the most lovely eyes I have ever seen, wanting, and I cannot go on denying it anymore.”

He strokes your shoulder with his thumb.

You lean into his touch and bring both of your arms to rest on his waist, “I want you, entirely.”

The weight of the confession leaving your lips is freeing, yet all the while terrifying to think of. It’s always been Obi-Wan laying himself out for you and this time, it’s you. No quick wit, no sharp defense, no excuses, just pure vulnerability.

A part of you fears this was a game to him, to see how long you’d hold out for. You lost the game if that were the case, but deep down you know he’d never do that to you. Another part of you fears this will be the end of both of you, a burning love that only leaves despair in it’s wake. If that’s the case, you hope the burn lasts long.

Not giving you anymore time to think, Obi-Wan wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You exhale in relief and hold onto him tightly.

“I’m all yours.” He whispers, featherlight, into the crook of your neck.

You stay still for a moment before he pulls back to look at you, cupping your face in his hand, “May I kiss you, Senator?”

You swallow thickly before flicking your gaze over his lips and then back to his eyes, “You know, if we cross this line, we can never go back.”

He nods, “I’m aware of what’s at stake.”

You arch a brow, “And you’re still willing?”

“Without question.”

Those words were all you needed to hear. You inched your face closer to his and let your nose brush against his, as if making a move in a game, signaling for his turn. Taking his cue, Obi-Wan closed the gap between the two of you and pressed his lips to yours with a tenderness you didn’t know was possible.

It was sweet, slow, and loving. You let yourself live in the moment, memorizing the way his lips slotted against yours like they were made just for you, the way his beard lightly brushed against your skin, and his calloused hand against your cheek.

He smiled against your mouth and let his forehead rest against yours, “You’re wonderful.”

That night you refused to think of the reality of your situation, and instead you enjoyed Obi-Wan and all of his loveliness.

[stardust-kenobi]

Reminiscence

Part 1

Obi Wan Kenobi x F!Reader

Warnings: mention of death, order 66, mutual pining, fluff :’), a lot of dialogue, light smut

A/N: please note! I wrote this right after the premiere so these details may not line up with the show as episodes progress. I am basing details off the trailers and the first two episodes :) SO, of course, spoilers!

Word count: 2.8k

Gif cred: @general-kenobis

The weight of a boulder settled hard into your stomach when you caught sight of something you never anticipated to see again. A bustling crowd blocked your view for seconds at a time. You abandoned your browsing in the market to make your way toward the sight, ensuring that your eyes did not deceive you.

There he stood, that stoic man, his deep golden strands falling comfortably against his cheeks. You immediately noticed some speckles of gray that were coming in nicely. The relentless rays of sun had starting pulling at his once smooth skin. His piercing eyes had not caught yours yet as his hooded disguise limited his range.

Despite the several seconds of doubt, there was no denying it now. It was him. Your Master. The one you were told had died at the hands of his own men, troopers he trusted with his life…Before the galaxy plunged under rule of the empire.

The rambling of noises from the other patrons in the marketplace were suddenly drowned out as his gaze became magnetized to yours. It was as if he felt your presence instantly. The corners of your lips perked slightly, and you offered a subtle nod. There were inquisitors littering this planet, hunting for Jedi. You couldn’t risk that, not now. Not when you’ve just discovered that he still lives.

You spent months mourning your Master, ignoring the rules of attachment and throwing away almost everything he taught you. An awful coping strategy, certainly, but forgetting who you were was the only way to ease the pain.

You pulled back the tears that threatened to pool in your eyes. You wanted to do nothing more than full sprint into his arms and hold him close. Even when you were his Padawan, that would’ve be over the line, but you didn’t care. You loved him.

Obi Wan nodded slightly to the right, quietly communicating to you to follow him. You kept your distance. There were too many people in Mos Eisley to hold a reunion here.

---

The suns nearly blistered your skin and sweat soaked your face. After walking for what felt like hours through the relentless heat, you approached a rock structure with a small opening. He stopped abruptly and awaiting the all-clear signal from a stationary droid.

“Y/n” he breathed out with relief as you led you into the cavern. The temperature dropped significantly as you were shielded from the elements. You took a brief notice of your environment and realized this was his home.

“Oh, Obi Wan” you almost sobbed, but swallowed your tears.

