#obiwan x reader

[garagesesh]

thunder

★ pairing(s): anakin skywalker x (f!)reader

★ summary: you and anakin had a falling out and now you’re forced to reconcile after a mission gone wrong.

★ warning(s): sexual content! graphic descriptions of wounds! blood! enemies to lovers?

★ a/n: enjoy :) this shit long af sorry lmfao title is from thunder by miss lana

␛ to masterlist

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When you received the encrypted message this morning by Master Mace Windu, you were confused. Sent in the middle of the night with barely any explanation given other than a time and place to meet. It wasn’t unlike Mace to send abrupt messages at all times of the night, but it was strange to have no details given whatsoever.

You struggled with the message all day, going over and over in your mind what was going on, what could happen. You weren’t exactly the most obedient Jedi in the Order and there was recently an incident on Lothal where you had taken some of your men to quietly gather some intel of the Separatists who held Capital city.

Except it didn’t exactly happen quietly and a full blown incursion had broke out. General Kenobi and his fleet had to step in and evacuate you and your men.

While forever grateful for Obi-Wan saving your skin, you were forever guilty of your incompetence.

“There’s been an emergency.” Was the first thing that slipped out of Mace Windu’s mouth the moment you crossed the threshold into the meeting room.

“What emergency?” Silently relieved that this was not what you believed it to be.

“Master Kenobi has already been debriefed and will arrive later to discuss intimate details of the plan with you.”

“How secret of a mission is this that it’s just me and Obi-Wan? No reinforcements?”

“It’s not just you, Master. We’re waiting on one other.”

“Who?”

It was at that moment the doors slid open revealing Anakin, the third member of the small secret trio of the mission. His blood boiled, his jaw clenched, and his stomach churned at the sight of you standing at the other side of the room, avoiding his gaze.

Why? Why were you here? A million reasons as to why ran through his head and none of them sounded good.

“General Skywalker.” You smiled, trying to ignore the way Anakin’s hands curled into fists. Now you knew why you weren’t privy to who exactly was on the mission.

See, you and Anakin didn’t exactly get along. Once, years ago, but now it wasn’t possible for him at least, to be around you.

“What is she doing here?” Anakin’s voice dripped with annoyance.

Your heart panged at the slight but you swallowed it away instead, smiling at him. “Charming as always, Skywalker.”

“She, General Skywalker,” Windu snapped, pointing to you at the opposite end of the room. “Is a member of the Jedi Order and you are in no position to question on why a fellow Jedi is at any meeting. Do you understand?”

“But-“ Anakin started but was quickly shut down.

“Do you understand, Anakin?” Windu’s tone didn’t allow Anakin to choose no.

“Yes, Master Windu.” He grumbled.

“Good.” He pushed the green button on the dashboard, illuminating the room with the soft blue glow, map of Ajan Kloss. “We have reports of a disturbance in the force on the outer rim moon of Ajan Kloss.”

Windu motioned toward the small blue moon. “We have reason to believe that the Separatists are scouting the moon for a new base to begin expanding their efforts further out in the Outer rim.”

“So what is the plan?” You asked.

“Find the disturbance and hopefully stop the expansion.”

“Simple enough.” You nodded.

The door slid open once more, this time Obi-Wan quietly entered. Chin in his hand, circling the table evaluating every inch of the map.

“Master Kenobi.” You called out to him, smiling.

“General.” He nodded. “I’m happy to see you could help. Anakin and I both appreciate your help and expertise on this matter. Don’t we?”

Anakin grumbled, but nodded anyway.

“Thank you, Master.” You smiled at the older man before you. “I’m happy to help.”

“Good.” He returned your smile and looked over to Anakin a moment, placing a hand on his former Padawan’s shoulder before turning back to you. “We’re both happy to have it.”

Anakin huffed his obvious displeasure, loud enough for you to hear it. He was not happy about the situation and no doubt felt blindsided by Obi-Wan’s lack of keeping him in the know of what was going on. You didn’t care, he was any other Jedi on a mission to you and you weren’t going to let his bad attitude and anticipated harsh comments let you from successfully fulfilling your duties and Obi-Wan seemed to thankfully on the same page.

“I trust you three will do this properly.” Windu’s piercing gaze bore into you.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good, you two may go.”

Anakin followed you out, sighing heavily as the door slid closed.

You swallowed heavily, the pressure of his gaze into the back of your head made you face him. “I don’t want to do this either, Anakin.”

“Good. Glad you agree.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t screw this one up like you did on Lothal.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yeah, sure.” Anakin moved closer, his real hand wrapping around your upper arm. His lips brushed against the top of your ear, “Don’t get in my way.”

Anakin pulled back completely, letting you go and beginning down the hall away from you. “See you tomorrow, Y/n.”

Dawn was breaking when you arrived at the docking bay. Anakin was perched on a supply box, laughing at something one of his men had said.

There was a time you would be there with them, making him laugh. You swallowed hard.

“Where’s Obi-Wan?” Bag slung over your shoulder, you approached the men and Anakin.

Rolling his eyes, he jumped off the box. His demeanor completely changed back into seriousness and annoyance at your presence.

“Why?” Anakin hummed as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“Because I have to report to him, Anakin.” You matched his bite.

“He’s on the cruiser.”

You nodded, pushing past him purposely bumping your shoulder hard into his own. Hoping that maybe your bag even hit him as well as you entered in the small jumper ship. Putting your things into a locker before jumping into the cockpit and starting the pre flight procedures.

“I’m flying.” Anakin’s voice entered the cockpit. Of course. Jackass.

“Fine.” You released the pilots controls, not wanting a fight so early in the morning. Instead, you commed to Obi-Wan letting him know of your departure and soon arrival.

You two avoided each other on the cruiser during the standard weeks journey. Waltzing your ways down abandoned corridors and choosing odd meal times.

All of your efforts proved to be in vain when Obi-Wan let you know that Anakin and you were to go solo into the jungle in hopes to use Obi-Wan and his men as a distraction.

“We should head south. Towards the river, there should be small villages along there.” Anakin pointed at the map.

“That’s almost a four day hike,” Sighing as you disagreed with him. “And completely off track.”

“The Separatists will be in those villages, Y/n.” He shook his head, “And whatever Sith scum is on this rock will be there too.”

It began to not rain, pour. Your hair was completely drenched and so was Anakin’s. Thunder rolled in and the fog began to settle.

“If we follow my plan, we won’t end up dead like the men on Lothal.”

That was it.

You had enough of Anakin Skywalker. “Shut up!”

You pushed him to the ground, jumping on top of him and straddling his body.

“What is your problem!?” He choked out. Quickly flipping you over into the dirt, the wind knocked out of your lungs with a huff.

“Get off me!” You wanted to spit in his face. You began to claw at his face, but he quickly grabbed your wrists and grounded them in the mud.

Thunder clapped above. You pounded at his chest, “Get off me!”

Another boom from the sky had him off you. “We need to make shelter!”

You reached for the map in your belt. Feeling for the tech, you found none but scraps. The map was completely destroyed. You reached for the com, it was of the same fate. There was no hope of trying to salvage the tech in your hand.

“You fucked us over!” Anakin shouted over the thunder and rain.

“Shut up!”

“You’re the one who got us in this situation. If only you hadn’t blown up at me, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“I’m the one who got us here?” You scoffed. “Need I remind you that this was your idea?”

“My idea?” He pointed a finger at his face as his eyes narrowed at you. “You suggested that we divert completely!”

“And you suggested that we go this route! Plus-“

“Doesn’t make it my idea!”

“You didn’t let me finish!”

“And I won’t!”

“I have never met someone so infuriating, so narcissistic, and so downright arrogant as you in my entire life!”

“I’m infuriating?” He snapped back with venom. “Have you ever met yourself?”

“You’re so-“ You stopped short.

“So what?” It was only then that you realized that the chipped deep blue armor that wrapped around his shoulders were mere inches from your chin. His chest was mere centimeters away from your own and that he towered over you as his deep blue eyes glowered.

“Just forget it.” You sighed, stepping back, trying to escape his

“No, go on, I’d love to hear it.”

“No, Anakin.”

“I don’t even know how I used to put up with you!”

The brush moved above you. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

The dark ripple of the force electrified your nerves once more. “There, did you feel it?”

“Stop it, nothing’s there. Let’s keep going.”

“Anakin,” His name stopped him dead in his tracks, you hadn’t used it in years. “There’s something following us. I can feel it.”

“It’s just the storm.”

“Anakin.” You looked at him with eyes wide.

“Hello, Jedi.” Ventress hissed from above. Her lightsabers hissed as the sith ignited the two as she towered over you.

“I’m so glad you could make it.” Her lips twisted into a sadistic grin that made you twinge.

Anakin ignited his blue to your green.

Ventress cackled, raising her double lights over her head to make a slash at the both of you as she dropped to the jungle floor. A master in her own right with dueling two at the same time.

Anakin lunged forward first, his blue clashing with red. Purple illuminating their faces, you saw this as your chance to enter the fray. Your green went for her side, trying for a swipe at her rib cage. Ventress easily blocked your move.

You and Anakin fought hard as you slowly made progress pushing her farther and farther into the jungle floor. At one point, the green blade of your saber made contact with her leg and Anakin’s sliced up her arm.

You were making good progress and might even capture the with.

That’s until you came upon the ravine.

Ventress’s leg came up, her foot square in the chest of Anakin’s plate of armor and pushed hard.

Anakin fell.

He tumbled over the top of the ravine and into the pit of darkness, his frame shadowed by the rain and fog that enveloped the depth below.

“Anakin!” Your lungs screamed for air, your grip slipped, allowing for Ventress to slice open your shoulder, searing your robes and the skin underneath. You fell to your knees, completely at the mercy of the Sith.

“Oops?” Ventress laughed. “Looks like Skywalker won’t be making it home.”

Your head hung in defeat. Wet hair falling in a curtain around you, shielding your shame. You failed. You failed yourself. You failed Anakin. The only thing that awaited you was death that came in the form of her twin blades crossed over at your neck.

But the blow never came. The hum of her lightsabers ceased and the only thing left was the rain, thunder, and your heavy breaths. Then you descended into the pit, screaming in agony as debris fell onto your wound.

The ravine was just as clear as it was from above. Holding onto the seared wound in your shoulder, your search became frantic noticing the stream was shades of blood. “Anakin!”

His body was unnaturally situated in the shallow water. His eyes were closed as you knelt in front of him.

“Anakin.” You whispered above his unmoving form.

“Anakin! Please!” He was alive you could feel that but his life force was fading. You scanned his body, looking for the wounds that ran the river red. Then you saw his leg.

His leg was mangled, bloody, and almost snapped in half.

It made you nauseous to look at it, but you needed to stop the bleeding or he would die. There was no way this would heal properly without medical attention and weeks worth of time in a bacta tank.

Your frantic hands shed your belt, practically tearing the dark outer robes off your top, leaving only the thin tank top underneath left. The blue fabric of his pants were slick with his blood, dyeing the blue, black. With every second passed, the more his blood poured from his leg.

You couldn’t wrap the wound successfully without straightening it out. The thought of maneuvering the bone back into a straight position was gross and something you had never done before, but you had to get him out of this ravine and get help immediately and with the com broken it wasn’t likely to be found anytime soon.

His unnaturally bent leg made unpleasant noises as you slowly moved it back into a e position, thanking the force he was unconscious to feel the pain. You felt bad for the pain he would feel when he would wake up, if he woke up.

But you couldn’t think like that, no, you would stop the bleeding, find help, and he would be fine. Everything would be fine. You two would go back to Coruscant and the endless fighting would resume.

You traveled for hours with him on your back. Taking only a few moments to eat from a bush or drink from a stream. You tried your best to find the way you had once come. But it was proving difficult with the cloud cover and the haze of pain from your shoulder.

It was nightfall when you found a waterfall with a pool of water. Just behind the curtain of water was a large enough cave that would easily fit the two of you and then some.

You laid Anakin to rest on the floor. Immediately going for water to wash your hands and then his wound. It took hours to delicately clean the break and skin, you didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you saw the light streaming through the water.

On the first day, Anakin hadn’t awaken. He laid silently on the cave rock floor. You hadn’t left his side, only once every few odd hours to get more water to clean his wound.

You were reluctant to leave him but you need to find food and find something better to bind his leg and maybe find a way to get to Obi-Wan.

On the second day you made a make shift bed for him to lay on made out of palm ferns that you tied on your back for an easier climb.

On the third day, you meditated. Hoping that you could reach out and contact Obi-Wan through the force, but you weren’t lucky enough to have a bond with him.

On the fourth day, a cold front came in. It wasn’t anything like the chills on Coruscant but it was a significant drop in the average temperature for Ajan Kloss.

On the fifth day he woke up.

“Y/n?” You thought that the hallucinations from lack of sleep, food, and proper hydration began when you heard his voice for the first time. But the voice persisted, calling your name again.

“Don’t move.”

“What happened?”

“Ventress.”

“Have you heard from Obi-Wan?”

“Would we still be in this cave if I had?”

“No.”

“Stop moving.”

“Stop telling me what to do.”

“Your leg almost snapped in half.”

“I know. I can feel it.” Anakin winced. “How long have I been out?”

“Five days.”

“How long do you think-?”

“I don’t know.” You unwound the scrap of red fabric that came from his robes. He tried sitting up again but groaned in pain when you poured water from a flagon you had made out of some hollow shell you had found at the edge of the river and onto the wound.

“Kriff!” He jerked his leg which only caused him more pain. “Fuck.”

“Sit still.” You wanted to slap his stupid face. “If you would just stay put, I could finish this faster and then you wouldn’t be in so much pain.”

“And you haven’t gone out and tried to find help?”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I guess I should’ve let you die then!”

“No.” He looked down at your hands, watching as you worked on wrapping his leg with the freshly washed makeshift linens. “I’m sorry for what I said before Ventress.”

“It’s okay.” You brushed it off. It hurt but you weren’t going to stew over it. Silence fell over you again.

“We used to be inseparable.” Anakin uttered one evening when the rain came down. His back was currently propped up against the cave wall, watching you as you cut into some fruit you had found earlier that day. Your hair was drenched, and beads of water rolled down your neck and bare shoulders. Your skin glistened under the shimmer of the waterfall.

“A long time ago.” You huffed. It was annoying to hear him try to bring up the past between you.

“It was only four years ago.”

“Yeah, a long time ago.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation with him.

“We stopped talking.” Yeah no shit.

Sighing heavily, you put down the small shard of stone. You couldn’t quite understand why he was suddenly bringing this up right now. After all, it was he who stopped talking to you, leaving you to wonder for months what you had done wrong. It left questions burning at the tip of your tongue every time you were in close proximity of each other.

“Why?” Why? The gaul of Anakin finally got to you.

But after everything that had happened in the last week, it was as good as time as any to ask the question that had been itching at the back of your mind for. “Was what happened on Corellia that bad?”

“What?”

“Corellia. Plo and Obi-Wan took us to Corellia to help locals from the Pykes. We had tried to help annex them from the spice lords. We got split up and you and I were sent alone and then we had um-“

“Yeah, I remember Corellia.” He stopped you before you could finish the sentence, knowing full well what you were about to say.

“After that,” You continued. “You stopped talking to me. You started to act different around me, like you do now…I just didn’t understand. I still don’t understand.”

Anakin was silent for a long time. His head turned and he watched as the waterfall gushed down. “I remember when we were barely seventeen and you had training with Plo every morning from sunrise until noon but this time he was called away for an emergency on…I think it was Kijimi?”

“Where are you going with this, Anakin?”

“Let me finish.”

“I-“

“Just listen.”

“Fine.”

“Obi-Wan offered to train you himself when Plo was gone. He trained you hard for two weeks and I watched all of it. I sat behind the Uneti tree and watched you guys fight. It was like a sort of dance. I had never seen him and you flow so easy before. It was mesmerizing.”

“Okay? I don’t understand the point of this whole story?”

“Can you just be quiet? I’m trying to explain myself in the best way I can and you’re being rude.”

“That’s thick.”

“Whatever. Look, I just got nervous around you.”

“Nervous? Anakin, I thought we were closer than ever after Corellia and your explanation is that you became nervous?” Your eyebrow arched. Stars, he was dumber than you remember.

“You know what? Forget it.”

“No. I’m sorry, finish.”

He sat there in silence for a moment as he eyed you out of the corner of his eye, watching as you moved to sit next to him; propping your back against the wall, mirroring his position. Clearing his throat, his eyes fell to his hands, “I-I wasn’t freaked out. I was jealous and standing there only days after Corellia watching you two train in such fluidity I realized right then and there.“

The silence was loud as he looked back down at you. His eyes searched yours with a look you hadn’t seen since you were seventeen.

No. He couldn’t. This couldn’t be the reason to why your friendship had fallen apart.

The silence settled again in the cave as you watched him. “Anakin…”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Pity me.” He swallowed “You rejected me.”

“I didn’t reject you.” You weren’t even awake when you had left him laying in bed alone. You had thought it was for the best. You didn’t want Plo or especially Obi-Wan finding the two of you wrapped up in the sheets together. “I didn’t think it wise to stay and you took me leaving as rejection. You were the one who ignored me for months! You are not the victim here, Anakin!”

He fell silent, looking out at the undulating gushing water. It was moments before you spoke again.

“I liked you too. Once.”

“I know.” He smirked. “You were obvious.”

“I know.”

“It was endearing.”

“I didn’t quite grasp the concept of no attachments at ten.”

“I still don’t.”

You shrugged and stared at the raging waterfall, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Do you…” Anakin’s voice trailed off, lingering in the air, allowing for the pounding water to take over the conversation until he was brave enough to finish it.

“Do I what?”

“Do you hate me?”

“No! Oh my stars, no.”

“So you still like me?”

“No.” You were telling the truth, you missed him sure, but it wasn’t love anymore. “I do not.”

“But you did once.”

“I was ten.”

“Ten, twenty, a hundred. Love just doesn’t die.”

“Wow, you’re a real poet Skywalker. A shame your flowery words of endearment will never be heard upon the ears of lovers.”

“Look, you are smart, funny, strong, and you paid attention to me. I just had misplaced my admiration into childish fantasies that had led me astray until I had found balance again.” He sighed. “And I don’t hate you. You hate me though.”

“I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you.” That was all it took for Anakin to finally kiss you. Press his own to yours, in a fervor that was everything and nothing you had to said to each other.

His lips were warm.

Chapped.

“Anakin-“ You moaned into his mouth. It was electric, like the wire from all those years ago was plugged back into its socket.

He hummed into your mouth, his fingers were still entangled in your hair. Grasping at the base of your skull, pulling at the tendrils. Your lips moved in perfect sync as he began pulling you towards him, trying to position you on his lap.

“Your leg.”

“I don’t feel it.”

“Anakin.” You bit your lip. It wasn’t right. “We can’t.”

“I might die.”

“Don’t be dramatic.”

“I might never see the light ever again. Might never feel the warmth of another person ever again.”

He pulled you to him again, kissing you with all of the pent up anger, guilt, and want the past four years had built.

His warm hand slipped under your shirt, fingertips caressing the slick, sweaty skin that was a sea of goosebumps from the contact. Skating up your rib cage to find your breast.

Moaning into his mouth, you forgot what it was like to be touch, no caressed by him. It felt so wrong but that’s what must’ve been so good about it.

You retracted from him, pulling your shirt off completely. Baring yourself to him. His lips found your nipple, sucking lightly at the sensitive tip, your head rolled back in pleasure.

You could feel him at you clothed core, your hips rocking against his hard cock.

“Fuck.” His breath was hot against your skin but never relented. “If you keep doing that I’ll cum.”

“Then fuck me.”

His tip was swollen and leaking with pre-cum when you helped him with his pants. You wanted to take him in your mouth but wanted him inside you more.

“Fuck.” He moaned deeply as you sank your wet cunt onto his pulsating erection. You couldn’t help but moan out in pleasure yourself as you felt him bottom out in you.

With careful undulating rolls you moved on top of him.

It was by no means romantic, this clash between you. Needy and primal, it was a release of everything. Every quick slash of the tongue. Every glance and every subliminal touch.

“I know about you and Obi-Wan.” Anakin’s fingers entwined within your hair, tenderly caressing your scalp as he braided small sections with your head laid on his bare chest.

There was no reason to deny what he said. You hummed against his skin.

“Do you love him?” He continued to play with your hair as he quietly whispered. There was no malice, no jealously, no discontent behind his question.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The next few days continued as they had prior to what happened between you and Anakin. There had been no mentions of you having sex and none of Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s leg wasn’t getting better but it wasn’t getting worse. Which you took as a good sign.

“I’m going to get more food.” You were running out of the little supply you had previously gotten and he needed as much energy and nutrients as possible.

“Okay.”

“Please don’t do anything stupid.”

“Would never dream of it.”

You looked back once more before descending the rock and into the jungle floor. Purple fruit hung from low bushes that proved edible and somewhat sweet. Which was good enough for your empty stomachs.

You plucked a few into your makeshift satchel you had created from scraps of Anakin’s robes. It wouldn’t be enough if you were expecting to be here longer, so you moved deeper into the jungle. Hoping to find a piece of meat of any kind at this point.

You felt it first. A movement in the overgrown brush. Then you saw it.

A figure, no, it was definitely a man moved through the jungle alone. Whacking his way through the brush with looked like a vibroblade, as he tried to navigate the tricky, uneven floor.

“Obi-Wan?” Maybe you were tired, hungry, and downright delirious at this moment but for a fleeting second, the auburn hair was one thing it was the white and tan armor that was unmistakable.

“Obi-Wan!” The fruit dropped from your hands and squashed into the mud below, but you didn’t care. Obi-Wan had stopped his pursuit through the flora and spun around.

“Y/n?” His eyes widened and he dropped the vibroblade to the muddied ground. You sprinted towards the Jedi Master and practically jumped on him, wrapping your arms around his body. The warmth he radiated was comforting and familiar. He was sweaty and smelled a bit but you were sure you were ten times worse.

Obi-Wan’s mouth found yours as he brought your body closer to his in desperation and happiness.

He pulled back from your body but his arms were still wrapped around you. His cerulean eyes searched your face and his hand came to caress your dirty, sweaty cheek. He wasn’t sure you were really real.

“Yes, it’s really me.” You half laughed, half sobbed.

“You’re hurt.” His fingertips gingerly graced the surface of your wrapped shoulder. You had forgotten about your wound.

“I forgot.” You laughed through the tears, looking down at the disgusting unkept wrappings.

“You forgot?” He laughed, shaking his head. “I guess you’re okay then?”

“I’ll live.” You smiled, kissing him once more.

“Where’s Anakin?”

You hesitated, worried at how he would react to the news of Anakin almost dying and his leg needing extensive medical attention.

“Anakin is injured.” His eyebrow raised at the news. “Badly.”

“What happened?”

“Ventress.”

“Where is he?”

“A few clicks from here.” You began moving back towards the waterfall. “I can’t move him. Not by myself. He needs medical attention now or he’ll lose the leg.”

“I’ll com Cody.” Obi-Wan’s brow furrowed as he calmly talked to the Commander, detailing the extent of Anakin’s injuries and of yours.

You led him to the cave, detailing the events of Ventress and everything in between. “I cleaned the wound twice a day. I ran out of cloth so I washed and reused what I had, but it was running water. The bleeding has stopped and has begun to scab over but his leg is damaged badly, Obi-Wan. It’ll be weeks in a bacta tank before he can walk properly again.”

Stepping into the cave with Obi-Wan, Anakin was just as you had left him but now he was smirking at the sight of you two.

“Took you long enough.”

You were evacuated from Ajan Kloss.

The team was a sight for sore eyes. Anakin was brought to the medbay immediately, induced into sleep he floated around the bacta tank with his mangled leg suspended.

With relief, you found your quarters after a quick check up, proper meal, and a long shower.

Wrapped up in a blanket, you were sitting in the window ledge. Watching the stars go by, waiting for the jump to hyper speed.

Reflecting on the past few weeks had brought peace. Happy with the loose ends now tied.

When Obi-Wan entered through the door with two cups of steaming tea, the uneasiness of guilt and embarrassment found you. He was so good to you, giving you the world and happiness. He didn’t have to know what happened.

“Hi.” You smiled.

