#obi wan kenobi imagine

[uyuartik]

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

tags: 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, mentions of oral sex (fem and male receiving), mentions of fingering, piv sex, dom!obi?, i really don't know what to write here it is just filth and it is gonna get filthier

a/n: HII! so i became haunted by historical!obi au's and spent six months writing a short series... this is the first chapter out of three, so i hope you stay tuned for the upcoming one (it is FILTHIER than this and about 19k words)

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.

enjoy!!!

word count: 5.4K

chapter one: see you tonight?

“…Fuck, just like that-“

That voice. Yes, that’s how you ended up here, you think, as you roll your hips, feeling the exquisite contours of Obi Wan’s cock stretching your walls and pulling pleasure out of every cell in your body, and possibly from your soul too.

Ehem. Lord Kenobi.

And truth be told, that’s not exactly how things led here. Of course, his rich voice and the manner in which he used it were notable factors. The way he camouflaged his remarks under sweet quips never failed to make you giggle into the next day, and regardless of the topic (ashamedly, it was mostly about the other people in the room, and their rather obscene behaviors), the comments he made always reflected the intelligence behind it. He played the serious bit perfectly too, even though his reverent sentences carried some poetry, never pompous, yet deep enough to convey its origin and the realness of his sincerity… That’s why you started spending hours with him at balls in the first place. Ten minutes alone with him, undoing all the prejudice you had against the man. All the rumors about him were proven wrong, or at least, half true. And you liked that remaining part of the truth.

Only after that, came the subject of his charms. Not quite surprising, considering that there was no lack of handsome faces around, but a lack of brains in them. Or a true heart. You hated the hypocrisy of it all, and it was a blessing to find someone who shared that sentiment. Not to mention the benefit of him deflecting any unwanted company.

Likewise, he must've thought the same about you, thus your current position. It was obvious that both of you two had similar standards, even in these lewd matters. People didn’t call him a heartbreaker because he pursued a lot of women, but when he did and it came to an inevitable end, they were the shell of whom they used to be, like a person could be mummified by the absence of the joy he charmed people with it. And you, you weren’t the type to have somebody just because you could. No, you looked for a special connection, a click, and when you got lucky and found one among the countless candidates, you treasured it. Now, even the word click sounded wanting, there were sparks present between the two of you, a considerable, good dynamic you two had built, and that made everything just better.

You were almost sad thinking this was a one-time event, already knowing this is a moment you'll remember your entire life. (You weren't gonna push your luck on getting caught.) If there were such deals, two of you keeping it to each other forever in this aspect of life, you’d have signed that contract in a blink.

“Thought you said you were tired.” He breathes out, clearly an effort, yet the smug grin on his face leaves no room for doubt or pity.

“I’ve been sitting all day.” That’s how travel works in carriages, after all. “I think stretching my legs, is what I need.” You emphasize by raising yourself higher and slowly sink back down a few times, a motion that pulls moans from both of your mouths.

Travel. It took you half a day to reach your aunt’s estate, and you were fairly certain you wouldn’t attend the ball that is currently taking place. Then, you realized there was no way your gracious hostesses would see you tonight, you were forced to enter the saloon. It would be a quick in and out, maybe greeting a few more people, no dance, with the very valid excuse of I’ve been on the road all day and I am quite exhausted ready on your lips at any interaction. This was why you didn’t even bother to put much effort into your looks, opting for a change of dress, and nothing more. No jewelry, no retouches to your hair. After all, it would just add to your part if you seemed slightly off.

Somehow, it turned out to be a regrettable decision, when numerous eyes turned to you as you took a step into the room, and even longer after that. Maybe not every head turned or the music came to an abrupt stop, the sprouting silence broken by collective whispers, but it happened, subtle yet enough to make itself known. You were given the same treatment for years at this point, but there was no getting used to it. Color that had been settling in your cheeks seemed to be permanent, at least for the night, not leaving your side as you took your place among your relatives. The expensive fan you were gifted by- God knows who, you were in no mood to remember it now, did nothing to relieve your suffering. 

And, countless other greetings don't help either. You fastened the movement of your hand, curling your lips into a forced smile. You could truly get tired from all these repeated words and gestures.

"I'm afraid I forgot to bring my dance card." You said again, to the third man who came with the same offer, Duke Caldo, all true except the part "forgot". You left it, willingly, just in front of your vanity mirror. The mirror which you desperately wanted to see yourself in right now, away from the ball. 

"A great pity." The exclamation didn't come from him, though. 

Your fan dropped from your hand and closed itself when it hit your wrist, dangling from the loop around your forearm as you heard that voice, no introduction ever needed. Perhaps, not even his voice was required, for there was always that unexplainable change in the quality of air in the rooms he occupied, like he was casting a spell on those around him, trickling magic dust with every step, a rare perfume. You wouldn’t use such metaphors if it wasn’t for the simple fact that your body always figured out his presence before your mind, catching a sense of that hypnotic essence. You often realized all the hairs on your arm standing up, or a tingling sensation in the back of your neck, breathing getting a bit harder, only to quickly locate him in your eyesight. 

"Lord Kenobi." It is said in a contemptful respect, a greeting and a goodbye. “Goodnight, my Lady.”

You didn’t even bother to mutter a proper response, and frankly, the Duke didn’t wait for one either. So, all your focus can be reserved on the man in front of you. 

You raised your arm as if intending to extend it so he could complete his small tradition of placing a kiss on the back of your hand, like he has done every time your paths crossed, even multiple times a day (that’s exactly how you noticed it was more than a simple salutation), (honestly, you liked it, his daring movement revealing a lot about his nature), only to flick it to reopen your fan. The gentlest gust of it licking your skin was more than enough now, making it all too pleasing to watch him save himself with a deep bow of his head, the annoyance quickly turning into a satisfied grin, like he didn’t expect anything less from you. 

“That looks even more beautiful in your hand.” He pointed at it, but his eyes wandered all over your body. You did the same, though there was little notice, his usual beige suit far too familiar. Your focus was always on the fact that he looked so good in it, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, or his defined arms exquisitely pronounced over the fabric.

Right. So it was his gift. Why did you ever entertain other possibilities?

You weren’t going to disappoint him by mentioning it is only here because your panicked maid accidentally packed the first item she saw, for you never took anonymous gifts. You didn’t need the attention they brought.

"And I couldn't thank you enough for it. I can practically name it my savior tonight." You answered, making a show of lavishing yourself in the stream it creates.

"My only source of pride is the fact that it perfectly blends with the rest of your attire. Now, I can proudly say I know your taste."

Classic Obi Wan. Even his compliments, far from usual, borderline scandalous. He's been peppering you with them ever since the start of your friendship and you were never immune to them. You outright enjoyed them. Especially now, they didn’t help the simmering tingles forming at the depths of your belly, amplified by weeks of solitude. “Only a part of it I’m afraid, but you’ll learn the rest in no time, don’t worry.”

“Can’t wait.” He grinned and scanned the room for prying eyes. Finding none, he made himself more comfortable by your side, hoping to spend the rest of his night with you. 

“I didn’t expect to see you tonight.” You admitted, somehow managing not to sound like you’re overly joyous of that not happening.

“I could say the same about you.” Was that excitement, or disappointment in his voice? Was he planning of politely ravishing other women, when you were not present to entertain him? Something told you those were not among his intentions, the smile on his face too honest, his twinkling gaze focused solely on you. 

You tilted your head and curled your lips. Touché. “It is nice to attend the ball your acquaintances are throwing, even if you arrive late. But for you, sir, I'm afraid people will actually think you're looking for a wife."

He rolled his eyes. There was a hint of offense in them just at the mentioning of the subject, but the playful type, not the exasperated type he uses for others. 

"Curious. The diamond of the season is also here. Isn't it strange that she still hasn't found someone, it's nearly the end of the season?" You inhaled sharply, dramatizing further. "Do you have something to do with it, Lord Kenobi?"

He scoffed, the impossibility of it reflected in his voice. "The diamond of the season?-"

"I thought you deserve nothing less." You explained, but he interjected.

"I'm only interested in one diamond." He said, initiating intense eye contact.

It was your turn to scoff, and run away from his gaze. "I was never the diamond."

"Only because you saw how better you were than the rest, and fled just before the start of the season." His eyebrows were raised, begging for a denial.

"I had planned that trip months ago." You simply stated. "And I came back halfway through summer, didn't I?"

"Just like now."

"Do I need to remind you who you have been spending time with since June?" 

"And where were you coming from tonight, ending your visit of- how long was it?"

"I am fond of traveling. Balls and banquets can entertain someone so far. " You shrugged, "Lord Kenobi, are you trying to say that you missed me?" 

"I could never claim otherwise." 

That was true from your perspective as well. All these years of constant traveling, and this year was the first time you missed what you left behind at home, even during the buzzing, pretense-filled months. None of it seemed that intolerable, and somewhat fun, if you dare to admit. You knew this impression was his doing, and now after your while spent apart, the feeling came back tenfold, almost making you squirm over such loose confessions.

That was it. That was the turning point of the night.

“Truth be told, the night is going much better than I dreamed of, and I almost regret forgetting my dance card.” You raised your chin, and sent him a look. “Would you be so kind to help me find it?” 

You could basically see the gears turning, a fire behind his eyes, fueling the desire growing in the depths of your belly. His gaze was piercing, even after he’d long decided, the truth known to both of you. Your heartbeats must’ve been visible, you imagined, and felt it skip a beat as he licked his lip. “Lead the way.”

Now that’s, how you ended up here.

However, as you look down at his face, the story gets blurry, perhaps outright loses its importance, abandoning your mind. His hair is tousled, a rebel strand in front of his eyes, and moves with every bounce. Your hands are too busy to hold onto his sweaty chest, slightly tugging on the auburn fuzz. You wanted to do that ever since he took his shirt off.

(Then again, you’re not sorry for the amount of time you couldn’t, drowning in him. The moment you felt his expert lips on yours, all your will to protest anything had died. Later, as his fingers joined the show, you quickly realized you were fine with what he gave, but he, ever the gentleman, let you prevail.)

It is a sight. And the moans that fall from his lips surpass the delicate melody the musicians are playing downstairs in every way, which can still faintly be heard. (You never thought an orchestra would accompany you during this, but here you were. It is a detail you’ll remember with a smile while looking back at it, but now, you couldn’t care any less.)

“You’re taking me so well.”  He starts to thrust his hips up slightly, meeting your rhythm, but never overtaking it.

“I know.” You giggle, but the reaction he’s taken notice of is your fingertips digging in further, and your walls fluttering around his cock.

When you start to falter a bit, perhaps due to the fatigue settling on your muscles embarrassingly not long after his words, or his mere presence clouding your brain, his fingers that have been resting on your thighs slowly ascend to your hips. The fingers drenched in your juices, another element that has the coil in your belly tighter. The next few strokes, with his guiding hand, touch something deep inside you, and your jaw hangs open.

“Fuck…” is the only word you can mutter, and he chuckles at it.

“Is that so?” He mocks, but brushes your loose ringlets with a single hand, and caresses your nipple on its way down. The latter shows his true disposition, and that drives you to be more vocal, if you weren’t already.

“You feel… so… good.” You can hardly say, as your puffy clit drag against his skin all so deliciously like this.

He twitches inside you at the compliment, and you throw your head back with a whine. Despite the fact that he would kill to see your face, he doesn’t push, enjoying the state he’s putting you in with his voice. Every praise that falls from his lips earns him a melodic moan, along with the feeling of you tensing and relaxing, always responding to his call in one way or another.

You’re one step away from being a doll at his bend, though you couldn’t care any less, not when you are this close.

He likes it, very very much. Yet, not enough to silence his wishes of how to ruin you, in the best way.

In a blink, you find yourself on your back, and him on top of you. That’s not the first thing you see, though. It is his hand, lifted from wherever it fell, catching your chin to turn your head to him. Sounds of panting are all there is, no movement, no words, not even your rapid heartbeats drumming in your ears seconds ago as if the world stopped for a second.  

His thumb caresses your lower lip, and you let it slip in. God, you can still taste yourself. The revelation has your objections at the change dead, your face twisting, yet he tsks thrice, capturing your attention.

“Let me see those eyes.” Obi Wan commands, and you have no choice but to oblige. “You look so good beneath me.” 

Somehow, his words have you flushing and squirming as if that was the most inappropriate thing happening in this room. Funny, how he breaks your will, and you let it. Against all the talk of your friendship, until an hour ago, you’d have lashed out at an equivalent demeanor, even said in affectionate terms. (Any other way is simply impossible, anyway.)  But, that hour proved itself to be much precious, and now with that glossy gaze, snatched right from the brink of climax, you focus on the doting aspect, how he cannot get enough of the image of you.

You start to writhe, the new emptiness inside you unbearable. “Touch me, Obi Wan…”

He's not proud of the way your begging has his cock leaking, though that hardly stops him. He lives for mutual pleasure, even just yours at the moment, yet you look so pretty like this, grasping the sheets. 

"Like this?" He slides his thumb further into your mouth, relishing the feeling of your tongue swirling around it immediately. Or course he wasn't expecting you to suck him off if you didn't want to, nor would he ever ask for it, he can't help but imagine the feeling, his hips rolling in seek of stimulation.