Before you could think about your next step, your arms threw themselves around his neck. You expected hesitancy, but he fell into your embrace, wrapping his strong arms around the curve of your back.

“My young Padawan…I thought you were dead” he whispered against the top of your head.

“Everyone said you were gone, Master. They said you were killed by your own men” You choked into a light sob, unable to hold it back any longer. He felt your despair and simultaneous relief and pulled you tighter against him.

“I’m alive. I’m here” Obi Wan consoled you softly.

“I’ve missed you. Stars, I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you right now”

“I feel the same. I thought my eyes had played a trick on me when I saw you.” He chuckled, “or maybe the suns had finally drained my sanity from me”

You both slowly pulled away from one another’s embrace, and you stared deep into his weary eyes.

“My, you’re even more beautiful than the last time I saw you”

You blushed. You’d always had a crush on him, but hearing those words set your skin on fire.

“I’m taller now, too” you joke, remembering all the times that Obi Wan poked fun at your height.

“Really? I don’t think so. In fact I think you might be shorter” he teased. You smirked and playfully rolled your eyes. You looked around the room, assuming this to be his home. It was desolate, quiet, but also open to threats.

“Are we safe?” You asked quietly.

“There is no such thing as safe anymore. Not for us. But I don’t have to tell you that”

“No,”

"By new standards of safety, we are fine here"

You nodded.

“Where have you been?” He inquired, still entirely baffled that you found him.

“Travelling. Holding myself over with small jobs. Hoping that no one recognizes me. What about you? Have you been on Tatooine this whole time?”

“Yes, 10 years now”

“Why here?”

“It’s…complicated” His brows furrowed together, a look of pain in his eyes.

“Okay. I won’t pry” You smiled warmly at him, knowing there’s no reason to press into his business after a decade of no contact.

“It wouldn’t have been my first choice for refuge” He admitted regretfully.

“I would imagine not” You said, feeling sorrowful for what he must’ve been through. You know this, because you’ve been through those things, too.

“I can’t believe you’re alive, y/n” he whispered, “I thought I’d lost you and Anakin both. This whole time I-…I thought I’d failed”

“Anakin…he’s…?”

“He’s gone. Lost after the attack on the Temple.”

Your heart sunk deeper with every word. You knew Anakin had to be dead, but hearing the confirmation plunged a blade through your already fragile heart. You two were not incredibly close, but you often trained together and through the years you’d grown quite fond of him.

“Obi Wan, I’m so sor-“

“Don’t. This is not your fault” He firmly assured you.

“You did not fail, Master"

His words, however, certainly failed him in that moment. He needed to hear someone tell him he wasn’t to blame. No one had been able to rest that thought in his mind. Obi Wan struggled to comprehend that you stood before him after all these years. You brought a sense of comfort to him that he never believed he’d feel again.

“Without your teachings and guidance I wouldn’t have made it out alive” you reassured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. He tensed for a moment before allowing your gentle touch to sink into him.

“How did you-….You were at the temple when...?”

It all came back with just the simplest question. You took in a deep breath and shut your eyes tight. You looked around, noticing the only place to sit besides his bed, and pulled the chair closer. Obi Wan joined you in the only other chair he owned.

“I hid. For a long time,” You paused, forcing yourself to relive the traumatic moments, “As time progressed, it got quieter and quieter on the other side of that closet door. Screams were hushed, blasters were put away…it was just me...”, You stared away from him, finding it hard to walk through that night again. “I found a scared youngling and we escaped together. Snuck on a cargo ship and got the hell out. But not without a few too many close calls” You stopped again, fighting back the years that crept up. “The youngling, though, I….I lost him. Turned away for a second…he was gone when I looked back”

“What was his name? Did you know him?”

“No...I did not know him. He was too scared to tell me his name. We couldn’t communicate very well anyways. He was very young” You trailed off, looking down to your fidgeting hands resting atop your lap.

“I’m sorry”

“He looked like Master Yoda” You smiled in reminiscence, but sorrow hid beneath your expression, “But I don’t think they were related”

“Grogu” Obi Wan made a sudden realization. He must’ve remembered the little guy.

“Is that his name?” You asked, unsure if this was a name or a place that Obi Wan had identified.

“Yes. It had to be him. He was the only other one of Yoda’s species that I’d seen in the Temple before” Obi Wan said, stroking his beard as stared off into his own thoughts.

