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lazyjellyfish300 · 3 months

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The Woman He Didn't Choose 🌹

AU Bachelor Miguel O'Hara x Fem contestant reader

Synopsis: You went on a dating show just for kicks and giggles but faceplant when Miguel is the Bachelor. You made the final two, but he didn't choose you. Angst ensues.

A/N: I started the new season of The Bachelor and it got me thinking, what if Miguel was The Bachelor 😏😏 and what if it ended badly??!! 😫🤗 I'm thinking of using this as a segue into a new series where it'd be like Bachelor in Paradise where you're a contestant along with Spider-Verse favs like Peter B. Ben, Felicia, MJ, Jess. And there could be a lotta smut 😇 and I might bring Miguel back somehow 🤭let me know what you think.😝

If you're unfamiliar with the TV show The Bachelor, usually the finale is aired live, and the live audience watches the footage of the proposal/rejection of the runner up together and then brings the contestants back out to interview them on stage. Here's an example of what I pictured in my head.. ALSO please listen to the song at the beginning it's literally the PERFECT break up song for Miguel. 😫 Word count 4.6k

DISCLAIMER: I have changed the name of the show for copyright purposes, I don't own or have rights to the TV show The Bachelor and all credit goes to the rightful owners.

TW: ANGST, BREAKUP, SELF DOUBT, GASLIGHTING, INSECURITY, JEALOUSY, MENTIONS CYBER BULLYING ,MENTION OF SEX BUT NO SMUT, DESCRIPTION OF TWO PEOPLE MAKING OUT

Part 2 , Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

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The camera pans to you sitting on a green velvet chaise lounge upon a sleek, reflective stage. Your legs were crossed at the ankles, red bottoms peeking out of the slit of the elegant black evening gown you wore.

Your lips were in a pout, trembling as they threatened to give way to a spill of tears that would fall in a neverending cascade down your cheeks.

You were being made to watch the most horrific heartbreak of your life played back on live television.

Having Miguel look into your eyes mid thrust when the cameras were off and he was on top of you in the Fairytale Suites in Thailand and whisper,

"I love you....I think you're the one....",

watch you walk down a sandy beach clad in a flowy pink dress that cost $60k and stand in front of peaceful cerulean waters, hands entertwined, look you in the eyes and proclaim in a shaky voice,

"I feel stronger love for Xina...," was the unforgiving papercut, and being pinned underneath the relentless barrage of scrutiny, hatred, and criticism from the viewers was the lemon juice being poured on top of it.

You watched yourself on the screen sob as you got into the backseat of the black Escalade as Miguel grimly shut the door behind you. You were taking deep, shaky breaths and leaning on your elbow as you tried to make sense of this profound stab wound he just gave you. Your reddened, teary eyes looked at the camera as your confessional.

"I.....I don't know what just happened...." You rub your temple and look out the window, your lip trembling and your face scrunching in agony. "The craziest part of all of this is....I still love him...."

A hushed, sympathetic awh emerges from the live audience.

You leaned over and cradled your head in your hands in frustration as the black suburban continued to drive.

"I just.... *shaky breath* wanna.....*choked sob*... be happy...when is it my turn to be happy...?" you break down as the screen fades again to black. This time focusing on you, perched on the chaise lounge onstage. The heartbroken woman Miguel did not choose for his wife.

The tall host, Jason Donner, is sitting across from you in a black armchair. He has neatly groomed, sandy blonde hair and stubble dotting his square jaw and white, pearly teeth. He looks at you, green eyes in a solemn expressesion. He addresses you, and then the audience in a quiet voice.

"Wow...that was...truly..... one of the most heartbreaking moments we've seen, I think in all of The Eligible Suitor Nation's history..."

He says your name quietly, then continues, "Now I am, so, so incredibly sorry that this did not have the happy ending you were hoping for..."

You're not looking at him but staring off, sad eyes still in a doe-like expression, a tear has escaped your left eye and is trickling down your cheek, followed shortly thereafter by another from your right.

Jason continues, "Tell me...what are your thoughts as you watch that playback for the first time?" He pauses to hear your answer.

You stay silent for the longest moment, then you finally break your statue-like gaze and take a deep breath, looking down at a spot on the floor so the audience's piercing stares don't throw off your train of thought.

You suddenly feel a rise of anger and frustration in your chest. What kind of question is that? How do you think I'm supposed to feel?

You try and keep it cool, the chains of the hefty NDA contract you signed to be on this show keeping you on your best behavior tonight.

"It feels.....awful, Jason." You look at him, and shrug your shoulders. "I really don't have words for it besides that. It feels awful to watch that."

Jason nods and leans forward, bringing his fingers to his mouth in a contemplative manner. "How did it feel when he said Xina was the one, I mean did you see this coming at all?"

You let out a deep sigh and can't help but roll your eyes a little bit. "No..... no, I did not see this coming, Jason, okay?" You say in an exasperated tone, your words edged with annoyance. "You know what..."