You shake your head, and his finger is freed with a pop. You frown as the sole contact you have with him is lost. It is a warning sign for him, the fragility of your dream-like state, a reminder of how he has to do better, if he wants to take control. As a gentleman, he wanted to give you everything you desired, but since it was your first time together, a terra incognita, he had to be sure of your limits, so he followed your wishes gladly. The wishes which were masterfully balanced versions of both of your needs. The same problem troubled you too of course, but you were a quick learner, a connoisseur of his taste in no time. The fact that it was very similar to yours was an exciting discovery, certainly a pleasant one, and was a great help, so great that it almost felt like cheating. While he took no issue with your tricks; the urge to take you on his terms, the compulsion to show you how he wants to cherish you couldn’t be suppressed any longer. He had to let you know.

He leans in closer, his arms bend as yours find his shoulders like a habit, “Like this?” He murmurs, right before brushing his lips against yours, effectively swallowing your whine. Though it was a sound of protest, all complementary sentiments die when he nips at your lower lip, and you open your mouth, lost in the sensation of his tongue licking yours, and his sweet essence. In contrast to his other needs taken good care of, he hadn’t taken enough of the feeling of our mouths joining. God, he spent hours imagining your mouth, curling into every shape as smart words spilled from it, enhancing his fascination with you. It fires the flames of haze further, even if he’s not actually properly touching you. Your hand roams his neck, then etches itself into his silky hair. You’ve done that a few times now (and found his response most addicting), but it is hardly satisfactory compared to the amounts you dreamed of doing during these last couple of months. You saw him prim and proper mostly, not a strand out of place, making you marvel at its excellence, and the itch to mess it up growing stronger each instance, a stark contrast to your surroundings. Also, there were times the infamous piece fell in front of his eyes, and sometimes even more disheveled than that, riding a horse, enjoying sports with his friends, and once after a bath, when your family visit started a little earlier than planned. You were always admiring the way it reflected light, creating almost a halo around his head, especially in sunlight. It is the first thing your eye is drawn to whenever you’re in the same place, a beacon of sorts. You never thought you’d be this amazed by hair, yet the moans he produces when you tug on it, add to your astonishment, and you’re not sure if you can look at it again, without being reminded of this moment.

He breaks the kiss as for you to catch your breath, for he has long kept you away from it. Still, he continues to pepper you with tons of them, scattered all across your jaw and neck, in search of that sweet spot that has you cursing. It is not a serious journey, in fact, he does more than press his lips against your skin properly, tease you with his open mouth, drag his tongue along the taut muscle, nip and outright bite, once.

“No marks-“ You protest. Futile. You should’ve warned before he started to nibble, way before he sank his teeth, but it has happened after all, and you can already feel blood settling on the sites of his attack. “What I am going to tell my maid now?”

“The truth.” He retorts. “Of how you led Lord Kenobi into our bed, and did dirty, unspeakable things with him.”

That earns him a harsh pull at his scalp, and a pat on his shoulder. He meets with your glaring gaze, and cheeks redder than a minute ago. So, he’s still on your good side. Barely.

“Apologies, my dear.” He takes the hand that smacked him, and places a peck onto your palm before placing it back. You can’t break the eye contact as he does so, something about his appearance, perhaps his position, or the charming contours of his face, or the way he deals with your anger keeps you from kicking him out. Caressing your open legs, he massages them ‘til they relax afresh, squeezing at the soft flesh. You hiss when his movement nears your inner thighs, thanks to his beard, and the climax it brought you. The gesture hints, still, there’s the matter of fire burning in your belly. “Couldn’t resist, you know me. Let me make it up to you.”

He wastes one more second to carve this image inside his head, then fulfills his promise. He likes the way you tremble while you wait, a whimper leaving your mouth at him taking his cock into his hand and stroking it a few times. God, how you wish that was your hand. Damn your stubbornness, and demand for compensation. You put extreme effort into staying still, releasing a shaky breath when he places the tip at your entrance.

Remember when he said “ruin”?

He doesn’t push it in, instead letting it slide up your slick folds, and tap against your clit. You nearly jolt at the touch, yet again tasting bliss, even if it is in mere drops. He repeats the action, and you sob, digging your nails into his shoulders. Maybe you’re the one leaving marks now, but you don’t care. Eye for an eye you can say, in retrospect.

“You’re so wet.” He can’t stop looking into your glistening core. He also can hear it, the squelching sounds echoing at his every movement. He knows you can too, that it calms your nerves, though they act up for different reasons. “All this for me?”

Unfortunately, you are late to realize he doesn’t take your moans for an answer. You can’t help it, you are unable to form words. Even if you gather the strength, they die out at your throat, especially under his piercing look. Fuck, he loves how cockdumb you’ve become for him.

He takes pity on you then, dropping his cock to briefly rest on your opening, and forces his fat tip in.

Your back arches, a throaty sound filling the room. He shushes right next to your ear, in an effort to calm you down as he slips the rest in. It is as if you’re taking him the first time, like you weren’t riding him moments ago.

“Fuck-“ That’s the only reaction, the only answer he needs. You fall back into the sheets, the first time he rolls his hips, and sets a new rhythm, a slow one to kindle the flame once more. Your hair probably getting tangled from the way it’s rubbing against the sheets, and your legs are split wide open. You feel every vein and ridge moving against your walls, the slight resistance disappearing in no time. His chest brushes against yours, and combined with the warmth of his breath, so close to yours, it’s easy to let go of your worries.

This is why you ended up here.

“Faster!” While he already feels great, it’s not the exact pattern to provide that sweet release, not in the timeframe you hoped.

“I want this to last, dear.”

Your eyes roll to the back of your head. A part of it due to irritation. Being subjected to that response before, he snickers to see you’re still you, even when you’re literally fucked out of your mind. As he does so, his lips skim yours. You take it, greedily, one hand first on his neck to ensure he stays, then to his unruly tress, aspiring to compel him into the middle ground. That earns you a few groans, yes, but his will doesn’t seem to falter even a little bit.

Perseverance, is a mutual quality, as you already know.

You slowly release the grip you have on his head, emphasis on slowly. It goes unnoticed, thanks to your timely bite, the same assault he once carried out. You don’t waste the access to his tongue, sucking on it. You’re not sure if his moans are increased in number, or if it feels more because you swallow every single one of them, but the fact that his beard starts to prick your cheeks harder gives you an idea.

Your free hand falls into sheets and slithers across the length of your body. Just a little more- you’re almost about to touch your –

His fingers wrap around your wrist instantly, dragging it up, a little further away from your face. You twist your neck, a wail coming out as you reject his kiss.

Only to be met by the sight of that said fingers running up your palm, and interlock themselves among yours.

Your breath hitches, for reasons unknown to you.

“Ah- ah -ah.” He tuts, though there’s not a hint of disappointment in his voice. “What kind of a gentleman would I be if I let you do all the work?”

You can’t believe one physical contact, and his words, are enough to carry you to that previous peak. Your pussy contracts around him, beyond your control, an indication of your closeness, nothing compared to before.

“Ngh- that’s it.” He encourages, “Just relax and take it.” That’s more sincerity than you’ve ever heard from him.

It goes on and on for a while, him doing exactly what he promised to do, and fulfilling his wishes in the process. He already knows this could go on ‘til morning, and he still wouldn’t be completely satisfied, longing for your presence the second he leaves the bed. Still, he continues, pushing himself to his limit, and that’s getting quite harder when you clamp on him that hard. He feels his cock leaking, begging for that sweet end.

When his arm that’s not supporting his weight travels down, caressing your hip before pressing his thumb to your clit, finally, you reward it with a whisper of his name, a sound he won’t dare to forget. Your back arches impossibly higher, and he has to lean back, abandoning his other hold.

Your limb stays in the spot he left it.

He curses at the realization, perhaps its effect mirroring yours when he first initiated the contact. Fuck, how are you so perfect? He snaps his hips harder, and circles his thumb, feeling it throb.

“Obi Wan-I’m c-“

He loves how your words are cut with the need to scream that you gulp down, only resigned to breathing as your face contorts with pleasure. “Cum for me, love.”

Your moans blend into each other, as he cannot stay still at the feeling of your walls squeezing him so tight. He holds your trembling thigh, fondling the soft flesh, adoring the way it spills from his grip. He doesn’t stop ‘til they settle again once more, and even a little longer than that, pulling out in the last minute to cover your belly with his spend. 

That act keeps you from turning to your side, and feeds the desire to hug the sheets, a soft but firm ground for your senses to return. You're not complainant of it anyways, you have a far better view in front of you, defined muscles undulating with each heavy breath, glistening due to the light coat of sweat covering them, lips puffy and slightly flushed with blood, as well as his cheeks. You always thought he was devilishly handsome, but this, this is something else. The world should consider itself lucky, or it would bend to his will just from his looks. Or unlucky, for the honor is bestowed upon a handful of people. 

He believes he's blessed with the sight upon him, too. Still holding onto your thigh, he delights in spontaneous tremors that possess it. If he looks closely, he's sure he can see the faint mark he left. Your hair is sprawled around, much in contrast to the delicate up-dos you and every noblewoman fashioned, its most natural form, and the intimacy of it definitely causes a small breakdown. You belong in a painting, depicting goddesses and nymphs, a grace outside the limits of time and culture. Your droopy lids and tired pull at the corners of your mouth fill his chest with pride and more adoration, like after his every successful attempt to elicit a reaction from you. It happens often, thanks to the understanding that grows between the two of you, but every example is still treasured in in his mind.

“Well, I don’t know any better way to spend the night.”

You giggle. “I agree.”

“We should’ve done this before.”

Your lifted brows are the perfect answer. Like it’s that easy.

But he has a point, too.

In the comfortable silence, he gets up from bed, a sigh at the roar coming from downstairs, drowning the music. That’s still going, huh? You watch as he wets the nearest towel, and returns, cleaning the mess with unexpected gentleness that it almost tickles. There’s no aim to steal one more touch at his movements, no personal gain except an easy conscience, and even that is a stretch because it’s most natural to him, his understanding of tenderness.

“Well, thank you, sir.” You sit up, with a yawn, and scooch backward to your pillows as he retreats to give himself the same treatment. “And my nightgown, please.” You point to it, and amusingly follow his subtle headshake, and efforts to hand it over. He hesitates for a second at the last minute, considering rebellion, a last joke. You see it, and snatch the fabric from his grip before he can tighten it. He can feel it sliding over his skin, the light material flying. You slip it on, aware of his voyeur. with a victorious smile cut too short as exhaustion creeps into your bones. You’re no different, in any case, settling into the fluffy pillows, curiously examining each piece of clothing he puts on from afar, the unwritten rule of his habits, his hidden glances at your mirror in a feeble pursuit to tame his messy hair. You’re willing to be charged guilty for that.

He stalls, though, you can feel it after a while, around the time sleep clouds your vision. How could anyone blame him for not wanting to leave, carve your picture to his mind, and calm his yet again straining cock at it?

“You should be going. Servants are going to be wandering these corridors for orders, soon.” Your heart winces at the warning, because he's not the type to need it, or disregard you to put you at any risk. But your cognation runs thin, and he needs to know the dangers he might face. 

"True. Right. You're correct." Is that a stutter? "Good night, my lady."

"Good night, Lord Kenobi.

"Glad to be of help in stretching your legs." 

The cushion falls short to exactly hit him, but the sentiment is clear. 

In the morning, you uncover the reasons behind his diversion. 

Bastard signed every slot in your dance card.

[the-boroughh]

For his 10th birthday, Anakin is gifted a cam by Master Windu. He takes it everywhere, much to Obi-Wan's annoyance. Though his Master becomes easier about the constant cam use once he realizes all Anakin wants to capture is him.

[from the Photo Album Series]

[make-me-imagine]

Worth Saving

Plot: When you are on a stealth mission in a rebel base, Obi-Wan must listen from a distance. When you are found out, injured and trapped, Obi-Wan races to save you, even when you tell him it's not worth it.

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Gn!Reader

Prompt: A is alone and hurt badly, they can talk to B through an earpiece/phone. Eventually A stops talking and B thinks they lost them. But they find them alive.

Requested By: Anonymous; this is a really old mystery prompt request lmao

A/n: I don't recall if they've ever even used ear-pieces in Star Wars except for with pilots in their ships, or if they just like...don't exist. But let's pretend they do lol

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of blood and death, wounds. Pretty angsty. Lack of a sense of self-worth from reader.

Words: 2.3k

-

You tapped on the new piece of hardware hanging over your ear as you walked through the darkened backrooms of the base.

"Is this thing working?" You asked in a hushed tone.

"Yes, I can hear you just fine." You heard Obi-Wan's voice come through with a small amount of static mixed in.

"Oh good, now I can have your voice in my head telling me all the things I do wrong all the time now."

You could almost hear the smirk on Obi-Wan's face at your sarcastic remark before he replied "Perhaps this will stop you from making your impulsive decisions then."

"Don't get your hopes up."

Obi-Wan smiled again as he checked his scanners again. Even in these kinds of situations you could always make him smile.