“Hello.” Obi-Wan reciprocated, handing you the mug. “Are you alright?”

You hummed. “You?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Thank you for saving me.” You leaned your head on his shoulder, your eyes threatening to close from the lack of sleep catching up to you. You felt safe here next to Obi-Wan and for a moment you thought about what Anakin said, pondering for a moment before letting your body fully sink down. “Again.”

“Of course.” He kissed the top of your head, then leaning his cheek on your hair. Letting the quiet envelope the two lovers.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist | want more anakin? check out this!

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[thegreatwicked]

Padawan

Padawan

May I proudly present....! My first reader insert, I wrote this for all you lovelies who follow/like/reblog/comment on my stuff. This is for you! Obi-Wan/You/Reader Insert. Master/Padawan, SMUT. SMUT. SMUT. That is all. Or is it? Should I write more???

Summary: After disappearing from your Master for thirteen years, the Clone Wars has brought you back to the same planet and a brush with death back into each other's lives. But you’re not his Padawan anymore, you’re a knight, right? No, you’ll always be his Padawan, and he, your Master.

~~~

He wasn't a fool; he had sensed your presence the moment you set foot on the planet, like a blinding light or the ring of a bell only he could hear. Of course, he could feel you—how could he not? At least, he could feel you for a while, long enough for him to be certain that he didn’t imagine it in a post-battle haze. You were here.

The first time your force signature vanished, his heart skipped a beat, and a cold rush of panic coursed through his veins and a horrible cold weight settled in his stomach, making him feel like he may be sick. Determined and distracted, he abandoned his conversation in a mad sprint. Searching. He tracked down anyone who had been alongside you on the battlefield, questioning them relentlessly, not caring how he came off as slightly unhinged as opposed to his normal calm and stoic manner, but each inquiry was met with disappointment and vacant glances. 

It wasn't until he caught sight of the familiar sight of a blue and white lekku of Ahsoka that a glimmer of hope ignited within him, brighter than any lightsaber. Ahsoka, Anakin’s padawan. She was seemingly unaffected and greeted him with a smile as though she were seeing a dear friend or distant relative, and that in itself was calming. If Ahsoka wasn't distressed, it meant one of two things: either she hadn't heard of your demise, or, more optimistically, you were still alive.

A wave of relief washed over Obi-Wan as Ahsoka confirmed that you were indeed unharmed and engaged in another mission, your paths had briefly crossed long enough for friendly banter involving drinks later. You were not only alive but also hailed as a hero. Your proficiency with the light your orange, lightsaber had garnered admiration, and the news of your success spread across the battlefield.

As he processed this new information, Obi-Wan couldn't shake the questions that haunted him since the day you disappeared, thirteen years ago. What happened? Where had you been? Why had you left without a word? 

Had he been too strict, too distant? He paced in his quarters, the weight of uncertainty pressing on his shoulders. Thirteen years of silence, and now he learned you were not only alive but thriving in the chaos of war. Had he been oblivious to your struggles and triumphs as a padawan? Had he overlooked something crucial?

His distress and confusion fueled his determination to find you, to understand the reasons behind your disappearance. The bond between Padawan and Master was meant to endure, but his had been severed without warning or explanation. The quest for answers became a relentless pursuit, driven by a mix of concern, guilt, and an unyielding desire to reconnect with the one he had lost.

Ilum's gift had bestowed upon you a most unique kyber crystal, weaving the essence of the Force into your arsenal—a radiant burnt orange lightsaber. Obi-Wan swelled with pride, recognizing that your exceptional skills not only ensured your safety but also turned the tide amid battle.

Sharing the tale with Ahsoka, Obi-Wan recounted the moments of uncertainty, the fear that gripped him when the disturbance in the Force signaled potential danger. Ahsoka responded with a knowing smile and a playful eye roll, acknowledging your tendency to dive headfirst into peril and emerge victorious as if it was the only possible outcome. Relief washed over Obi-Wan, mirrored by a grateful grin exchanged with Ahsoka, reassured that you navigated the challenges in your own distinctive way.

“She’s gotten quite good at cloaking, hasn’t she?” And with those words, all his nervous energy fell away.

The reality settled, Obi-Wan marveled at the intricacy of your Force signature concealment. Your mastery of the technique was so impeccable that it eluded even his well-honed Jedi senses. In moments of deep meditation, he attempted to reach out, seeking the familiar touch of your intangible presence, only to encounter a mysterious void. Your cloak, flawlessly executed, had transformed you into a Ghost—a moniker that, suddenly, filled him with pride for your evolving abilities.

Days melted into an endless procession of battles, the smoke of war shrouding the fates of those who entered its domain. Unable to locate you through the Force, Obi-Wan sought solace in updates from Ahsoka and the soldiers who served under your command, the Echo Squadron they were called. 'The Ghost,' a symbol of your evasive prowess, deepened his admiration for the padawan who had become an elusive figure amid the chaos of war.

Despite the promising news, Obi-Wan Kenobi's frustration deepened. Thirteen years had passed since he last saw you, his once-promising Padawan and the silence surrounding your disappearance gnawed at him. Pacing his quarters, he questioned the events that had led to this point. You had excelled in your Jedi trials, proving yourself worthy of knighthood, and yet, without a word, you vanished from his life.

The lack of closure weighed heavily on him. Had he failed you as a master? The memories of your training together, the countless missions you undertook side by side, haunted him. Had he missed something? Obi-Wan couldn't fathom why you chose to sever ties so abruptly and so completely. The bond between a Padawan and a master was meant to transcend time and distance even the Force itself.

His mind danced through potential reasons. Perhaps he had been too stern, too demanding, but he couldn't recall any unresolved conflicts or bitter disagreements. It fueled his restless pacing, so much he thought he might wear a hole in the floor. The war had claimed many, and the unpredictability of life in those times made such disappearances common. Yet, the absence of a farewell, a simple goodbye, perplexed him.

Obi-Wan stopped, staring at the transmission device on his desk. He contemplated reaching out through the Force, attempting to sense your presence, but a lingering doubt held him back. If you wished to remain hidden, he knew the Force would not easily reveal your location.

With a heavy sigh, he admitted to himself that he needed answers. The Jedi Master reluctantly accepted that, without your cooperation, he might never unravel the mystery of your departure. The internal conflict played across his features as he grappled with the uncertainty, the pain of an unanswered question tugging at his Jedi calm. ~~~

 Obi-Wan flickered back into his senses, and he’d had enough, your Force signature, elusive and soft, presented a challenge to pinpoint. Yet, now seemed as opportune a moment as any to seek you out. He anticipated that the moment he reached out, you would sense it, and the possibility lingered that you might vanish as swiftly as you'd appeared. Despite the odds, he had to try.

For days, throughout his search, panic clawed at him as your signature exhibited erratic behavior—flickering, softening, going dim and occasionally blazing intensely. Unsettled, he worried about your well-being. Had something happened with your men or yourself? When news of Echo Squadron’s return came across his com, he decided on a more direct approach. The uncertainty fueled his urgency as he raced through the compound's halls, drawing closer to potential answers.

The revelations unfolded when the heavy blast doors swung open, and a chill gripped Obi-Wan's heart revealing a fractured company of clone troopers stumbling in, wearied from the throes of war.

Amidst the chaos, Obi-Wan's voice cut through the clamor, a determined command in battle's aftermath. 

"You! Where is your Commander?" he bellowed to the nearest trooper. The man, a walking testament to the horrors he'd witnessed, appeared as if he had traversed through realms of death and fire. His gaze held the weight of someone who had glimpsed into the abyss, far beyond the immediate surroundings.

Obi-Wan called to the trooper, attempting to shake him from his trance, but it was evident that shock had claimed the soldier, rendering him useless for any immediate assistance. A surge of frustration gripped Obi-Wan, that familiar icy sensation taking root within him, he could stand it no more. 

"Where is she?" he shouted, his voice cutting through the lingering echoes of combat. Heads turned in response, and a battle-worn trooper, fatigue etched on his face, stepped forward.

"General Kenobi," the trooper addressed him with a weary acknowledgment, capturing Obi-Wan's attention. With practiced discipline, the trooper began to relay the grim news that had been haunting his thoughts.

A surprise attack, swift and ruthless, caught the entire company off guard, unleashing chaos and claiming numerous lives. Amidst the chaos, your unwavering courage emerged as the linchpin that prevented even greater losses. The trooper, his voice tinged with awe, spoke your name with a reverence that echoed through the hushed murmurs of your fellow soldiers. Their expressions carried profound respect, acknowledging the pivotal role you played in turning the tide of the ambush.

The trooper went on to reveal a tale of resilience and determination. The men who managed to return from the battleground owed their lives to you. Your strategic prowess, coupled with an indomitable will, had become the catalyst for the survival of those under your command. The atmosphere grew heavy with gratitude and admiration as the trooper unfolded the narrative, and the unspoken bond between soldiers resonated with the unyielding spirit that defined your leadership.

“Injured?” Obi-wan breathed not wanting to believe it, “How badly?”

The trooper wore a solemn look before explaining; three. You had been hit by three blaster bolts and thrown back in an explosion that you had only barely managed to contain with your force shield, Obi-wan felt as though the breath had been punched out of his lungs. Murmurs of agreement sounded with troopers calling you a hero, and they would go into battle with you any day. 

The trooper initiated the playback of the security holo, and the room was enveloped in the eerie glow of the holographic display. The flickering images revealed a chaotic battlefield, where your orange lightsaber danced in a brilliant display of skill, deflecting blaster bolts and cutting through the air. The scene, however, took a grim turn as the explosion unfolded.

The trooper's narration painted a vivid picture of your unwavering determination. Your face, illuminated by the glow of the lightsaber, displayed a fierce concentration as you called upon the Force. The protective barrier you conjured was a testament to the immense power you harnessed. Smoke, flames, and debris relentlessly assaulted the shield, crashing against it with an intensity that seemed insurmountable.

As the holographic depiction continued, the strain on your shield became evident. Each impact pushed you back, a slow and relentless retreat under the overwhelming assault. The trooper's commentary reflected the increasing tension in the room, capturing the collective breaths held by those witnessing the event. Finally, with a heart-wrenching collapse, the protective barrier gave way, and your motionless form was violently thrown backward by the force of the explosion, resembling a discarded puppet.

The disturbing imagery etched itself into the minds of those present, leaving a haunting impression of the sacrifice you had made for your comrades. The room fell silent as the holographic display faded, and the gravity of the moment lingered in the air.

“Where is she?” Obi-Wan’s voice a hoarse whisper.

The troopers exchanged puzzled glances, their expressions shifting from a state of surprise to one of guarded curiosity. Why did General Kenobi, the renowned Jedi leader, express such concern about the whereabouts of a single Jedi, especially one who hadn't reported directly to him? The very nature of Jedi loyalty was well-known, but this level of interest seemed unusual, especially considering General Kenobi had never spoken your name and had no prior connection with your company.

In the austere world of warrior monks, emotional attachments were often deemed a distraction, a sentiment echoed by the Jedi Code. The troopers, accustomed to the stoic and disciplined demeanor of their Jedi commanders, found it perplexing that General Kenobi, known for his wisdom and strategic brilliance, was showing a level of personal investment that transcended the typical chain of command.

As the trooper spoke, the realization hit Obi-Wan like a sudden gust of cold wind. The men, once indifferent, now wore expressions of awe and respect. He had been the mentor to their leader, the padawan of the legendary General Kenobi, and none of them had been aware. It was a revelation that changed the dynamics within the group.

“I apologize, General Kenobi, we didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan's confusion deepened. How was it possible that you had never spoken of your training under him? He couldn't fathom why you would erase any mention of your master, especially considering the strong bonds that typically formed between Jedi and their mentors.

“What do you mean? Has she never spoken of it?”

The trooper shook his head solemnly. His name had never left your lips. There was no connection with Obi-Wan Kenobi, and your silence regarding your master left him perplexed and troubled. What had transpired to make you erase the very existence of your training and relationship with him from your history? It was a mystery that left him with an unsettling sense of guilt and regret.

Dread settled over Obi-Wan as the clone recounted the events in the medical wing. The last remnants of the company had made it back, battered and bruised, their fallen comrades in tow. However, you were conspicuously absent, having been transported to the medical wing for intensive care due to the injuries you sustained. Without a moment's hesitation, Obi-Wan set his sights on the medical facilities.

In his urgency to find you, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the bustling corridors, barely sparing a glance for those he unintentionally bumped into. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic and the low hum of medical machinery. The chaos within the medical wing mirrored the turmoil in Obi-Wan's mind as he scanned the rows of occupied beds and the busy healers tending to the wounded.

He sought your name among the patients but found no trace. Panic tightened its grip on him, as each unoccupied bed intensified his worry. In the organized chaos, Obi-Wan grappled with the fear that he might be too late, that he had lost you in the vast sea of casualties.

"She’s alright. She was moved out of intensive treatment yesterday; she’s recuperating in private quarters on deck five."

Obi-wan's tension eased at Ahsoka's reassurance. The weight that had settled on his shoulders lifted as he absorbed the news. Ahsoka's brief but impactful update became a lifeline, giving him direction in the chaos. Gratitude filled his eyes as he nodded, silently expressing his thanks. The urgency to find you intensified, but now armed with information, he promptly set off towards the turbo-lift, leaving Ahsoka with the unspoken promise that he would find you.

Inside the lift, the monotonous hum did little to alleviate his restlessness, in fact, it made them worse. The usually swift elevators felt unusually slow on this particular day, and he entertained the thought that taking the stairs might have been a faster option. As he impatiently waited unconsciously tapping his boot, the seconds felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened on the desired floor, he bolted out, the urgency in his steps reflecting as he raced down the corridor. This was the most cardio he’d had in days. His eyes darted around erratically, scanning the room names, and he eventually found yours. 

Adorned next to the door like a beacon, and with a mix of hope and trepidation, he pressed the call button, but only silence answered back. He pushed it again. Then again. And each time the ominous silence was his only response. Mad with anxiety he pushed to override the security lock, a move usually foreign to his respectful nature. 

The door slid open, and his heart stilled, there you were on a sofa bathed in daylight from the small window close to the ceiling. Relief surged through him, but it was fleeting; his heart remained uneasy and it would until he saw some indication that you were truly alive. Striding purposefully, he crossed the room, the force signature around you echoing your weakened condition like a medical monitoring device would communicate a pulse or heartbeat.

The aftermath of battle left its gritty mark across your features—bacta patches firmly affixed your shoulder and upper arm worked to make you whole though the tendrils of bruising could be seen around the borders. The marks on your skin were like a gritty painting, telling the vivid story of explosions, blaster fire, and flying debris. Scratches added rough brushstrokes to your face, tracing the chaotic path of the battlefield. Minor burns left fiery imprints on your neck, marking close encounters with searing heat. Bruises, like somber echoes, formed a mosaic on your arms and hands, narrating the intense dance with projectile-like debris. 

Despite this, you lay in peaceful repose on your side, facing him, eyes closed in sleep; an elusive serenity amidst the chaos of war. Your head was cradled in your arms, one leg casually folded beneath you while the other stretched out, a blanket loosely entwined around your legs and gathered at your waist. As he crouched down to study you, he sought the familiar essence of the padawan he remembered. The passing of thirteen years had left its mark in the longer strands of hair and the refined, soft features that shaped you into a woman, a stark departure from the Padawan he once guided. No longer bound by the apprentice title, you had evolved into a Jedi Knight—a seasoned warrior.

A close call with death, all for the sake of your men who deeply admired you, almost snuffed out your light. But, your command and growing mastery of the Force made him prouder than ever at that moment.

A subtle shift in your sleep saw a strand of your hair falling gently over your face, just over your nose each little breath lifting it slightly, It brought a smile to his face, and for the first time in days, he felt a sense of tranquility, his pulse calming in the warmth of that precious moment. The chaos of the war outside felt distant within the confines of the cozy room.

Unbeknownst to him, his hand had instinctively reached out, delicately brushing the strand of hair away from your face, inadvertently prompting you to stir in your sleep, accompanied by a soft, sleepy groan.

Wakefulness pulled you from the warm embrace of sleep and instinctively you stretched, a grimace of pain crossed your lips as you moved, prompting you to recoil slightly into a ball once more. Then your eyelashes fluttered open gradually met by crystal blue eyes, quickly filling with a storm of fatigue, confusion, and curiosity. 

"Hello, young one," he uttered, his voice a gentle murmur rich with affection, and his smile extended to the corners of his eyes, creating subtle crinkles.

"Obi-Wan?" 

"Yes, it's Obi-Wan."

Was this a dream? It didn't feel like one. You scanned the room, casting a questioning glance at your surroundings and the unfolding reality. Your expression wasn't one of pleasure upon seeing him; instead, it bore confusion and distance, as if you were looking at a stranger. He couldn't ignore the palpable sense of disconnect. Hoping for a misunderstanding, that perhaps you had maintained secrecy for a mission, he observed the passing seconds, realizing it wasn't as simple as that.

"What day is it?" 

Not the question he had expected, but he was so relieved to hear your voice, that it didn’t matter.

"Primday. You've been in medical for two days, released from the intensive treatment wing just yesterday."

Thirteen years melted away, and those familiar, brilliant blue eyes, so kind and warm. Nostalgia washed over you, and you couldn't deny the yearning for the comforting presence of your former master. 

However, as the waves of reminiscence subsided, the reality you'd been avoiding for thirteen years resurfaced. Obi-Wan's knowledge about your condition, coupled with his intense worry, unsettled you, you had to get away from him. Sitting up was a struggle, and as you finally managed to rise, the blanket slipped away, laying bare the toll of battle on your body—a sight that triggered anger, and concern in Obi-Wan's eyes.

A large portion of your left thigh was concealed beneath a sizable bacta patch, and the same superficial injuries that littered the rest of your body continued, it seemed no part of you had been spared, your less-than-optimal state caught him off guard. 

“You should be in a bacta tank! They released you like this?” Obi-Wan was flabbergasted, the worry etched on his face evident. “Come, I’m taking you back to the medical wing.”

“Absolutely not!” Your bold assertion caught him off guard and he stopped, there had only been a handful of times where you had defied your master. You adjusted your tone to a more calm and measured cadence before adding, “The bacta tanks are at capacity, and there are far more injured than I. –I’m fine. Just scratches.”

He blinked rapidly, his concern escalating. “Scratches? These are NOT scratches.” Oblivious to your state of undress, he gestured to your leg. “You were nearly killed! I saw the holo myself!”

Feeling the weight of responsibility on your shoulders, you searched for any excuse to put more space between you and your master. Ignoring his pleas for you to stay put, you tried to stand again, driven by your stubborn nature. It wasn't until Obi-Wan physically stepped in, restraining you, that you finally came to a stop.

“You can't go back like this,” he insisted, “You're in terrible shape, you need time to recover.”

You made a final attempt to push past him, but Obi-Wan wasn't having it. A firm but considerate hand on your chest gently pushed you back, and a wave of discomfort washed over you as the dull throb of your muscles crying out caught up with your exertions. Glancing to the side table, he spotted a hypo syringe, and without hesitation, he reached for it, eager to bring an end to your pain. However, you extended your hand and vehemently shook your head, intensifying his disbelief as you refused pain medication despite the evident discomfort you were in.

“I don’t need it,” you insisted, defiantly rejecting any relief for your pain. Obi-Wan couldn't fathom your refusal, considering the severity of your injuries.

“You were hit by three blaster bolts and blown up, and you refuse pain medicine?” His voice rose unintentionally, a mix of concern and frustration evident. He shook his head in disbelief, disappointed by your seemingly stubborn choices. He set the syringe down and rose turning away from you, hands on his hips trying to make sense of you but you’d never made it easy on him.

“And you expected to make it down the hall, into the turbo life through the halls, and into the squad bay like this?” He gestured vaguely to you and huffed out a breath The internal conflict of caring for someone who refused care etched across his face and he shut his eyes in exasperation. “What am I to do with you?”

The room settled into a calm stillness, and he could feel the Force flowing gently, like a quiet river moving past him. Eager to offer support, he laid a comforting hand on your shoulder, connecting his own Force presence with yours. A tranquil hush filled the space as you both embraced the ancient practice, seeking solace for the aches and pains that lingered.

The room filled with the soothing hum of the Force, a brief moment of relief washing over you like waves tickling at your toes, easing the discomfort. The pain began to melt away, replaced by a comforting warmth. Yet, as soon as you felt his added touch, your eyes snapped open, and you jerked back abruptly cutting off both the Force connection and the physical contact. It was as if you pulled back as if the sensation burned you. Confusion widened his eyes, hurt creasing his handsome features. He lowered his head into his hands, his voice tinged with a tremor of pain as he grappled with the mystery of your sudden distance and coldness toward him.

"What have I done to you?" 

His eyes closed in unbearable agony, and his head bowed forward, hair cascading over his face. 

"How have I wronged you? In what way did I hurt you so profoundly that my own padawan refrains from uttering my name to her company, or anyone else? That she remains a secret, that no one knows she was mine?" 

His?

An ocean of hurt filled those beautiful blue eyes as he looked up, and for the first time, he saw you gaze back at him and actually see him.

"Nothing, you did nothing. Obi-Wan I–" 

Shaking your head, you reached out to him, but this time it was he who recoiled, taking several steps back, attempting to regain control over his faltering composure. Pain welled up within you, the knowledge that you tried to follow what you believed was right, what you were taught was right, and still it had caused harm.

"I must have done something to you for you to treat me this way." His voice carried a hint of indignation now. "Was I too harsh? Unjust? A cruel master? What did I do to make you harbor such hatred towards me?" Hate? 

No, no, no. This was all wrong. What had you done?

"I don't hate you," You pleaded, your voice carrying the weight of regret. "I could never hate you, Obi-Wan."

"Oh? What else am I left to believe? One moment I'm watching you being knighted, the youngest of your clan, my heart swelling with pride at knowing the galaxy will never see another Jedi like you. And the next, you're just gone! No goodbye, no farewells, no communications, nothing. As if the years I trained you were of no consequence, as if the bond that follows a Padawan and Master throughout life meant nothing."

Your heart hurt, and you weren't sure which was more painful: the idea that he thought he had wronged you so much that you hated him, or the realization that you had hurt him and continued to do so.

"That's not what it was." 

Your voice was meek, and you struggled to explain but it felt useless, the damage had ben done, by your hand. You had hoped to avoid this conversation, knowing there was only one inevitable outcome: the loss of your relationship with your master, forever. Yet fate seemed determined to unfold it now.

“Then what? What, padawan?”

As he closed the distance between you, your internal turmoil heightened. You clutched the blanket tighter around yourself, a feeble attempt to shield not just your body but the vulnerability you felt at that moment. 

"Please, don't call me that."

You sank into the protection of the blanket, avoiding the term that carried memories of a time when things were simpler, a time you desperately wanted to distance yourself from. The weight of the past lingered in the air, leaving you exposed and uncertain about the path this conversation would take.

He seemed both confused and offended now. How could such an important name hold such bitterness for you?

“Padawan,” You flinched at hearing him speak the word in what felt like spite, each syllable caressed by his thick Coruscatnti accent.

“Look at me, padawan.” His commanding presence made it difficult to resist, but you couldn't bring yourself to meet his gaze, you just couldn’t. The last threads of resistance faded when he spoke as he had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Master’s command,” 

Of course, you would. You always would when he called, as instinctive a reaction to you as breathing. Painfully slowly, you looked up eyes still fighting it the whole time hoping he would understand without any further explanation, but stubbornness and snark was something the Great Negotiator was famed for, and he would not be denied any longer. 

As your eyes locked with his, an unexpected vulnerability washed over you, and you felt more naked than you were. It had been more than a decade since you looked into those eyes, yet the magnetic pull was just as potent now as it had been thirteen years ago. You subtly shook your head, silently pleading.

As the seconds passed, realization dawned on him. Your face, colored by shades of shame and embarrassment, betrayed the unspoken truths. The hand reaching up to your temple was the final revelation, leaving you with nothing to do but let him see.

In the jumble of thoughts racing through your interconnected minds, fragments of him surged to the forefront. His deep blue eyes, the warmth of his smile, the soft touch of his hands—all tangled memories, causing a storm within. He saw the moment you grappled with the painful truth: the man you desired could never be truly yours, shackled by the rigid Jedi code and Obi-Wan's unwavering commitment. Faced with this agony, disappearing into the void seemed like the only refuge, a self-imposed exile to shield both of you from inevitable heartache. So, when you had heard Master Yoda speaking of a mission on the other side of the galaxy, you seized the opportunity. Leaving right away? Perfect. Despite hating the choice, it felt like the only way. You’d have done anything to protect him from yourself. 

He understood now, that whenever he uttered "Padawan" the word brought you pain because it was as close as you could ever be. The pain reverberated, and he, peering into your thoughts, could sense it all. As he withdrew, his eyes conveyed not disappointment but a poignant sadness, leaving a lingering ache that cut deeper than any vibroblade could.

The emptiness he left in your thoughts was unbearable. Your head sank into your hands as you whispered apologies—apologies for keeping secrets, for causing him pain, for leaving him, for unintentionally making him believe you were angry or had betrayed him with these unspoken thoughts. The weight of it all overwhelmed you, and grief started to take hold.

"You ran away, for my benefit?" the weight of his words hung heavily in the air. 

With a single nod, you admitted the harsh truth. And what good did it do? The heartbreak you'd been dodging finally caught up with you, but you’d given it one hell of a run.