You stand up, shaking your head. "I can't do this." You rip off your body mic and throw it on your seat. "I can't fucking do this...." You gather up your dress train and carefully walk down the steps of the stage and briskly off the set towards your dressing room, sharp heels echoing as they hit the floor, letting out a large sob as soon as you're out of view, one of the cameramen chasing after you.

Jason looks at the camera a little mortified by your sudden reaction, but the camera crew and producers are silently rubbing their hands together, the promise of high ratings clouding their vision like stars in their eyes. That's it, bring on the drama. You were delivering tonight.

Jason clears his throat and flashes a smile at the camera. "Don't worry folks, this has all happened before..."

The audience gives a nervous chuckle.

"We'll give her a moment. But just remember, you'll get to catch her again on the beaches of paradise where other hot members of The Eligible Suitor Nation such as the likes of Ben Reilly, *audience cheers* , Felicia Hardy, *audience cheers*, and Peter B....*audience goes nuts* will have a second shot at love in our steamy Singles in Paradise, premiering this summer."

Jason smiles and raises his voice a little more to be heard over the squeals of the fans.

"We'll take a quick break but when we come back we'll hear Miguel's side of the story, and, a little later the happy couple will be making their grand debut for the first time in public since their romantic engagement in Thailand, which you'll need to see to believe. I must warn you all, it was probably one of the most romantic proposals we've seen in the show's history. Don't go anywhere folks."

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In the beginning, your friend jokingly submitted an application for you to be on the show after you wouldn't stop bitching about your ex. She reassured you when you freaked out at the email you got from production, confirming your application was accepted.

"This will be good for you! Even if you don't marry the guy, at least you can get famous and have fun, be on TV for a little bit, get some free alcohol, maybe a nice date or two, yanno? Besides, you'll have a whole new roster of guys at your doorstep after they see your hot ass on television."

You were still upset until she gave you a list of reasons not to be. Sure, this could be fun, you eventually concluded. You only had a 1 out of 30 chance of winning anyway, why turn a blind eye to the possibilities that could come out of this?

When Miguel was announced as the eligible man you were going to be fighting for, you quit breathing when you saw how handsome he was. Tall, dark, a little stoic, a little nerdy, wants a family? He was literally pulled directly from your wildest imagination.

You were intimidated by how attracted to him you found yourself, but you decided when you stepped out of that limo, that you were going to keep your walls up and just enjoy the ride. You greeted him with a shy smile.

The producers had this weird idea to play up the dramatics that you were supposed to walk in with a bunch of fake autumn leaves from the craft store and throw them in the air and proclaim you're "falling" for him as your signature greeting.

You walked up to Miguel as he stood in front of the mansion, wearing a poker face. You threw the leaves in the air and one of them flew and smacked him in the face.

"Ppppppbbbbbbtttfffhh!"

You said the cheesy ass line, "I'm falling for you Miguel! Geddit?"

"The shock?...." Miguel gave you a confused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment.

"Well, I'm from a small town, we're kinda known for our fall colors during the season." You say with a smile. You brushed one of the stray leaves off his shoulder. "I just want you to know I'm very excited for this journey and I can't wait to talk to you more when we go inside?"

After the initial obnoxiousness of your introduction Miguel managed to put on a polite smile. "Absolutely," he answered. "we'll talk more inside. Thank you for coming."

You gave his hands a squeeze and walked down a stone path into the large Tuscany style mansion, Miguel's eyes lingering on your figure for just one more moment before he let out a deep sigh.

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When you started out on the show with 29 other women, you managed to keep a low profile for several weeks, staying out of trouble and befriending most of them, even becoming a fan favorite. Tweets sent out every week with a hashtag in front of your name in support, and constantly ranking in the top 10 favorite contestants in the fan polls on social media. But, it never occurred to you that you had a real shot until, on week 3, a date card with your name on it made its way into the mansion.

Your master plan of just 15 minutes of fame quickly morphed into a life or death situation for your heart when you went on that amazing first date with Miguel to see your all time favorite rock band: Goo Goo Dolls. They played Iris and brought you on stage in front of everyone. You slow danced as the song played, and he leaned in close, softly singing the lyrics in your ear, dedicating the whole thing to you.

"You're the closest to heaven, that I'll ever be and I don't wanna go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment. And all I can breathe is your life. And sooner or later it's over. I just don't wanna miss you tonight..."

And if the whole scene couldn't get any more romantic, a delicate shower of rain began to fall, and you and Miguel shared your first kiss which quickly snowballed into a makeout session on live TV.

Ever since that date, you became one of his favorites. Sometimes you swore he would look for you first as he entered a room. His eyes scanning urgently until they came to rest on you where they would linger for just a moment. Scarlet eyes that seemed to bleed only for you.

A language only you two could understand, before he'd gently look away, not wanting to give away his undeniable pull towards you in a crowd of many.