He was nervous for you, being alone in a rebel base with no real knowledge of what you were actually looking for. And he hated that he was so far away, unable to get closer due to the base's ability to scan for ships.

So you snuck in yourself. Obi-Wan insisted on coming too, but you needed someone to be prepared to get you out fast, besides, if you got caught, there was a higher chance of him being recognized. You had a better ability of blending in, and no one knew your face, you couldn't be tracked back to the resistance.

"Damn"

Obi-Wan's heart dropped when he heard you curse, immedietely sitting up in his chair his hands hvering over the ships controls in case he needed to make his way to you.

"Y/n? What is it?"

"Someones coming, hold on." Your voice was barely audible, but Obi-Wan held his tongue, and his breath.

You snuck into a nearby room and leaned against the wall in the darkness. The sound of people walking past echoed through your ears.

Your heart was hammering as you held the handle of your phaser tightly.

"Y/n?" Obi-Wan's voice spoke softly, worry obvious.

"I'm good." You whispered and you heard an audible sigh of relief.

Looking around the room you had snuck into, you realized it was full of computers and paperwork. Looking closer, you saw drives locked up in a cabinet. Your interest piqued, you inched closer, wondering if the information on the drives might be valuable.

"I found a bunch of data drives"

"Any way of knowing what's on them?"

Breaking the lock, you took as many drives as you could fit in your bag. "No Idea but I grabbed some. I'm going to try and get into their system."

Able to hack in, you were only able to find one file on a potential weapon development for the rebels before you suddenly heard the door behind you slide open.

You dropped down, trying not to be seen, but you weren't fast enough.

"There they are!"

Through the comm's Obi-Wan heard an unfamiliar yell before the sound of weapons fire was heard. Obi-Wan immediately started the ship and made his way towards the base.

Hearing you grunt in pain, Obi-Wan's heart dropped "Y/n?"

"I've been hit" You said with panic in your voice as you fired your weapon at the rebels. Killing one, and wounding the other, you managed to get out of the room.

You raced down the corridors, your abdomen burning from your wound. As alarms started to blare through the base, you looked for a way out, but as the sound of running approached, you felt a sense of dread wash over you.

"I'll be there soon Y/n, can you get to the pick up point?"

"I'll get back to you on that."

Weapons fire filled the comm's again and panic coursed through Obi-Wan. He knew it was too dangerous to send you alone, he hated that he didn't go with you, he hated that he didn't risk the resistance being linked to the mission.

When silence came through the comm's Obi-Wan spoke "Y/n, what's going on?"

He heard your heavy breaths through the comm "I can't get out, they've got the place flooded with people. Obi-Wan, they knew I was here. They didn't just find me, they were looking for me."

Obi-Wan's breath caught in his throat "Are you sure?"

You nodded, forgetting that he couldn't see you "Yes, they knew"

Anger and worry coursed through him, who found out? Or, who betrayed you?

"Where are you?"

"I found a small storage room, I'm hiding in, I don't know if they'll find me. If they do, I'm screwed."

"How are your injuries?"

You looked down at your body and you swallowed. After the first hit to your abdomen in the control room, the ambush of rebels in the hall did more damage. You had been hit in the shoulder, arm and leg. It wasn't good, you already felt your body weakening.

Your clothes were burned from the phaser fire, the wounds were cauterized, but blood seeped from them due to your desperate escape.

"Not good."

Obi-Wan's stomach turned "I'm almost there, just hang on okay?"

"Obi-Wan, don't"

"Don't what?"

"Don't come for me."

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm too far into the base, it's too risky. And I'm too injured. It's not worth it."

Obi-Wan let out a scoff of anger and surprise.

"You mean you're not worth it?"

You always had this mindset. You always threw yourself into dangerous situations so other's didn't have too, because you thought you wouldn't be as missed, that you wouldn't be worth as much, that no one would really care if you died.

And he hated it, he hated that you didn't see your worth. He hated that you didn't see how much he cared.

Your silence told him exactly what he already knew.

"How can you still think that?" He asked, his voice desperate "How can you think after all this time, after all the people you've saved, that you aren't worth it?"

"It's an occupational hazard I guess." You spoke softly, obviously in pain, but he could hear the forced smile on your face as you spoke.

You were never one to want to worry him, so you always made jokes.

"Even if I don't think I'm worth it. It's too dangerous for you. The base is flooded with people, you may be a jedi, but you can't make it through all of them to find me. You'll get yourself killed."

"I'm coming to get you Y/n, nothing is stopping me."

Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you weren't sure if it was because of the pain, panic, or the way Obi-Wan was speaking.

"Is this what it feels like to be you, when I make reckless decisions?"

You heard Obi-Wan let out a soft huff "Yes"

"No wonder you always get so upset with me."

"Occupational hazard" He mumbled as his knuckles turned white due to the grip of his hands.

He could hear your voice slowly getting softer, you were loosing strength.

"I'm getting close Y/n, just hang on."

You could hear the sound of footsteps nearby and fear coursed through you. You pointed you weapon at the door, prepared to fire if needed. Even if you'd die here, you wouldn't let them take you out easily.

The footsteps faded and you felt relief wash over you. You hissed as a jolt of pain shot through your stomach.

"Y/n?"

"Obi-Wan, it's too late." Your voice was softer now, as your eyelids grew heavier. Your clothes slowly soaked with blood, your wounds aching.

"Don't you dare say that. I know you're stronger than this, so just stay awake, I'm almost there!"

Obi-Wan could feel himself losing to his emotions, but he didn't care, not now. He couldn't lose you, he wouldn't.

"Always so worried about me, always caring so much more than others. Why?" You were mumbling but Obi-Wan could still hear you.

Obi-Wan felt his eyes burning, hearing the pain and worry in your tone "Don't you know?"

"Yes. But If I'm going to die I'd like to hear it at least once."

Obi-Wan shook his head, "You're not going to die. You're going to hold on, and I'll tell you in person. How does that sound?"

"So now you're trying to bribe me into surviving?"

"Anything to make you stay"

You didn't notice your grip loosening and your gun falling to the floor, or the way your body began to slump. You tried to focus on Obi-Wan's voice, to stay awake, but you felt yourself falling into darkness.

"I don't...think I h-have...a choice"

"Y/n? Y/n!"

When you didn't response, and he was only met with silence and static, dread washed over him.

"Y/n?"

Seeing the base come into view, Obi-Wan began to land his ship. Fear, anger and determination coursed through him. He wouldn't believe you were gone, not until he found you. And if- if you were dead, he wouldn't leave you here, not alone.

Obi-Wan managed to get half-way through the base before encountering rebels. After a fight, and a light wound to his arm, he made his way through the base again.

Reaching out with the force, he felt for your presence, any sign of you nearby. Feeling nothing, he felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

Suddenly, just for a second, he felt a familiar presence, a sort of warmth washed over him, but then it was gone. But it was enough for him as he picked up his pace, and began running.

Finding a small door sort of hidden in a corridor, Obi-Wan knew it would be the sort of place you would go too. Going in silently, his eyes immediately spotted you at the back of the small room and his heart dropped.

You were still, no movement could be seen. Your phaser was lying on the ground beside you, your hands limp and head to the side. Your clothes were soaked with blood, as phaser burns could be seen.

Obi-Wan ran to you taking your face in his hands. He felt relief wash over him. You were still alive, though barely.

He knew it would e dangerous getting you out. He'd have to carry you, but he was not leaving you. Scooping you up into his arms, he made his way out into the corridor. He could hear the sound of footsteps nearby. Taking a breath, he started to run, to get you to safety, so save you.

--- --- ---

You weren't sure how long you had been in the darkness, lost and numb. But slowly, you started to feel as though there was someone in the darkness with you. Like you were underwater and someone was reaching for you, all you needed to do was take their hand.

"Don't go Y/n."

The voice was familiar, but you had trouble placing it. It was warm, it felt safe.

"I'm right here, we're almost out of this, just don't let go."

Suddenly, like a jolt of electricity you realized. It was Obi-Wan. He had come for you after all. But you were sure you were dead. Weren't you?

No. Not yet.

Darkness swallowed you again, but you felt lighter, as though you weren't drowning anymore, but floating, waiting to wake up.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, the room around you was unfamiliar, but the presence beside you was a comforting one.

Obi-Wan stared at you for a moment, surprised by your sudden consciousness. Relief followed quickly though as he leaned forward.

You met his eyes before you spoke, your voice soft "You came for me"

He smiled softly "Of course I did."

"Even though I told you not too."

"Yes"

Your eyes wandered to his arm, which was now in a sling. "You got hurt"

"Yes."

He saw the guilt cross your face and he reached out and placed his hand over the top of yours. You met his eyes again as he spoke.

"It's nothing serious. I got off a lot better than you did. You've been asleep for days."

You looked down at Obi-Wan's hand as it encased yours. "I heard you, talking to me. Telling me to hold on."

Obi-Wan smiled softly. He knew what you were referring too. When he finally got you back to the ship, he reached out to you with the force. He knew there was a connection to the force within you, even if you refused to acknowledge it. That was how you could hear him.

"And you did hold on."

You nodded softly, seemingly lost in thought. Obi-Wan squeezed your hand softly and you looked back to his face. Your eyes remained locked in silence for a moment before he spoke.

"You asked why I cared so much for you" He began, his voice uncertain, knowing the things he wanted to say were meant to stay a secret. Knowing he was going back on his own training and beliefs for simply feeling them.

You shook your head, stopping him "You don't need to tell me Obi-Wan"

Silence fell as your eyes remained locked. You knew how he felt, and he knew how you felt. But that was all it could be. And you both knew it.

In a moment of desperation, before you thought you were going to die, you wanted to hear him say it, just once. But now you were alive, safe again. And those words could no longer be said again.

"It's okay." You said softly, your emotion obvious in your voice "I know."

Obi-Wan smiled, but there was only sadness and regret behind it.

He wanted to tell you so badly, but both of you understood the consequences if he let those emotions take hold of him. You smiled at him, but there was sadness behind it. The same as he held onto.

You both knew how you felt, and you both knew that feeling was worth holing onto, worth saving until you could final feel it freely. But for now, it would remain unsaid.

xx End xx

Not sure how I feel about how this came out, but I hope you enjoyed it!

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[peterparkersnose]

Caught

pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Amadala!reader

word count: 1k

warnings: nudity, embarrassment, fluff at the beginning, sexual references, age gap sort of referenced

a/n first obi wan fic. i hope i didnt make padme too mean, it wasnt my intention. i havent watched the prequels in over a month and i tend to forget character aspects sometimes. also this takes place at the castle anakin and padme got married in (and the only place where i will ever get married Villa del Balbianello if your interested)

summary Padme’s prized younger sister Y/N gets caught after a night with Obi Wan.

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read time: 3 mins 39 seconds

“Why couldn’t we had just sent a droid?” Anakin whined, following Padmé.

“It’s better to communicate through words. More respectful. I’m sure Master Obi Wan won’t mind.” Padmé said confidently. Her dress swayed perfectly behind her and her heels clicked as Anakin sulked following her down the hallway.

“But he’s the late one!”

“Yes, but I’m sure he just over slept. Come on,” Padmé said, trying to calm down Anakin. Obi Wan rarely messed up, and when he did Anakin did not deal with it lightly.

The two reached Obi Wan’s door to his quarters. Just as Padmé was about to raise her hand to knock on the door, Anakin grabbed her wrist softly.

“Wait. Listen,” he whispered. The silence stung their ears as Padmé tried to listen to what Anakin was saying.

“Or shall I pin it here?” Obi Wan asked, picking up a side of his sheet and pretending to pin it over your shoulder.

Your giggle rung through the room and bounced off the wall. You stood at his private balcony, covered only in his sheer tan bed sheet.

“I liked the strapless better,” you said sweetly, tucking the sheet under your arm once again. “Such a fashionista,” Obi Wan smiled, gazing out over the rural mountain. “Who taught you that word?” you asked, turning to walk towards him.

As you took a step, you tripped over the sheet and the dress began to unravel. Your skin became exposed to the bright morning sun. Nothing to hide around Obi Wan, it’s not like he hadn’t seen it before.

“No! Not my beautiful work,” Obi Wan sighed jokingly, lazily helping you bunch up the sheet on his knees. You grabbed his scruffy chin with your fingers, grabbing his attention to your face.

Your eyes seemed to entwine. His expression turned soft, leaving his eyes wanting for your lips. Bending down and keeping your hand on his chin, you softly kissed him.

Then the knock came on the door.

“Who’s that?” you panicked, freezing in your position.

Obi Wan was a Jedi. He wasn’t supposed to be with anyone according to Jedi law. The relationship you two had was kept a secret. Sometimes you liked it. Something the two of you shared and nobody else knew. It was special. Other times it drove you nuts. You wanted a ring on your finger more than anything. You would always ask “Well Anakin and Padmé…” but he would always come up with an excuse. “We can’t be as irresponsible as the two of them,”

“Calm down, my love. Breakfast,” he sighed, waving his hand. The big wooden door flew open. You expected a droid carrying a tray of food.

Instead you were met by the horrified faces of your sister and brother in law.