You could hear him taking a cautious step back as if you were a dangerous threat to him, but then again, weren’t you? The impending void that would stretch between you two loomed now, and it would stretch for far longer than the span of a few years. This was exactly what you'd hoped to avoid—the door opening, him walking away, and leaving behind an emptiness that nothing could fill.

In the aftermath, you'd head back to your company, join your men, skillfully avoid their questions, and bury the sound of his name so deep it might never resurface. No more uttering it, not even in the quiet corners of your mind. The once-warm memories of your kind master guiding you in the Jedi ways would become bittersweet relics, stained by your own choices.

A profound hopelessness settled in as you rested your head against your hands, hair falling like a curtain. You braced for the tears, waiting for the sound of the doors to open and close one final time before you’d let them fall, shutting your eyes tightly to keep them in. Any second now.

However, the doors remained sealed, he was still there. Was he about to scold you? To make you feel more the foolish girl who should have had better control over her stupid emotions? Guess every wound needed a little salt, though, didn’t it? The situation seemed to only get worse and you found yourself wishing that the blast you struggled to hold back might have killed you instead, that you might be spared this pain.

His voice was almost a whisper, prompting you to glance up. "You don’t hate me?"

You shook your head vigorously, "How could I?"

Was there a chance to salvage this? In any way? You struggled to get back on your feet, your movements thwarted by a shooting persistent pain that would sooner see you fail in your attempt to reach him. And stumble you did, barely managing a few steps before you failed, but your master was right there, catching you before you could hit the ground. With his support, you managed to stand, though he still towered over you. His arm wrapped around you, a reassurance that you were safe. This shouldn't be happening, and he should have left, but he stayed. Why? Would this be it? It had to be. 

Giving in to a momentary desire, you let yourself enjoy a small gesture—your fingers slipping through the back of his neck, remembering the softness of his hair. It was shorter now, and although it suited him, you couldn't help but miss the longer locks that used to invite such thoughts.

“What am I to do with you, padawan?”

His choice of words sent a shiver down your spine, but not in the way it used to. There was a strange undertone in his voice, something you hadn't heard before. You had no answers to his question, but it seemed like responses didn't much matter to him. Then, out of the blue, he stooped down and picked you up in his arms, something you'd only dared dream about.

"What're you doing?"

"Taking you to bed, where I can take you properly." 

You froze. What did he say? Could he really mean what you thought he did? There had to be some misunderstanding. Your love-struck brain must be playing tricks on you. Your master wouldn't actually give in to those desires, right? Your blood raced, your heart thundered and your skin tingled as he effortlessly carried you, making your weight seem inconsequential.

The bed, though not exceptionally soft, transformed into the most comforting spot in the galaxy as he tenderly placed you upon it. Kneeling beside you the mattress dipping to accommodate him as well, he cradled your face in his hands, prompting a shaky "Wha-?" from your trembling voice.

"Stubborn girl," his words hung in the air, accompanied by that unforgettable tone, yes, it was slightly critical but there was something else to it. "You're not leaving this bed until you're fully recovered. Understand, Padawan?" Confusion swirled in your mind at hearing his command, but you managed a small nod. "You will obey your master's commands, won't you?" The authoritative tone was unfamiliar, prompting another slow nod from you. "Say it."

"Yes, Master."

"Good girl," he affirmed, drawing closer, and his lips met yours in an unexpectedly ferocious kiss. 

His mouth quickly took control of yours, leaving no room for confusion about what his intentions were when he said ‘take you properly’. It felt like a tempest, threatening to engulf you, carrying you to the darkest depths but after thirteen years of wanting, and needing, the storm could do as it wanted, if he was the storm.

He smelled like blaster fire, adrenaline, smoke, and lightning—the aftermath of the battlefield sticking to him. Mingling with his scent, like the promise of rain, held traces of incense, taking you back to moments meditating in temples and deserts during your years of travel together. It was a smell that whispered safety and felt like home, a unique cologne you'd spend countless credits on. Something you wanted to drown in.

In countless dreams, you'd imagined moments where your master sought you out after hard battles, dangerous missions, or late at night, unable to resist the magnetic pull between you two. You dreamed of clandestine rendezvous with his hand covering your mouth urging you to be quiet. 

Now, it wasn't just a fantasy; it was real. His lips moving against yours, licking at your lips, sucking on the tip of your own tongue, fueled by hunger as intense as that of a starving man, confirmed the reality of the moment.

During your trials, he had worn his beard and mustache, and it had long sparked your carnal curiosity about the sensations they might bring – a persistent tickle or a pleasurable burn? It turned out to be both, exquisitely and painfully so, surpassing the allure of any narcotic. The intensity of his mouth against yours was relentless, lips brushing yours before his tongue entered the equation. It delved into your mouth, leaving your usually sharp mind in a state of struggle, accompanied by shaky moans. Yet, none of it mattered. The moment he pressed himself between your legs, seizing the hem of your shirt, all rational thought vanished. Your hungry mind could only process the overwhelming realization that your master was kissing you, his tongue licking at your mouth, and he was pawing at you, undressing you like your clothes were an unforgivable offense. 

His hands, leaving trails of smoldering embers, intensified the moment, but the euphoria came at a cost. When you moved to discard your shirt, a sharp pain shot through your shoulder, stealing a cry from your lips. Clutching your wound, you fought back the urge to cry.

The sudden sound shattered the enchantment, and his eyes snapped open. He pulled away abruptly, looking as if he were shocked to find himself in this situation with you. Clarity returned to his gaze, and a heavy feeling settled in your stomach as he stepped back, his features clouded with alarm, shaking his head.

"No, we can't," he uttered, releasing you abruptly. In an instant, it was over. A desperate breath escaped you as you reached out, but he vanished.

The urge to scream, cry, or tear down the walls clawed at you, but none of it could change what had just happened. Flopping back on the bed, your shoulder met the mattress with a wince. Anger pulsed through your core, fueled by both the recovering blaster wound and the missed opportunity.

He'd kissed you, and touched you, and just when the promise of something more seemed within reach, it slipped away, leaving a bitter taste of disappointment. The thought of his bare skin against yours, a tantalizing dream, now felt elusive. Despair settled in, but the sudden sound of hurried steps shattered the silence—Obi-Wan's unexpected return.

Before you could fully rise, he gently pressed you back down, his body covering you. His lips sought yours again in a softer, slower kiss, dispelling confusion but introducing a new layer of uncertainty.

He hadn’t left. "Master?" You could barely get the word out before his lips crashed into yours again, a hungry, intense kiss that made you forget about everything—the sudden exit, the unexplained return—all vanished in the heat of the moment. A sharp sting in your arm brought you back, and you pulled away with a surprised 'Ow!' Glancing down, you noticed the hypo-syringe in his hand and the red mark on your arm. "Wha-?"

He came back for another kiss, a hungry and urgent embrace that left you breathless. His tongue teased at your lips, an intrusion you found hard to be angry about. During this heated exchange, he murmured, "I'm sorry," between breathless kisses, his hand entangled in your hair, adding an electrifying thrill to the encounter.

His voice, heavy with sincerity and restraint, trailed down your neck as he continued the assault of hungry kisses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” The tingling sensation from the hypo spread through your body, replacing pain with a welcomed numbness. Now his words made sense – he had injected you with an anesthetic, he wasn’t going anywhere.

"But being gentle is not an option right now," he confessed against your skin, his lips sending shivers down your spine. "And I can't wait any longer."

And neither could you.

His presence enveloped you, a promise to soothe the ache that had haunted you. Rational thoughts and hesitations melted in the passionate exchange, leaving behind an urgent desire for his tongue to dance with yours, to savor the taste of you.

The pain became a distant murmur, overshadowed by the seductive cadence of his armor shedding away. The unmistakable sound of metal parts cascading to the floor filled the air, a harmonious unveiling that played like a haunting melody, laced with the promise of imminent closeness. Each metallic clink and rustle, orchestrated with practiced finesse, blended seamlessly with the mounting heat, composing a sensual symphony that underscored the unfolding intimacy.

"Padawan-” He sounded so full of need. “Have you waited this whole time to touch me, only to just lay there?"

No, you hadn't. Your senses snapped back into focus, and the relentless ache demanded action. Rising up with fiery determination, you seized his lip between your teeth, fingers tangled in his tousled locks. Leg wrapped around his waist, you provocatively thrust your hips into his, stirring a primal hunger. A low, appreciative groan escaped him, and the remaining shreds of restraint evaporated in the scorching intensity of the moment.

“Very good, padawan,” he whispered between searing kisses "Now, tell me what you want. Tell me every craving, every ache you've hidden from your master."

The legendary negotiator, renowned for his poise, eloquence, grace, and dignity in the heat of battle or the midst of a debate, was always portrayed as a polished and composed figure. However, the General Kenobi before you was a stark departure from that image—a persona that sensually grazed your neck with his lips, tenderly explored the curves of your breasts with his hands and moved his hips in a rhythm that ignited an intense passion. This wasn't just the great negotiator; it was the manifestation of a double life—a formidable lover hidden beneath the veneer of a respected leader.

His shorter locks proved to be the perfect handhold, their soft strands entwining with your fingers. The subtle roughness of his beard intensified the already electric atmosphere, adding an extra layer of intensity to the moment. 

In the fiery dance of passion and longing, he'd always preached the power of actions over words. Guided by that intimate lesson, you eagerly set out to unravel the layers of his robes, with a gentle push, he rose back up to stand while you sat on the bed, your hands moving with a fervor fueled by desire. The belt surrendered first, dropping to the ground with a soft thud, the lightsaber noticeably absent, carefully stowed away. Urgently, the ties of his loose robe followed suit in the passionate race to undress him. The linen shirt glided away from his broad shoulders, gracefully descending to the floor, revealing the lush expanse of his bare chest. With unwavering determination, you committed every inch of your master's body to the canvas of your memory, each touch a sensual exploration of his lean, muscled skin, a sensory feast that ignited the flames of desire.

"This." 

Your fingers traced the shape of his already hard length beneath the fabric of his trousers, coaxing a low moan from Obi-Wan against your neck. "Master, I want this." A firm squeeze elicited a shudder, coursing through him as you continued to tease through his clothing. "I want it in my mouth." His breath hitched, and his hips responded eagerly. Slowly untying the laces of his trousers, your hand slipped inside, embracing his him. The guttural groan that escaped him sent warmth rippling through your body. "Between my legs."

Your master's throbbing cock pulsed in your hands, radiating heat against your skin—hard and demanding. Each stroke elicited untamed pleasure, breaking through the disciplined walls the Jedi Order had meticulously built over the decades. The symphony of his responses played out in sensual notes: the quivers across his skin, the ragged gasps, and the vulnerable moans, all orchestrated by your skilled touch. Hypnotized by the power you held over him, you savored every moment, captivated by the way his body reacted to your every movement. How his hips surged forward in a hungry plea as your hand teased and retreated, and then faltered when you squeezed him with deliberate, unhurried strokes. An irresistible urge surged within you, a yearning to fulfill the fantasies that had simmered within your soul for a decade.

“Master, your padawan wants your cock.” 

His hips faltered again at the sheer filth that you spoke of, the way your voice caressed such dirty thoughts, he twitched in your hand and you tried not to moan. Like a siren call you began to dip your head forward, desperate to satisfy the curiosity of how he tasted, your goal so close, a breath away from your lips when it was cruelly ripped away from you. His hand wrapped gently but assertively around your throat giving the softest squeeze that prompted you to rub your thighs together to still the full body shudder. 

“My padawan will learn patience. I asked you to tell me your thoughts, not to carry them out.” 

You wanted to cry, maybe he expected a submissive little padawan.

“Up, further on the bed.” 

He let you go, and you followed his command, scooting back towards the middle of the bed. The intensity of his gaze made it challenging not to tremble. The sight of your master, shirtless, messy hair, swollen lips, and trousers hanging dangerously low on his hips, carried the knowledge that his hard arousal had been in your hands. Knowing you had driven him to that point made obeying his commands a fierce internal struggle. The difficulty only intensified as he knelt on the bed, crawling toward you like a predator closing in on its prey. His eyes held an unfamiliar, burning intensity, setting your own desires ablaze. How was it possible for blue eyes to burn?

His voice, low and commanding, demanded you to lie back, leaving no room for protest. The once-lacy barrier of your panties and bra felt like an unnecessary formality as he leaned over, his arms creating a delicious trap against the bed. Escape wasn't even a consideration, not that you wanted it. He peered at your shoulder, voice holding a hint of soft concern as he asked, "Are you in any pain?" With a shake of your head, A wolfish grin played on his handsome face. "Good. Though, you might when I'm done with you." Oh, stars. Denying you a proper kiss, his tongue traced the trail of desire from your lips down your jaw and neck.

“Going to have to punish you a bit for abandoning your master,” 

What? He was going to punish you? Your heart threatened to burst as his lips drifted down your chest, lavishing every imperfection marring your skin with a sweep of his tongue and a caress of his hands.

Despite having command of the force all your life, the very notion that it may be used against you, that it could be unseen hands acting on Obi-Wan’s will, tearing the rest of your clothes off thrilled you. But he surprised you, it seemed he was more hands-on, the bra you wore was quickly gone and that hot mouth of his found its way to your nipples delicately teasing. Slow and purposeful swipes of his tongue coupled with the soft seal of his lips and the gentle scrape of his teeth made you arch wantonly into his waiting mouth with a whimper. 

Was this what he’d meant about punishment? 

He quickly answered that for you, the gentle vibrations of his moan passing through your teased nipples as he switched from one to treat the other to equal pleasure. 

“Your punishment can wait though,” That eloquently talented tongue of his drew sensual circles that brought a choked sob past your lips. “First, I’m going to take care of my padawan. Make her come for me in all the ways she’s ever dreamed, so she’ll never leave me again,” Your heart skipped a beat, several in fact, “Till her body shakes and she can no longer bear not having my cock in her.” 

He finally released your aching nipples moving down the soft flat expanse of your stomach tongue dipping into your navel. “My powerful,” he kissed your hip, “beautiful,” he sucked on the skin as his fingers tucked into your panties “Sensitive,” and pulled them down your legs. “Neglected,” His breath ghosted over your thigh, tossing the garment aside. “Padawan.” 

Never again would the word Padawan cause you pain, never again would it represent ache and loss and missed opportunities. Your chest rose in shallow breaths and you were fairly certain you were going to have a heart attack. Your eyes fixed on a point on the ceiling before fluttering closed completely, listening to your master's voice, feeling his hot breath on your most delicate body parts. And for a few terrible moments he let you sit there feeling his breath, the occasional brush of his beard on your skin, the anticipation more horrible than a thousand lonely nights with only your fantasies and touch. 

“Master.” You wished you hadn’t sounded so pitiful, so needy and pathetic but you were and you couldn’t help it. Naked on a bed with your master’s breath teasing you between your legs, you were ready to beg. 

“Padawan,” 

The word whispered, barely audible a fraction of eternity passed before you felt the sweetly sinful furnace of his mouth on your lips before his tongue swept past them to taste you. A shrill and sudden intake of breath shattered the stillness of the room, and your hips canted up against his mouth and you cried out in a drawn-out moan. Not in any pain but the desperate tens of thousands of lonely nights where you cried his name in your mind each time you came against your hand. 

His strokes were sweet and slow and left no part of you untouched. You’re lungs seized up momentarily and your brain misfired too many impulses, the instinct to jump away upon the startling contact with his mouth warred the desire to watch him, which also struggled against the urge to seize his hair and beg him to take you right then and there.

All impulses crashed into one another with each broad stroke of his tongue against your pussy, you lay back practically panting desperately trying to remember how to breathe properly, but with every flick of his tongue saw to it that you forgot whatever it was you were trying to remember. 

Your toes curled slightly in shameless pleasure when you felt his fingers stroking your entrance, teasing you with the promise of sublime ecstasy to be had if he would only use his fingers. The very ones calloused from years of wielding a lightsaber now brought blistering pleasure with every touch. The sounds of his breathing intermingled with deep groans as he lapped at you like he was dying of thirst, only adding to the symphony of sex you would play over and over in your head until the end of your days. 

As you lay there losing your mind in the velvet embrace of your master’s mouth, Obi-Wan was studying you, learning your pleasure through each taste, stroke, and flick of the tongue. Committing to memory how you reacted when he licked hard or sucked softly the cadence of your breathing and the buck of your hips, what drew sweet whimpers or unabashed moans. He found a rhythm, long, slow broad strokes, that made you gasp each time no matter how often he did it, you could never get used to it. Followed by the quick teasing flutter of his tongue on your clit, fingers sweeping gently along the length of your lips throwing fuel to the fire he that was beginning to rage out of control. The hot lazy hunger of his mouth was better than anything you’d ever felt and it was impossible to keep your eyes open for any length of time, it just felt so good, as if your brain was struggling to keep up with what was happening it would occasionally rapid-fire messages to you as though you were unaware of exactly what was going on.

‘Master’s mouth is between my legs.’

‘Stars! He’s licking me.’

‘He’s going to make me come!’

Somewhere in the back of your mind you registered the soft sound of a deep and throaty chuckle, the reverberations stole your breath and sidetracked your thoughts.

‘Yes, padawan, you will come for me. Until I grow weary of the noises you make.’

The words played out in your mind as if they came from everywhere echoing off the walls of your thoughts, but when you glanced down, Obi-Wan was focused on you. Not even a teasing expression, his eyes seemed closed in rapture as though he were enjoying an exquisite, delicacy catered to his palette only. And enjoying it thoroughly.

When not dancing teasing touches to your entrance, his hands stroked the inside of your thighs opening your legs further each time, mindful not to agitate your wounds, his touch so delicate that it made your skin tingle with sensitivity. 

It was unbelievable how quickly he’d gotten you so close to cumming but then his voice in your head tell you the most wicked thoughts aided in that considerably. 

Never before did you ever think such a thing would happen, your master hungrily feasting on your pussy. It had to be a dream, it was too good, any moment when you were nearly ready for the rolling torrent of orgasm to crash upon you, you would wake up and cling to the remnants of this dream while hurriedly bringing yourself to climax while muffling any sounds into your pillow.

“No, my padawan, this is no dream. I’m going to make you come for me now.”

His mouth found your clit again, giving it a series of slow licks and gentle, open-mouthed kisses before spreading your lips open giving you no reprieve from that masterful mouth of his. Then he truly went to work on you, stimulating that little bundle of nerves by flicking the tip of his tongue over and over increasing in speed until you could scarcely breathe and your body was writhing on the bed, the moans tumbling from your mouth. Your wails combined with your desperate pleas carried through the room with lick, swirl, and suckle. 

Obi-wan’s voice continued calling to you whispering so many salacious things to you; that he loved how you tasted so sweet to him, “My darling, padawan, your taste is divine, so sweet.” 

That your moans were what he would play in his head when he stroked himself if he couldn’t have you, “Yes, sing for me, tell me how good I’m making you feel,” 

How he knew you were going to strangle his cock when he finally let you have it, “S’going to feel so good when I bury my cock in you, isn’t it? Going to strangle me, aren’t you?” 

How gorgeous you looked like this for him and it was only for him, “So, beautiful all laid out for me, only for me, aren’t you?”

And for each whispered thought in your mind you moaned a ragged “Yes, master! Yes! Yes!”

This was it, he was going to kill you, this was how you would join the living Force, wildly in the throws of orgasm. You couldn’t even manage his name, barely able to utter the first syllable, voice raising in pitch, your body growing rigid as it all culminated towards an exquisite peak. It was the sound of Obi-wan’s half breath, half moan, and the demanding cadence of his order sounding in your mind rising above all other words; the command to come for him, and you did. The thick throaty satisfied moan of a man who wanted to be no other place than between your legs, reverberating through your flesh and raced up your core.

Waves of fire, hotter than any star, more molten than any lightsaber, radiated from your thoroughly stimulated pussy overtaking your body as his mouth worked you over slowly teasing out every ounce of pleasure he could, wringing it from you like water from a rag. 

Repeating the word "Master" like a mantra, a symphony of desire and surrender as you writhed against him. No longer in control, you became a willing captive to the relentless pulses dictated by Obi-Wan. The euphoric journey continued an unending cascade of sensations and shared ecstasy. And it didn’t stop, like a fire it grew more and more intense, shocking you, never before had you experienced sensations like what he was giving you. You just kept coming.

Would it ever stop? The overwhelming wave of pleasure seemed boundless. It was intoxicating, almost too much. As the peak of ecstasy subsided, it left behind little electric shocks of overstimulation with each additional stroke of Obi-Wan's tongue, trying to coax out a little more. The intensity lingered, a sensation that bordered on both pleasure and sweet torment.

The sweet agony of pleasure mixed with the sting of overstimulation was a cruelty of human physiology. You wanted more, a hungry desire pushing him to give you everything. But your body rebelled, aching for a momentary escape from the relentless assault. Your hips wriggled and began to buck trying to throw him off in a wordless plea for him to ease the intensity. Yet, he pressed on, undeterred, as you grappled with the conflicting sensations, lost in the dizzying dance of pleasure and pain.

“Master! Please! No more– I-I can’t!” The way your words sounded so weak and your voice nearly broken seemed to finally reach him and he slowed to a stop, depositing one final deep kiss and drawing an unadulterated moan from you before he finally released your overworked, quivering flesh. 

Your body shivered as he moved up the bed to kiss your lips. The lingering scent and taste of your orgasm clung to his mouth—a mix of sweat and satisfaction, intensified by the unique aroma coming from him. It was potent enough to make you teeter on the brink of another climax, a fortunate secret he remained unaware of.

For some reason you felt like you needed to thank him, which was ridiculous, thank him for what? For giving you the most amazing orgasm you’d ever had? It seemed a bit awkward and out of place but somehow given this new dominant side of your master, he might enjoy that.

He breathed in deeply as if savoring the aftermath of a fulfilling workout. But the look on his face spoke of more than just exertion; it was a blend of delight and contentment.

You, on the other hand, felt a bit like you'd had one too many drinks. The air seemed to swirl around you, and his disheveled hair falling over his face only added to the effect. His smile was downright criminal, it seemed almost unnatural for a man to look so good wearing nothing but a smile.

"Thank you," you mumbled, the word sounding feeble even to your own ears, but Obi-Wan's pleased expression suggested he appreciated the sentiment.

“Did you enjoy that, my little padawan?” The endearment sent a shiver down your spine, and all you could manage was a nod. As his lips met yours once more, a wave of euphoria washed over you. Soft, powerful, firm—his kisses were everything you'd hoped for, stirring desire in every part of your being, and the knowledge that he’s just used that mouth on you made your heart race and your cunt ache.

“Tell me, before I take you, how many?” The question hung between you, a mix of desire and curiosity in Obi-Wan's voice. You were a bit baffled, trying to figure out the context of his question. Orgasms? It wasn’t something you kept tabs on. Sensing your confusion, he clarified, “Men. Lovers. How many?”

An awkward lump formed in your throat as you replied, “None.”

His eyes widened, and he licked his lips. There was a momentary flicker in his expression that could almost be mistaken for anger, but his subsequent fervent return to kissing dispelled that notion. “None? How is that possible? That I am the first to ever touch you like this?”

“The first man.” He froze, his expression shifting to shock at your admission. The truth was, you couldn’t bring yourself to be with a man when the one you desired was out of reach. Women, however...

“I’ve had lovers, just not any men; I didn’t want them.”

“You’ve taken female lovers?” he asked. You nodded, hoping he wouldn’t disapprove. His grin returned, now carrying a wolfish quality, and his mouth found its way back to your breast. His kiss turned fierce, hungry—a prelude to the kind of passion that precedes throwing someone onto a bed and ravishing them.  “Naughty thing,” he murmured. Relief flooded through you, quickly followed by euphoria. “Did you enjoy that? Letting other women touch you?”

"Sometimes." He appeared puzzled, and you nonchalantly shrugged, steering clear of his penetrating gaze. The notion of accepting disappointment felt like a subtle form of judgment.

"Women can be selfish lovers too." The idea of your satisfaction not being guaranteed seemed to trouble him. He shook his head slowly, 'tsking' you, as though imparting guidance on what was and wasn't acceptable.

"That won't do at all," he declared, lowering his lips to yours in a kiss that sent electric shivers down your spine. "I’m going to erase every memory of anyone who’s ever touched you." His tongue danced over your nipple again, barely tasting it and he stopped to savor your little breath. “Going to fuck you until you cry out my name, going to make sure you’re never left wanting again.” With a flick of his tongue, his hand started massaging your other breast, “Would you like that, padawan, for your master to make you feel good?”

“Yes! Please, Master! Please!”

“So respectful when you’ve had your cunt devoured, aren't you?” 

Those words, oh, they hit you in all the right places. You never thought he had it in him—the raw, unfiltered sexuality. Suddenly, you weren't just yearning for his touch; you wanted to be the one to make him quiver and groan, to do to him, what he did to you. To see how your words and caresses could unravel the composed Jedi Master. It wasn't just about fulfilling your own cravings; it was about sharing a dance of passion and exploring uncharted realms of desire together.

Strength surged within you, not the physical kind, but a potent force you had at your command. Calling upon the Force was as natural as breathing, and with a graceful wave of your hand, Obi-Wan found himself unceremoniously tossed onto his back, a look of astonishment etched across his features as if captivated by an unexpected dance. Yes, you had just harnessed the Force against your master.

The sight of your master supine, his bare chest rising and falling with each breath, hair tousled in disarray, trousers precariously low on his hips, and all because you had put him there. His eyes held a mesmerizing blend of surprise and desire, mirroring the emotions flickering within yourself. Seizing the moment before he could recover, you took a daring leap and went in to lay siege.

Obi-Wan, caught off guard by your bold moves, sank into the softness of the bed. Your fingers danced through his hair and beard, jerking his head back to expose his neck, ensuring he wouldn't forget this moment. A low, appreciative purr escaped his chest, silently praising your audacity. With each kiss and playful nip, he seemed to yield to your lead, responding with soft sounds of approval.