In between dates, you'd send little tokens to him through the producers like a sticky note that said "thinking of you..." or your favorite dad jokes. He'd read them with a smile and have them respond for him in the form of small Hershey's kisses or a sticky note that said in his messy handwriting,"couldn't stop thinking about you, either"

You'd giggle on top of cloud nine when he'd answer you back and you hid them quietly in your suitcase, not telling a soul.

Watching him kiss and date other women was much, much more difficult than you expected. Sometimes the way he'd look at one of the other girls would cause you to want to throw in the towel right then and there.

When you heard that he had kissed them, you couldn't get that mental image out of your mind, much less when you unfortunately witnessed it with your own eyes at one of the pre-elimination ceremony cocktail hours.

The way she was straddling his lap, making herself look so small in it....the way he was groaning into her mouth, the sounds their lips were making as they moved against each together, letting his hands wander down her back and come to rest on her ass...

The painful sting of jealousy was so unbearable that you just ran away, tears burning hot down your cheeks until you could lock yourself in the bathroom and just settle in a heap on the floor, hand clasped around your mouth so nobody could hear you cry.

It was so fucking unfair. You couldn't even be upset because this was what you signed up for. You thought you had a fairly strong grip on your self worth when you started the show, but every day tested you more than you ever thought possible.

You spent hours every morning getting ready with your hair, makeup, and outfits, walking out with your chest high, only to see the way one of the other women's hair just fell so flawlessly or how she barely needed any makeup to look perfect, or how her body just looked way hotter than yours in her tight dress, causing it to deflate once again.

But those moments when you finally had him all to yourself felt like you were the only woman in his world. Miguel knew just the right words to hum into your ear and just the right way to touch you with his fingertips. There was no place on Earth like his arms. His heartbeat was a lullaby that could calm you like nothing else. He was making you fall rapidly like no other man from your past could. You buried your head in the sand, taking his words at face value, foolishly believing that he wasn't repeating the exact same thing to everyone else.

You took the sweet nothings he'd whisper to you and make it gospel. Speeding naively down a road that lead to a dead end of disappointment. Week after week, as the show's episodes aired, the illusion you built yourself crumbled. Words you thought he conjured up just for you reduced to the punchline of some sick undercover joke as he turned around and repeated them to the next woman.

Realizing the walls of the house you lived in were made out of porcelain. The stone of his betrayal knocking it to pieces. The curtains peeling back revealing layer after layer, causing your mind to go mad with self doubt, not even sure if you knew this man who you uprooted your life for and handed your dignity and heart over to on a silver platter.

Who was this man who sang those sweet lyrics in my ear while we slow danced like we were straight out of a movie? Who was this man who I followed to the ends of the Earth, made a fool out of myself on live television for? You felt a deep pit in your stomach after every episode.

Not only did you have to contend with the troubling confusion that this man who you thought you loved wasn't who he said he was, you had to deal with the fact that the show's production was now trying to twist your character for the sake of drama.

You noticed that things you said were taken out of context and edited as spicy sound bites, painting you as this drama queen and passive aggressive trouble maker in the house. You sort of became their selected agent of chaos once the other firecrackers eventually got eliminated and needed someone new to fill in the villain's shoes.

You watched the episodes play back with a puzzled look on your face. You knew what you said, you went on the dates, you heard the words that were being spoken, you kissed the man, you gave your body to him, and yet, everything you thought you knew was being challenged before your very eyes. Piecing together two separate versions of him that lived in your head. You thought you were slowly going insane.

When it eventually came down to you and Xina as the final two for Miguel to choose from, Xina was the soft spoken, drop-dead gorgeous, intelligent, cookie-cutter, Christian sweetheart that every man could hope to bring home to meet his mother.

Conchata and Gabe took an immediate liking to her during the meet the parents episode right before the finale. During hometown visits, Xina's parents were an endearing couple who had been married for 30+ years who she had an amazing relationship with. If you had to lose Miguel to any woman, then of course it would have been her.

Meanwhile, you were the framed "bad girl" with tattoos and a cursing habit. You were a little more open about your sexuality, making crass jokes with the other women in the house. You'd definitely burn up if you were to enter a church. At hometowns, your home life was comparatively messier to Xina's with divorced parents and an absent father.

Your mom and siblings met Miguel and loved him immediately, of course. Every week as the show aired and drew closer to the finale, you had to endure seeing endless tweets and memes putting you down. Lots of older women calling you a whore, saying you're trouble and telling Miguel to run for the hills while lifting up Xina at your expense.

Conchata disliked you instantly. She raised an eyebrow at your top that was slightly too low cut, and your thigh tattoo that peeked out a little under your skirt. At least Gabe thought you were cool, but you remember how nervous you were sitting through filming when Conchata was grilling you on the patio outside the luxurious suite she was staying in.

"How do you feel about my son?" She asked, silently giving you a test you were unaware you were taking.

You paused for a moment. "Well... I love your son, ma'am. I can see myself spending the rest of my life with him."