You shouted, ripping the sheets from Obi Wan’s hands and covering your exposed breasts and rolling back on your hips, covering yourself as much as possible. It wouldn’t help, the cat was already out of the bag.

Padmé was going to kill you. She had always been protective of you ever since you were little. She was older than you by a few years. She was the Queen, and you listened to her. Seeing her sister naked on the floor with one of the men she most respected was most definitely going to set her off. She was not about to let you make the same mistakes she did.

“Y/N…?” Padmé asked, her hand now covering her agape mouth. “It’s not what it looks like,” Obi Wan said, raising his hands in a defensive pose.

Padmé had never seen you like this before. She had expected you to keep your purity until marriage and marry for political reasons. Not to be tangled up with a Jedi. She had just caught her younger sister after very obviously hooking up with someone. And not just someone, that someone was Obi Wan. Your stomach felt like knots just waiting for her reaction.

“Mé’, what are you doing here?” you gritted through your teeth. “I could ask the same for you!” she yelled. “Get dressed.”

Tears began to well in your eyes. “Y/N,” Obi Wan sighed, reaching for your hand. You flung his hand, rejecting his request.

“Where is my dress?” you asked, shoveling through the other blankets on the bed. “I-I believe we left it by the pool last night, my dear.” Obi Wan answered.

You looked up back to Padme. She was standing with her hand on her brow, hips cocked against the door frame. Anakin was standing now farther back in the hallway, but you could still see his cheeky smile. “The pool?” she asked angrily. You were about to answer but then she raised her hand. “Nevermind. I don’t want to know.”

“I do,” Anakin whispered from the back. She promptly elbowed him in the ribcage, he let out a small oof. 

Your heart sank at the sight. You had disappointed the one person you wanted to make proud.

“Here,” Obi Wan said, gathering your green long sleeved dress from his drawer. “How long has this been going on?” Padmé exclaimed, shocked that he had a stash of your clothes in his room.

“Uhm…”

“Since the wedding?” Obi Wan asked you. “Around there, yeah.” you agreed.

Padmé’s eyes almost popped out of her head. “My wedding was over six months ago!”

“Sorry,” you muttered, raising the straps on your dress.

“So does this mean there’s no training today?” Anakin asked, piping up behind Padmé’s shoulders. Obi Wan shot him a death glare. He knew he wouldn’t hear the end of this.

“Let’s go,” Padmé said, grabbing the back of your arm and guiding you quickly out of the room.

“Dude,” Anakin said, smirking at Obi Wan. “Leave.” he sighed, holding his hand up and flicking his wrist. “Are we going to be brother in laws?” he asked, hanging on the doorframe.

Padmé was expecting him to follow and they were getting a little too far away. Anakin struggled remembering all the hallways in this big castle.

Obi Wan sighed. He rubbed his brow with the back of his hand. “If Padmé doesn’t kill me, then just maybe.”

Anakin smirked at Obi Wan.

“Don’t tell her I said that!” he yelled after Anakin.

“No promises!” Anakin yelled from the hallway.

-

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[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

Never Grow Up

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Prompt - ‘Your little hand’s wrapped around my finger and it's so quiet in the world tonight.’

Requested - Yes - Anon

You hadn’t been entirely sure what was happening, one minute you were fighting back to back with Commander Grazer, a dozen more clones fighting around you until the droid army was in pieces. It had been a long battle and you were panting by the end of it, exhausted and desperately praying that Obi-Wan was winning his own battle on Utapau.

When you turned around to check on your men you froze as you came face to face with a blaster and Commander Grazer’s face showing his conflicting emotions as his arm shook slightly. You had just been about to open your mouth when you glanced around and saw the others all had their guns upright and steadily pointed directly at you.

“What is this?” You asked as you reignited your lightsaber, not wanting to use it against the men under your command.

“Execute Order 66!” Commander Grazer said and suddenly there were blaster shots being fired at you from every direction, you just about managed to jump out of the way, using the Force to push the clones aside as you used your lightsaber to deflect as many shots as you could.

The ships were a good few klicks away and you had a full battalion following after you as you darted away from their shots, desperately trying not to get hit. It didn’t help that the planet’s terrain was steep and uneven, full of hills and cliffs.

One of the clones managed to get close enough to try and grab you but when you pushed back, using the Force to push him away you ended up sending yourself tumbling down one of the deep hills, wincing as you felt sharp rocks slicing your robe, some deep enough to pierce your skin.

By the time you had stopped falling your hands were cut, bruises would definitely form and you could feel blood sticking to your shirt. You didn’t have time to stop though, blaster shots were still coming from above and you could see the clones making their way down towards you.

As you ran towards the ships you pressed at your comm but it had taken a hit during your fall and there was no way to get in touch with anybody to see what was happening. You couldn’t even fathom what was happening, these clones, those men had become more than just soldiers under your command, they had turned into friends, family, you fought side by side with them every day. For them to just turn so suddenly didn’t make sense.

You ran until your sides hurt, until the cuts and bruises ached painfully and your feet begged for a break, you pressed on and eventually saw the ships in the distance. The clones were still behind you but you had put a fair bit of distance between you and them, twisting and turning here and there, but every so often a blaster bolt would shoot past you forcing you to run faster.

By the time you actually got to the ships you felt about ready to pass out, the battle that had tired you out to begin with felt like it had happened in another lifetime. You knew you had less than a minute to get on a ship and off the planet before the clones were in their own ships trying to shoot you down.

Somehow you managed it though, jumping into hyperspace just as the clones came into view. You had quickly typed in the coordinates for Coruscant but once you were in hyperspace you figured that might not be the best plan, you weren’t sure just how widespread this thing was with the clones since your comm had broken.

You pressed a few more buttons on the ship before a voice came through, a voice you recognised well and had you sighing in relief to hear but then you registered his words and felt your blood turn cold.

“This is Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen, with the dark shadow of the Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving Jedi. Trust in the Force. Do not return to the Temple.”

The Jedi Order had fallen along with the Republic? How could that possibly be the case when just hours before you and Obi-Wan had parted ways with every intent to have the war finished when you saw each other again.

You keyed in Obi-Wan’s private comm number and felt your fear worsen when there was no reply after more than a dozen attempts to contact him. You prayed to the Force he was safe, you knew to get his message out he would have to have gone back to the Temple. Your mind kept trying to conjure every scenario, every bad thing that could have happened to Obi-Wan but you tried to do as he instructed, you had to trust in the Force.

You were still heading toward Coruscant and knew that you had to change course, you were still a few days out but didn’t want to be anywhere near the planet, it was too dangerous. You needed a new destination but had no idea where was safe.

You wanted Obi-Wan.

With Obi-Wan not answering his comm you moved onto other people who might know something. Anakin was your next call but you had a bad feeling, he had been on Coruscant and whatever had happened with the clones with you it was clearly happening on Coruscant too and when Anakin didn’t answer you tried desperately to shut your mind off. You tried Padmé after that, she was also on Coruscant but she would have been rushed away from the danger and yet she too failed to answer.

You felt sick to your stomach, whatever was happening on Coruscant must have been deadly, the Empire had taken over and you just hoped your friends were safe.

You tried one more person, praying and begging with the Force to let this call connect because you didn’t know what you were supposed to do if it didn’t.

“Y/N?” A voice exclaimed startling you back to reality, eyes snapping open to look at the holo in front of you. “You’re alive!”

“Bail.” You breathed out, tears stinging your eyes and you barely choked back a sob at finally getting through to somebody. “Thank the Force, I tried everyone but nobody is answering. What’s going on?”

Bail looked down, a grief stricken look on his face that had you even further on edge. You weren’t sure you wanted to know the answer.

“How much do you know?” He asked you instead of answering your question, he wasn’t quite sure he could tell you.

“I got Obi-Wan’s message.” You told him after taking a deep breath, your mind still running wild and Bail’s avoidance didn’t help. “I know the Order and the Republic have fallen, I know the clones have turned against us.”

“Yes.” Bail sighed and he looked back up at you looking older than you’d ever seen him before. “That is the basics of what has happened. Where are you now? If you got Obi-Wan’s message you know you mustn’t return to Coruscant.”

You nodded but didn’t answer him, staying silent for a minute as you played with the ring on your finger. It wasn’t really allowed, possessions weren’t a thing the Jedi had but nobody had ever brought it up and it had been a gift from Obi-Wan, one that you never wanted to part with.

You knew you had to ask, knew you had to know but you hated that with one little question you could suddenly be in a galaxy without Obi-Wan. You took a shaky breath, a tear falling down your cheek as you looked at Bail.

“Obi-Wan,” You managed to choke out, pausing to swallow around the lump in your throat as more tears slid from your eyes. “Obi-Wan, is he-”

You couldn’t force yourself to say the word, refused to even speak it into existence. The sympathetic look Bail wore did nothing to help the devastation running through you. You couldn’t imagine a galaxy without Obi-Wan, you’d known him your whole life. As a Jedi you had been taken to the Temple at a young age and you didn’t remember a time before that, Obi-Wan had already been there when you arrived and the two of you had been inseparable ever since.

It might’ve been against the Jedi code but you didn’t care, you knew you loved him even if you could ignore it most days.

He couldn’t be gone, he just couldn’t be, not Obi-Wan. A galaxy without Obi-Wan was not one you wanted to be in.

“He’s alive, Y/N.” Bail told you, forcing his voice to be steady even as his face softened as you broke out into relieved sobs, when he hadn’t answered your calls you’d assumed the worst but he was alive.

“Where is he?” You asked and Bail didn’t hesitate to tell you he had travelled to Tatooine and he was staying there, he sent the coordinates over to you and you quickly changed the destination and turned back to Bail.

“Thank you, Bail. If you ever need anything you know where to find me.” You told him sincerely. You had known Bail for years, becoming close friends with both him and Breha and you were beyond relieved to see he was unharmed.

“Likewise, Y/N. Stay safe and…keep an eye on Obi-Wan, he’s going to need all the support he can get.” Bail told you and you frowned, something about his tone telling you whatever was happening with Obi-Wan went deeper than the fall of the Order and the Republic.

“I’ll always look after Obi-Wan.” You told him, watching as a smile spread across his face and he nodded, knowing full well that you and Obi-Wan loved each other and would die before letting the other get hurt. “Stay safe, Bail.”

It was still a two day journey to Tatooine and your mind ran wild in those days. Bail hadn’t told you anything more than what Obi-Wan’s message warned about so until you were reunited with Obi-Wan you were left with the most dreadful thoughts. During your journey you didn’t sleep, the one time you managed to drift off your dreams were plagued with screams and death and you forced yourself to stay awake as you flew through hyperspace.

You finally arrived on Tatooine, following the coordinates given to you by Bail and felt a wave of relief rush through you when you saw a small shack in the middle of nowhere, far enough away that nobody would stumble across it but close enough that Obi-Wan could travel out for supplies when needed.

When you landed the ship you had to take a moment to just sit back in the seat and let out a shaky breath as you stared at the shack, even though you had been told Obi-Wan was alive and safe, you knew you wouldn’t truly believe it until you saw the man, so with another deep breath you pulled yourself together and headed off the ship.

Obi-Wan had heard the ship and he was proud that his wave of panic only lasted a minute before he reached out and felt your Force signature. Once he had pushed aside his fear he felt his heart speed back up for a different reason, you were alive. He had truly thought that after days of not hearing from you that something had happened, that you hadn’t been able to fight the clones off.

With Luke still in his arms, awake and content to be held, he made his way outside and watched as the ship's door opened and you walked down the ramp. You looked worse for wear, clearly injured, robes torn and muddied but none of that mattered, you were alive, that was the most important thing.

He walked to meet you halfway, noticing the exact moment your eyes widened as you took note of Luke in his arms, it seemed Bail hadn’t shared everything with you. When you finally reached him your eyes moved from Luke to look in Obi-Wan’s.

“Is that…” You went to ask, trailing off as your eyes fell back to Luke.

“Y/N, meet Luke Skywalker.” Obi-Wan said softly and your gaze snapped back to him, eyes wide and watery as you tried to keep the tears where they were but it was no use, once one leaked over the rest followed. “Would you like to hold him?”          

You opened your mouth to say something but the words clearly died on your tongue as it fell back shut and instead you gave him a shaky nod. Obi-Wan smiled as he carefully transferred the baby to you, guiding your hand to hold his head properly and then just watched as you looked down at Luke with a mix of emotions playing out on your face.

Your hand came up to gently run along the baby’s cheek before you let out a choked sob when Luke’s tiny hand came up to wrap around your finger. You looked back to Obi-Wan and saw tears welling up in his own eyes as he stepped closer, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest as he placed a gentle kiss to your hair and looked down at you and Luke, so thankful that he had something good left after all that had been lost.

Not much later you and Obi-Wan were settled on the sofa, you tucked against Obi-Wan and Luke cradled in your arms. Given the past few days, the fighting, the overwhelming emotions, the pain and suffering, the dragging yourself off the ground when all you wanted to do was give up, this small part of Tatooine, this quiet corner of the planet Obi-Wan had picked out felt so quiet compared to how loud the rest of the galaxy seemed.