You savored the blissful aftermath of victory, those suspended seconds lingering in the air. In that fleeting time, your senses buzzed with playful thoughts, tempting fantasies, and desires long confined. He might have allowed the moment to stretch a bit more, but then came your teasing nips, tracing the spots that made him flinch with delightful sensitivity.

“Want to taste you,” You muttered, fairly certain you hadn’t imagined that little ‘oh.’

"Padawan..." His voice, a touch hoarse, accompanied the journey of your fingers down his ribs and along his toned stomach. Moving closer to the tantalizing waistband of his trousers where your prize awaited you, the desire to feel him in your hand became almost unbearable. Yet, you found justification for a bit more teasing. Fingers dipped just inside the band of his trousers, close enough to feel him twitch and buck at your almost-touches, it was too delicious to only do once.

Perhaps you shouldn't have pushed your luck.

Because, like the fabric of Jedi robes, his patience wore thin. It was then that your Master's restraint snapped, like a stretched cord finally giving way.

In an instant, he grabbed your waist, executing a swift and aggressive flip that left him looming above you, pinning you down on the bed. His body pressed into yours, and a sly grin hinted that the game was about to get a lot more daring. The air hummed with anticipation as he shook his head, capturing your mouth in a kiss that left you breathless.

"What were you thinking, Padawan?" His voice, low and husky, carried a thick layer of desire, each word steeped in need. His intense gaze locked onto yours, silently questioning.

"Touching your master without permission?" 

Stunned. You struggled to form a response, your lips moved, and no words broke free. Was he serious? After the intoxicating dance of his mouth had just brought you to an unparalleled climax, he expected you to ask permission to touch him? It felt absurd.

Questions raced through your mind. Was this some kind of test? A dominance play? Your stomach dropped. Maybe this was the punishment he’d spoken of, an exercise in humility? Searching his cerulean eyes for a hint of jest, the intense atmosphere from before remained, now layered with a different kind of tension. He simply shook his head slightly. The weight of his expectation hung in the room, leaving you torn between the impulse to surrender and the desire to meet his challenge with your own fiery response.

 "Yes, I do. I expect my padawan to remain obedient and respectful, no matter how she hungers." 

His fingers lingered just above your cheek, a subtle reminder of his ability to pluck your thoughts effortlessly, like plucking a flower from the grass. However, you had long since outgrown the status of a padawan, having ascended to the rank of Jedi Knight. If he expected pleading or begging, he was in for disappointment. A steely determination cast a shadow across your features. With narrowed eyes, you threw down a challenge. If he sought access to your mind, you were prepared to offer more than he had bargained for.

A coy smile danced on your lips, causing his own smile to falter ever so slightly. That mischievous glint in your eyes was a familiar precursor to something daring, and you had no intention of disappointing your master in this unexplored realm. Shutting your eyes, you tilted your head, letting his fingers brush against your face, shifting the battleground from the physical to the unseen.

Instead of engaging him through physical means, you chose to confront him on the mental plane, projecting your thoughts with an intensity that demanded attention. He took a sharp breath, caught off guard by the rush of images, thoughts, and sounds hitting him like a brisk breeze. The unexpected depth of your mental communication briefly disrupted the seamless flow of the physical connection.

This wasn't just a subtle act of rebellion; it was a declaration that you were no longer the Padawan he once trained. As a Jedi Knight, you wielded more than just a lightsaber—you possessed a will of your own, armed with a bag of tricks beyond anyone's expectations.

Though he could still address you as Padawan to elicit a reaction, you were so much more. Long-concealed thoughts, years hidden in secrecy, surged forth, intertwining with stolen glances and intimate moments—all now laid bare before Obi-Wan.

A mosaic of self-indulgent pleasures unfolded—whispered calls of his name amid moments of personal bliss. Stolen encounters, and lingering desires, all painted a picture of your yearning. The once-private fantasies, meant for the sanctuary of your thoughts, now exposed—a checklist of desires you had secretly harbored for him.

Breathless, he found himself caught in the private corners of your mind, imagined scenes unfolded, that saw you in a passionate dance, bodies entwined, covered in sweat, exploring countless positions. An insatiable hunger for him, even if he lay prone and exhausted, pleading with him for more.

The many ways you wanted to touch him, to pleasure him, and hear him echo your name as you had cried his— to render him powerless and explore his body until he succumbed to climax after climax and could give no more. 

He shivered with excitement, lost in the fantasy of the intense bliss you painted in his mind. Those throaty moans of pleasure felt so real, almost like he could taste them. Surprised by the raw intensity of your craving to taste him and drink him, he moaned your name in the tangled passion, every drop of his essence landing on your eager tongue as he lay back lost of the haze of sex and stimulation.

It wasn't merely about satisfying him; your desire surpassed that. There was an unquenchable hunger for him to seize control, to witness him unrestrained and consumed by passion and dominance. Whether he threw you onto the bed or pressed you against the wall, positions that brought a delightful twinge of discomfort on your end, all aimed at bringing him ecstasy, standing unassisted became an impossible task. The profound intensity of your yearning unfurled like a revelation, taking him by surprise.

The cat was out of the bag; the secret lay bare. Now, with an untamed glint in his eyes, it seemed you might have ventured into territory beyond your expectations.

"Padawan, my sweet, sinful, Padawan," His lips dipped to your ear, and the warmth of his breath sent shivers down your spine. "Perhaps I should enlighten you with some of MY thoughts."

Composure became a fleeting notion as he placed his hand firmly on your temple and a rush of sensations overwhelmed you, powerful enough that the right touch might send you into another blinding climax, akin to a torrent of whitewater tossing a stick of dry driftwood.

His unfiltered thoughts surged into your mind, a river of forbidden fantasies and suppressed desires. In the shared space of his consciousness, visions unfurled like an intimate tapestry—a clandestine gallery of how he yearned for you, each scene a seductive exploration of passion.

In one vivid fantasy more powerful than your own, you found yourself pressed against the cold metal of a ship's wall, arms held captive overhead by an unseen force naked while he still wore his full robes. Your leg draped over his shoulder, he knelt before you, entirely at the mercy of his desires, and he had none. He skillfully coaxed orgasm after orgasm from your quivering form, every touch and caress hearing you cry out and wail his name until you were hoarse. Overwhelmed by the sensations, until you were rendered speechless, too weak to utter the word "Master" as pleasure consumed your senses.

Then the landscape shifted with your master now behind you, his hands exploring your body with practiced skill. Fingers danced between your legs, teasing your aching clit, perfectly synchronized with the slow, deliberate thrusts of his hips. In the shared intimacy, he praised you, “Such a good girl” and admiring your patience in holding back on coming until he granted permission. His voice, a velvety whisper, encouraged you to hang on, promising to reward your patience but only after he had cum inside you, again.

“You think your desires are greater and darker than my own? So innocent of you…” 

His words hit you like a revelation, unraveling a new side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that forever changed the way you saw him.

Another shift of vision saw you in the High Council Chamber, he sat naked in his seat, his strong thighs spread wide, and there you knelt before him. His hand gripped your hair, guiding his cock down your throat, and you obediently swallowed it all. With a gritty grunt, he demanded you not waste a drop, telling you to swallow all of it, praising your beauty as you served your master on your knees.

Your body pulsed and throbbed with each vision he gave you until the sights, sounds, and sensations grew so powerful all it took was the gentle stroke of his fingers between your legs to set you off. You threw your head back into the bed and moaned as the strength of your orgasm was amplified by your connection to your master as his most private thoughts continued playing in your head.

As he let you go, the fantasies slowly faded, and you found yourself returning to the tangible present. It was like your vision was coming back to focus, bit by bit, from the edges to the center. The room's immediate surroundings started to replace the lingering echoes of those intense daydreams.

In that moment, it was clear—he had won. The sly grin on his face revealed a man who knew he was about to get what he wanted. It was the look of someone who had conquered and was eagerly anticipating claiming their prize.

“Tell me, Padawan, are you ready to ask your master if you can touch him?” 

But there you were, a flicker of fight still dancing in your eyes. Trying to push against him to sit up, that burning desire to kiss him ignited, fueled by a longing to make him yearn for you. You wanted to kindle the flames of passion until he begged for your touch. Yet, your Master had other plans. Suddenly your body refused to cooperate, stubbornly resisting your every attempt. Even the simplest tasks, like wiggling your toes, proved to be impossible.

As your efforts were thwarted, Obi-Wan's grin grew, taking on a dark intensity. His stormy eyes promised something profound, something that transcended the physical. His gaze seemed to revel in the power he held over your immobilized form, piercing through the struggle within.

“Use the Force on your master to tease him, will you? Let us see how you like it?” His lips ghosted over your breast, barely warming your nipple, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “You will ask permission, Padawan. I can wait.” His mouth enclosed over the hard bud lazily stroking, teeth occasionally grazing as your pathetic little whimpers danced in the air. 

He seemed perfectly content in his torturous teasing, but he had to be aching himself. Had to want to fuck you as badly as you wanted him to fuck you. This wasn’t fair, this wasn’t fair!

"Life is never fair, padawan," he murmured, as if reading the turmoil in your mind. "I had a very different plan for you until you chose to utilize the Force on your master. Now, you'll beg for the privilege to touch me."

His words sent shivers down your spine, and as he continued his fervent exploration, his hands tracing paths on your body that bordered on pain due to the lingering sensitivity from previous climaxes, you couldn't fathom how he remained so composed. The dichotomy of your desperation and his controlled demeanor only added to the maddening allure of the moment.

“You have no idea how much I want to sink my cock into this tight, perfect cunt,” His fingers grazed your lips and you were powerless to stop him, you could barely tremble at his touch. “How badly I want to feel you squeeze my cock, but I’ve not achieved the rank of master without considerable discipline.” 

He returned to your breast sucking harder, as his fingers employed a more delicate touch between your legs, which you were powerless to close, soft, sweet strokes on your thighs, and your lips but cruelly or mercifully avoiding your clit. Your lips trembled at the delicate touch, and in that moment, the unfairness of it all struck you like a tidal wave. 

For years, he had been your mentor, teaching you the art of patience and urging you to play the long game. "Be patient," he would say, "gauge your opponent."

But in the whirlwind of your desires, the very lessons he drilled into you seemed to crumble. Impatience surged, a desperate yearning for instant gratification that clashed with the wise teachings of your master. He offered to fulfill your every desire, promising pleasures beyond imagination. Yet, in your haste to assert newfound power, eager to prove you were more than just his padawan, you discovered there were still lessons for him to teach, more wisdom to share.

Your urgency led to a clash of power dynamics, revealing your master still held the upper hand. A soft sob of frustration escaped, breaking his focused demeanor. His once passionate cerulean eyes now held a glimmer of concern and curiosity as he paused.

"Say the words, padawan," His voice entreated gently, a soft call laced with a plea that tugged at the strings of your stubborn pride. You might have resisted longer if not for the unsaid words that reverberated in the echoes of your mind. "Padawan, please!"

Your eyes shot open, scanning the room for any hint that the desperation in Obi-Wan Kenobi's gaze was just a figment of your imagination. Yet, there it was—a pleading look that intertwined compassion and desire in a delicate dance across his face.

At that moment, it dawned on you: you had won. The silent struggle between you and your former master, the unspoken battle of wills, had reached its conclusion. The walls you'd built around your emotions had crumbled in the face of that unspoken plea. It wasn't about conquest; it was a surrender, and the victory was yours. 

You might be the first to say the words but he was the first to beg.

"Please, Master," Your voice, a sweet melody of desire, reached into the core of his being. His gaze narrowed, and he froze, the invisible bonds around you weakening, his resistance giving way. "Let me touch you, Master," You pleaded sweetly, your words dripping with need. "I want you," You added, turning up the heat until the bonds snapped completely. “Let me taste you, let me have you.”

With their release, he was on your lips again, kissing you with a desperate hunger, untamed and wild. Yet, despite your newfound freedom, you lay still beneath him, a silent presence he couldn't resist. 

"Padawan! Are you going to touch me or not?" 

His outrage was amusing. A playful grin toyed with the corners of your lips, hinting at your delight. 

Feigning innocence, you shot back, "You haven’t given me permission to touch you."

His eyes widened in surprise, a jolt of anticipation coursing through him as a deep, appreciative groan escaped him, acknowledging your skillful play as his Padawan. 

"Darling, please, touch your master," 

With a surge of passion, you seized the moment, fingers seizing his hair with purpose, jerking hard enough that he cried out, a pull that danced on the edge of sweet pain. 

Defying the limits of control, you launched a fervent attack on his lips, reclaiming the kiss with an intensity that screamed desire. Your tongue demanded entry, a forceful and unapologetic dive into the depths of his mouth. A low grunt slipped from him, a mix of surprise and a hint of surrender, adding fuel to the blaze sparking between you. The dance of your intertwined tongues became a symphony of passion, a primal declaration signaling the end of any lingering boundaries.

Your hips rolled into a painfully hard erection, and any trace of Obi-Wan's usual witty banter vanished into the charged air. The playful banter was replaced by a more primal language.

Pushing him onto his back was effortless now; he offered no resistance. Finally. The tension that had once held him captive had melted away into bliss. His half-lidded eyes, lost in a dreamy state, promised memories that would keep you warm for days to come. 

With deliberate intent, you explored every inch of his chest, savoring the taste of his skin. His deep breathing echoed in the room, accompanied by the subtle sounds of contentment that escaped his lips. As your journey continued downward, tracing the path of pleasure, you encountered the nearly pained expression that adorned his face. His chest heaved with anticipation as you approached his trousers, the memory of how close you had been to having him earlier playing in your mind. A grin danced on your lips, fueled by the sharp gasps escaping him, as you mouthed his cock through the fabric.

You couldn't wait to have him, the urgency taking over. The waistband tugged down in a hurry, your mouth watering in anticipation. Your hand wrapped around him, and he stuttered at the touch. His cock, just as perfect as you'd imagined—long, thick, and undeniably eager to be touched—and positively leaking. It felt like the room might collapse when your tongue licked at the pearlescent precum gathering from his weeping cock, you swept around his swollen head, savoring every delicious drop. His hands shook, gripping the bed in an immediate white-knuckled hold. As you kissed it and slowly swallowed the crown of his cock, he howled in ecstasy. The salty taste of him filled your mouth and he wept at the exquisite, wet heat. Jolting with every swirl of your tongue, each lick, and suckle, the delightful vibrations echoing from the back of your throat to his cock.

“Yes!”

His body arched, his signature flickering wildly, and then you truly went to work on him. Wanting to show him exactly how much you had thought of this moment. With each eager motion, you took more of him, brushing off the impending jaw ache. Your master was sprawled on your bed, fervently chanting your name, but coherent words were out of reach. He tasted just perfect, filling your mouth just right. You traced the veins on his cock like an old familiar map, committing every detail to memory. As you slid over his head sucking gently like one would enjoy a sweet treat, his hips surged, and he let out another wild moan of pleasure. 

“Padawan! Padwan! Padawan!” 

But you had more, oh so much more to give him, but you wouldn’t tease him as he had you, you gripped firmly what you couldn’t swallow, and aided by the slickness of your own saliva you stroked and twisted his length in your hand. And your other hand? It didn’t sit idle, no, it reached into his trousers to offer gentle almost tickling caresses to his neglected balls. Lesireuly massaging and softly squeezing. Surely, someone must have heard the moan that tore from his chest, it was primal and almost powerful enough to make you come again. 

The flood of sensations overwhelmed him, a storm of desire and vulnerability that left him at a loss for words. Normally eloquent, his tongue now stumbled in this unfamiliar territory. His disciplined mind, usually a stronghold of wisdom, faltered under the onslaught of passion. Every muscle rebelled against his rational commands, caught in a moment of indecision the muscles of his stomach flexed and contracted wildly. The composed master was briefly overshadowed by raw, primal forces, his tense muscles reflecting the battle of a man surrendering control to overwhelming desire. He became a disheveled mess, mouth hanging open, eyes wide and then tightly shut, breath hitching in short, irregular gasps as if he kept forgetting how to breathe smoothly. His lips clumsily grazed the edge of words, catching and then losing them amidst the whirlwind of sensations.

“Oh! Maker!”

Oh, another word? Impressive. His disciplined nature must be paying off. Using the last bit of strength he had, he propped himself up on his elbows, determined not to miss the spectacle. There you were, between his legs, your lips wrapped around his cock, all slick with your saliva, disappearing into your mouth. It hit the back of your throat in a way that made him shudder from head to toe. He could watch you do that for as long as the stars lit up the sky. It was something else—beautiful, the way you handled his cock like his pleasure belonged to you.

You were determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from him, poised to take him to the brink, so close to tasting him completely, but your mission hit a pause when his hand gently grasped your jaw, urging you to meet his gaze. His needy “Please,” didn’t go unnoticed either. A slender strand of saliva linked your lips to his throbbing length, and the disbelief in his eyes was palpable. It was as if he couldn't fathom witnessing what lay before him. A ragged breath escaped him, followed by a hard swallow. Redirecting your attention from his pulsating, slick arousal, he steered you into a deep, passionate kiss, one you didn't resist.

“Darling, enough foreplay. I need to feel you on my cock. Tell me that’s what you want.” 

His eyes sparkled when you whispered, "I want it, Master," with desire glowing in your own. It made you wonder if anyone had ever been so upfront with him, if anyone had looked into those captivating eyes and just said, "I want you." Had he ever known how it felt to be so openly desired before?

"Good girl, now, up you get." 

He effortlessly lifted you onto his lap, surprising you even more because he didn't employ the Force; it was the strength of his own muscles at play. Observing them flex and shift beneath his skin was nearly as gratifying as witnessing him in the throes of pleasure. He held you over his lap for a moment, lips tangling with yours, muttering against them. 

“Look at me, want to see you properly.”

How could you ignore a request like that? Oh, no, you couldn’t. And with a nod from you, he began to release you.

Never had anything felt as exquisite as the moment his cock slid effortlessly into your pussy. The sensation of that satisfying first stretch surpassed any pleasure you had ever known—far superior to the touch of your own fingers, toys, or any previous lover. As gravity took its course, guiding you down onto him, there was nothing left to say or do. Your head rolled back and you moaned his name. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths, every ounce of strength dedicated to maintaining control. Surprisingly, his energy remained entirely serene.

The experience was a symphony of wetness, heat, tightness, and perfect slickness. His arms enveloped you, pulling you close, mirroring the way you squeezed his cock. It was perfect. You would ache for this later, he was right, you’d be sore to the touch everywhere he’d touched you but it would be worth it for the exquisite ecstasy you felt right now.

Damn the code, to hell with forbidden attachments; the High Council could go up in flames for all you cared. In this moment, he belonged to you—every inch of him. His response to your body defied description. He was unequivocally yours.

He uttered your name, his mouth tracing up your neck in search of your lips. "Darling, kiss me."

Not padawan, not master. He called you by your name.

Your lips met his, as he’d asked, sweetly, gently as lovers did. The high of shoving your tongue into hi mouth was wonderful but not so wonderful as this simple brushing of lips the added heat and girth of his cock buried in you, there were no more barriers. You kissed him like that for a few minutes until your cunt throbbed demanding more, then you shifted, rising up savoring the way his lips parted in shock before sliding back down slow enough you could see his eyelashes flutter. “Again,” His voice was so full of need and heat, how could you deny him? The warmth of his breath against your skin was like a balm, soothing every ache, alleviating every burden, and imparting tranquility to long-standing wounds.

As his arms encircled your legs, lifting you up to help you along, a surge of emotions overwhelmed you. The dichotomy of wanting to sing or cry left you unable to suppress the whimper rising in the back of your throat. His name escaped your lips again.

His arms held you securely, and he buried his face in your neck, releasing a deeply contented breath. With deliberate slowness, he began to thrust upward. Your hands found their way into his hair, pulling him up for another smoldering kiss, swallowing his moan.

Passion surged like wildfire between you and the man you had yearned for over the years. The connection between your bodies was intense, each thrust an urgent proclamation of desire. The air was thick with the mingling of hot breaths, punctuated by the sound of lewdly slapping skin and fervent kisses exchanged in the throes of lust.

His movements were powerful and rhythmic, and left you gasping for more, all you could do was hang on. With every thrust, he hit that perfect angle that sent shivers through your entire body. The sensation was electric, a tantalizing dance on the precipice of pleasure.

As your breaths intertwined, the shared rhythm hinted at the imminent climax, drawing you both closer to the edge. 

In the throes of passion, your murmurs of his name reverberated against his lips as he quickened the pace, both of you on the precipice of an imminent release. The urgency in your voice only fueled his desire, and he nodded in approval as you moaned: 

"Obi-Wan…"

Encouraged by your compliance, he implored you for more, his hunger evident. "Again, darling, say it again!"

In a cascade of breathless utterances, you willingly complied, chanting his name with increasing fervor. 

"Obi-wan! Obi-wan! Obi-wan!"

With a fluid blend of strength, grace, and skill, he effortlessly tipped you onto your back. The swift change momentarily took you by surprise, but before the disorientation settled, he surged back into you with newfound intensity. Each movement reached deeper, and he committed his entire weight to each forceful thrust, immersing both of you in a realm of heightened pleasure.

His frame shook with each thrust, and with every motion, he felt a piece of himself slipping away, lost in the fervor of the moment. Desperation marked his every move as he teetered on the precipice of oblivion, but determined to hold off just a little longer. The urgency in his actions spoke of a desire to witness you unraveling in the throes of pleasure, to experience the cascade of ecstasy like a tidal wave crashing over him.

His fingers laced with yours, holding a connection that transcended the physical, while his kisses conveyed a hunger that mirrored the intensity of the act. Amid groans and the forceful snap of his hips, he dropped his lips to your ear, breathing hot against your skin.

"Come, darling, come for me!" He moved with an increasingly wild and intense rhythm, his passion reaching new heights. The affectionate term "Padawan" slipped from his lips like a whispered plea, an irresistible command, urging you to surrender to the pleasure he was offering, to climax for your master.

And you did, your body arching in response to the unrelenting intensity, hips bucking wildly against his, meeting his every thrust. Lips locked with his, you welcomed the furious pace he set each time he bottomed out, your bodies entwined in a dance without inhibitions. He threw his weight behind every motion, determined to make you feel every bit of him, to give you everything he had.

His desperate cries of "Padawan!" grew louder in the heated air, a mantra underscoring the intimacy of the moment. The repetition of the endearing term only served to heighten the exquisite pleasure, acknowledging a connection that surpassed the physical act. As he reached the pinnacle of ecstasy, a shudder ran through his entire body, and a helplessly primal howl escaped his lips. The heat of his seed spilling deep within you was the final catalyst, triggering a powerful climax of your own that rocked your entire body.

The Obi-Wan Kenobi you knew, with all his composure and eloquence, had vanished into thin air. In his place was a man, wild and satisfied, fucking you senseless, thrusting his erupting cock hurriedly back into your cunt as though he might die if he stopped. It just kept coming, he thrust harder with each rope you pulled from him until his body had nothing left to give and he began to still after one final hard thrust.

His breaths slowed, and he fought to stay upright. The only thing keeping him from melting into the mattress and pulling you into him entirely was the awareness of your injuries. Thankfully, the pain that had plagued you earlier had quieted down during your passionate love-making, granting a brief moment of relief. His cerulean eyes shifted from the storm of passion to their usual cool and compassionate state. The aftermath unfolded a scene of vulnerability—echoes of shared passion and lingering concerns for your well-being.

He wrapped his arm around you, drawing you close, and skillfully rolled both of you onto your sides. With his arm firmly around your waist, he stayed seated, still in your warmth, unwilling to leave it just yet.

In the ensuing silence, the room was filled only with the sounds of your shared and labored breathing. 

"Are you alright?" His voice returned to its soft and warm timbre, the familiar hum that felt like a safe, warm home. When you remained silent, he shifted slightly, concern lacing his words, "Darling, is your leg in any pain?" Despite his own exhaustion, his concern for your well-being was touching. The way he called you darling further added to your sated state, and it made you smile.

"What leg?" 

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, a comforting warmth you hadn't felt in ages. Shifting to a more serious tone, he inquired again about your injuries, but the light-hearted demeanor lingered.

"I don’t care. Ask me in the morning," You replied unbothered, arms wrapping around his neck. Nestling into the comforting warmth of his chest, you threw a leg around his hips, pulling him closer. His gasp of pleasure, maybe mixed with a hint of overstimulation, brought a satisfied smile to your face, ignoring the subtle throb echoing through your body. It was worth it—the pains, the frustrations—just to lie in your master's arms, his cock still buried in you basking in warmth, safety, and a newfound satisfaction.

"Mmm, Master?" You murmured, your voice laced with the weight of drowsiness.

He chuckled bashfully, "Darling, you don't have to call me Master, anymore."

"Just trying to be an obedient padawan," you teased, planting a kiss on the sensitive spot on his neck, earning a delightful twitch from his cock.

"Careful, darling. I still owe you a punishment for abandoning me," He playfully reminded, his words hanging in the air. "What was your question?"

"If I abandon you again, and you happened to find me. Would you follow through with your 'punishment' against the wall on a ship?" 

The recollection of that fantasy, coupled with the echo of his playful threat, coaxed a deep groan from him, as both of you relived those shared fantasies. "Please, Master?" You breathed against his neck, your request underscored by a subtle roll of your hips.

His arm wrapped possessively around you, the warmth of his breath tingling against your ear. A soft growl slipped past his lips, melding with the restrained rhythm of his hips, you could feel him driving into you once more wringing out a moan from your lips. His voice, tinged with both amusement and authority, whispered,

"It seems my Padawan still needs a bit of instruction."

Why, yes, there's more...