Conchata raised an eyebrow. "But do you even know him? You've only been dating him for a few weeks. I know him better than anyone as his mother, and it seems as though he's made really strong connections with some of the other women."

You tried to shrug off the knot in your tummy her words just left you. "Well...I do, Mrs. O'Hara. He makes me feel special every time I see him. He and I communicate really well and always check in with one another. He has everything I'm looking for in a life partner: strong willed, calm, kind, hard working, intelligent...he makes me happy and I would be honored if he chose me."

Conchata didn't react, just tightened her lips in a straight line and took another sip of wine. "I see...well, I'm glad that you feel that way and you take such an interest in my son. But, do you honestly see him choosing you at the end of all of this?"

You feel your gut clench again at her question, anger, confusion, insecurity rising within you all at once, but you manage to fake a smile and say, "Well, I can see him as my husband, and I want him to choose me. But, it's ultimately his decision alone. All I can do is hope for the best."

Conchata clicks her teeth and gives you a fake smile. "Indeed...that's all you can do, right?" She stands up. "It was lovely chatting with you."

She already turns to leave before you can muster out a weak, "you too..."

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Now, tonight on the live season finale, your head was in your hands, with your ears covered like a small child in your dressing room, trying to drown out the sound of the crowd cheering hysterically as Miguel walked up on stage, shaking hands with Jason and sitting on the couch. You heard another loud, lasting round of applause from the audience as Xina eventually walked out joining him.

You finally felt brave enough to walk back outside and watch the scene from one of the screens backstage, but once you walked up to see it closer you immediately wish you just stayed curled in a ball in your dressing room.

Xina looked so perfect next to Miguel. Her raven hair fell in soft layers just past her shoulders leaning against him with a hand on his thigh and one of his hands tenderly holding onto the side of her hip, nearly resting on her ass. A gorgeous, dainty solitaire diamond on her ring finger on her left hand.

Miguel was looking at her through love-blown pupils as she spoke in her quiet, low, sultry voice, the grin on his face widening even more when her lovely dark eyes came to rest on him between sentences. They were in love. And he was happy. She was happy. There was no denying that now that you forced yourself to see it with your own eyes. Who were you to stand in their way of being together, if they were building a life together they both equally wanted....right?

Even if your heart technically was the collateral damage.

You couldn't pull your gaze away at how perfect they looked. But simultaneously couldn't comprehend how the same man sitting next to her was the one who sang you that song. The same one who took you on a carriage ride in Scotland. The same one who would wink at you after he'd give you a rose at each elimination ceremony. The same one who held you while you began to cry about missing your dad, a shared pain between you two that you could bond over, the same one who spent all night taking his time on you in a dim hotel room in Thailand and told you that you're the one, all for him to suddenly flip overnight and choose her instead.

You felt like you couldn't watch anymore and just walked back into your dressing room, quickly packing your suitcase, wondering if it was too late to cancel your flight tomorrow and just hope there was room on the red eye flight tonight instead. Wishing you could fast forward time to a place where the sound of his name would no longer feel like a million knives cutting into you.

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Some time later, a soft knock comes at your door. Before you can ask who it is, he's already walking in and you feel sick to your stomach, the sounds of his footfalls a not too distant memory that you could still distinguish as his. You try to wipe your eyes, not daring to turn around.

"What is it?" You ask in a flat tone as you resume folding your clothes and squeezing them into your suitcase that threatened to overflow.

Miguel is looking at you with a sorrowful expression. "I need to apologize to you..."

"I don't want to hear it."

"Please..." he begs, walking up to you so you can nearly feel his breath on the back of your neck.

You turn and face him and his lips part a little bit when he sees how much hurt you're in. He goes to cup your face but you swat his hand away and walk to the other side of the room instead.

Miguel clenches his fist and closes his eyes.

"At least tell me you'll be alright..."

"-oh I'll be fine." You say firmly, crossing your arms. "I've lived without you before, and I'll figure out how to do it again."

Miguel looks at you with a sad expression. It hurt him to think you actually wanted a life without him in it, but he couldn't blame you. He got what he wanted. He chose the woman he loved the most, and this was the consequence. But deep down he's too selfish to think about you moving on.

Was it his ego? Was he really prepared to let you go for good? Were his feelings for Xina exaggerated and rather clouded by the whole fairytale notion and weak logic of finding a forever companion on a reality game show?

He couldn't have his cake and eat it too. He knew he had to let you go. He knew you didn't want an apology, you didn't want to hear a sob story or excuses or false hope that you would always have a piece of his heart, even if it was true deep down. He thought carefully for a moment, then he finally said in a soft voice,

"For what it's worth, I really do wish you the best..."

You look at him. And, just for a moment those lingering feelings you tried so hard to bury make themselves known as he's wearing a look on his face you haven't seen since he was still in love with you.

Tears threaten your composure again and you quickly turn around, gazing upwards in hopes of keeping them in. "Don't do that..." you say in a near whisper.

Miguel responds in an equally hushed tone, the tension much more palpable. "Do what....?"