Your gaze was on Luke, heart equal parts full of love for the child and pain for what had become of his parents. You hadn’t had the full story yet, Obi-Wan hadn’t said much and you were content with the silence for now but you knew nothing good could have happened if Obi-Wan had Luke.

Eventually the baby’s eyes closed and began to flutter as he fell asleep in your arms and a small smile tugged at your lips as you stood up and carefully walked over to the small crib Obi-Wan had set up, tucking Luke in and placing a gentle kiss to his forehead before joining Obi-Wan back on the sofa.

In the short amount of time it had taken you to put Luke to bed Obi-Wan had gotten up to get supplies to patch you up. Most of the injuries were cuts and bruises, nothing too serious and most of them had closed up after your long travels.

“Will you tell me what happened?” You asked softly, wincing as Obi-Wan gently ran a wet cloth over a long cut on the side of your stomach.

Obi-Wan was silent for long enough that you resigned yourself to not knowing but then he sighed, a deep, heavy, tired sigh before starting at the beginning with the battle on Utapau right up until giving Leia over to Bail and leaving them behind to bring Luke to Tatooine.

By the end of it you were all patched up and tears fell down both your cheeks. You felt even more exhausted after hearing everything, heartbroken as you cried for everything that had been lost. How had things gone so wrong in the span of just a few days?

Obi-Wan looked drained and when he suggested retiring for the night you didn’t hesitate to agree, letting him pull you from the sofa and into the small bedroom. That night neither of you got much sleep despite feeling more exhausted than you could ever remember being, both of you curled against each other as your thoughts played through the last few days.

For a long while things were tense, the weight of the fall sat heavily on both your shoulders, knowing that the organisation you had dedicated your lives to and the only home either of you had ever known was gone like it had never been there, it was a lot to come to terms with.

Luke seemed to grow more and more every day until he was a small boy who began resembling another little boy you had once known although that felt like another lifetime ago.

You knew Obi-Wan had bad days, days where he excused himself to the nearest town because looking at Luke hurt, you know he hated himself for it no matter what you said to try and convince him that it made sense. You got it too, sometimes you looked at him and saw a glimpse of Padmé’s smile, sometimes the resemblance to Anakin was too much for you too.

Things did get easier though, eventually the hurt of losing the Order faded into something easier to live with, the pain of losing Padmé and Anakin had become a part of you and all you could do was keep their memory alive.

“I wish he could stay this little.” You murmured as Luke cuddled into you, squashed between you and Obi-Wan on the sofa, eyes closed as Obi-Wan finished reading a story to him.  

“I know what you mean.” Obi-Wan smiled as he looked down at Luke, the boy hadn’t long since turned five but Obi-Wan could still remember how he had cradled the small baby against his chest like it was only yesterday.

For years during your time in the Order you and Obi-Wan had always known you were special to each other, it was different to how you were friends with the other younglings, you and Obi-Wan had been inseparable from day one. Both of you were loyal to the Order and followed the code even if it did mean you couldn’t have the other.

Now there was no code, there was no Order for you to be loyal to. All that was left was this small patch of land on Tatooine and each other. You had already been here for five years, five years that seemed to have flown by in the blink of an eye and had let yourself fall more and more in love with him now that there was nothing stopping you.

You and Obi-Wan had never mentioned it, never defined it but you didn’t have to, you both knew it was love. Waking up next to each other every morning, moving in sync with each other as you cooked, Obi-Wan watching with a soft smile as you and Luke danced around his room whilst getting him ready for the day, the lingering touches, the way you got to fall asleep curled against each other, it was all love.

“Sometimes I wish we could give him more though, a life beyond this shack, one where he could go to school, one where he could make friends.” Obi-Wan sighed, letting his head fall to the side so he could look back at you, you who were smiling at him with such a softness to it.

“Careful what you wish for, Obi-Wan,” You chuckled, reaching over to brush a strand of hair from his face. “Before we know it he’ll be sneaking off into town and wanting to move out and go on his own adventures. Besides, I quite like our little shack in the middle of nowhere.”

“Yes, I suppose our small corner of the galaxy isn’t so bad.” Obi-Wan’s smile widened at your laugh, letting himself lean into your touch causing you to trail your fingers down his cheek and letting your thumb brush across his beard.

Obi-Wan had been a good Jedi, he had followed the code despite how many times he had thought about you in ways that would have seen him thrown out. But five years had passed by since everything had changed and he couldn’t remember what he was holding on to anymore.

It was the easiest thing in the world to lean across, careful not to jostle Luke too much as he did, and press his lips to yours, enjoying the little muffled surprised noise you made against his lips as he kissed you softly, your hand curling around his jaw as you pulled him closer, both of you knowing in that moment that this was right, that the two of you belonged to each other.

“He’s not mad at you.” You told Luke softly as you sat down on the sand next to him, smiling softly as he lifted the toy ship Obi-Wan had gotten for him in the air and flew it around half-heartedly.

“Yes he is.” Luke mumbled, refusing to look at you as he spoke.

It had only been a few years and somehow your life had changed so much. You’d gone from relationships being forbidden to freely and openly loving Obi-Wan, overjoyed with the fact you could kiss him whenever you wanted, with the way you could tell him that you loved him as many times as you wanted.

You and Obi-Wan had been raising Luke for nine years now, the little boy next to you the same age his dad had been when you first met him and the resemblance made you choke up some days, especially when he started showing an interest in the ship you’d brought to Tatooine all those years back, wanting to know everything about it and begged you to let him fly it.

Neither you nor Obi-Wan had left the planet since arriving, that was until today of course. When you and Obi-Wan heard another ship landing outside your hand flew to your lightsaber, Obi-Wan had long since got rid of his and instead reached for a blaster that still seemed odd for him to have even after so long of him owning it.

Obi-Wan had told you to stay in the house with Luke, the little boy having no reason to fear whoever had landed and instead was curious, trying to peer through the windows. As Obi-Wan exited the little shack you joined Luke and stayed where you were for all of thirty seconds before you saw the person who walked off the ship.

You were out of the door and past Obi-Wan before he himself had a chance to see who had arrived and he watched as you wrapped your arms around the figure, barely catching Luke as he ran after you, most likely wanting to see the new ship rather than the new person.

“Bail!” You exclaimed as you pulled out of the hug, “It’s so good to see you.”

“Y/N, Obi-Wan.” Bail smiled before looking down, Luke suddenly shy and clinging to Obi-Wan’s pants. “And this must be Luke.”

“Not that it isn’t good to see you, Bail,” Obi-Wan said and you shot him a look, sure it didn’t bode well that Bail had showed up on Tatooine for the first time since you’d arrive but he didn’t have to jump straight into it, he could at least invite him into the house first. “But you wouldn’t be here unless something had happened.”

“I’m afraid you’re right. I need your help, Obi-Wan.” Bail said and you could see the exact moment Obi-Wan shut himself off, already shaking his head and not letting Bail continue before he cut him off.

“No. Whatever it is you can handle, I won’t get involved again. I have my own family to take care of.” Obi-Wan told him firmly, Bail frowning as he nodded, his eyes falling down to Luke before he sighed.

“And a fine job you’ve done it seems but I’m afraid I have to ask anyway, you know I wouldn’t but…”

“What is it Bail?” You asked him softly, seeing the fear he was trying to hide.

“It’s Leia.” Was all Bail said and it was enough for Obi-Wan to gesture to the house, all of you sitting around the small dining table as you sent a pouting Luke off to play in his room.

“You’ll be safe, won’t you?” You asked Obi-Wan, Bail had left not too long ago after Obi-Wan agreed to go and find Leia.

“There is no need to worry, my love, I will get the girl and be back home before you know it.” Obi-Wan assured, pulling you into his arms and letting his lips linger against your forehead.

“I wish I could come with you.” You sighed and Obi-Wan chuckled softly as he looked down at you.

“I’d rather you were here where I know you’re safe. Besides, somebody needs to watch over Luke.” Obi-Wan told you, grinning at the huff you let out.

“Yeah, yeah Kenobi, you go on your little adventure and I'll stay home and watch the kid pout about not being able to fly around the galaxy with his Uncle.” You grumbled with no real heat behind it, unable to stop a smile tugging at your lips as Obi-Wan laughed before pulling you into a kiss.

Luke had refused to say goodbye to Obi-Wan, instead he only glared at the ship as he watched it disappear from view before walking away, sitting a short distance from the house.

“I know you want to explore the galaxy but you know it’s not safe out there right now.” You told him and watched as he rolled his eyes.

Generally Luke was the sweetest child you’d ever met, so polite and well behaved but the one argument that always came up was Luke wanting to explore the galaxy. He had loved your ship for as long as you could remember, most days you could find him at the wheel, stirring it this way and that, or tinkering away on something that definitely hadn’t needed fixing before he started.

“You and Uncle Obi always say that!” He exclaimed and you felt your heart ache for him.

For years you had fought in the Clone Wars, for years you had battled Separatists and Sith and it was all for them, for the kids like Luke who would get to grow up only knowing the new galaxy you had fought for and not the one plagued with darkness.

Of course all that fighting had amounted to nothing, all the lives lost and hearts shattered, the thinking you were so close to victory only to have it snatched out of your grasp by a plot put together before the war had even began.

“I know we do,” you told him quietly, thoughts so far away on a life that felt like it had been lived a million years ago. “Luke I wish you could, I really do, we wanted the galaxy to be safe but it’s not, I’m sorry.”

“We can make it better!” Luke declared and you laughed even as your vision became blurred with tears, Maker you were tired.

There was no better, how could there be with the Jedi gone and only darkness left. You had given everything you had and it had ended with you at the end of blasters held by men you cared so deeply for. You were tired, the war had taken so much from everyone, you weren’t sure you could do it again.

“You’re growing up too fast.” You told him, reaching over to ruffle his hair and feeling lighter when he laughed but didn’t push you away.

“One day I’m gonna grow up and be the best pilot in the whole galaxy!” Luke told you and you desperately tried to blink away the sting of more tears because you had known the best pilot in the whole galaxy and you had no doubt that had things been different him and Luke would have made one hell of a team.

You didn’t say anything though, just pulled Luke into your arms and this time Luke didn’t fuss like he usually did, telling you he was too old to sit in your lap anymore. The kid was so aware of everyone else’s emotions all the time and seemed to know you just needed to hold him tight against you for a moment.

“He’s alive?” You exclaimed, days had passed and Luke had long since gone to bed by the time you heard the ship land. “Wait, is that why Leia was taken, does he know about them? Are they safe?”

“He doesn’t know, he has no idea who Leia is to him and he certainly has no idea that Luke exists.” Obi-Wan told you calmly after telling you what had happened on his mission to rescue and return Leia. “Nobody is going to hurt him.”

“Force, I can’t believe he’s alive.” You said, sitting down next to Obi-Wan, the man not hesitating to pull you into him after so long apart. “And you’re sure it’s safe for us to stay here?”

“I promise, if I didn’t think it was, I would move us immediately.” Obi-Wan assured you, kissing the top of your head as you let out a shaky breath, nodding against his chest as you let yourself calm down after hearing his story.

“How is Leia?” You asked after a few moments of silence, turning up to look at him and watching as a soft smile pulled at his lips.

“She is quite possibly the bravest little girl I’ve ever met. Considering she has no idea who her biological parents are she is so much like both of them, a stubborn, passionate, kind hearted little thing, ready to take on the galaxy.”

“She sounds like a certain little boy I know who’s been missing his Uncle.” You smiled up at him, “Luke thinks there’s hope for the galaxy, that it can be made better.”

“It seems such an impossible thought, doesn’t it?” Obi-Wan murmured and you nodded again, your fingers playing with his. “It can’t stay like this forever though.”

“I’m not so sure I could handle another war, even then we had the numbers only because of the clones, now what is there? A few people willing to rebel, I wish them all the luck in the galaxy but we tried once.” You sighed, the war seemed a lifetime ago and yet you could still remember how drained you were by the end of it.

“Sometimes a few rebels is all the galaxy needs, maybe not to win the war but to light the spark in others.” Obi-Wan told you, you humming softly before leaning up to close the distance between you with a soft kiss.

“I’m glad you’re back home.” You whispered against his lips.

“Me too, my love.” Obi-Wan murmured before leaning back in to press his lips to yours.

More time passed and before you knew it Luke was so grown up, grown up and even more eager to get out into the galaxy. You and Obi-Wan knew it had only gotten worse, sure people had tried to fight against the Empire but nothing worked, the galaxy only got darker.

Unfortunately you knew you couldn’t keep Luke on Tatooine forever, one day he would leave, the boy was too eager, too kind hearted to leave the galaxy as it was. He had so much fight and so much good in him, not only that but he was also strong in the Force. Obi-Wan and you had been teaching him the ways of the Jedi not too long after Obi-Wan had helped Leia, knowing the boy had already shown signs of being able to use the Force and wanting him to be trained in case something ever did happen, even if it did hurt to see Anakin’s old lightsaber again after so long.

Luke didn’t get the chance to argue again about going out into the galaxy, not when something new came along to drag you out of your safe space on Tatooine.

You and Obi-Wan had made a run into town, leaving Luke alone at the house, not that he stayed there of course. Once you and Obi-Wan left Luke found himself wandering around outside until he made his way onto the ship.