~~~

If you would like to see more stuff like this (reader inserts) let me know and let me know if you'd like to join the tag list! For my faithful Obi-Wan content readers! @split-spectrum (you helped inspire this!), @heyhawtdawgs. @pickleprickle

Alright! I need a cigarette!

#fanfiction is life #i have too many stories #star wars #obiwan kenobi smut #general kenobi #obiwan x reader #obi wan x reader #reader insert #x reader #obi-wan x you #sweet smut #master x padawan #master kink #Dom obi-wan #master kenobi #clone wars #needy obi-wan #wounded reader #all the smut

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Tomorrow

---

Pairing: Obiwan x you

Content: Sleepy Obiwan beckons you to join him.

Warnings: none

Word count: 850

---

“Love.”, he calls for you but it sounds like a gentle cry as he emerges by the doorway to your kitchen. You can see him in your peripheral vision but the fresh batch of cookies you made demanded your attention.

It isn’t easy running a bakery on Coruscant when you cater to the elite. Everything needs to be perfect and so trialing out new recipes meant late nights of burnt batches or a messy kitchen. But your Jedi husband now stands leaning on the doorway with his arms folded and a blanket wrapped around him.

The oven had managed to keep the area around you warm, but the nights on this lustrous planet were too cold to walk around without a woolen cover.

You check the colour. Golden brown. Perfect.

The smell. Divine.

You break one and pop the piece into your mouth. The flavour, the ingredients you had chosen worked well together. Outstanding.

A proud smile worked it’s way across your face even as you tried to hide it. This was going to be another best seller. You dust your hands and your mind now jumped onto the next task. The icing and decoration. But as you turned to get something, Obiwan had made his way towards you.

“New batch. New recipe.”, you still hadn't figured out why he was here but you always loved to share the first of your creations with him.

You held a small broken cookie piece near his mouth and he ate it. His hand reaching up to hold yours as you waited for his reaction. His eyes found yours as he chewed slowly. Elegant as always, but as you stood there, he looped his hand behind your waist and drew you closer.

“Another bestseller.”, he smiled with approval and it made you beam with the happiness of satisfaction.

“Now, come to sleep.”, he mumbled against your lips as he kissed you, the taste of fresh butter from his lips made it difficult to resist his request.

“Yes, in a while, the icing – you start to say but forget the rest as he held you and the comfort of his warmth soaked into your body.

In all the madness to perfect this batch, you had actually forgotten to realize how tired you were.

His locks were set free from the combed back mullet he sported during the day and his beard had caused a faint burn against your skin. His Jedi robes were no where to be seen as he leaned away. His skin gleaming a soft sunkissed glow under the warm lighting, his soft linen pants made it certain that he was done with business and now yearned for your company, lastly his sleepy eyes made you reconsider the icing project.

“I am feeling a bit tired. But I do have to close up the station before I can join you.”, you sigh as you look around the kitchen island and the counter top, full of pot and pans.

But he chuckled as though he was bemused, he didn’t let you go, instead leaned in to kiss the side of your neck under your ear as he whispered, “You often forget I’m a Jedi, darling.”

And as he said it, he used the force to move the icing bowls together, place the lids back on opened vessels and within seconds everything was sorted. You smiled, allowing yourself to sink into his arms.

“I thought that was why you liked me.”, you fought a yawn as you turned to him.

“One of the many reasons why I fell in love with you.”, he replied as he opened up his blanket wrap for you to join in.

“Ah. What are the other reasons?”, you ask as you wrap an arm around his bare waist and as you covered yourself under his blanket.

“I’ll tell you tomorrow.”, he kissed your forehead as you walked along with him down the dark corridor towards your bedroom.

You put away your jewelry while he got comfortable on his side of the bed and when you took longer to brush your hair, he groaned impatiently as he called your name.

All you could do was laugh in response to his needy pleas and playful jests as you got beneath the covers and fell back onto the pillows next to him.

“I’m here. I’m here.”, you pacify his as you smiled to look at the deep blue of his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”, he frowned innocently.

“Even Grievous doesn’t keep me waiting for that long in the battlefield.”, he mumbled again as he wrapped his arms around you not desiring to wait any longer. You gasp to his statement when he finally rests with his head tucked under your neck as your fingers stroked his hair.

“You take that back.”, you whisper.

“No.”, he speaks into your skin.

“Fine, then I’ll go back downstairs to finish up my icings then.”, you say in mock protest which makes him hold you tighter and nuzzle closer.

“No.”, he says softly.

“Stay with me.”, he says it like it was his only wish and you knew in your heart you could never put work above him.

So you let your hands dip further as you traced the rise and fall of the muscles on his back and before you knew it, under the warmth of the blankets and in the peace of being with each other. Sleep had found you both.

#obi wan my beloved #obi wan imagine #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi #obiwan x fluff

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Imagine Obi-Wan trying to understand what is troubling you...

Obi-Wan approached the vacant seat beside you at the cantina bar. He frowned at the empty glasses and gently pushed away the one you were toying with.

“I think you’ve had enough spotchka for one night.”

You glanced at the Jedi and let out a groan that you could have sworn was internal but judging from his expression, it wasn't.

“How did you find me?”

Leaning against the counter, Obi-Wan stared out towards the crowd. “Dex saw you in here. He mentioned it to Cody and Cody had the right sense to inform me.” He explained and looked at your saddened form staring into the blue liquid. “What’s going on? You know you can confide in me.”

Taking the glass back into your hand, you tipped your head back and downed the rest of the drink letting the empty item hit the bar table with a loud thud. “Not about this, I can’t.”

Obi-Wan took a seat, facing you. "Please try." He requested. "This sudden behaviour of yours - it has me very concerned."

~ More imagines here ~

#gif is not mine #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #theladyofmanyfandoms #obiwan kenobi x reader #obiwan imagine #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi imagine #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi x reader #star wars imagine #star wars x reader

[phoeebsbuffay]

Imagine Obi-Wan Kenobi’s complex journey…to the dark side.

Warnings: drama, angst, violence, inappropriate/adult language—explicit smut and fluff as usual.

Warnings 2: *long* post.

Recommendations: “Lavender Haze” by Taylor Swift; “Yellow Flicker Beat” by Lorde.

No minors.

***

Preface

“When there is too much light”, you tell him, “one might lose the sight for it.”

“But when there is too much dark”, so the red haired male muses, “the fate seems to be all the same”.

You tilt your head.

“The whole point is that every excess leads to suffering. Those who claim to possess the true core of goodness are blinded by their vanity, although those who are plunged by darkness is similarly lost.”

“Then what should I do?”, you detect a hint of misery in his voice.

“I am not the wisest of beings, Obi”, you smile candidly. “You’re not on your own. You should not pick up the broken petals and try to glue them to what they used to form. No. The damage is done, but it can be mended and transformed in something better.”

There is so much to be said, but, to your disappointment, words die in his thoughts. His eyes divert away and the magic is gone.

“Obi?”, now he detects despair in your voice.

The Jedi looks back at you. His blue eyes little by little lose the spark that once colored such tempest irises.

An eclipse rises.

“I must depart”, it’s all he mutters. “Unfortunately I cannot stay, Senator Y/N.”

You don’t have to say goodbye. Obi-Wan is gone with the wind.

***

• Part I: The Creed.

“You look too sad, Master”, Anakin tells him concerned. “This sadness of yours has remained there in your eyes longer than I’d thought it would take. I must say I am concerned.”

“This is exhaustion to you, Anakin”, Obi-Wan remarks. “I’ve been working per usual, that is all.”

“You have been burying yourself in work since that incident with the Duchess has…”

“It was not an incident!”, Obi-Wan snaps at Anakin, who stares at his Master in bewilderment. He sighs before softening: “I just…appreciate your concern over me, Anakin. It’s going to be fine. But there are moments when I wonder where this will end. Frankly, it frustrates me that two years later Maul isn’t entirely wiped out of the galaxy.”

“He’s not like any other we faced, Master. That creature is a Sith Lord, therefore we ought to be very careful when dealing with the man”, Anakin smiles quietly, eyes filled with comprehension. “But be mindful that grief should not overcome you, after all…”

“Fear leads to anger that leads to hate that leads to suffering”, so Obi-Wan completes. “I shall not forget that. It pleases me to see you learned that well, Anakin. I forget at times how good you can actually be.”

Anakin rolls his eyes, about to say something in return when the thread is interrupted by Master Windu, who requests Obi-Wan’s presence for a mission to planet Y/C.

“It’s farther than we had formerly judged”, the said Master tells Obi-Wan. “But we understand this is an important mission in order to prevent this region to fall to the Separatists. Apparently Count Dooku has sent a spy to convert Lady Y/N to his side. You must not fail, Obi-Wan.”

“I’m sure everything will be conducted most appropriately”, assures the other male.

By then the two part in friendly terms. But Anakin, the witness of the moment, is suddenly plagued with a strange feeling. However, he has not time to uncover it or even share with his Master, for Obi-Wan doesn’t want to waste anymore of his time in Coruscant, a planet he’s grown to dislike.

***

When he meets you after a long time spent journeying to your planet, Obi-Wan is dressing somber shades of red, opting for a dark cape that falls over his shoulders. But the growing shadow within is momentarily eclipsed by your glowing beauty.

Your long and wavy y/c hair is tied in a single braid; your face is painted in delicate colors that seem to bring your beauty in a most natural way; your light red gown reinforces your curves and after two years, Obi-Wan finds himself desiring a woman again.

His eyes linger at the swell of your breasts and for one moment, his mind takes him to a dark spot, where he allows to imagine taking each breast with his tongue—hungry for affection, wishing to be provided with what he hopes to find a sweet lullaby coming out of your lips, singing out his name—; but the moment you clear your throat, he sweeps away such pictured scene, burying it deep—mostly because he doesn’t want to have a boner right now.

“Master Kenobi”, you greet him with a sweet voice, eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and awe. He knows by the careful glance you give him that you find him handsome. Apparently, the attraction is mutual. “Thank you for getting to us. Welcome to our planet. I pray the journey has not been too hard on you.”

As you lead him to a seat next to the window, from where he can see the landscape outside, Obi-Wan smiles at you when answering:

“It has not, thank you for asking, my lady. I do hope, though, that your ladyship may forgive me for the delay in our mission. I had other matters to attend.”

“There is nothing to be forgiven for, Master Kenobi”, you smile again and Obi-Wan hates how the light that comes from you makes him feel like a teenager in his hormone days. “Before we begin to discuss our points, allow me to serve you some tea. Do tell your favourite.”

This is how it begins.

*

Lord forbid, but as each day goes by, you find yourself desiring to hear more of the serious and meticulous Master Jedi. His redhair and his blue eyes are difficult not to draw your eyes, but his muscles—perfectly well hidden under such robes—leave so much to your imagination.

Often seen by others as cold, unreachable woman, always avoiding relationships of any nature, it seems this man has managed to make you go to your knees—though you’d gladly turn this metaphor into literal.

You’ve heard the other day a lady in waiting describing to another exactly how she went to her knees to please her husband—a way the said lady in question found out from a maid of her trust—and how deliciously it was to feel his manhood pumping into her mouth. As you enter into the salon, your eyes scam after him, with that scene in the back of your mind.

What would be like to please him? To make this sacred Jedi feel profane, mundane things? It’s when your own conscience admonishes for such thinking. You are a governor, a member of the Senate who vowed never to marry or get yourself involved romantically—specially after one particular man, Senator H/N, broke your heart.

“Ah, Master Kenobi! There you are!”, you greet him with glee. “I must admit I am worried about how the Senate will respond to our request. I do wish to remain neutral in this war.”

Obi-Wan comes to perceive that he’s been growing intolerant to his impatience with this unending war. Or perhaps he’s mistaking it with frustration? The man cannot tell and he has no intention in letting obvious his discontent.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Senator Y/LN”, and so suddenly your desire for peace reminds him of…

“Are you well, Master Kenobi?” You ask him gently, concerned about the shadows that so suddenly take grip of his reasoning. “Come, let us go outside. A stroll around the gardens might suit you.”

“No, I appreciate your concern, but…”

You surprise him by being an effective adversary.

“I don’t take no as answer, good man. I know distress when I see one.”

“And here I thought I was hiding well”, Obi-Wan muses sarcastically.

“Oh, didn’t you?”

How you snap back at him earns the Jedi some smile. And you are pleased your effort is finally coming to something.

*

“Is it weird to live by peace in a world plunged by extremisms?” You think out loud as you two share a stroll in a quiet, content pace around many green walls.

Obi-Wan, who’s been studying you more often than he’d sensibly admit, side eyes you and discreetly responds:

“I don’t think so. When disease begins to make sense, reason starts to find illogical healthy musings. We’ve been too sick to realize that peace could’ve been reached by a simple dialogue with some compromising”.

“Why do we expect better attitudes from others when we ourselves lack them?”, you sigh. “I suppose it’s because our enemies reflect our darkest fears.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow at the thought. Seeing a good point you make, he finds himself uncomfortable for the first time in a long time.

We make demands of others. We fight for others. We expect better of others when we are not better than them.

Has the good cause been corrupted? Suddenly, Obi-Wan’s conviction starts to be shaken by his own beliefs.

“I’m sorry. I was meant to bring you some solace, not providing you this uneasiness”, you apologize by reading the Jedi’s awkward steps.

When finding your y/c eyes, Obi-Wan’s first instinct is to flee. You too get this sensation and perhaps you let it show more than you’d know. But he resists it.

You are not Satine. I cannot expect you to be like her. But you bring me to a different light… and I fear where this path will lead me.

“Don’t apologize”, though his arms remain folded, his features are now softened. “I’ve been under stress for two years in a roll. You deserve better, my lady, and I haven’t been a most proper guess, have I?”

You chuckle softly and the sound that comes with it makes any burden his heart’s been carrying loose…

“I understand more than you know, Master Kenobi. I fear to say I tend to overthink about what surrounds me”, you smile at him, your eyes not ready to let go of the gaze that captured them. “It’s a hopeless world we live in and yet I think it’s my duty to bring some joy to it.”

“And how’d you do that?”, he inquires, too intrigued by your web not to play with it.

“By living to a personal creed”, you give the Jedi a mysterious smile. “Live righteously through every beating of your heart. Do so by providing others some cheerfulness.”

That being said, you actually succeed to distract the very grave Jedi close to a fountain and with one small push, get him into it.

Soon, the silence is broken by a sound of cheerful laughters and for the very first time Obi-Wan joins them, not burdened, but free of it.

***

Part II: Duty Is The Death of Love.

Obi-Wan is requested to go back to Coruscant once the situation in your planet is partially resolved. But there is reluctance on his part going and you fear for his departure too.

By then, an unspoken attachment had developed between you two—but neither felt the urge to make it obvious, in other words: to make the first step.

“You are too quiet, dear Y/N”, Obi-Wan remarks, his eyes never letting go of your sight for a moment.

This evening you are having dinner. A private one, very personal and intimate in many shades—but the Jedi realizes you’ve been far from his grasp. It so appears to him that your brightness has been stolen away.

“Am I?”, you raise your eyes to meet those sparkling blue ones that have been searching for yours. You blush lightly as a result. “I’ve always been quiet, Obi.”

“This is hardly the truth”, he smiles. “You’ve been always the one to speak, my dear. Please, tell me what’s been troubling you.”

Your pride advises you not to tell him how you feel. Obi-Wan sees through you the struggle, but these are trying days. What’s there to lose if you speak your mind?

“I will miss you”, it’s all you can say.

He reaches for your hand, gently lacing fingers. Never before duty felt so strained, so… suffocating.

“I’m not really leaving. You know that.”

You don’t realize a puddle of tears is forming in your eyes before you say:

“You’ve always shone brighter than anyone I’ve known. I shall not eclipse that.”

Obi-Wan quickly leaves his seat to console you. On his knees before you, he takes each hand and presses there a kiss.

“Dear love”, he rushes to say. “You are a poetry to my soul. I’ve been numbed for a long time and thought myself dead inside until you brought me back to life. How can you say I shine bright when you are the sun who feeds me light to do so? No. I’m nothing if not a moon in need of your light.”

When did the desperation rise so eminently? You don’t know, neither does he. But all so suddenly, your lips are collided against his and Obi-Wan is rising you from your seat to pull yourself into him.

Your hands are now playing with his hair all the whilst his own are gripping tight your waist. His kisses are urgent and fervent, warming you in every possible way.

His lips are now going to your neck and you throw your head back, feeling exposed under his gaze. Indeed, had you had the ability to read mind, you’d find nothing but indecent thoughts there.

Hungry for your affection, his lust draws unspeakable ideas to you. His lips enjoy your soft skin and his eager hands are already unlacing your gown. On your turn, the tingles that his beard make on you are enough to make you sigh.

You promptly rest your hands over his shoulders in an attempt to find balance. As you do, you pursuit his lips once more as your hands begin to work in his fabric.

“Obi..”, you heavily sigh as you now kiss his jawline and move to his neck, gently biting his skin.

“Yes, dear Y/Nickname?”, he groans lightly as you have control over him.

You don’t know what you are doing, but you do. Moved by a strange house instinct, your hands toss his fabric away, going down to his manhood, all the whilst you pepper his neck and shoulders with a loving kiss.

“You are mine”, you whisper against his skin, as your delicate fingers find what they are looking for. “Aren’t you?”

You raise your eyes and Obi-Wan finds mischief in them, much to his arousal, specially when you start holding his manhood very gently.

“I am, yes”, he sighs heavily. “Maker knows I belong with you entirely, dear one.”

His words are like charm, evoking your sudden confidence. Suddenly, you flip positions, starting to get the best of him. Your eyes are glued on his heavy breathing and when he thinks he’s about to come undone…

You take him all.

Using your red lips.

*

But he is not a man to be easily subdued—he is the one who subdues, and here you are submitted at his will.

Obi-Wan knows you well and he enjoys driving you crazy by doing all he wants to do with you slowly.

“Beg, dear one”, he smirks at you, his fingers gently stroking your feminine core, not yet slipping them inside you. “This is what you want to do…”

You hiss under your breath, eyes already painted with desperation. But your pride is simply useless before the strength, the physique, the beauty and perfection that stand right before you.

“Please”, you whimper, much to his delight.

And he does so. His lips looking for yours, he takes no more of your time before pleasing you the way you deserve.

“I love you”, you sing your feelings out, followed by another whimper.

“I love you too”, he kisses you hungrily, enjoying the effect he has on you.

There is nothing but the alluring dark to light the way, and no sense of goodbye is perceived when one body collides with the other. Never before Obi-Wan felt so alive. A sensation that he does not want to let go of.

Towards the end of the night, when you two are bathed by salt, you turn at him and say:

“You should stay.”

Obi-Wan sighs. It feels as if he’s living that night again… when it was whispered that the duty was the death of love. When looking back at your y/c eyes, the good there is in them, a voice in the back of his mind says again: must you repeat old mistakes?

Must you?

However, for now the Jedi does not wish to dwell in such thinking. Internal riots are briefly quieted. He turns at you and peppers your face with kisses before cuddling you in his arms.

“Let us enjoy the today, my dove. It’s all I ask for.”

A response that does not content you, but would have to suffice now.

*

When you wake up the next day, he is gone. The warmth in his side of bed is replaced by a cold, a void of goodness you feel so abruptly deprived of.

It hurts, it aches too much the sound of heartbreaking. You should know that what was going to happen.

But the images of both of you speaking of the past as if the future would be one with the other roll in the back of your mind. Is there anything you could do?

No.

But that day you weep as sacred moments are remembered too well by your soul, broken like a secret you kept, an oath that now sounds meaningless.

And here your pain becomes a growing angst that paints your heart blue, all alone trying to find how to deal with all the intensity that crushed you like a tide that took you far from the shore, letting you drown by a heavy wave.

A knock on the door, however, disrupts you from your thought. You barely notice the tears rolling down in your cheeks until you taste the salt these come to your mouth. And now you must regain your composure.

Oh you must.