"Look at me that way...." The tears are flowing and you know you need to wrap this up now before you or him say something you'll regret.

"You're looking at me the same way you look at her..."

A lump forms in Miguel's throat because he realizes he really does still love you. But he loves Xina too. He made a choice and a commitment to her and it was time to see it through. But that didn't make this farewell any easier. He whispers your name again and you shake your head.

"I'm fine. I'll be fine. I promise." You give him a weak smile as the tears blur your vision. He takes a step towards you but you shake your head quickly, shifting past him to grab your suitcase.

He closes his eyes in defeat and tenses his jaw, a tear escaping the corner of his eye.

You hobble past him with your heavy suitcase, struggling to carry it in your heels. You prop open the door and look back at him one more time and he looks at you, giving you a weak smile. You nod, and your anger subsides for just a moment. "I meant what I said...you know...before..."

Miguel's chest rises and falls. You don't have to elaborate for him to understand. He still remembers the hidden way you two used to communicate, even if this may be the last time he ever does.

"Thank you..." he says gently, meaning it.

You swiftly turn your head, pulling up the handle on your luggage and gather your dress in your free hand as the door softly clicks behind you. You make sure you're out of earshot before you break down crying again.

As your flight coasts gently through the midnight sky, you lean against your window as though it was Miguel, or at least the version of him that lived in your memory. You close your eyes this time, the distant glow of the moon outside lulling you and beckoning you to a place where your thoughts can't torment you at last, succumbing to a well-deserved rest.

Miguel stands in his hotel room, gazing at the cityscape outline in the distance, the same moon standing watch in the obsidian skies above. Xina gently calls for him and he turns around and gives her a tired smile as he crawls in bed next to her and holds her close. He shuts off the beside lamp. His mind quickly shakes off the memory of the color of your eyes before he drifts asleep.

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happy-beeeps · 9 months

Note

for the prompt list you just reblogged, what about "i didn't sign up for this" with either obi-wan kenobi or the bad batcher of your choice?

I’m on the run (with you my sweet love)

Pairing: obi-wan x reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: after hearing that obi-wan is living in exile, you do your best to find him, determined to live out your lives together as you’d dreamed.

Suggested listening: Chemtrails over the country club by Lana Del Rey

A/N: IM SO BAD AT ANSWERING OH MY GOD. Thank you for the request I’m so excited!!! tbh, I struggled with this so hard because I physically cannot give Obi-Wan an angsty situation but we made it work hehehe. Obi-Wan is both my fav Star Wars man (which surprises people sometimes) and one of the characters I write the least, so this was SO fun! Sorry it’s so short, but I plan on writing much more for him soon!❤️🫶🥰

The house was small, really just a small kitchenette and living space with a bed nook off to the side. Like all houses in the dune sea, it was low in the ground, slatted windows up high on the walls to offer light with as little heat as possible. You wouldn’t call it nice by any means, not compared to what you’ve lived in before, but it had a certain coziness that had excited you. You had flushed out your credits just as soon as Bail had told you of Obi-Wan’s exile, and gotten yourself on the first ship to Mos Eisley that you could. The house had been easy enough to find, there were plenty of people in Mos Eisley eager to sell property to someone, particularly when that someone came with a sack of credits.

The hard part was finding Obi-Wan.

You spent the morning in the center of Mos Eisley, gathering supplies and what small furnishings you could transport for your new home, listening intently for anything. Any word of a newcomer, any whispers of the fall of the Jedi. Unfortunately (or fortunately) no one said anything.

Beru and Owen were the obvious next choice, and they came with much greater information than you had anticipated. You hadn’t met Anakin’s brother and sister-in-law before, but you had seen holos of them during your nights in with Padmé. Owen had been… reluctant to talk to you, but Beru had quickly pointed you in the direction of the cave Obi-Wan had been hiding out in the past few rotations, not terribly far from your home or the Larrs homestead.

Which is how you found yourself here, at the mouth of a cave, a fabric shawl draped carefully over your shoulders to protect as much of you as possible from the blazing Tatooine suns.

It was easy to walk into, and the dark walls and open space gave the whole space a chill in the air that hung itself uncomfortably around your shoulders. He wasn’t here, but there were signs of him present. A rucksack with some rations and credits, his robes and tunic–carefully folded in a pile resting on a large stone, and a small lamp. You ran your hands down the soft fabric of the robe, before picking it up and bringing it close to you. It smelled just like him, and for the first moment in what felt like a millenia, you let yourself ache in your chest. You had missed him something awful, worried something awful. When Padmé had explained what had happened, what he would have to do, you had feared the worst.

When none of them came back, you had all but accepted it.

“Don’t move.”

The voice that came from the cave mouth was cold and cautious, strong and intimidating. It was also home.

“Ben,” you whispered, using the nickname you had given him some night who knows how many moons ago, hoping to show him you were you. You were here.