You sulked noticeably as you felt responsible for his probable death.

“I’m sure he’s alright, Y/N”

You knew that couldn’t be true, but for the sake of changing the subject away from your horrific experience, you nodded in agreement.

“What brings you here to Tatooine?” He asked after a bit of empty silence.

“I'm a roamer, I take any transport I can hop onto. Just happened to end up here.”

“I see”

“I haven’t been back to Coruscant,” You began, “I don’t know if I can ever go back”

“You shouldn’t. That place is lost”

“It hurts, Master Kenobi” You sighed, unable to avoid the only topic of conversation that seemed necessary for such an unexpected reunion. The pain of reminiscence was the price you had to pay.

“Please” He said, stopping you in your tracks, a painful look struck his features, “Obi Wan is fine. The days of the Jedi are done"

His tone took an unexpected turn. You were taken aback, offended by his dismissal of the Jedi. He called you his Padawan, what changed his perspective so suddenly? You, too, had lost your sense of pride in that identity, but hearing your mentor utter such denial was gut wrenching.

"How can you say that?" You scoffed at him.

"Is it not the truth, Y/N?" He spat back. The rush of emotions you both felt in this moment were pushing you both to the edge. All the loss and grief was catching up to you both in a single conversation.

Your mouth fell open, but you found yourself speechless. He was right. You looked back down at your lap, not knowing what else to say. He seemed to calm suddenly as he took a deep breath.

"I’m sorry. You look well" He mentioned, breaking the tension.

"Thank you. You do as well" You smiled innocently back at him.

He giggled, knowing that to be only a formality. He did look...different. But by no means did he look bad. Still as handsome as ever, just a little rougher around the edges. Ten years and constant fear of incarceration and death will do that to a man. Not to mention the damage that Tatooine's environment could inflict on a human.

"So, do you travel alone, darling?"

Your cheeks were undoubtedly a fiery red. He'd never called you 'darling' before.

"Um...yeah, for the most part"

He tilted his head in curiosity.

"I trust that you are always safe"

"Of course I am. Learned from the best" You kindly teased.

"I taught you many things, but I don't believe I ever got around to teaching you how to avoid imperial inquisitors. You must be on high alert from now on. They are everywhere"

"Oh, I know. I had a close call recently. Let's just say I am glad that I was a woman, and the inquisitor happened to be a man...who enjoyed the company of women"

He snapped his attention to you in shock. He was wise enough to read between the lines and know what you meant. You figured if you had the body to persuade an imperial inquisitor to let you go free, why not use it to your advantage? Obi Wan tried to cover up his jealously, but you noticed it immediately.

"Not very Jedi of me, is it?" You winced, afraid of the judgment to follow.

"Certainly not. Gods, you are going to get yourself killed" He angrily snapped, his protectiveness overpowering his attempt to sound firm.

"Possibly" You pondered.

"I mean it, Y/N. Keep yourself safe. Alive" He emphasized.

"For you, I will"

"Good. I can't lose you, too" He whispered mostly to himself, “or…again”

"Forgive me if this is too forward, but I feel as though I have a lot more to live for now that I know you're alive"

He smiled and refused to tear his gaze away from you. You felt a familiar tension arise that often made itself known when you found yourself alone with Obi Wan. It was a burning tension that warmed you from the inside out.

"Truly, I have missed your sweet face, dear Y/N" He confessed.

His calloused fingers trailed to your lowered chin, and he gently lifted your face up to him. You remained there, lost in the blues of his eyes, wondering if his heart was beating as fast as yours was. You swallowed hard, wishing that you were still in touch with the force so you could communicate silently to him, kiss me.

However, the two of you did not need the force to sense what you both so desperately desired from one another.

Your mouths fused together on impact, your mutual hunger intertwining your lips with such a wonderful passion. A fluttering tingle radiated throughout your entire body as he placed his hands against the sides of your face, pulling you deep into his kiss.

You'd imagined this moment since he first took you on as a Padawan when you turned 18. However you never imagined this interaction would occur under these extenuating circumstances.

His lips twisted with yours harder now, his hunger for you grew deeper within, and he did not know how to stop himself from devouring you right then and there. Obi Wan brought a hand to the curve of your waist and pulled you forward out of your seat. With a leg on either side of his spread lap, you straddled him, satisfied with him taking the lead so you didn't have to.