“Duty awaits”, you think out loud before granting the permission for the door to open and soon coming inside your bedchambers.

A moment so sacred is now profaned. As it should be.

***

Part III: Midnight.

“Have you heard the tale of Darth Plagueis, the Wise?”, the chancellor asks him.

Obi-Wan is wearing his usual suits this evening for an encounter with the man behind the Senate, the one whom the Jedis asked him to spy for. Palpatine is the said man’s name and although his behavior is rather…unique for a man of his position, it comes at being too odd to spy him.

“I believe I am rather familiar with it, yes”, replies the red headed Jedi, stroking his beard, as he casts his cold blue eyes towards the other one. “Why’d you ask, Chancellor?”

Giving Obi-Wan a smirk, Palpatine carefully shrugs.

“This is a tale often misconstructed by the Jedis.” He pauses carefully, waiting for some reaction coming from Obi-Wan. Once it did not, he continues. “Duty not always must be the death of love, Obi-Wan. Once upon a time, love was the main weapon of the Jedis. Now it appears to have been poisoned by the ambitions of such an Order.”

Silence hangs in between the two men, heavy like grey clouds announcing an upcoming storm.

“What you suggest is treason”, whispers Obi-Wan, avoiding the male’s gaze. “The Jedis have been the keepers of peace in Galaxy for centuries.”

“The endings often bear good intentions”, remarks Palpatine. “How about the means, though? The means justify the endings, and you cannot look away the pride and arrogance that have flickered the Order.”

No answer. Slowly, like a snake spotting a prey, Palpatine surrounds Obi-Wan.

“My dear, your duty has been rewarded with nothing but disdain. Your name has once been shouted by your fellow Jedis, but now it’s been whispered like a poison. Is this what you’ve become, Obi-Wan? A name, a number…a mere saber?”

“I don’t need recognition”, Obi-Wan retorts, but even he can feel the emptiness of his belief.

What has changed?

“Oh, but we do. We do. What are we without the applauses of those we love? Not beasts to be served to other’s purposes”, Palpatine smiles. “You have doubled your powers, Obi-Wan. But your path of blood… when will it end? They say fear leads to anger and anger leads to suffering. But has duty emptied your sentiments? Blind devotion also leads to suffering, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

A sweet melody is sang. To see it’s effect, however, Palpatine slowly removes himself from the scene. The prey is at long last trapped by the snake’s trap.

Obi-Wan knows it. He feels it. The tentacles of darkness tempt him, seducing him like the sweet embrace of a lover.

Indeed, the list of dissatisfaction is too long to ignore. The anguish within never ceases to torment him. The temptation is too great to bear.

Nonetheless, it’s close to midnight when the Jedi leaves everything aside to look for you. Perhaps you have every answer for him; perhaps you might be the savior he needs.

*

You are located at your lavender garden, even though it’s past midnight. Chaos surrounds you, war destroys everything you know. You grew strangely comforted by it. You learned to play coy, to be the player you planet needed. Neutrality was merely a disguise. But politics was never a clean game in the first place.

Two nights ago, you’d met him. You thought you’d lost him again, but the silent steps caught you out of your guard.

“I knew I’d find you here, Y/Nickname”, his husky voice brings out a smile of your lips. “A lavender field is most proper to your ladyship.”

You raise your eyes, not surprised for seeing Obi-Wan Kenobi dressing a dark robe, a somber shade of red in his suit, standing powerful before you.

“I do not wish to forget the lavender haze creeping upon me.” You tilt your head, pleased to find a secret smirk twisting in the corner of his lips. “What are you here for, my dear? End this the way it should be.”

“It pains me to hear this is your conclusion”, he muses somberly.

You promptly stand and move to where he stands. Very gently, you remove his hood and run your hands over his short red locks, before cupping his face and tiptoeing to rest your forehead against his.

“I wouldn’t take you as a man who understands everything literally”, you make a small jest, pleased to make him chuckle.

“Darkness is so much more alluring than I’d ever consider it to be”, he whispers. “I’ve tripled my powers since I left you. I shall not lose you, my dear Y/N. The Jedis and the Sith…both took everything I’ve loved.”

He sobs and seems to fall on his knees, but you hold him, able to prevent him to lose his strength. But because he’s heavier than you’d able to carry him, you manage to lead him back to your lavender garden.

“This doesn’t have to be the way”, you tell him. “There is more in the world than Jedis and Siths, Obi.”

As he glances to you, you spot a swift change in the color of his irises, spot an unending suffering in the dark waters of his soul.

“I hate them”, he whispers, and the sound is like that of a whip. “I hate them all.”

“Let us run away then”, you speak gently, caressing his hair. “Those who step in our way shall be destroyed. Simply as that.”

Obi-Wan chews your solution for a moment. It’s reasonable and makes sense. When admiring your beauty and the gentleness that comes from your good heart, he takes your suggestion.

But then… a question rises.

What if there is no more Jedi nor Sith?

#not even sure if this is good but I’m the kind of person who finishes what starts so apologizes in advance for any disappointment. #star wars #star wars imagine #imagine star wars #obi-wan Kenobi #Obi-Wan #Obi-Wan smut #obiwan x reader #obiwan x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi x female reader #Obi-Wan Kenobi smut #Obi-Wan x y/n #Taylor swift

[vgilantee]

ok i’m obsessed with obi wan and blow jobs now-

god imagine him and you being out one night, the streets of coruscant are busy and you two had a few drinks.

while roaming the busy streets you suddenly pull obi wan into an alleyway where it’s quiet, a duru cook went back into the shabby restaurant after his small spice break and now you’re pushing obi wan against a wall.

he grunts and gives you a confused look as you kiss him, kiss down his body through his robes and undo his pants. his hands are in your hair and he breaths heavily.

“Cyar’ika… what are you… ah…” he grunts and you put him as far as you can in your mouth, stroking the rest of him since he’s so large with your hand.

one of his hands holds onto the wall behind him and his other guides your head / rests in your hair (whatever you like)

“Ahh… kriff… your mouth is so perfect…” he’d pull you off his cock and turn you around so you’d be facing the wall and suddenly he has your pants yanked down and he’d bury his cock inside your wet cunt, holding onto your perfect ass.

“Cyare… Your pussy is kriffing perfect you know that?” Obi Wan would grunt and fuck you quick and hard, making you cum in such a satisfying yet unsatisfying way that you end up fucking in the temple later. 🤭

ive had this sitting in my inbox for a couple of days because every time i open it up i read it and blqck out thinking about giving obi-wan head.

jedi robes are actually so that they can fuck in alleyways and not be seen. i asked yoda he told me this was true alksifjpalsjfha

as much as obi loves your mouth and throat, you played with fire so you're going to be fucked stupid against the wall. no sense in making a mess and wasting his cum...

#˚:✧｡• paper bin #minderni #˚:✧｡• smut warning #˚:✧｡• obi-wan kenobi #obiwan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obiwan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader

[cacti5539]

Obi wan kenobi NSFW audios!!

These are not mine!! Idk how much yall browse Reddit, but the user u/MoondanceWithMe posted a few Obi wan audios :) enjoy

The Reddit link can take you to his entire profile (with other audios!) or if you don’t have a Reddit account here’s a link straight to one audio:

https://erocast.me/track/7886/the-guest-of-obi-wan

#obiwan #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x you #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obiwan x reader #star wars

[lambda-serpentis]

Obi-Wan gifting you little souvenirs and trinkets from everywhere he goes, and every time he comes back to you

#obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi-wan x reader #obiwan x reader #star wars imagine

[iamthemain-character]

We Might Just Get Away With This 

Hidden feelings do nothing but build tension, and when Y/n is almost lost, Obi-wan finds that his passion can no longer be contained.

obi-wan kenobi x jedi! reader 

she/her pronouns 

TW: mentions of violence, choking, secret relationship, anxious feelings, the tiniest bit of angst, it gets a little spicy but there’s no smut. 

A/N: This is set between AOTC and ROTS. Also! I watched the first two episodes of Kenobi and I am simping respectfully

star wars masterlist

Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments, but after a particularly tense encounter, two jedi aren’t sure they can continue to uphold the code. 

———————————————————————

It was stupid, and quite possibly the worst thing that Y/n ever could’ve done. 

She was a jedi, and so was he; Jedi don’t fall in love. 

Nevertheless, here she was, tossing and turning in her bed over the man who had singlehandedly claimed her heart. It wasn’t a recent development, Y/n had been growing attached to Obi-wan since they were padawans, but for a long time she had denied her feelings over and over again. Recently, however, it had been becoming more and more difficult. 

It was entirely Y/n’s fault really; Obi-wan was not a flirtatious man, and he was respectful almost to a fault. But whenever he was close, or he made contact with Y/n, or even when he just looked at her, it made her heart race. It wasn’t like Y/n could avoid him (though she wouldn’t really want to) because the Jedi assigned the two of them on every single mission together. Even when they were at the temple, Obi-wan and Y/n meditated together, trained together, sat next to the other on the council, and even ate together. To the entire world, the two were the best of friends, but every moment Y/n felt herself falling deeper and deeper into love with Obi-wan. 

It was fruitless and futile; Kenobi was practically the poster child of the Jedi having adopted next to none of his late master’s rebellious ways. He was a perfect jedi, acting in accordance with the code and doing his best to help his unruly padawan and friend do the same. Sometimes Y/n found herself envying Anakin and Padme, who despite being very prominent people, were happily married and carrying on their secret relationship. Y/n’s lips were sealed, but sometimes she wanted to say to Obi-wan, “If they can do it, why can’t we?” But Obi-wan was the Sun and Anakin was the moon, and there was no way the former would ever do something so completely out of line and crazy.

Despite her ever growing affections, Y/n had managed to keep them relatively under control; until today. Obi-wan and Y/n had been assigned to go to a Republic planet and investigate rumors of Sith terrorizing the locals. Everything seemed routine and nothing out of order, and there appeared to be no signs of actual Sith. Just as the pair were returning to their ship, however, they were ambushed. 

Blaster fire hit the door as Y/n reached for the panel, and immediately she turned in sync with Obi-wan as they ignited their lightsabers. Blocking the blasts, Y/n took to the right side of the group, throwing the main firer against a nearby tree. After taking care of the first couple of attackers, the rest of the group ran off, clearly seeing that attacking a jedi was not as easy as they had thought. Y/n was about to see if Obi-wan needed help, when suddenly a harsh strike to her wrist made Y/n drop her lightsaber. Turning quickly, Y/n didn’t have time to react as a large hand grabbed her neck and squeezed. Y/n gasped, the pressuring crushing her windpipe and making it hard to breathe; terrified and not thinking clearly, her hands clawed at her attacker, desperate to breathe again. 

A gasp escaped the attacker as a lightsaber blade went through his sternum, the blue light reflecting on his contorted face. With a push, Y/n ripped his hands from off her neck, gasping to fill her lungs with air as she watched him fall to the ground. Looking to her savior,  Y/n saw Obi-wan; his blue eyes were dark, and there was an indiscernible look that Y/n had never seen in her friend before. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-wan’s voice was low as he stepped close to Y/n, and if she hadn’t been so close to dying she might’ve swooned. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Swallowing hard, Y/n froze as Obi-wan’s hands reached out to her. His fingers softly moved along her neck, gently brushing over where bruises would surely eventually form. He was so close that Y/n could see every detail;  his forehead was furrowed in concentration, and there was a faint scar above his eyebrow, evidence from a previous battle. Y/n was sure Obi-wan could hear her heart beating loudly inside her chest; despite the pain in her throat, she found herself longing to succumb to Obi-wan’s touch. The energy between their two bodies was like lightning, and the tension was palpable in the air. 

Then suddenly, Obi-wan dropped his hands and turned around, walking into the ship. Y/n’s chest rose and fell, a rollercoaster of emotions rushing over her. Trying to clear her mind, Y/n retrieved her lightsaber and followed after Obi-wan. The two said nothing during the entire journey back, and Obi-wan had refused to look at Y/n during their debriefing. He had proceeded to make himself scarce for the rest of the day, and now Y/n found herself pining over Obi-wan as she sat alone in the darkened glow of her nighttime lamp. 

A soft knock on the door interrupted Y/n’s racing train of thoughts, and it was so quiet that she thought she had imagined it. Yet there it was again, so very gentle but still there. Getting up, Y/n opened the door, only for it to reveal a very disheveled Obi-wan. His hair was out of place, and he was dressed in loose black pants and a v-neck shirt. Somehow Obi-wan managed to look as gorgeous as ever, but Y/n tried to remain focused on why he was at her room in the middle of the night. Y/n stepped to the side to allow Obi-wan to enter the room. He cautiously entered, walking straight back until he reached the window. Y/n shut the door behind him, and again the tension from earlier returned. Y/n remained quiet, waiting for her late-night visitor to say something. 

Obi-wan turned, and once again Y/n saw that dark look in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again. Taking a deep breath in, Obi-wan was about to say something, only for him to was again remain silent. Looking at the ground, he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“How are you feeling?” 

That was it, the most basic question in the galaxy. Deciding to also ignore whatever the heck was going on, Y/n went with the casual conversation. “A little sore, but I’m alive so I can’t complain.” Nervously she laughed, trying to lighten the conversation. 

Obi-wan nodded, but is was obvious his mind wasn’t really there. 

“Is everything al-” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Y/n was taken aback by the abrupt apology. “Excuse me?”

Anxiously Obi-wan ran a hand through his hair. “I should’ve been there, I should have been more prepared, none of this should’ve happened.” 

“Hey hey hey, stop that.” Y/n walked closer to the distressed man and placed her hands on his shoulders, rubbing them as she tried to sooth him. “There was nothing more you could’ve done, it was a surprise for both of us. What matters is we made it out okay.” 

“But you’re not okay, your neck-” 

“Like I said, I’m still alive; and in this line of work, that's more than I can ask for. You saved me, and I thank you for that.” 

“He touched you.” 

Y/n shook her head, trying to understand. “What?”

Obi-wan stepped forward, his body so close that Y/n could feel the heat radiating off of it. “No one is allowed to touch you.”

Obi-wan felt like he was loosing it, barely able to concentrate when Y/n was so close. He internally struggled, trying hard to keep his gaze on her eyes when her top’s strap was falling off her shoulder and the neckline followed the curve of her breasts. Obi-wan knew he had no right, but everything about Y/n drove him crazy. She was never not the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen, and every day he had slowly fallen more and more in love with her. Obi-wan had felt absolutely feral when he saw that man’s hands around Y/n’s neck, almost taking away the most precious thing to Obi-wan. It was wrong, oh it was so wrong, but after today Obi-wan didn’t care. 

“Do you know how much I have suffered because of you?” 

Y/n blinked rapidly, trying to understand what Obi-wan was saying. “I have never meant to caused you pain, Obi-wan. You are my dearest friend and-” 

“Don’t say that.” Obi-wan’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and he looked positively heartbroken. “It has never been your fault, it’s me, I have behaved atrociously, oh maker.” Running a hand over his face, Obi-wan desperately tried to compose himself. He knew he wasn’t saying it right, he knew he was making a mess of things, but he found himself at a loss for words. 

When his gaze returned to Y/n’s, Obi-wan found nothing but concern and adoration in her eyes. Gather his courage, he softly spoke in a rush. “It is I who should be apologizing. You have given me nothing but the greatest of friendships, and I have allowed my personal feelings to overcome logic. I have not only compromised myself, but also you, especially here tonight. For too long I have tried to contain my emotions, to snuff them out, but instead they have consumed every part of me. When I realized how close I was to losing you today, I became acutely aware of the fact that I could be stuck with my silence forevermore. It is deeply unfair, but I ask for your patience as I unburden myself of these innermost feelings. I expect no return, but they must be put out in the open or else I fear I shall die from them.” 

Anxiously Obi-wan searched Y/n’s face for any sign of discomfort or repulsion, but she seemed almost welcoming to his intentions. Taking this as a sign to continue, Obi-wan proceeded with his speech.

“For as long as I can remember Y/n, you have been my greatest friend; somewhere along the way, however, my feelings for you shifted from platonic to romantic. Despite my best intentions, I continue to fall in love with you every day. You are absolutely perfect in my eyes, and indeed you are the most brilliant, intelligent, caring, and dare I say beautiful person I have ever met. There is no where that feels more like home than you, and I do not think all the spice users in the galaxy could be more addicted than I am to you. I would give up the sun for your laughter and my own life for your happiness. Every moment I spend with you is more incredible than the last, and every day I must be apart from you is complete agony. You are the object of all my desires and the person I wish to devote myself completely to. Our code would have me cut you out of my life, but never before have I felt more right than by your side. If you said the word, I would leave the order right now and never look back.”

Here Obi-wan took a deep breath, overcome with the strength of his own feelings. “If any of my words or affections have been offensive to you, I apologize from the bottom of my heart.  If my feelings have repulsed you, say the word and I will leave you at once, and never again will I discomfort you as I have tonight. I only ask that you put me out of my agony and make your own feelings clear now.” 

While Y/n had remained silent during the entirety of Obi-wan’s speech, inside she felt her heart swell and her body flood with joy. The very affections that he was now professing was the same that Y/n had harbored for so long. 

With tears threatening to spill over, Y/n smiled at Obi-wan. “I have loved you from the very first day Obi-wan, and I do not think I could ever stop loving you.” 

A smile grew on Obi-wan’s face, and he practically beamed with joy. Taking Y/n in his arms, he spun her around and around until they were both laughing. Setting her back down, he kept his arms around her waist and just took her face in. Y/n slid her hands up from Obi-wan’s neck to his cheeks, holding his face between her palms. Unsure of who leaned in first, their lips connected, and immediately sparks ignited within their souls. Softly and gently they kissed, neither having had this contact with another person before. Carefully they explored the sensation, enjoying the feeling of their lips touching.

 Obi-wan pulled away, looking over Y/n to see if this was okay. Gently she brushed his nose with her’s, letting him know that she was fine with the direction this was taking. 

Suddenly Obi-wan’s hands slid down from Y/n’s waist to her thighs, and he pulled at them. Following his direction, Y/n jumped and wrapped her legs around Obi-wan’s torso, her arms wrapping around his neck. Once again Obi-wan pressed his lips to Y/n’s, this time more assured and confident in his actions. This time, there was no hesitation or caution; over and over Obi-wan kissed Y/n, this time their mouths moving together in tandem. Caught up in the sensation, Obi-wan walked forward until Y/n’s back hit the wall. She gasped at the contact, but she quickly reconnected her lips to Obi-wan’s. 

His fingers dug into Y/n’s thighs, gripping onto the them tightly without hurting her. She was wearing sleep shorts, and Obi-wan enjoyed feeling the texture of her skin as his fingers splayed over her thighs. His touch sent goosebumps along Y/n’s skin, the sensation of the skin to skin contact thrilling her. 

Obi-wan’s lips left Y/n’s, moving to press kisses all over her face; first her cheek, then brushing along her nose, to her eye, to the corner of her mouth, and then Obi-wan trailed his lips along Y/n’s jaw, pressing kisses all the way down to her chin and then up the other side. Y/n’s back arched at the contact, her head tilting back to give easier access.

For a moment Obi-wan pulled away, his lidded eyes looking over the woman he loved. Gently he guided her legs back to the ground, and he let her go with a smirk. As he backed away, Y/n felt a little bit of a fire and boldness within her chest; moving towards him, she pressed her palm against Obi-wan’s chest and gave him a gentle push. The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, buckling and forcing him to sit. Climbing on top of him, Y/n straddled his hips as it was her turn to tease him. Carefully she hovered her lips over his own, so close yet not quite touching. Obi-wan made a noise and tried to claim her lips, but Y/n moved back just in time. She bit her bottom lip, trying to contain the smile that was growing. 

Y/n softly squealed as she felt Obi-wan grab onto her hips, digging his fingers into the soft skin as he pulled her impossibly closer. Her cry was cut short as he pressed his lips to hers; sighing deeply, the two relaxed into the touch, enjoying having the other so close. 

Suddenly Obi-wan fell backwards, pulling Y/n down with him. Laughing, she curled up into his side, head resting on his chest. Obi-wan’s fingers ran over her hip, tracing invisible patterns on the cloth covering them. Y/n’s hand clutched onto his shirt, feeling the fabric beneath her touch. 

“I’ve just made your life a whole lot harder you know.” 

Rolling her eyes, Y/n huffed as she propped up onto her elbow. “My life was hard enough trying to not be in love with you, I hardly think keeping a secret relationship with you will be any harder.” 

Obi-wan smiled at Y/n’s declaration, but still his eyebrows pulled together in concern. “We interact with some powerful jedi every day, if they sense any indication of our affections, we could be in some serious trouble.” 

“Then we’ll figure it out together. My life has been infinitely better since knowing you, and I can only imagine it will get better now that I get to love you too.”

Obi-wan’s smile grew as he felt his beloved’s lips press a kiss to his bearded cheek, and he sighed in contentment as he allowed himself to relax into her mattress. “If Anakin ever finds out about us, I’ll never hear the end of it.” 

“About that......how do you feel about double dates?” 

“WHAT-”

#obiwan #obiwan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi-wan kenobi series #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obiwan kenobi x reader #obiwan x reader #obi-wan x reader #kenobi series #kenobi x reader #Spotify

[box-of-forgotten-memories]

Tea and Roses

Pairing: Obiwan Kenobi x reader

Word count: 1000

Usage of female terms such as: Maiden.

Summary: You invite Obiwan over for tea and reading

The room was rather silent, save for the gentle grinding of stone against stone, working against the freshly picked tea leaves. Your plans of the day were rather exciting, and with a man you loved oh so dearly. Obi Wan had been planning to visit for quite some time, with promises of new books and a fresh rose for his sweet darling. You had promised fresh tea in return.

A knock sounded upon your door, before sliding open, revealing a dashing jedi in those robes you knew all too well.

“Obi wan darling? I wasn’t expecting you for another hour!” You said with pleasant shock, a smile creeping its way upon your flustered face. In his hand was a beautiful red rose, one that could only be picked at the most beautiful time of the year. You knew he had saved it just for you, by the way Cody described how highly Kenobi talked of you.

“Well, my sweet Blue Blossom, I missed you so dearly and couldn’t bear being apart from you any longer… Was I interrupting anything?” His voice was so soft, yet so smooth...You don’t understand how you got so lucky.

“No no, nothing at all. If anything, I was actually finishing up that tea I promised” The smile upon your face only grew in size. Glancing back into the stone bowl, you found the small speckles of freshly grounded tea leaves, perfectly ripe for a hot cup. “Could you be a dear and fetch those two cups beside you? I believe we can begin. You brought those books correct?” Your voice was like music to his ears.. He never wanted you to stop speaking to him. It kept him grounded and made him feel secure.

“Well of course I did, you didn’t think I’d forget did you?” Obi wan feigned offense, but it was clear in his tone that he was instead playful, wanting nothing more than to bring a smile to your face and draw a laugh from your lips.

The shuffle of glass and feet was heard as Kenobi fetched the glasses you requested, not missing a beat in giving them to you. No words were needed at the moment, instead tilting your heads to exchange a quick kiss between the two of you, the action speaking loud enough on its own.

You scurried about, seemingly in a rush...But this was a common occurrence. You feel the need to get things done quickly. Kenobi never minded. If anything, he found it quite adorable.

“Sit sit” You insisted, motioning to the nearby empty chair. It was soft, plush...A fabric coating the durable metal underneath. The designs were simple and easy on the eyes, and you never had to worry about a mess. You’re rather careful whenever you’re the only one home.

“You’re too good to me darling” Kenobi added, snapping you out of your frantic hurry. The piping hot water had been poured and the tea leaves added. All that was left now was a simple sweetener. No consulting was needed for Kenobi. You knew him like the back of your hand. How he liked one spoon of sugar in his tea. Any less was too bitter, and any more was too sweet.

Your cup had yet to be made, more water heating up upon the stove.

“Now...what books did you bring? Romantic novels? Adventurous fiction?” Your questions filled his head, and he wasted no time in pulling out two books from the leather sack slung around his chest.

“How about… Adventurous Romance hm? A dashing jedi knight falling in love with a beautiful maiden?” His grin was plastered upon his face, succeeding in a roll of your eyes.

“Oh you sap… What’s it really about? You’ve piqued my interest” Your question was quick, contradicting the slow pace of Kenobi’s answers.