You removed the shawl slowly as he stepped out of the mouth of the cave, his form no longer silhouetted against the blinding sun. His hair was looking slightly ragged, the tunic he wore now hung awkwardly on his frame–it must’ve been a loan from Owen you decided.

“Is it really you?” he asked, walking up to you cautiously, moving slowly as if you were made of mist that would simply vanish if he got too close. The sun had already begun to bring out even more freckles across his skin, growing ruddy with exposure.

“I’m here to take you home with me,” you murmured, closing the gap between the two of you and pulling him close to you, one hand cradling the back of his head while he pressed soft kisses into the crook of your neck.

“You can’t, I have to stay here. I can’t return to Coruscant with you.”

You pulled back for a moment, brushing the hair away from his face, “who said anything about Coruscant?” Before he could answer, you pressed your lips to his, capturing him in a kiss meant to soothe yourself and reassure him. He was alive. You were here. The rest you could figure out together.

* * *

You hadn’t said much on the walk back to your home, hadn’t been able to. Obi-Wan refused to let go of you, his hand lingering on a spot on your body at any moment. It was as if he was finally allowing himself these open, semi-public touches at last, though you knew the price of this freedom had been costly.

When you approached your home, you led him down to the living quarters and quickly worked at getting a small iced tea ready while he settled in. Well, attempted to settle.

“You bought this? Here?”

“You think I’d rent? In this economy?” You scoffed, and he gave you a lighthearted smile in return as you guided him towards the small sofa in the middle of the room. “I’ve only been here a few rotations, been looking for you,” you moved to settle beside him, knees clinking into one another with a familiarity you had been longing for. “You’re a hard man to find Master Kenobi.”

“I didn’t realize you’d be looking,” he reached over to place a hand on your cheek, steadying himself against you for a moment. It had taken you the better part of the afternoon to get from the cave to your home, and your living room was now painted in the orange and magenta hues of the setting suns, low light making him look even softer than you had imagined. “To be quite honest, I feared you’d assumed the worst.”

“Then you don’t know me at all.”

He pulled your head closer to him, bringing his forehead to yours in a sweet, intimate gesture. “I cannot put you in danger, I will not. You’re a senator, you cannot give up your life for me. You didn’t sign up for this.”

“I’m more than just a senator you know,” you breathed, your eyes fluttering open to look into his while his breath hitched in his throat, “as per that night on Chandrila, I’m your wife. You think I don’t want to be here? That I didn’t sign up for this? I said "till death”, Kenobi, and I meant it.”

“I couldn’t contact you, I’ve had to close myself off to the Force since arriving. I’ve lost so much. I cannot lose you dearest.”

You moved closer to him to bridge the gap between your mouths again, breathing a simple, “you’ll never have to,” as you did. This time you kissed him with the fervor and passion of a woman coming home, and he drank you in like a man lost in a desert. Which, you suppose he was. Here was your Obi-Wan, your Ben, wrapped in your arms and in your home for as long as you’d like. You were free to press yourself against his freckled chest and trace the starlight colored scars across his skin. You could live in the serendipitous bliss of him, his smell of caf and leather and something woody, the kind way he carried himself.

It had cost you both everything, had cost the Republic, but at last you were free to be Obi-Wan Kenobi’s wife in more than just secrecy, your sanctuary guarded by the twin suns of Tatooine.

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #star wars #obi wan kenobi #requests #obi wan #obi wan x y/n #obiwan

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canthelpit0 · 15 days

Text

-Everything you need to know-

-masterlist -taglist Rules/AboutMe/Writing

ABOUT ME

Please call me Fae, it's Nickname for my actual name. I'm a minor. I just choose not to say my age on here. I love Music and often listen to many different Genres. I've always loved writing, but I've never really published anything in any fandom. don't judge my writing; I'm getting better I promise. I feel like I have a very active imagination. but most of the series fanfics that I write will probably not be planned out that much. I haven't been a fan for too long, I'd say, like early-mid 2023.

music taste: LanaDelRey, Ariana Grande, The Weeknd, Chase Atlantic, Drake, Doja Cat, Billie Eilish, Melanie Martinez... (I usually just listen to whatever I think sounds good, not because a certain artist made it.)

favorite song: it changes all the time (depending on the month, season, my mood, trends, etc.)

fav youtubers: the triplets obv, larry, Ben of the week, Shanspear...

fav food: mashed potatoes 🛐, Schnitzel 😍, ice cream, chicken, cherrys..

My ALT is @sturnioloh03

WRITING

allthough i feel like my english is pretty good, it is not my first languge. I'm actually German (well, tukisch really..) so, if there is something weird about the way I explain something inherently American, that’s why 🤷‍♀️

what I will be writing: fluff, angst, smut. I'll write almost anything (for Chris/Matt), I don't mind. go wild with requests I don't judge. the reader will mostly be poc!friendly, but not outright POC. I'll write for Nick, but only platonic.

what I won't be writing: I might not write some requests. because I feel uncomfortable writing about something I don't know about. also: R4pe, incest, threesomes, wired kinks (piss, shit, feet, etc),

My requests and Asks are open. feel free to send suggestions or questions. I'm fairly new on Tumblr, so I'm def looking for mutuals. Don't be scared to text me, i love meeting new people 🤭

RULES

Don't steal fics

if you don't like the concept of a fic, just scroll

Don't leave hate.