He had always felt at home on the ship you had brought with you, he dreamed of flying and though he loved his life on Tatooine with you and Obi-Wan he couldn’t help but want more. He had listened to the stories from both of you growing up, the tales from the war, the adventures you had had together. He wanted that, he knew he was meant for more.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard a crash near the house and he leaned forward in his seat to look out of the window, not seeing anything for a moment and then suddenly two droids came into view.

“Droids?” Luke murmured to himself, pulling himself off the seat and making his way off the ship, the droids spotting him immediately and the R2 unit zooming over to him whereas the other just mumbled to itself.

The R2 unit beeped at him and Luke frowned as he watched the unit crash into his legs.

“Whoa, hey there buddy, what’re you two doing so far out here?” Luke asked them both and the R2 beeped wildly at him again.

“You’ll have to forgive my small friend, he seems to think he’s on an important mission when really we barely escaped with our lives from the Empire.” The other droid told him and Luke’s eyes widened.

“The Empire? You know about the rebellion?” He asked with a grin on his face and the droid nodded.

“Of course, me and R2-D2 here are more than familiar with the rebellion.” The droid said, sounding as exasperated as a droid could.

“Yeah you two do look a bit banged up. You want me to patch you up, buddy?” He asked R2 and the droid beeped again like he was excited causing Luke to laugh. “Alright then, come up onto the ship, that’s where my Aunt keeps the tools.”

The three of them made their way onto the ship and Luke knew when you and Obi-Wan got back you were going to kill him but he couldn’t help it, he loved tinkering with the scraps you brought home from market, now he had the chance to patch up real droids, ones who knew about the rebellion no less.

“What did you say your name was?” Luke asked as he crouched down in front of R2 and got to work on him.

“Oh I didn’t sir but I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations.” C-3PO introduced himself as he settled against the wall and watched as Luke worked.

“Nice to meet you both, I’m Luke.” He smiled at them, grunting as he tried to get something that was jammed in R2 unstuck. “You’ve got something jammed good in there buddy, let me just-”

Luke was cut out as he was shocked by the R2 unit before a holo started playing, Luke looking towards the girl as her voice filled the ship.

“Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You’re my only hope.” The girl pleaded and Luke frowned as he turned to the droids.

“What’s this?” He asked as the holo continued to play. “Who is that girl, why is she asking for help?”

His frown deepened as both of the droids shrugged it off as old footage, he couldn’t help but think they were lying to him. He didn’t know what reason they’d have to lie but two droids suddenly appearing and looking for Obi-Wan was strange.

“R2 says it is a private message for Obi-Wan Kenobi, he refuses to tell you anything unfortunately, sir.” C-3PO finally said after talking with R2 and Luke frowned before his face lit up.

“If you’re looking for Obi-Wan Kenobi I can take you right to him!” Luke said as he stood up.

“You know Obi-Wan Kenobi, sir?” C-3PO asked and Luke nodded excitedly, gesturing for the droids to follow him.

“Of course, Obi-Wan is my uncle, him and my aunt should still be in town, I can take you to him!” Luke grinned and the three of them made their way towards the town. It was a fair trek away from their house but it didn’t take awfully long to get there.

He had been to the town only a few times and each time he went he was never allowed to wander off despite being so curious about everything. This was the first time in his whole life he’d been by himself and he knew once the two of you saw him he’d be done for.

It was worth it though, the small thrill running through Luke, his first adventure!

It took some searching but eventually he found you and Obi-Wan, you were sitting together on a bench some distance away from everyone else and the second R2 saw you he shot off like a rocket, leaving Luke to chase after him with a yell and C-3PO to sigh to himself.

Your eyes widened as you looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, gasping at the R2 unit barrelling towards you. You were off your seat before Obi-Wan had noticed the droid and crouching down just in time for R2 to crash into you causing you to laugh.

“R2, is it really you?” You asked and the droid let out a series of excited beeps. “Force, what are you doing all the way out here?”

“Luke?” Obi-Wan asked and your head snapped up to see a sheepish looking Luke, C-3PO showing up behind him a second later. “3PO?”

“You know these droids?” Luke asked and you taped R2 once more before standing up and glaring at Luke.

“The question is how do you know these droids and what in the stars are you doing out here alone?” You asked him with a glare causing him to look down at his feet, kicking at the sand.

“They were looking for Uncle Obi-Wan!” Luke defended himself, “They have a message, a girl is in trouble, she needs your help!”

You and Obi-Wan shared a look, a girl needing his help, there was only one person in the whole galaxy who fit that description, young Leia Organa.

“Let us get back to the house, it isn’t safe to talk out here.” Obi-Wan murmured and you nodded in agreement, starting the walk back home, wondering what trouble had managed to find Leia this time.

“General Kenobi, years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father’s request in person. But my ship has fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. You once told me I would see you again if I ever needed help, this is the time. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope.”

You and Obi-Wan were silent as the message finished, sharing a look between you, Obi-Wan standing and gesturing for you to follow him. When Luke went to follow you gave him a pointed look and the boy sat right back down again.

“What is Bail up to?” You asked and Obi-Wan could only shrug though he wouldn’t be surprised if his old friend was part of the new Rebellion. “We have to get that droid to Alderaan.”

“We’d need to bring Luke, we cannot leave him here alone.” Obi-Wan said, causing you to scrunch your nose in displeasure. “He will be fine, the boy is strong with the Force, one of the strongest I have seen.”

“Just because you’re right doesn’t mean I have to like it.” You mumbled causing Obi-Wan to chuckle and pull you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I know, my dear, believe me I want nothing more than for Luke to stay here, to never know the cruelness of the world beyond this place but unfortunately, despite our best wishes, the boy has grown up.” Obi-Wan told you and you couldn’t stop the stinging in your eyes. “He’ll be fine, we raised him well.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this, you can feel it too, I know you can, something big is coming. He shouldn’t be near it.”

“That boy knows he is made for something bigger than Tatooine, one day he may choose to fight and he will be a worthy Jedi. All we can do is give him the tools and guidance he needs to stay safe.” Obi-Wan said as he pulled you closer to him, smiling softly as you gripped his robe.

“We need a way off Tatooine, the ship is fine for small journeys but it’ll never get us to Alderaan in one piece.” You told Obi-Wan after pulling away and taking a shaky breath.

“We’ll fly it to Mos Eisley, leave the rest to me, my love.”

It only took a few mind tricks to get past the troopers, tricks that seemed to impress Luke, of course he’d been taught about the Force and what it was capable of but he had never actually seen anything like that.

Taking Luke into the seedy cantina was the last thing you wanted to do but Obi-Wan seemed certain you’d find your pilot in there. As you entered Obi-Wan moved away and began talking to somebody, out of the corner of your eye you saw Luke looking around in wonder before he went to move away, only stopped by you grabbing his arm.

“You stay with me, I’m still not thrilled you’re coming along but if you are you’ll do as I say.” You told him sternly, having Luke so far away from home had your nerves on edge, that mixed with the shift in the Force had anxiety running through you.

You couldn’t do anything about whatever was happening with the Force but you could protect Luke and that you would do with your life.

“Come on, Aunt Y/N, I’ll be fine!” Luke whined but didn’t try and pull away from you, moments letting stepping closer when a creature with four arms grunted at him causing you to snort.

As you walked further into the bar Luke got closer and closer to you until he was pressed against your side, his arm wrapped around yours like he had done when he was much younger. You couldn’t help but smile despite the situation and squeezed his hand before giving him a reassuring smile as Obi-Wan gestured you over, telling you about a captain who could potentially get you to Alderaan.

“Han Solo.” The man introduced himself as he sat next to the Wookiee. You glanced at Luke and elbowed his side when you saw him staring too openly at the creature causing him to pout at you. “I’m captain of the Millennium Falcon.”

You listened to him as he talked his ship up, Luke hanging onto the captain’s every word and you almost felt sorry for the man if he agreed to take you, knowing Luke would already have a million and one questions for him.

“Ten thousand, all in advance.” The captain told you and you watched as Luke gasped, rolling your eyes as you looked towards Obi-Wan.

“We could buy our own ship for those credits!” Luke exclaimed as he turned to you and Obi-Wan before snapping his attention back to Han.

“And who’s gonna fly it, kid? You?”

“I could! I’m an excellent pilot!” Luke declared, your gaze still on Obi-Wan, full of amusement as he looked at you in exasperation.

“Luke, why don’t we let your uncle do the talking?” You said softly, ignoring the wide eyes and pout that was sent your way. “Remember what I said.”

“Obi-Wan, where in the Force are you getting fifteen thousand credits?” You asked after the deal was struck and you had put enough distance between you and anyone listening.

“Bail wants the droid, I’m sure he won’t mind paying the captain who delivered it.” Obi-Wan told you with a grin.

“You’re sticking Bail with a fifteen thousand credit bill?” You laughed as you nudged him, causing Obi-Wan to laugh.

From then on it hadn’t taken long at all to sell your ship for the advance payment and before you knew it you were meeting up with the Wookiee and making your way to the Falcon, though once you arrived you had a bad feeling upon seeing it, wholeheartedly agreeing with Luke that it looked like a heap of junk.

“So much for no Imperials.” You muttered to yourself as you heard blaster shots and looked out of the window in time to see a swarm of them surrounding you but thankfully between the Wookiee and the captain were able to get you off Tatooine and into hyperspace.

Once you were in hyperspace you smiled as Obi-Wan tested Luke’s work with his lightsaber, knowing that something was bound to go wrong on this mission and wanting Luke to be as prepared as possible. Your smile didn’t last long though, if you thought something was happening with the Force before it was nothing compared to the sudden pain and terror you felt, gasping as you leaned back in your seat and watching Obi-Wan sit down.

“Something terrible has happened.” You heard Obi-Wan say and that was putting it lightly, you managed to push yourself to your feet before sitting down next to him, Obi-Wan’s arm wrapping around you and pulling you close as you buried yourself against his chest.

You stayed quiet for the rest of the trip, reaching out into the Force and trying to feel something but it just felt empty. Whilst Obi-Wan distracted himself with Luke, you followed Chewbacca and Han into the cockpit as he announced you were coming out of hyperspace.

You were glad for Obi-Wan following in not too long after, wrapping an arm around you and holding you against his chest as you staggered back once the captain announced you’d arrived but Alderaan was gone.

Everyone around you spoke but you were frozen, staring ahead at the destruction before you as Han flew through it, frowning at the space station that came into view.

“I have a very bad feeling about this.” Luke said and you moved away from Obi-Wan to pull Luke against you, the young man not pushing you away and instead leaning into your hold.

The fear in Luke's voice when Han announced you were caught in the tractor beam turned you cold as he turned to cling to you and you hated that he was on this ship at all, you knew nothing good could have come from it and now, if anything happened to Luke you’d never forgive yourself.

You almost gasped as you felt something in the Force, Obi-Wan turning to look at you and you knew you weren’t imagining it, you knew he had felt it too. You knew what had become of Anakin but to see his destruction, to see how far he had fallen first hand was different to hearing the stories.

You didn’t have time to think for too long though, the captain grabbing your arm whilst the Wookiee took Luke’s and they led you down to hide under the compartments. You waited until it was all clear and let Luke pull you up, him taking his spot pressed against you again.

You let Han and Chewbacca take care of the troopers outside of the ship before following them into the command centre, letting R2 find his way around and sitting against one of the crates in the room.

Anakin, no Vader had done this, he had been a part of the destruction of Alderaan. Your gaze shifted to Luke, your heart aching even more as you saw the fear he tried to hide, then you moved to look at Obi-Wan.

He looked like he’d aged so much since leaving Tatooine and you were sure you looked the same, you felt the same at least. After everything you’d lost there weren’t too many people you had left in the galaxy to trust and now Bail was gone, him and Breha and the rest of Alderaan wiped out and for what?

You knew Anakin was gone but you had to believe some part of him was in there, buried deep down. Surely he was tired of the fighting and the wars. Hadn’t you all had enough of it to last a lifetime?

Obi-Wan’s gaze found yours and he smiled though it was strained, you forced yourself to smile back though, forced yourself to push your feelings into the Force and focus on getting Luke out of here alive.

You listened as C-3PO told you that the ship could leave so long as one of the terminals lost its power and Obi-Wan looked at you, raising an eyebrow and you nodded.

“You boys can’t help, me and Y/N will deal with this alone.” Obi-Wan told them and you ignored Han in favour of turning to Luke.

“Y/N, don’t go.” Luke pleaded as he clung to your robes before you even had the chance to speak, him already getting teary eyed and you forced yourself to smile again, to use all your Jedi training to hide your emotions and project a calm you didn’t feel.

“You’ll be fine.” You told him, smoothing his hair from his face and bringing him close enough so you could press a kiss to his forehead. “If anything happens you know what to do, you are strong with the Force, trust in it and trust yourself.”

“Please don’t go, at least let me come with you.” Luke begged, a tear slipping down his cheek.

“Come on, none of that now. Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise. I don’t care how grown up you get on me, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, you will get off this space station.” You promised him, cupping his cheek and wiping away the few more tears that slipped down.