There was no denying how bad he wanted you, especially after feeling the hardness pressing against where you ached so desperately for his attention. You moaned into his mouth, and his arms gripped you tighter in response.

Your hands explored his unruly hair before moving your fingertips down the veins in his neck. You then rolled your hips against the bulge that was restless beneath you. He groaned so rough, you thought you might melt immediately.

For years you wanted this feeling... the sensation of his hands roaming the surface of your skin, his need for you being ever-so-evident. The overwhelming feeling crashed over you, sending your mind into a euphoric frenzy. The restraint you held as you made the decision to pull away was a challenge.

You smiled down at him, your lips only inches away from his, hovering there without another word spoken. How long had he wanted to do that, too? You both needed not to say a word about it now. It happened, and you'd never dream of wanting to take it back.

His fingertips traced through your hair before falling down your back, leaving chills in their path.

“I’ve waited 10 years to do that” Obi Wan breathlessly admitted to you.

“Me too” You responded while your racing heart refused to slow.

There were more moments of silence, but there was not a single second left empty.

"I won't overstay my welcome, Obi Wan" You broke the silence, your words barely grazing a whisper.

"I'd prefer if you did" He responded, his eyelids fluttering in disbelief that you were finally in his arms.

"What?"

"Stay with me, please" Obi Wan pleaded.

You were stunned and unable to respond. Did he really want you to stay? Were you both so lonely that this seemed like a good idea even if it wasn't? Truly in that moment, you did not care, you just wanted to be near him and never be separated again. You’d just injected the worlds most addictive drug, and there was no turning back now.

"I don't have much space and Tatooine can be absolutely brutal. But I can't let you walk away. Not yet. Please" He continued, not allowing his plea to go unanswered.

"Okay, yeah, of course. Thank you” You accepted, overwhelmed with gratitude. “Truthfully, I wasn't sure where I was going to sleep tonight"

"I don't have much of a bed but you can sleep there. I will be okay on the floor" He smiled up at you as you continued running your fingers through his hair.

"This is your home, Obi Wan. Please, don't go out of your way to accommodate me. Besides, I have slept in worse places than a sandy floor" You giggled.

"That confession is also concerning to me. But, no matter, you'll take the bed."

"Obi Wa-" You objected.

"I insist, really."

"Okay. Thank you"

You stood to your feet and noticed he was still obviously turned on but you looked away to prevent causing him any embarrassment. This sight alone turned you on, but now was not the time. He nervously cleared his throat and adjusted his hips to hide his arousal.

"Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please, that sounds lovely" you graciously accepted your role as his guest, settling back into your chair as he walked to his small cupboard to prepare your drinks.

This was something you could certainly get used to, toughing it out in the outskirts of Mos Eisley, spending your every second with your mentor, but that was a fairy tale you could not entertain right now.

—————————

I kinda want to make this a series?!

UPDATE: part two is up!

[gamergoddess003]

-Cute Imagination😍🥰- Obi-Wan Kenobi

SO Ik this is little Leia that Obi-Wan is looking at BUT use your imagination and replace her with you, an adult woman.. an adult woman who has had strong feelings for his man since before the rise of the Empire. (Over 10 years).

A/n: You were at least 18 when you and Obi-Wan met.

__________________________________________

Imagine Obi-Wan looking at you, like this, as you twirl around to show him a gown you purchased a while back and had nobody to show it off to. He looks at you with adoration. He’s loved you for a very long time but he has yet to tell you how he feels. He wants to stand up and grab you by the hands and tell you how beautifully stunning you are and kiss you on the lips.

The years have caught up to him and he can no longer hide his feelings for you. As you finished twirling around, you stop to face him and unsaid thoughts covered his face. “What’s wrong?”

After a moment, he worked up the courage to confess his feelings. “The Jedi are over… I no longer have to hide my feelings.” He stands up and walks close to you. “I have felt love for you for many years….” He paused to admire the twinkle in your eyes, looking back and forth at the both of them. “….and I always wanted you.” Cupping your face with both of his hands, he kisses your lips with a long-wanted passionate kiss. You let out a small giggle when you feel him tense up a little when you wrap your arms around his neck, and he slides his hands around your lower back, bringing you in for a hug.

You break the kiss, but both of your foreheads are pressed together, nose-tips touching, “I’ve always loved you too, Obi-Wan. You’re all I’ve ever dreamt about.”