Criticism and feedback are always welcome in my inbox, just don't be rude about it.

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stvrchaser · 2 years

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façade

( pairing ) : ben hargreeves x reader

( about ) : inspired by s3ep8 — ben wants to know what was so special about the old ben. the reader lets him know that they’re not so different.

( warnings ) : some angst, profanity

( words ) : 1800

( note ) : i wanted to write a multichapter fic but i literally can’t commit to anything so here’s one if my fav ben scenes this season! hope you enjoy! (and i’m really sorry if it’s a little specific for an x reader. i haven’t written anything in about a year and i used to strictly write x oc fics. but appearance-wise, there aren’t any descriptions, so feel free to imagine whomever you’d like)

It’s weird to see Klaus all chummy with Reginald. They’d always had so little in common, so you wonder how messed up the timeline has to be for the two of them to suddenly form this weird bond. It seems like a lot of things are different here, but that’s not your main concern right now.

Klaus is on a mission. You’ve watched him strike up a conversation with nearly everyone in the room and, not only is it killing the mood, it’s also alarming. If there was anything you learned about him growing up, it was that he couldn’t be stopped once he’d made up his mind about something. And, so far, he seems dead set on convincing everyone to accept Old Reggie into the family.

It’s a lot easier said than done.

Your eyes follow him as he walks over to Ben, alone at a table now that Allison has abandoned him. He’s sulking, more so than usual, with a plate full of shrimp and a half-empty bottle of wine. Even from across the room, you can see his brows furrow and his bottom lip jutted out. It was a classic Ben expression, very predictable considering he was at a party. He never did like big events. It’s small similarities like that you find endearing.

You watch him and Klaus bicker back and forth for a few minutes, a sense of nostalgia setting in. They used to do this all the time. You could almost pretend that this was normal, that Ben had lived until this moment, to attend Luther’s properly-timed wedding as if you aren’t waiting for the world to end. Again. It isn’t until Ben throws a shrimp at Klaus that you decide to intervene.

“Play nice, children,” you tease.

“Y/N!” Klaus claps, like some kid exited to meet a favorite celebrity or hero. “I’m so glad you could join us!” He nudges Ben’s foot under the table, a gesture he most certainly does not appreciate.

“What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes suspiciously.

“Oh, we’re just taking a stroll down memory lane. My memories, of course. Our new buddy-roo seems pretty interested in our lovely, lovely brother. You know, his more pleasant look-alike?” Ben looks like he’s about to explode.

“Klaus, play nice,” you remind him. “We’re at a wedding.”

“Oh, you’re no fun! You’re not even drunk, Y/N!”

“Well, someone has to keep you kids in line. Can’t have you setting the Hotel on fire just as we’re sucked into some weird black hole, can I?” Klaus whines.

“Okay, okay! But if I can’t have any fun, you can deal with Bitchy-Benny over there. I don’t think I’m drunk enough to deal with him for the rest of the night.”

“Well, you can’t just leave.” You try your best not to sound panicked because you do not need to be left alone with an overly-intoxicated Ben right now.

“Eh, I’ll see what Vik is up to, maybe congratulate the newly-weds some more. Oh! Maybe Five will let me sing another duet with him!”

“No, no. Klaus, please—“

“Have fun! Don’t do anything I would do!”

“You son of a—“ Your voice trails out as Klaus continues his… well, whatever he’s doing. You force your eyes away from him, ending up face-to-face with very irritable company.

Ben glares at you through half-lidded eyes, his face held in his hands.

“What?” you snap. “Is it past your bedtime?” You look around the room, hoping for an opportunity to escape. Maybe you could clean up that table over there, or help with the music selection. Five already downed half of the champagne, maybe you should get more—

“Why do you hate me?” You turn your head back so fast you think you might have pulled something in your neck.

“Why do I… what?”

“All you idiots talk about is the other Ben and how he’s sooo much nicer. You all act like he’s the best. What about me? Why don’t you like me?”

Oh, God. This isn’t happening. He couldn’t honestly be asking you to compare them, not now. Not when you’ve managed to bottle up every nasty thing you have to say about him. This was supposed to be a fun night.

“Are you serious?”

His jaw shifts and his lips press into a frown.

Oh, it’s happening.

“Well, you’re an insufferable bastard.”

“Okay, but you like the other Ben.”

“Yeah, we love him.” He whines, unsatisfied with the answer. It’s like arguing with a child who asks too many questions.

“Why? What was so special about him?”

“He wasn’t an insufferable bastard.”

“But Klaus said he was a know-it-all.” You hum in agreement.

“A smartass.”

“A scold!”

“Worse than anyone I know.”