“Well… it’s about…” The words seemed to trail off as your mind started to wander. It was then you began to take in his features.

The way the light reflected off the icy ocean blue of his eyes, or the way a gentle breeze from an open window would sweep over his hair, disturbing the present locks ever so peacefully. The way he smiles as he talks, and…

“Darling are you even listening?” Kenobi questioned, gently waving his hand.

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, sorry” Your expressions adopted an embarrassed smile, hand reaching up to gently scratch the back of your neck. “It’s just...you’re so...pretty”

“Pretty?”

“Well, yeah! I can’t stop staring at you and i just can’t seem to focus whenever you’re in the room”

“Well now you know how I feel” He hums softly, focusing on taking the first sip of his tea, discussion of books long forgotten.

“What? What ever do you mean?”

“Well, whenever you walk into the room.. The breath is knocked from my lungs. Your beauty overpowers all negativity and seems to ward off any bad thoughts or anxieties I may have. You’re so kind and gentle, and I can’t help but wonder how I got so lucky as to be with you, my sweet Blueblossom” His voice did not stutter or falter once. Every word was spoken with confidence, without hesitance.

“Obi...I”

“You are the very love that you can only see in movies, or read about in fantasies. You surely have been in mine a lot.” Kenobi seemed...flustered. He had been wanting to tell you how much he appreciated you for so long...He finally had the chance and took it without hesitation.

“Obi that was beautiful...I must admit you are quite the charmer aren't you?” Your smile radiated those positive energies he was just gushing about, and he couldn’t help but return it, your love for eachother powerful enough to shift the force. He knew he’d be getting questions later. But to him, it didn’t matter. He was with you, and it’s all he cared about.

The loving jedi Knight, that fell in love with a beautiful maiden.

#obi wan kenobi #obiwan x reader #obi wan x reader #star wars #star wars x reader #yes this is a repost from my old account

[garagesesh]

when we are together

pairing(s): obi wan kenobi x (f!) reader

summary: a glimpse in the life of anakin’s best friends three years after mustafar

warning(s): angst lol

a/n: this is kind of a part two to my anakin story. i have been absent apologies i started school again and a part time job :,) plus the holidays was a horror. idk if this is good or not it’s just been on my mind. title is from the 1975. 

␛ to masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tatooine

16 ABY

The binoculars clicked as you scanned the barren wastelands of Tatooine. The binary suns already beginning to dip beyond the horizon and the desert chill billowed through your sand colored robes.

Where was he?

You couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that he had been found.

By him.

By Vader.

Goosebumps spread across your skin, your hair standing at attention in fear. This couldn’t be the end, you wanted to reach for the force, for comfort, for calm.

Three standard years had passed somewhat quietly and without much incident. The child was doing well, growing steadily in the peaceful home just over the mountains.

The anticipation of danger without knowing where Obi-Wan was and the looming threat of him and his Empire had washed any sort of safety.

Through the binoculars, a spot that was moving at rapid pace rose just above the horizon

A speeder, not of your own came across the desolate sand and rock.

Faster and faster it sped towards you. Glimpsing one last time into the binoculars before completely discarding them in your robes, your breathing hitched and your hand reached for the blaster hidden in your belt.

You didn’t raise to aim but you waited with a finger on the trigger. The speeder got louder and closer. Barreling towards you at unprecedented speed.

A figure with a dark hood and a heavy pack was now identifiable. Sighing you slipped the blaster back into the hidden holster, crossing your arms over your chest. Waiting.

“You scared the living stars out of me!” You huffed. “You know that?!” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t say anything as he powered the speeder down.

“You could’ve commed!” Your hands found your hips. Disappointed and mostly anxious. “Where were you and what is this?”

“Mos Eisley.” Obi-Wan sighed as he gracefully slid off the speeder. He nodded towards the faded-brown speeder. It wasn’t by any means a brand new speeder, it had blaster marks and sand erosion but it was nicer than the old piece of junk you two had salvaged from the Jundland wastes.

“We had a perfectly good one.”

“This one is faster and actually a two seater.” He countered

“We don’t have the credits Obi-Wan!”

“I’ll pick up a second job.”

Always the negotiator.

Huffing you left the older man with the speeder, vanishing into the hut to continue the dinner that was boiling on the stove. Rations again.

Stirring the pot of rice, you lost yourself into the swirls of brown and white. Letting the steam envelope your fear. Only did a warm hand on your waist, trying to squeeze by in the small surroundings pull you out.

“Excuse me.” You hummed as his hand dragged off your waist.

The hut was small, enough space for the two of you but none for a third. The entrance of the home opened to the living room, where in one corner was a makeshift bedroom that was concealed by a blanket you had found. You shared the bed. He had tried for the first cycle on Tatooine to sleep on the small, uncomfortable couch before you finally offered the other side of the bed.

The other corner was a small dining table with two chairs. The kitchen was a step up and had a window into the living space and only one bathroom that was old and needed work.

But it was home.

You ate in silence, feeling guilty of your outburst from earlier.

“I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I was harsh.”

“It’s alright.” He gracefully spooned the soup into his mouth without another word. Obi-Wan cleared the plates and cleaned the dishes, humming a soft tune.

It wasn’t until you had both showered, hair still damp and covered in the blankets of your shared bed, you finally broke the silence.

“I checked on him while you were gone.” Your finger delicately traced the small constellations of freckles on his warm shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you had or not.”

Obi-Wan shifted. “Thank you.”

“He’s so big now.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I can feel him in the force.” You could feel the buzz of the young boys force. Powerful and strong. You didn’t have to reach in to feel him.

“He’s very strong.” Obi-Wan shifted once more, his entire body now facing your own. His large, calloused hand reached into your hair, his thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t know had fallen.

“You feel it too?” You whispered.

“Yes.” He smiled bitterly. “I can feel his presence even now. I’m worried about his strength and what would happen if…”

Obi-Wan trailed off, unable to say the name out loud. Afraid to bring forth the man in existence right then and there in your shared bed.

“Vader.” You whispered for him.

He nodded, his hand still entwined.

Silence enveloped you once more. The blue light of the moon shining through the slotted windows and onto your faces.

“I’m scared.” You admitted, holding his gaze. “Lonely.”

He said nothing in return. His deep blue eyes scanned your face.

After three years, you had shared a last name. Paraded as a married couple to neighbors. Held hands through the market. Light touches as he brushed by. Held you sometimes at night.

But nothing more.

Obi-Wan’s hand untangled from your hair and down the slope of your neck. His thumb caressing the contour of your collarbone.

You thought he was going to kiss you. Finally slot his lips onto your own and maybe even take you right then.

But his hand completely withdrew from you.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He turned over, his bare back now facing you.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist

#fanfic #star wars #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi x reader #starwars #starwars fanfic #one shot #anakin skywalker

[kal-djarin]

yo the Kenobi series is really tempting me to write fan fiction HE IS JUST TOO HOT AND I JUST WANNA HUG HIM. the only constant in my life is my love for obi wan

#obiwan x reader #obiwan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #kenobi show #star wars kenobi #kenobi series #obi wan oneshot

[scribble-dribble-writes]

Longing

---

Pairing: Obi wan x reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 1900

Content: You've been separated for a year but you find your way back to him. Just a bit of fluff

---

It was just a simple task. To return the box you held in your hands. A box that contained a cloak and a couple books. But now you stood there, outside his door, unsure about your decision.

Maybe you could go back home, try again tomorrow. The key felt cold in your hand, but it fit perfectly. Why was something that was so simple, now the hardest thing you had ever done?

You looked down at your scuffed up boots but the doormat caught your attention. It was the one you had bought. You looked up at the curtain drawn windows, wondering about the man who inhabited this space now.

Why had he not boxed away all your things?

Was he so above the scars of love that having items that belonged to you didn’t bother him everyday? As it did for you?

You couldn’t run your fingers over his cloak, in fact you had to resist from doing so because it was an easy cure for when you missed him. Or to open his book and spot a messy scribble of his only made you remember the day when he had written you letters.

So how was it that you couldn’t piece yourself together when he seemed to move on like nothing happened?

Not a single strand of hair out of place, his robes tied taut around his waist, walking with his head held high as he passed by you in the corridor. His armour was foolproof whereas yours had a tendency to catch fire.

Maybe all this was easy for him because he was the one to break your heart, to tell you that he felt nothing, to tell you to leave. And now he retained the doormat just to wipe his feet on it and nothing more.

He was supposed to be in a meeting this very instant, which gave you the time to drop his things off and run away. You unlocked the door, surprised to see he hadn’t changed the locks. You were sure he would have changed the keys.

The only light that filtered through the closed curtains lit up the room, objects were visible enough to know that nothing had changed. Your painting still hung on the wall, the frame on the mantel still had that picture of him and you from the secret vacation on Naboo. You paused, this was not what you had in mind.

The box felt heavy in your hands, or maybe that was the love you carried still. Your eyes began to blur and you had to stay focused on the task at hand, to drop everything that belonged to him and run. To not look back even if it meant you had to place your heart in that box.

So you placed it on the couch when you heard someone cough in the bedroom. The hairs on your forearm stood up.

“Rex, I hope you haven’t come back with Anakin. I told you, I’m fine.”, you heard him.

You stood still unsure of what you had to do but it sounded as though he was sick. In that instant, all the worry dissipated and in it’s placed you felt a sense of resolve set in. You walked towards his room with measured footsteps, with each step your heart beginning to beat faster.

From the open doorway, you saw his sleeping form, his head laid on the pillow but his hair was a mess. Dark circles underlined his eyes, he looked worse than you had ever seen him and it made your heart quench.

His eyes were closed but he seemed to be having a restless sleep, tossing his head from side to side and you knew what this was.

You rushed to his side, to place your hand on his forehead, his skin burned like the surface of the sun.

“You’re burning up, Obiwan.”, you whispered to which his eyes shot open.

He gasped for air as he whispered your name, his eyes red around the corners as though he had been weeping the whole night. You couldn’t help yourself, your fingers pushed away the strands of hair that had fallen over eyebrows.

He reached to hold your hand in place, his tired eyes drinking your presence. Your cold touch would have felt like the relief he needed because for a few minutes he settled, his thumb tracing over your cheeks as though he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Its been so long that now even my dreams have begun to feel real.”, he spoke, his voice sounded strained.

But just as he said it, he fell back into his pillow, dehydrated and tired, taking with him his soft warm touch.

You stepped back, tracing a finger over where he his touch made your skin sizzle.

This was not what you had expected but it pulled you to him, the need to put him out of this discomfort. So as you turned to grab a towel and some medications, the sound of the main door opening startled you. Walking into the corridor, you caught sight of Rex. He stilled once he noticed you and then relief washed over his face.

“I was searching for you.”, he said. You grew confused.

“What for?”, you asked as he walked up to you, clad in his armour but he wasn’t a soldier here. He was a friend.

He leaned on the door frame to nod his head towards the man with the fever.

“I don’t know what to do with him.”, he huffed and you furrowed your brows.

“What happens to him doesn’t concern me anymore.”, you shrugged your shoulders, trying to be indifferent.

“It doesn’t?”, he asked to which you shook your head but the smile on his face only aggravated you.

“The sadness in your eyes says a different story.”, he stated and it silenced you. There was no disputing his observation.

“Jedi are the worst when they fall in love. And I’ve end up with two of them.”, Rex shook his head to depict his annoyance.

“Now I’ve got to take care of the master and padawan.”, he held up food rations with a few med packs to you and you took it.

“He wouldn’t stop talking about you, wouldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat properly. You did the one thing no one had could ever do.”, he folded his arms protectively.

“And what is that?”, you stood taller as you asked him.

“You broke his heart.”, he said with anger lacing his tone.

“It’s clear you throw your accusations around like a soldier but if only you knew the truth, you would know he was the one who sent me away. He broke my heart.”, you spoke with fury in your eyes and with how Rex stayed quite, it only proved to you that no one knew about the reason why you moved away.

Rex looked away in confusion as though all the facts he had collected about this scenario still didn’t make sense.

You eased, it wasn’t his fault. You had a bone to pick with Obi wan, not Rex.

“I’ll administer the medication.”, you told him. After all you were a nurse at the infirmary, this was the least you could do.

Rex didn’t argue with you on this note, he had appeared with a lot of wounds you had patched up for him yourself.

“Be gentle with him.”, was all the instruction he gave you before turning to leave. You nodded silently and turned towards Obiwan who had now broken a sweat.

Getting to work, you injected the medication, placed a wet towel on his forehead, monitored his pulse and a few minutes in, he was beginning to show signs of relief. You sat back in your seat, to finally gaze at his face once again.

Why did he tell you to leave if your absence caused him to break down to such an extent?

You grew angry. There was no limit to his selflessness.

Now that he looked better, his colour had returned to his cheeks. You thought it was best to leave before he woke up. But just as you got up from the chair, his eyes fluttered open. He took in your presence first, his brows furrowing together in confusion, his hand then reached to grab the towel from his forehead.

The blue of his eyes was never something you could get sick of. But it was the longing in his eyes that made you freeze. He spoke your name and all your intention to leave faded away.

“Your tablets are on the counter top. The fluid in the bottle should help you rehydrate so make sure you drink it. I’ve returned your belongings I had, it’s all in a box on the couch.”, you said looking away as you fussed with the strap of your bag because one more word from his mouth and you will have lost this fight.

This fight to let him go.

“Wait.”, he said quickly, his voice coarse.

“Don’t leave, please.”, he sounded desperate and for the first time you let your eyes meet his.

You stood quietly. But after a moment, you gave in. You dropped your bag on the couch and walked up to sit next to him.

He sat up and leaned back into the head rest. His bare shoulders giving rise to his broad chest as his blanket fell away and you were taken back to all those nights were your head found solace when you placed it there.

He took your hand, as though the very sensation of your warmth was grounding him.

“Obiwan.”, you said softly turning to pull your hand from his grasp because if you didn’t you were sure to break down.

“I was told to let go.”,he looked at you, eyes welling up with tears.

“Let go of anything that might make me feel attached to life.”, he continued.

“And you were the only reason I wanted to fight for what I had.”, he spoke quickly.

“I tried. I tried and I failed. I failed to let go of you.”, he drew closer and you began to understand why he did what he did. So as you sat still, he got closer, to nuzzle his nose under your neck.

“Why tell me this now?”, you asked as you gulped, your heart now beating in your throat.

“Because I regret the day those words spilled out my mouth. That I didn’t want you, the truth is, I do. I always will long for only you.”, he said softly, his lips tracing over your skin as he pulled away for his eyes to meet yours and there was no second thought that ran through your mind after seeing the conviction in his eyes.

It was him. You had always only every loved him. So you raised up your other hand to place it on his forehead, to check his temperature. He wasn’t sick anymore.

“For a second I thought you were having another fever dream.”, you smiled to which he tilted his head to the side.

“You do not believe my words?”, he asked.

“I do, it’s just that I was hoping for more.”, your eyes fell to his lips and he smiled as though he had grasped your thoughts.

“Oh I see.”, he remarked as he pulled you closer.

“Am I well enough to kiss my girlfriend, doctor?”, he asked as he looped his hand behind your neck.

“First of all, I’m a nurse. But I don’t see an issue –

Your sentence was muffled as his mouth found yours, his lips fitting perfectly with yours as he kissed you like he had craved you every hour, every minute and every second of being apart.

So you forgot about the weight of the world, because now in his arms. You were home.

#obiwan kenobi #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obiwan x fluff #obiwan x reader #obi wan star wars #obi wan x reader

[thegreatwicked]

I get the Master/Padawan thing now...

Look guys, it's just like it says.... I never paid too much mind to it before but... Well, I'm a changed woman. And since the romance is building at a snails pace between Obi-wan and Cressida (be patient, there's drama coming) I sat down yesterday and wrote out my first Reader insert with use of nicknames like 'darling' and 'padawan' as I'm NOT a fan of the Y/N stories, its just such a disconnect for me... And because I'm EXTRA I might also be writing it from Obi-wans perspective since diving into his mind is just so dirty and delicious, so my Macabrlings... I need your assistance, should it be third person or from Daddy-wan, I mean, Obi-wan's perspective??? Here's a little taste of what I threw together in an hour, I will be sprucing it up QUITE a bit;

“Then what? What, padawan?” You could feel yourself shaking inside, like you wanted to cry but you held those tears at bay. “Answer me!” You jumped and clutched the blanket to your chest unable to look him in the eyes but your mouth moved as though words were trying to claw their way out. He strode across the room sitting on the sofa turning your face to look at him but your eyes cast themselves to the ground. 

“Please, don’t call me that.”

Call you what? Padawan? 

“Padawan,” You flinched at hearing the word caressed by his thick Coruscatnti accent, “Look at your Master, padawan.” The tone of the command was stern and impossible to disobey.

Painfully, slowly, you looked up eyes still fighting it the whole time hoping he would understand without any further explanation what that word did to you, but stubbornness and snark was something the Great Negotiator was famed for, and he would not be denied any longer. 

“Look at me, padawan.” The last threads of resistance faded when he spoke as he had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Masters command,”

OR would you guys rather read this through Obi-wans eyes???

“Then what? What, padawan?” I can see you as the trembling radiates out from within, and I know you so well, I know you're fighting tears. “Answer me!” I don't mean to yell, of course not. You jump and clutched the blanket to your chest as if it were beskar to shield you from me, unable to look me in the eyes but your mouth moves as though words are trying to claw their way out. I stride across the room sitting on the sofa turning your cheek to look at me but your eyes cast themselves to the ground. I need you to look at me.

“Please, don’t call me that.” Your voice is so weak and timid, that's not my padawan.

Don't call you what? Padawan? 

“Padawan,” You flinch when I say it, “Look at your Master, padawan.” I know the tone I must use to get your attention, but I rarely needed it, you always listened so well. It seemed the tone has its uses even now.

It's painful how slowly, you look up at me, eyes still fighting it the whole time, what are you so afraid of? Perhaps it would be smarter to leave this be but I'm not known as the Great Negotiator because I give up when I don't get the answer I want, and I will not be denied any longer. 

“Look at me, padawan.” I can see the last threads of resistance snap when I speak as I had whenever you were in trouble, “You will obey your Masters command,”

I know the format is a little odd but seriousy, what do you guys think???

@pickleprickle @heyhawtdawgs @ladyinwriting18 you're a fantastic writer, what do you thinkof this format?

#star wars #star wars au #obiwan kenobi smut #obiwan x reader #obiwan x reader insert #obiwan x you #obi wan x reader

[lillianofliterature]

extending hospitality | obi-wan kenobi x jedi!reader | 2/3

a/n: it’s been over a very long time since the first part (3 years? 4??) and you guys are still asking for a sequel (thank you so much)! Granted, my writing style has shifted some since the first part, so please take that into account if the narration sounds different in some ways. I don’t know why the next couple parts were so difficult to finish; possibly because I was worried it had been too long to continue it with a mixture of anxious perfectionism. The third part will be up within the next month. (If I didn’t split it up it would probably be about 10K which is a bit much for one post, so I’m splitting it up for size and to take extra care with the last few scenes I have in mind.) <3

Also, Anakin is assumed to be young in this one a little more bluntly than in the first part, somewhere between TPM and AOTC.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK.

summary: after Obi-Wan's gentle remedies and timid confessions, you wake the next morning to face the many consequences of a poorly concluded mission—and the unexpected truths that are uncovered with them. 

warnings: fluffy angst, angsty fluff, wound-related gore, infirmaries, nightmares, long-term injuries

word count: 5.9K

music: Bedroom Dreams and Aftermath by James Newton Howard

PART ONE

The traffic of Coruscant had grown busier as the morning hours approached. When the sun had risen to peek above the horizon of the paling sky, its gleaming reflection across the spires of the metallic city sent a golden beam of glowing light through the large window of Obi-Wan’s living space. His bleary eyes fluttered open as the luminous pattern of the sun’s rays filtering through the slanted shades sent warm clusters of stripes along his skin. 

He brushed his hand over his sleepy face, combing through his light auburn tendrils that had curled themselves in every angle imaginable during his deep slumber. He dragged his fingers over his eyelids and eyebrows, rubbing the sleepy dishevelment from them. When he sat up, his consciousness flooded back to him, and he remembered the vivid dreams he had experienced during the night. 

He cleared his throat as images of you played themselves out in his mind just as they had hours prior in his sleep. In one of the several scenes, he remembered,  there been a sweet smell floating akin to the scent of fresh pastries drifting in from a warmly lit home somewhere behind him, the tint of the moons against your bare shoulders, the brush of your lips against his, and a pair of twins running between his legs (that had oddly resembled Anakin in some subconsciously implied way). There were other tender visions he had seen in his slumber, but they blurred out of tangible recollection by the second. It had been a myriad across a lifetime of tender, intimate moments that felt so personal they could have been memories themselves. 

Except they weren’t.

Obi-Wan would have distinctly remembered feeling your lips move in unison with his, and even more so the events that would have taken place in order for you to share such open displays of affection; the processes, the decisions, the dramatic change of lifestyles. And none of those things had ever happened—nor could they. 

He hadn’t shared a kiss with anyone in his entire life, so the sensation was entirely foreign to him. And yet, the touch he shared with you in his dreams felt all too real, as if he knew exactly how it should taste and feel. It was a vow shared between companions and soulmates, an exchange of intimate touch from the place where your voice, words, and matters of the soul itself often poured. But most obviously, it was a physical display of attachment, one he had indirectly vowed never to partake of.

He felt himself grow a vibrant shade of red as he recalled the kiss with an eruption of fluttering in his stomach. He tried to banish the delusion from his thoughts by rubbing his eyes once more. 

How could he have such a vivid vision of something he had never experienced for himself? How could he have known how satisfying, no, fulfilling, it was to hold you so intimately in his arms and be granted the simplest pleasures of a life in which—

The carefree slamming of Anakin’s bedroom door drew Obi-Wan’s gaze upwards with a jump. The young boy’s footsteps grew louder until he padded into the wide entryway of the living area and surveyed the sight before him. His lopsided, sleepy smile turned to an inquisitive frown as he glanced around quaint furniture and back to his slowly-waking Master. 

“Where’s Master (Y/n)?” 

“Asleep in my room,” Obi-Wan answered swiftly, standing to fold the thin blanket he had used to cover himself with. Anakin took note of this action and the disheveled appearance of his Master’s tunic and trousers, as well as the creases in the soft fabric of the cushions. 

“Did you sleep on the sofa, Master?”

“Yes, I did, Anakin.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why? I couldn’t very well sleep in my bed with (Y/n) occupying it, could I?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s big enough for two people.” 

“Ah—Anakin!” The Jedi’s blush rushed back into his cheeks once more, the confusion on the boy’s young face reminding Obi-Wan that Anakin’s sometimes intrusive innocence was no reason for an overtly stern tone. He softened his expression and attempted as welcoming a smile as one could have at this unholy hour of the morning. His fingers wove contemplatively through his short beard.

“Did I say something wrong, Master? We sleep together as a troop when we’re out on missions, don’t we? With the other padawans and Masters? What’s so different from sleeping on the ground together rather than in a bed?”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, probing his mind for the best possible answer that would not only make sense to the boy but to himself as well.

“Well, bedrooms are places for solitude, for comfort. Usually, when someone retreats to their room, specifically their own bed, they wish to be alone there, to find peace. It’s a private place, very much unlike an open forest with no reasonable shelter.”

“But a place can still be peaceful if you’re with people you’re comfortable with, right? I used to sleep with my mother when I had bad dreams.”

Oh, Anakin.

His curious padawan had a talent for finding the solution to every issue, many times forgetting the aspects of the Jedi Code that must be adhered to in every circumstance. That was something Obi-Wan was trying his best to train and mature in Anakin. He didn’t want to squelch that ability in him, but help guide it into more Jedi-worthy territory. Not so much finding loopholes in every equation, but rather solving it head-on with the ability to adopt a wider understanding. 

“It’s never as simple as that. Falling asleep in the same bedroom, or more so, in the same bed with someone, may pose certain complications for both parties involved. As Jedi, we are not meant to allow any room for—“

Attachments, Obi-Wan almost blurted out. 