“Uncle Obi-Wan, I wanna go with you two.” He turned to the other man causing you to laugh softly and Obi-Wan squeezed his upper arm.

“You stay here, stay with the droids. They are of top priority and must be delivered safely. Now listen to your Aunt.” Obi-Wan said softly, forcing his own smile on his face before Luke nodded, seeing he was fighting a losing battle.

“The Force will be with you, always.” Obi-Wan told him before gesturing for you to follow him and you went with one last glance towards Luke, mouthing an ‘I love you’ to him and finding your smile wasn’t as forced when he whispered it back.

You and Obi-Wan kept silent as you made your way through the base, it was almost embarrassing how easy it was to move around unnoticed with so many troopers and imperial officers on board, Obi-Wan clearly thinking the same as he smirked at you when you snuck past another large group of stormtroopers.

“You can feel him too, can’t you?” You whispered as you and Obi-Wan pressed against each other to avoid another group. “Even with the darkness surrounding him, you can feel him, right?”

“Yes my dear, it is Darth, no doubt about it.” Obi-Wan told you with a heaviness in his tone and you reached up to cup his cheek, feeling him smile faintly. “How twisted the Dark side within him has become.”

“You’re not just going to disable the power, are you?” You asked him and watched as his face darkened, not giving you an answer out loud but he didn’t need to, he never had to, you knew him better than anyone in the whole galaxy. “Whatever plan you had to get rid of me, to distract me whilst you snuck away, change it right now because you are not doing this alone.”

Obi-Wan went to open his mouth but he could see he wasn’t winning this argument so let it fall closed and instead leaned down to kiss you, both of you holding each other close and savouring the feeling.

“I love you, Obi-Wan.” You whispered against his lips, feeling the way his breath hitched being so close to him.

“I love you too, my dear one, more than you could ever know.” Obi-Wan murmured back, placing one more kiss to your lips before pulling away and you continued on your way.

The two of you made quick work of shutting down the power to the tractor beams so the Falcon would be able to take off and it was easy to sneak past the troopers keeping watch once it was done.

You followed behind Obi-Wan, pausing when he gestured for you to wait as he went ahead, scouting the next room and walking into it. You frowned as he failed to give you the all clear after a few seconds and looked up and down the hallway before moving across.

“No!” You exclaimed as the door slid shut before you could enter the room, locks sliding into place, your fists banging against it doing nothing. “Obi-Wan!”

From behind the glass you could see Vader already in the room, cloaked and masked with his red lightsaber lit, an imposing figure that should strike fear but instead your heart just ached painfully.

“Obi-Wan, open this door!” You yelled and he turned around to give you an apologetic look before facing Vader, lighting his own lightsaber.

You couldn’t hear what they were saying but you winced every time their lightsabers smashed into each other. Pushing yourself away from the door you raised a hand and drew all your strength from the Force and yet the blasted door still wouldn’t open.

You never took your gaze off the two of them, eyes locked onto Obi-Wan the whole time as you watched them battle each other, tears streaming down your face as you pleaded with the Force to just open the door, desperate to get through to Obi-Wan.

You watched as Obi-Wan paused, still holding Vader off but turning to see something you couldn’t before you felt a shift in the Force again, this time instead of fear it was peace spreading through it and you felt your heart beating wildly as you shook your head calling Obi-Wan’s name as sobs wracked your body.

“No!” You called as watched him put his lightsaber down and Vader didn’t miss a beat as he swung for Obi-Wan, the man you had loved for years, for your whole life, fell to the floor before you, gone in the blink of an eye, leaving nothing but a lightsaber and his cloak behind.

As he disappeared the door flew open and you stumbled into the room, falling onto your knees as you sobbed into his cloak.

“Still so loyal to Obi-Wan?” Vader asked, he knew he had recognized more than just Obi-Wan on the space station but hadn’t been sure. “Pathetic.”

You looked up at Vader and it was Vader, there was no more mistaking him for Anakin, not anymore. The Anakin Skywalker you had known would have died before killing Obi-Wan.

Vader lifted his lightsaber again, ready to strike you down as he had Obi-Wan. There was a moment, it was only a moment that lasted no longer than a second, where you had to make a choice.

It wasn’t a hard choice, a thought you had had so many years ago back when you were young and exhausted hit you, a world without Obi-Wan Kenobi was not a world you ever wanted to be in. Even in just these few seconds it had been since Vader had killed him the galaxy felt emptier immediately, it felt like a part of you had been ripped out, an aching hole in you that would never be mended.

You had never lived in a galaxy without Obi-Wan and you didn’t plan on doing so now.

You were old and you had lived a full life, more than a full life. You had been a Jedi Master, you had fought wars and commanded armies, you had settled down with the love of your life and got to spend every day at his side, raising a child who was yours in every way but blood, a child you loved more deeply than you thought possible.

It had been a good life, tiring but filled with so much love, even before the Order fell and it was an emotion that Jedi weren’t supposed to feel. You loved the men under your command, spending years at their sides and becoming closer than friends, becoming a family as you fought together on the front lines, earning their respect by standing with them. You had loved Anakin dearly, helping Obi-Wan navigate his new life of suddenly having a Padawan and taking Anakin under your wing when Obi-Wan’s grief over the loss of Qui-Gon was too much and he needed to be alone. You loved Padmé and Bail, dear friends and two of the few people you trusted more than anyone. Mostly you had loved Obi-Wan, long before you had even truly known what that had meant.

It was a good life, a long life and you knew it was done there. You hoped one day Anakin would find his way back, that he would find a way to rid himself of such darkness but there was nothing you could do to help him, not now.

You were tired and you were at peace, ready to join Obi-Wan, sure he was waiting for you on the other side for whatever grand adventure awaited the two of you next and as you turned your head you saw Luke watching you, the boy crying but he wasn’t alone, his sister had her arms around him and you managed to mouth a final ‘I love you’, managed to see Luke choke out the same three words before Vader’s lightsaber struck you too.

Obi-Wan Kenobi Taglist (Click the link in my bio to add yourself!) -

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Thank you so much for reading!💜

[marvelmymarvel]

World On Fire

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Skywalker!Reader

Synopsis: Trying to stop your baby brother before it was too late resulted in a very worried Obi-Wan and an even angrier Anakin.

"Anakin please" you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you took in the yellow eyes of your younger brother. Part of you wondered what you should have done differently, how could you have stopped this?

"Join me, Y/n. The power of the dark side flows through you. I can feel it"

You shook your head at him, lips trembling as you fought the urge to caress your growing stomach for comfort. You weren't sure how he'd react if he found out you were pregnant, but you didn't want to find out. Not here. Not now.

"Anaki-" your words cut off as pressure was applied to your neck, causing you to gasp for air as he choked you with nothing but the dark force surrounding him. "If you won't join me, sister, then I will have to kill you. You know too much about me"

You shook your head, hands scratching at your neck as you fought off the assault. The red atmosphere was started to grow fuzzy and the fear of dying coursed through you. Tears streamed faster down your face, was this the end for you?

Dark spots filled your vision and before you could once more try and mutter out his name, you dropped to the floor.

But you weren't dead, not yet. Anakin wanted to kill you a different way. He ignited his lightsaber as Obi-Wans ship began to descend into the fiery land. He wanted to wait for his dear Master to come out. So that Obi-Wan can see the death of the only person he dared love.

You.

The bridge lowered. Obi-Wan flew out of it and towards you in worry. He ignored Anakin and instead knelt beside you. Reaching out, he closed his eyes and gently rested his hand on your stomach. A sigh of relief flew from his lips when he felt both your force and the child's. It took Anakin a second, but once he connected the dots his rage grew tenfold.

"You dare preach to me that love is not the way of the Jedi... Yet go and have a child with my sister?" His anger was suffocating, even for the older man who had somehow grown accustomed to the darker side of people. He hated this, part of him wanted to try and save Anakin, and the other part wanted to protect you. The vow he took meant he always had to obey the first one.

But he didn't care anymore.

He stood swiftly, blocking your body from Anakin's as he too ignited his lightsaber. "I won't allow you to hurt her, Anakin" Obi-Wan whispered, his heart clenching at the thought of losing both you and Anakin. But he most definitely could not lose you.

Anakins smile grew sinister.

"Then I guess you'll just have to try and stop me... Master. Because she will die and it will be all your fault"

[bellarkeselection]

If I wasn't busy with college assignments, I would be writing for Obi-Wan again 🤣

[euphoriacafe]

When the war felt like it was so close to being over you stood in front of the map overlooking the plan. You were tired.

Your eyes zoned in on the part of the section that would be your responsibility and all you could feel was anxiety spreading through your body.

You were so out of it that you didn’t even realize that everyone left the room leaving you by yourself. The air in space was cold making things almost worse for your anxiety.

Suddenly, a warm comforting hand is placed onto your shoulder giving a light squeeze. You looked to the side and saw Obi Wan give a concern gaze.

“Is everything alright?” His voice was quiet not wanting to draw any attention from outside the room. You nodded slowly looking him before looking down momentarily then returning your eyes to the map.

“Yes I’m fine… I’m just… taking a breather that’s all.” Your voice was quiet and tried to sound calm.

“Are you sure you are ready for this mission… you could always go back to the Jedi Temple?” Obi wan insisted as his hand that rested on your shoulder slide down the side of your arm slowly and gently.

You nodded your head with a quick “Yes. I’m fine Obi Wan.” Your eyes never leaving the map but you enjoyed the small touches he was playing onto your arm.

He came closer from behind you—his chest was now pressed against your back as he looked down onto your shoulder then he bent down a little bit letting the side of his head brush against the side of your head. His eyes trying to scan where you could possibly be looking.

His hand slid further down your arm to your hand and rubbed his thumb against your knuckles. “What are we looking at?” He asked softly his eyes never leaving the area you stared at.

You felt a small shiver- the hairs on your arm standing up as his other hand brushed on your other arm gently.

“I’m just reviewing the map…my area to be clear.” You added softly yet you tried to clean your throat. Your body welcomed his body to be molded into yours. He was so smooth with pressing his body closer to feel your energy.

“Is there an issue with it?” He questioned softly still rubbing your knuckles with his thumb.

“I just…I don’t want to go alone- I understand I’ll have the troops but- I don’t feel ready to be alone…i- I don’t want another loss.” You spoke quietly as your eyes fluttered closed for a few moments from your last mission of disaster.

“I can come with you.” He spoke quietly into your ear. “You’ll never be alone as long as I’m right beside you.

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Star Wars Masterlist

One Shots

Pasaana Festival - Poe x Reader 

Change Your Name... - Poe x Reader

The Spice Runner Story - Poe x Reader

Back Home - Poe x Reader

Confusion In The Force - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

The Younglings - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

You Did What? - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader

Reckless - Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader (Ft Anakin)

Homesick Padawan - Young Anakin, Reader (ft. Obi-Wan)

Mission Jealousy - Cassian Andor x Reader

Crossed Lines - Cassian Andor x Reader

Side Quest - Reader, Boba Fett, Fennec (all platonic)

Imagines + Mini Fic

Imagine Cassian helping you dress a wound after a difficult mission

Imagine Poe watching you fix a busted electrical box in the Millennium Falcon

Imagine feeling uncomfortable on a planet in a galaxy far away (Poe Dameron)

Imagine Poe’s reaction after he finds you packed to leave

Imagine having to leave on a Jedi mission suddenly (Obi-wan)

Imagine Obi-Wan confessing that he’s in trouble

Imagine Obi-Wan helping you out of a situation

Imagine Obi-Wan trying to understand what is troubling you

Imagine getting a holo-call from Boba Fett and Fennec Shand

(Return to the Easy Navigate Masterlist)

[youreobsessedwithtoomanyfandoms]

Z's 1989 (Taylor's Version) Event

Hi y'all! So, I've decided that I'm gonna do this thing where I write some fics based on the songs from 1989 (Taylor's Version)! Some songs (like Welcome to New York) will not be included due to me knowing I will not be able to write it, but anyways, here's the list of songs and the character I'm doing for it! (Also all characters were literally random chosen for the songs from a wheel)

"Out of the Woods" Dick Grayson

"All You Had to Do Was Stay" Anakin Skywalker

"I Wish You Would" Anakin Skywalker

"Bad Blood" Jason Todd

"Wildest Dreams" Chris Redfield

"How You Get the Girl" Luke Skywalker

"This Love" Jason Todd

"I Know Places" Chris Redfield

"Wonderland" Jason Todd

"You Are in Love" Tim Drake

"Slut!" Bruce Wayne

"Say Don't Go" Leon Kennedy

"Now That We Don't Talk" Damian Wayne (aged up)

"Suburban Legends" Damian Wayne (aged up)

"Is It Over Now?" Leon Kennedy

[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.

[moonlit-imagines]

warnings:

a/n:

not requested

“Well, Cody, Master Yoda has finally assigned me a new padawan. I almost thought he’d forgotten.” Obi-Wan joked as you stood beside him with a kind smile. “And he did not disappoint.”

“Sure didn’t, General.” Cody replied, removing his helmet. “I’m Commander Cody, good meeting you.”

“Y/N L/N.” You introduced yourself. “I look forward to working with you.”