“Like— like a dark cloud on a perfectly sunny day.” You figure he’s quoting Klaus. The description sounds weird when he says it, like imagery shouldn’t be his preferred method of expressing things. That’s unexpected, considering the old Ben loved to draw. He could see the world differently, through the eyes of an artist, something you never really understood.

“Yeah, he was always a bit emo. I don’t think he would have ever outgrown it, honestly. I mean, look at you.”

“So what’s so good about him? All of those sound like bad things.”

“Yeah, but they looked great on him.”

“He sounds like a jackass.”

“Well, you have that in common, don’t you?”

“So how come I don’t deserve what he gets? Why is it so easy to like him but not me? If he was so insufferable, what makes him any different from me?”

He’s upset. Well, he always is. But this is different. Ben sounds vulnerable and panicked. His voice sounds hurt and it feels wrong. Asshole or not, in this universe or the next, seeing Ben fall apart is just wrong.

“That was just how he was.”

“So he’s just naturally an asshole but everyone loves him anyway! How is that fair? Dad thought I was good enough to be Number One. I’m so much better than him! Why do you still like him better than me?”

Underneath the part of him that isn’t so desperate to claw his way to the top, you find something familiar. You hear the old Ben who, as a kid, was so eager to find his place — the one who hated missions with so much passion but obeyed every order Reginald had to give. It’s heartbreaking to watch him fall apart all over again when you couldn’t even do anything to help him the first time.

That’s when you feel every bad thing you’ve ever thought about him dissipate. Reginald Hargreeves is tearing Ben apart again, and you’ll be damned if you make the same mistake twice.

“It’s because you’re not Ben.”

“I know that! Everyone’s always telling me that.”

“No, I mean you’re not… you.”

“But I am! You just don’t think I’m good enough!”

“Ben Hargreeves, get that bullshit out of your head,” you say, fuming. “Nobody decides whether you’re good enough or not. Nobody but you. I meant, you’re not yourself because you’re too busy trying to be Number One. You’ve spent your entire life doing every single thing Reginald tells you to do, and you think you have to keep it up all the time. News flash: you don’t.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You have a family.” His voice gets quieter. “The academy is all a have.” Your head leans to the side, subconsciously challenging the statement. You don’t mean to, but it’s almost an instinct to prove him wrong.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, or it was. Because now they’re dead. All that’s left is Sloane and Dad, but you stole them. You… it’s just me, now.”

“They haven’t been stolen from you. They’d just rather find people who care about them than be alone. You know, you’re welcome to do the same.”

“No, I’m not. They hate me.” He mumbles. “They didn’t even invite me to that stupid bachelor party.”

“They don’t hate you. They love you. It’s just… this isn’t you. You’ve been so busy proving yourself worthy of being Number One, you stopped being Ben. And we want the real Ben, not the one who’s constantly forcing himself to be someone he isn’t.”

“But I’m not your Ben. It wouldn’t matter if Dad was here or not because I’m never gonna be your Ben.”

“You are,” you assure him, and you believe it. “You’re always going to be my Ben.”

“We’re not the same.”

“You don’t have to be!” you say, louder than you meant. “I don’t need you to be a shitty dancer or to sing in the shower like you want to shatter the bathroom mirror.”

“Good! Because I don’t!” he shrieks, outraged. Undoubtedly offended. You laugh because you know he’s lying.

“I don’t need you wipe my tears away after a bad day or let me clean the blood off your face after a bad mission. I don’t need you to buy me souvenirs every time you sneak out with Klaus or try to play every song I like on the piano by ear.”

“He did all that?”

“Yeah. He did. But I would have loved him anyway, if he didn’t.”

“Why?” His voice is desperate, pleading.

“Because there isn’t a single thing that wouldn’t make me fall in love with Ben Hargreeves.”

The silence hangs in the air, thick with tension. Ben frowns. You think the moment will end there. Maybe he’ll be offended, or worse, maybe he wouldn’t care at all.

“I would have done the same.”

He looks into your eyes, dark irises swimming with something you’ve never seen before. Not it this Ben, at least. It melts your heart just enough to flood your body with warmth. It’s like the sun peering through dawn.

“If I was your Ben, I would have wanted to do those things, too. For you.”

You let your heart bask in the moment, afraid to let go. This was, and is, Ben Hargreeves. He was the soft patter of rain above an empty house, the whistle of the wind across an open field — the reminder that life holds more than you and the isolated path you tread.

Ben Hargreeves is everything lovely about the world, and it’s a shame he’ll only grace it for the next few hours.

It is, perhaps, the greatest loss the universe will ever know.

You choose to make up for lost time right then and there, coaxing the corners of your lips into a smile. You unravel the knots in your heart and watch his face relax, a new day on the horizon.

Ben Hargreeves will spend the day getting to know love, the world be damned if you didn’t make sure if it.

“I think I would have liked that.”

#ben hargreeves #where are all the ben oneshots #ben hargreeves x reader #tua3 #tua netflix #The Umbrella Academy

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