“You gonna have my back out there, kid?” Cody tilted his head up slightly and smirked.

“You know it.” You looked up at him and smiled, noticing his fist reaching out. You put your own out and bumped over and under, then looked over to your new master.

“I think you’ll be a great addition to our battalion. That is—if you can follow orders. My last padawan was not much of a listener.” Obi-Wan told the two of you, who both laughed.

“So I’ve heard.”

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 // @elenavampire21 // @pheonixfire777 //

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

STAR WARS MASTERLIST

Qui-Gon Jinn discovers you and your twin brother, Anakin Skywalker, on Tatooine after being stranded there during a mission. He senses excellent power in the Force in you and Anakin. The Jedi Order takes a chance on the two of you, not without strict guidelines. A bond is slowly made between two Jedi, pushing the boundaries of the ancient Order.

This is the story of power, war, friendship, order, and love.

MAIN STORY CHAPTERS

THE PHANTOM MENACE

ONE / TWO / THREE / FOUR

ATTACK OF THE CLONES

FIVE / SIX / SEVEN / EIGHT / NINE / TEN / ELEVEN 

THE CLONE WARS

TWELVE / THIRTEEN / FOURTEEN / FIFTEEN / SIXTEEN / SEVENTEEN / EIGHTEEN / NINETEEN / TWENTY / TWENTY-ONE / TWENTY-TWO / TWENTY THREE / TWENTY-FOUR / TWENTY FIVE / TWENTY-SIX / TWENTY SEVEN / TWENTY-EIGHT / TWENTY-NINE / THIRTY / THIRTY-ONE / THIRTY-TWO / THIRTY-THREE / THIRTY-FOUR / THIRTY-FIVE / THIRTY-SIX / THIRTY-SEVEN / THIRTY-EIGHT

REVENGE OF THE SITH

THIRTY-NINE / FORTY / FORTY-ONE / FORTY-TWO / FORTY-THREE / FORTY-FOUR 

OBI-WAN KENOBI

FORTY-FIVE / FORTY-SIX / FORTY-SEVEN / FORTY-EIGHT / FORTY-NINE  / FIFTY / FIFTY-ONE / FIFTY-TWO / FIFTY-THREE / FIFTY-FOUR / FIFTY-FIVE 

REBELS

FIFTY-SIX 

A NEW HOPE

FIFTY-SEVEN / FIFTY-EIGHT / FIFTY-NINE / SIXTY / SIXTY-ONE / SIXTY-TWO / SIXTY-THREE / SIXTY-FOUR 

THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK

SIXTY-FIVE / SIXTY-SIX / SIXTY-SEVEN / SIXTY-EIGHT / SIXTY-NINE / SEVENTY 

RETURN OF THE JEDI

SEVENTY-ONE / SEVENTY-TWO / SEVENTY-THREE / SEVENTY-FOUR / SEVENTY-FIVE / SEVENTY-SIX / SEVENTY-SEVEN

THE MANDALORIAN / THE BOOK OF BOBA FETT

SEVENTY-EIGHT / SEVENTY-NINE / EIGHTY

THE FORCE AWAKENS

EIGHTY-ONE / EIGHTY-TWO / EIGHTY-THREE

THE LAST JEDI

EIGHTY-FOUR / EIGHTY-FIVE / EIGHTY-SIX

THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

EIGHTY-SEVEN / EIGHTY-EIGHT / EIGHTY-NINE

ASKS / QUESTIONS / ONE SHOTS

AGES

PLAYLIST

REUNITED 

HIS TURN

I no longer do tag lists, just follow and interact and be patient.

[youretellingmethisdidnthappen]

Anakin: We have good news and bad news. Which do you want to hear first?

Obi-Wan: The good news?

Y/N: Well, the good news is that we probably won't ever be doing it again.

[macabre-mangled]

Love Like Wolves

OBI-WAN KENOBI X READER (gender neutral)

WARNINGS: canon typical violence and innuendos, insecurity (on readers end), brief mention of small age gap

SUMMARY: Obi-Wan assures you you're his despite it being secret

A/N: hot dilf. I also don't proofread my writing so deal with it lmao

Satine was gorgeous. You'd admit that. She also was so kind which made it hard when she was clearly showing interest in your lover. Obi-Wan wasn't flirting back by any means, but that didn't stop the hands of that ugly feeling to take hold of your brain. You of course masked it with the force, knowing that he could sense it otherwise. He could definitely tell something was wrong, but didn't have any idea what. You excused yourself to go and lick your wounds like a cowardly youngling. If Obi-wan was concerned he didn't voice it.

In our quarters you didn't find much peace either. in fact you had been pacing, your lightsaber clinking in its holster as you did. You know Obi-Wan would never be disloyal despite no one knowing about you two. He's not the type. However; it also means he can't publicly claim you. Maker, you sound so primitive. Is that really what we are in the end? Just like animals? Are you the same as a loth wolf? They mate for life. Does Obi view you as his life partner? All These thoughts swarmed your head like wasps. Obi was older than you, surely he's smart enough to not throw away a good thing. At least you hoped so.

"They're a good catch, Master Kenobi."

saltines eyes glittered as she spoke, A knowing glint in her eyes. Obi took notice and looked around in panic.

"Relax, I will not speak of it to anyone."

"If I may ask; how did you know?"

Obi-Wan didn't think he was THAT obvious. Or was he? Maker, he hopes not.

"The way you look at them. Its not obvious, but if someone knows where to look they can tell. Now, I will be taking my leave."

He watches Satine go. He surely hopes no one heard their conversation. Maker knows how much trouble he'd be in if the council found out. he wouldn't be able to take it if they took you from him. You're his light in the dark. He NEEDS you. Although now he's picking up on your distress. How did he not notice before? He starts off towards your quarters. He knows how you get. He just hopes you'll be in the mood to let him calm you down.

Upon his arrival he knocks twice then three times; the secret knock you two have. When you open the door he's greeted with your glare. Oh maker, what did he do? He doesn't recall doing anything. Your strained voice startles him out of his reverie.

"How's Satine? You two have fun making eyes at each other?"

Your tone gave away your emotions, something Jedi are not supposed to do. But right now you didn't care. Realization hit Obi-Wan's face.

"Darling, we weren't doing anything of that sort. Satine knows about us."

He calmly said in something just above a whisper as he slowly moved to cradle you in his arms. You let your shoulders fall. you knew this was ridiculous. Of course he wouldn't. You knew that, but maker that feeling took you by the horns. So you gathered all your courage to ask him the one question you had in the back of your mind.

"Do you see me as a life partner? Like would you marry me if you could?"

If he hadn't been right next to you he wouldn't have heard it. But he did and it made his heart ache how small you sounded. He knew you had insecurities, but never had he heard you sound so unsure. The answer was obvious he thought.

"Of course my darling, It's only you. We're bonded like loth wolves. Nothing or anyone will change that."

You snuggled closer to him at his words but his hand held you softly by the chin to look into his eyes. His eyes held an unspoken question and yours held the answer.

[spidersbane]

your thoughts are loud

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader

summary: you, padme’s top advisor, can’t sleep, and neither can obi-wan. 

warnings: none

author’s note: i disappeared off the face of the planet for over a year bc i was in my first year of law school. somehow i survived and realized i needed a hobby. so i’m revisiting my writing and dumping this here. please be gentle, i haven’t seen the prequels in a while bc my friends won’t watch them with me, and i haven’t seen the show yet either. also would anyone like this to become a series? where it’s this kind of pining but with other characters in different fandoms? pls let me know bc I’d love the feedback. much love. 

suggested listening: ‘moonlight serenade’ by glenn miller 

“Your thoughts are loud.” 

You jumped at the sound of his voice, posh as ever but a little rough some sleep. “I didn’t mean to wake you. And what are you doing in my thoughts?” The question came out with a laugh, knowing Obi-Wan well enough that he wouldn’t get in your head without permission.

He looks down and chuckles softly. “You didn’t wake me. I couldn’t sleep, and I just heard them.”

“Dare I ask why you couldn’t sleep?” You slid over on the small stone bench, trying to make some room for him. 

He cocked his head slightly, pondering, almost hesitating. But he walked over to you and sat down, tugging his robes closer around him. “Anakin, mostly. Concerns for Padme, sometimes.” A whisper, “concerns for you.” 

You tried to shut your thoughts out. You couldn’t, however, helped the heat that rose to your cheeks. “Concerns about me?” 

“Yes, concerns for you,” he said. “I know how the Senators are with you.” He folded his hands in on one another in his lap. ‘And I don’t like how they are with you.” 

You sighed, finally looking at him, seeing his eyes trained downward, not chancing a look at you. “Obi-Wan, they’re Senators, it’s to be expected. Things are going sideways fast, and they’re all just doing what they can to try and manage it. And sometimes, it just happens to get let out onto others.” 

“I don’t like it when it gets let out on you. Especially because I can’t say anything to them.” 

He glanced towards you, then upward, focusing on the limited night sky above him. Somehow, you managed to look at him, though, tracing the sharp curve of his jaw, the soft structure of his cheekbone. Although your shoulders touched, you wanted to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, on his cheek, on something. But you didn’t, and frankly you couldn’t. Even the night’s spell couldn’t make you forget his status as a Jedi Master or yours as Padme’s advisor. Your respective positions had rules, a Code that kept you from one another. But It didn’t keep the others in your charge from one another, you thought.

Padme and Anakin were careful, but you and Obi-Wan knew them better, and knew it hadn’t taken long for them to start seeing each other. In fact, on the few missions to Naboo when the Jedi visited, you often stood as cover for Anakin, ready with a plausible story for when Obi-Wan came asking. You talked Padme through the ups and downs of being with a Jedi, through the long periods of not seeing each other. And she spoke with you about Obi-Wan, not one to be lost on forlorn looks and wishful thinking. Being friends for so long gave her an insight into your thoughts, and knew how your tied your fingers together when Obi-Wan was near, how you could never look him in the eye when he looked at you with his piercing blue eyes. 

It took one look for her to read your thoughts, and it was on a night like this, when you sat out in the open with Obi-Wan, where you were grateful he didn’t read yours. Because you reached for him, a gentle hand on his arm, drawing his skyward gaze back to you, looking at you like he pulled some of the stars from of the sky with him. “But I know you would say something if you could, and that’s enough.” 

He reached for you too, a shaky hand holding your own, cerulean eyes locked with yours. “But it isn’t enough.” 

“Obi-Wan, I …” 

“It isn’t enough,” he said, grip tightening around your hand. “It isn’t enough, because I can’t tell them to leave you alone without them wondering what a Jedi wants with you. I can’t say anything because then I’ll come out sounding like Anakin and they’ll all wonder where the professional version of me went.” 

He turned to you fully, reaching for your empty hand with his remaining one. He leans in closer, and you mirror him, afraid that if you don’t, then his words will escape into thin air and it’ll be as if you never heard him. And he needs you to hear him, to understand. 

He continued, “And then they’d know that the professional version of me never exists around you. That something changes, and I don’t know how to describe it.” 

You shook out a breath, terrified of moving too suddenly. He can sense your nervousness, you know he does, when he starts circling his thumb gently across your knuckles. Your eyes dart between his eyes, looking for any sign of his confession being a joke, some cruel joke. But there’s nothing there, except the calmest gaze, the warmest shade of blue searching your eyes for a reaction. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

I love you, your heart screamed. 

“Obi-Wan, that means, well, more than I can put into words. But the thoughts are there,” you paused. “If you want to feel for them.” 

It’s the first time you’ve offered something like that to him, something that personal to anyone. You can see the hesitation, but it doesn’t take you long to feel him, tendrils of his Force signature wrapping around your mind. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his reaction when he reaches the part of your mind that yearns for him, that aches. He’s there for a while, strolling through, taking his time with you, and it’s in this hike through your mind, that he wishes you could see into his more. 

After a pregnant pause, he squeezes your hand, leading you out of your haze, eyes crawling back open. When he sharpens into focus, there’s a content, mischievous smile creeping up his face; his shoulders relax, and you don’t need to be Force sensitive to feel the utter relief radiating from him. You both have finally gotten a lifetime’s worth of confessions off your chest. And where it goes from here, neither of you know.  But this is different, and you aren’t afraid of finding out. 

The beginnings of dawn creep over the horizon, spilling streams of gold light onto both of you, where you both remember that other Jedi might be beginning to stir. So you stand, hands still intertwined, and you pull him up with you. 

“We have to go,” you begin. “Before someone sees.” 

He smiles, a full smile now. “Let’s get you back to bed then.”

It’s a silent walk back to your quarters in the Senate building, and Obi-Wan holds your hand the whole time, not even starting to drop it when you think someone is going to round a corner and spot you. He’s unafraid, and so are you, and it’s so unlike either of you, but in the early light, neither of you have it in your to care. When he stops at your door, you both fight smiles and whisper proper goodnights, and you force the want of him staying the rest of the night back down your throat.

When you are finally back in your quarters, as disheveled as they are, curtains still drawn tight, you will to him a promise of ‘later, you’ll find me later’. And it is a whisper, a fleeting feeling through your mind, but you know it’s him willing back, ‘I’ll always find you.’