But that would be admitting that he harbored attachment for you, or at the very least that there was a risk for forming one, that sharing the simple comforts of a good night’s sleep while lying next to you would satisfy the well-hidden parts of him that had longed for your closeness a hundred times over. It would be a temptation he was unsure he would be able to overcome if put in that position, the temptation to finally admit to himself the depth of his own feelings, of the deep-seated yearning he harbored. The emotions that had long been clutched onto his soul and woven into his personal connection to the force itself.

Just the thought of being able to trust someone with the act of lying next to one another while in your most vulnerable state, where thoughts and dreams mingle, where bodies naturally entwine to seek comfort, brought a sense of grief upon him. There had been many nights in his life he had wished to feel the close proximity of someone falling asleep next to him, but he had never known it. Not under the silk duvet of his own bed, nor especially in the warmth of the only pair of arms he had ever found himself lingering within the grasp of more than a Jedi ever should.

“Room for what, Master?”

The two stared at each other for a stray moment of silence as Obi-Wan attempted to formulate a way to finish the sentence without actually finishing it. Anakin’s patient expression only made his nerves flare as the boy’s curiosity glistened in his inquisitive eyes. 

“Ah, never mind that.” Obi-Wan stepped forward and placed a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, leading him back toward his own room and hopefully away from the present conversation. “Enough of our morning has been spent on that topic. I think it’s about time we got dressed, hm?” 

Anakin shrugged his shoulders and dismissed his confusion as he left his Master’s side to get dressed for the day; after all, it wasn’t all that unusual for Anakin to not yet understand some—if not all—of the things that his master tried to explain to him. 

Obi-Wan cleared his throat awkwardly as he vacantly watched Anakin disappear into his own room again. Hoisting a hand on his hip, he quickly fell back on his habit of raking through his beard and hair once more, noticing now the bothersome texture of the oil that had gathered overnight. He became painfully aware of how uncomfortable he was with the lingering end of the conversation and his quality of hygiene. Forcing himself to dismiss his growing discomfort, he turned on his heel and took long strides toward his own room.

He tried reminding himself that it was nothing more than a dream and a brief obstructive conversation; there was nothing of significance to dwell on. It was quite an unsuccessful attempt, however. It wasn’t the dream itself or even the nosey innocence of his padawan that perturbed Obi-Wan, but his reflexive emotional response and apparent inability to reroute his pattern of thought that alarmed him. He was attached to you more than any Jedi Master should ever be attached to anyone or anything, and far more than he would ever like to admit to himself. 

The gentle rap of his knuckles on the door dissolved his thoughts enough to set them aside for revisiting later in the day. With no response from the other side, he slid the door open just enough to glance at the edge of his bed where he noticed the lump of your feet still under the covers. When you didn’t move after he whispered your name, he opened the door wide enough to let himself slip through quietly and let it glide shut behind him. 

Obi-Wan found himself making his way to your side of the bed ever-so-stealthily as he could manage in order to make sure you were only sleeping. As he rounded the corner of the bed, drawing near enough to see your face, he felt his body relax involuntarily. To his relief, your chest rose and fell evenly beneath the plump warmth of his duvet. It was when he reached forward to press his hand to your forehead that he noticed you hadn’t moved but an inch or so from the position he had left you in last night. He didn’t doubt that you were exhausted enough to remain that still while sleeping. With no excessive warmth or any sweaty sign of fever, Obi-Wan felt comfortable allowing you a little more rest while he showered and donned fresh clothes. 

In his closet, he nabbed a clean set of traditional robes and undergarments without much thought for the routine of it all, apart from the one thing that was hardly usual; the soft and steady sound of your even breathing and the unfamiliar shape of your figure keeping warm beneath his covers. 

Obi-Wan was quick to finish his shower, letting the cool water cleanse his stress and grime away while being mindful of the minutes spent unable to reach you should you wake. He hardly finished lathering his soap before he let the jets rinse it from his skin, convinced he really only needed to dash the drowsiness from his senses rather than a thorough wash. He shuffled a towel through his mid-length hair, not even bothering to use the hair-drying device attached to the wall. He was content to deal with a damp head of hair given the present circumstances that required his attention. 

With his fresh garments and belt fastened, he tapped the panel by the doorframe which activated the locking mechanism, letting the door glide open with a hushed fshhh. His gaze set immediately upon the same lump beneath the duvet—with a brief pause, he could see your breathing was still steady—before he crossed over to the humble closet, discarding his used clothes through a laundry chute. In the brief seconds it took him to cross the room and reach you, a hundred and one thoughts rushed through his mind. 

Images he’d seen in his sleep flashed like vivid holograms while he anticipated the gentlest way to wake you and address the necessary tasks set before you. Obi-Wan didn’t want to disturb your rest, knowing the moment you woke up you would be flooded with the pain you’d been numb to while you slept. He could only assume how sore you must have become through the night, and if perhaps his meager remedies hadn’t done for you as well as he’d hoped they would, meaning the pain might be more severe today as the adrenaline had long left your senses.

He didn’t really know how to approach you as he stood there for a brief moment, pulling the covers back from your chin where you’d tucked them over your nose, cradled blissfully in warmth. There wasn’t exactly a surplus of situations where Jedi found themselves waking the very object of their—very forbidden—attachment as they curled themselves in the familiar haven of their own bedding. Nor especially when said attachment was teetering on the brink of vast discomfort with any slight adjustment made. 

He resolved to be as gentle as he could manage while waking you, hoping his soft tone and ghostly touches wouldn’t startle you. “(Y/n), it’s morning,” He whispered. “(Y/n)?”

Your expression contorted, your brows drawing together as your lips pursed briefly. When you just barely turned your head upward from the pillow for a brief moment, he noticed the bright red mark your hand had made from being pressed under your cheek all night. The imprints of his sheets ran along your forearms and neck, and he briefly wondered if he’d missed more of your wounds the previous night. He waited as you seemed to decipher whether the voice stirring you awake was a figment or truly there—the way one nearly nods off dismissively before they can be convinced to open their eyes and shuck off their blankets. 

“Come on,” He brushed a strand of disheveled hair from your cheek before peeling the duvet back entirely. “It’s time I take you to the infirmary.”

You groaned as you felt the warmth evaporate from your skin, the breeze of his movement sending goosebumps up your legs and arms. Thankfully, he hadn’t opened the blinds that concealed the wall-wide window directly across from you. What little sunlight that had begun to fade in from the opposite-facing horizon was already enough to make one feel as if they were staring into a star itself. 

When you tried to turn onto your back to pull yourself up, the soreness in your bruised abdomen and the all-encompassing throbbing from the cauterized gash in your thigh overwhelmed every one of your senses. For a split second, it was as though you forgot how to smell or breathe or see; all you could feel were the bruising abrasions, scrapes, and gashes that had been very humbly medicated the night before. The sharp hiss you sucked in must have been louder than you’d been able to notice—Obi-Wan was quick to reach forward and gently force you back down to your (or, his) pillow, slowing your trusting pace. 

“Can’t the infirmary come here?” Your whisper was strained as you tried to balance the rising pain by clenching your fists around wads of wrinkled sheets. 

“Afraid not,” He said, carefully unraveling the duvet from around your legs and depositing it in a lump on his preferred side. You heard vague instruction from him as he ever-so-carefully lifted your legs for you and turned you toward the bedside, guiding your feet onto the crushed texture of the carpeted floor. You didn’t see how he grimaced as he noticed the white bandages had turned dark crimson during the night. “You’re going to need a lot more than a check-up from a nurse droid, darling.” 

Darling?

You felt the mattress dip beside you as he positioned himself next to you, offering the support of his shoulder and right arm to provide the leverage you needed to stand. He’d said it so effortlessly, with such little hesitation. It made you wonder if, perhaps, he’d said it too quickly even for his own very strict verbal filter to sort it out—but the look of concentration on his face as he tried to narrowly avoid your wounds as his arm wound behind you told you he hadn’t even realized it. Or if he had, he was too concerned with the present situation to bother about it. 

The proximity you suddenly shared brought a faint wafting of floral musk to your nose. You opened your mouth to comment on it when he suddenly stood, lifting you up with him, and the wave of pain was once again deafening. Somehow, you felt worse now than you had before, like every little scrape and burn had been magnified and torn open even wider. 

You realized you were dizzy when you swayed away from him and his grip brought you back flushed against him. Little blue speckles of light fluttered across your vision. A long, deep breath and a series of patient blinking cleared most of them up—but every now and then you still noticed one or two in your peripheral vision. 

Obi-Wan seemed to notice; he didn’t force you forward until you were standing steadily enough to chance a step toward the door. The walk wasn’t so bad, except for the turn around the bed’s corner—something about the change in direction made you aware that the muscles in your thigh felt stiff, almost frozen, or even numb. 

Another step reminded you that it wasn’t numb. Definitely not numb. 

You could feel every strand of muscle beneath the scorched gash of mangled skin constrict and strain beneath the weight of your body. The ligaments of your knee felt bruised under the pressure, if that was even possible, like every other part of your leg was trying to make up for what the muscles in your thigh weren’t capable of doing at the moment. You did your best to keep your weight balanced on your other leg, utilizing Obi-Wan’s assistance more than you were sure he had bargained for.

“Did you shower?” You inquired, somewhere halfway between delirious and trying to distract yourself. “You smell lovely. I wager I don’t.” 

His chuckle reverberated against your side. He wasn’t about to tell you the detectable scent of his soap was so fragrant because he’d rinsed so quickly he’d probably left some remnant of a sud in his hair. “No one smells pleasant after near-death excursions to the underlevels. Or any excursion to the underlevels.”

His comment made you feel better about the stench you could vaguely pick up off of yourself. It wasn’t just the copper-twinged remnant of blood or the odor of your dried sweat and morning breath, but the smell of scorched flesh and fumes that clung to your hair and had seeped into the nightwear he’d given you. You smelled fresh off a battlefield, or, as he’d pointed out, fresh out of Lower Coruscant.

Your steps were slow and you were grateful that he didn’t rush you or lean out from under your very-dependent grasp. When you both stopped before the door, he didn’t even bother to use the pad or the indented handle but merely waved his hand—the one attached to the arm that was secured around your waist—to operate it. It glided open, bringing with it the stark contrast of the direct light of the sun. You winced, squinting as he half-supported, half-carried you through the living area and toward the shallow foyer where the main door was (the very same you had stumbled through only hours before). 

“Whoever it was tailing you last night would hopefully have had the common sense not to attempt an assassination on temple grounds once you managed to get yourself here,” He informed smartly, as though he’d been thinking this over very carefully in the last six or so hours, which you didn’t doubt he had. “And if they didn’t, they’ll be in custody by now.”

You didn’t bother to argue and, in all honesty, you didn’t have the mental capacity to worry about whoever else had been chasing you before you’d fumbled up the steps to the temple’s expansive living quarters. Thinking of it now, it probably hadn’t been your best idea to lead an obvious assassin to your home—but the only thing on your mind last night, the only person that came to mind in the numbing frenzy of it all, was Obi-Wan. 

Groggily, you were aware that he had called for Anakin and what you assumed were words of quick explanation being exchanged, but you didn’t hold onto any of their words. You could hear them, of course, and you were conscious, but quite literally every tangible thought you could currently manage was poured into staying upright and somehow making it to the infirmary. 

The kshhh of the main door brought your gaze upward again, away from your bowing feet. You lamented the absence of your strength. Where had the tolerance gone that you had held so tightly to the previous night? Where had your resolve disappeared to? 

“Do you think you can manage the stairs? I can arrange for transport as soon as we step outside.”

They loomed before you, antagonizing the dizziness muddling your depth perception. He held tighter to you when he felt you lean forward a little too far. You felt his gaze pierce your left cheek as you stared down the wide flight of steps. They were just stairs—stairs you’d walked a hundred times before—but now they stretched out like a slippery chasm. 

How on earth had you run up these stairs mere hours ago?

“I could carry you if that would make this easier—”

“No.” Absolutely not. “I can do it.”

And you did do it, remarkably enough, until you collapsed at the bottom of the stairs in an apologetic heap of bloodied numbness. There was a hand to your cheek and the scent of his floral soap right under your nose again—the texture of his robes pressed against your skin as he held you flushed against his chest, crouched on the marble floors, and the jumbled urgency in his voice as he barked orders into his commlink. 

You felt weightless at one point, as though you’d been lifted off the ground in a frenzy of rushed conversation. Some vague part of your mind, the little consciousness you had left, noted the feel of the frigid metal of a medical transport when your clammy skin flattened against it. There was the sensation of someone else’s warmth in the palm of your hand.

The hours spent in the infirmary passed like a brief, dark void of tampered consciousness. The sedatives the medical droids and specialists had given you worked quickly and efficiently, putting you under before you’d even had the chance to worry about what they’d be doing to you or how much it would hurt. Thankfully, you felt nothing more than vague movement and the tinkering of metals and droidspeak, fuddled with groggy dissonance. 

Obi-Wan stood in the adjacent observation room, fists clenched together at his back, watching pensively as his makeshift bandages were cut loose from your flesh and the horrific aftermath of your excursion was visible again. The blood you had lost during the night was nothing short of alarming. Even as the gauze was peeled carefully from your flesh, the crimson moisture quickened once again, just as it had the night before. A tight knot in his stomach formed with ferocity—like someone’s hand had reached inside him and yanked at his gut. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubbed against the tips of his fingers where your blood had stained his skin.

He waited there for little more than an hour, his mind burdened with the gore of your flesh and blood, until one of the droids came to inform him that you were in a stable condition and it was only a matter of time for recovery. You would heal from your injuries, although several of them would leave scars on the marred layers of your skin, and there was speculation that the wound to your thigh would render your muscles partially ineffective even after you’d healed. 

“Partially ineffective?” Obi-Wan questioned. Sometimes he wished droids would speak more clearly and with less need for very vague explanations. But maybe that was simply his frustration and his shock confusing the words he was hearing, and not really any fault of the droid. 

“That is to say immobilized, sir. There was extensive and irreparable damage done to her rectus femoris, a muscle that is directly attached to the hip and is responsible for the movement of the knee.”

Obi-Wan swallowed the mass rising in his throat, the stinging threat of remorse. “She’ll be unable to bend her leg?” 

“In short, that is the conclusion of our analysis. There is a chance, however, that the leg will not be rendered entirely inoperable, so long as the patient undergoes physical therapy after her wounds have healed and the risk for blood loss has subsided. Certain treatments will make mobility somewhat feasible, but not definitive. It can be assumed that mobility aids should be considered.”

“Could this—could this have been prevented if she’d been brought here sooner?”

“The measure of time in which she was brought here is irrelevant in relation to the wound’s permanence. The damage was done upon impact from the particular weapon and range at which the device was detonated.” 

For the first time in nearly five years, Obi-Wan felt sheer fury broiling beneath the surface of his stern expression, bubbling up to his chest like little air bubbles in a carbonated drink. The last time he’d felt this urge to fume and seethe, his eyes had been locked onto the yellow-gold orbs of Darth Maul as he stepped over the corpse of Qui-Gon Jinn. He’d felt, at that moment, what it was to thirst for bloodshed, to want to take a life. 

And now he felt what it was to desire retribution; for what had happened to you, for the blatant disregard of the council and their skewed priorities, for the permanence of your injuries that should never have happened in the first place. You should never have been alone on a mission like that, not with the way things had been turning up in relation to the crime syndicates and their far-reaching alliances. Not alone, not misinformed of what you might be walking into. 

And had the council even been made aware of what had transpired in the last twelve hours? Had they even inquired of their own volition about your whereabouts, the progress of your mission, or if you’d even made it back alive? Or were they nose-deep in senate affairs that the Jedi were not even supposed to be meddling with in the first place? 

Obi-Wan sucked in a deep breath and held it for a moment. He calmed his thoughts, sorting them in his mind like archives of information. Folding his arms over his chest, he pinched the bridge of his nose as he released the air from his lungs slowly. Walking hot-headed into the High Council’s Chamber with a mind muddled with anger and growing resentment would get him nowhere—in fact, it would only earn him unsolicited advice on how to better manage his emotions. 

But he couldn’t help but feel angry…and even somewhat hurt. 

Since when did the Jedi set aside compassion and connection with each other for the approval of senators and the accomplishment of political foreign affairs? How were they supposed to help heal the galaxy if they could not even protect each other from the horrors lurking in Coruscant itself? If they were so heavily influenced and, by association, distracted by politics and favor?

Obi-Wan cleared his throat and opened his eyes again. You were still unconscious on the exam table, your vitals being monitored through blinking lights, a nurse droid standing over you in watchful anticipation. There was something ironic about the scene before him—the diligence of the droids and how quickly they’d repaired and assessed the damage done to your body, how little they haggled with each other to ensure the quality of your treatment. 

And yet, where was the Jedi Council at present? 

Oblivious and in denial, seemingly without a care for anything—or anyone—presiding beyond the walls of the temple and the Senate Rotunda. 

Obi-Wan wasn’t alone in what he was feeling—he could sense the discomfort swelling within your mind as he’d brought you here, a discomfort that spanned beyond physical impairment. He could feel it even now, swarming within your subconscious as you lay there idle. You felt betrayed by the council, by the men and women who were appointed to govern the affairs of the Jedi with wisdom and careful consideration. You felt abandoned in the circumstances that had brought you here.

Your situation was nothing short of simply being tossed into the undercity like bait to a pack of ravenous massiffs. What other outcome had the council expected? That you would miraculously defend yourself against a hive of bounty hornets? Unlikely. 

There were others, too, that had begun to disapprove of what the Jedi was becoming. Other masters, guardians and knights, and even the youngling caretakers, conversed in murmurs about the almost militia-grade alterations being made within the Order in the last several years. Guardians turned into assassins; peacekeepers into soldiers. Lately, it was as common to lose a fellow Jedi as it was to hear of an ill-fated street fight in Lower Coruscant, and sometimes the two incidents even correlated. The term “expendable” had been muttered among these questioning voices. 

“Master Kenobi?” The same droid questioned. 

Obi-Wan’s attention whipped into focus. “Ah—yes—pardon?”

“It will be some time before the sedatives wear off completely, sir. Would you like to wait here until Master (L/n) is released from our care? A refreshment droid can be summoned to suit any supplementary needs you may require.”

Obi-Wan glanced back through the viewport. Your eyes were still shut and your expression blank. He fought the intrusive thought that this might be what it would be like to see you lifeless rather than unconscious—dead and beyond saving. His gaze fell upon the droid again. 

“I have something that’s just come up,” Obi-Wan informed the droid. “I would like to be informed if she wakes. Or if there are—...any other complications.”

“Of course, sir. You will be notified immediately.” 

Obi-Wan paused before the wide doorway of the High Council Chambers with that uneasy knot twisting deeper into his core. Before departing the infirmary, he had sent out an urgent summons for the members of council that were presently on-world to reconvene for an emergency conference. He’d skimped on the details deliberately, hoping the air of mystery would provide him with some time to prepare his words carefully. 

He had, of course, detailed in the summons that it had to do with your latest mission and the “state of Master (Y/n)’s current affairs” or some vague explanation as such. He hadn’t been quite sure what had left his mouth over the commlink—only that on the other side of the door looming before him were the very members of council who had nearly sent you to your death less than twenty-four hours prior. 

He wouldn’t walk in and stand before his fellow members of the council and conform to any sort of outrageous displays of emotion, no matter the state of his mind at present. No matter that part of his heart was lying dormant on an operating table with more wounds than freckles on her body, and a leg that might never bend again. 

From somewhere in his memory, your voice reverberated in his thoughts. Something you had said months, maybe years, ago. Something you’d murmured to him before crossing over the very same threshold he was hesitant to enter now after some other sour encounter off-planet or excursion-gone-haywire that you both had been leading. 

I’m going to need that dramatic flair of yours, Kenobi.

He found himself smiling with a ghost of a laugh on his lips as he recalled your need for his “dramatic flair”, which he remembered feeling quite offended by at the time (and further proving your point). You’d addressed the council about things similar to this before on so many occasions, he realized. Over the years, more and more mistakes kept being made at the cost of the Jedi Order and its devoted members, at the cost of people across the galaxy who truly needed help.

Younglings being sent out unprepared for the demand of off-world missions. Communications between worlds being interrupted by the Galactic Republic’s use of Jedi Order transmissions to call in favors. Dozens of Senate errands being disguised as “urgent inter-sector negotiations”. The council rushing through briefings and forgoing vital intelligence in the process. 

And now, sending Jedi on impromptu missions unprepared and isolated to be nearly slaughtered by bounty hunters and scummy syndicate associates, of all nominal creatures.

A Jedi was lying in an infirmary with wounds marring her flesh like the vines grappling to the surface of the temple shrines, with a leg that might never mend; a Jedi who’d devoted her life to the Order and had such profound loyalty that she’d spent the previous night defending the very council that had failed her. Someone very dear to him—someone who held his heart in her hands like a jogan fruit ripe for devouring. 

But of course, to the seemingly detached members of the council, he worried this matter might be regarded as just another unfortunate happenstance, another incident insured by the risky statistics of the trade. It was just like you’d told him last night; this was the life of the Jedi, in which nothing is guaranteed or promised, not even life itself. 

It was your job to risk your safety for the betterment of others, for those in need—but why did it feel as though you were risking death more often than just a few scrapes and recoverable injuries? If life was so sacred, so revered and cherished, then why had you stumbled home with death in your gaze? Why was there presently an outcry of desertion among his peers? 

Obi-Wan shifted on his feet, glancing up at the shadows woven between the temple’s architecture. Part of him felt as though he were a stranger in these halls as of late. Something had shifted in the Order in the last few years, something he’d not been able to put his finger on; neglect of devotion, a vague detachment in fellowship. He didn’t feel safe anymore, he didn’t feel connected to those around him. The thread that bound the Jedi together felt frayed in some sense he had yet to fully recognize. 

He was disappointed in himself that it had taken your brush with death to put a more concentrated effort into discerning these crises. Not yet a council member himself, it was difficult for Obi-Wan to present his concerns without the implied superiority of his wiser leaders. Many issues brought to the attention of the council were either dismissed or dealt with privately after being brought to their attention. Of course, Obi-Wan wasn’t one to allow his pride to affect his trust in others…but that sentiment of blind trust dissipated the moment he’d nearly lost you due to the same negligence. 

If your injuries alone weren’t enough to open the council’s eyes to what the Order had become, he was going to need that dramatic flair of his to offer some clarity to their blinded perspectives.

tags:  @alex12948 @rubygraves113 @obii-waan-kenobii @rootsec @yana-versio​ @tessaem @izbelross​ @beakami​

#obi wan kenobi #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi-wan x reader #kenobi x reader #obiwan x reader #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obiwan kenobi x reader #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #Ewan McGregor imagine #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #star wars #star wars x reader #star wars imagine #extendinghospitalityparttwo #extendinghospitality

[vgilantee]

okay i have another idea that i want to write but can't at the moment so instead have been daydreaming about it and am sharing. it's codywan x reader. throuple shi (but before obi is added):

medic!reader (no surprises here) gets commed by general kenobi after he comes back from a mission with the 501st. they've just gotten off shift and tell him to just go to the medbay if he needs medical assistance, but he pleads and his voice is so strained that they give in. on the way they pass by cody and tell him to come with because if the general is so hurt that he's voluntarily getting medical assistance, there's something seriously wrong.

cody is told to wait outside, just in case, and the reader comes in to see a feverish obi-wan, laying sweating on his bunk heaving breaths.

blah blah plot, turns out on the mission, obi-wan was exposed to a neurotoxin that works very similar to an aphrodisiac! basically sex pollen but more sciencey. the reader doesn't realise this at first though, and they place their hand on his forehead to take his temperature and obi-wan whines at the contact. like whimpers out the most sexual, pained noise.

blah blah blah MORE PLOT, cody is invited in to help the reader take care of the general, who ends up in the middle of the afab!reader and cody

(slightly more graphic nsfw under the cut)

like at first while cody strips his armour, the reader is just playing with obi-wan's cock. spitting on it and massaging his thighs and taking their sweet time dragging their hands and tongue across his aching red cock.

and eventually, the reader is on their back on the bunk, obi's cock so thick inside them, while the pace is entirely controlled by cody as he thrusts into obi-wan. and the entire time obi is just whining and muttering and thanking the pair, and the reader is praising how good he's doing, how good he feels, how they know the neurotoxin hurts but he's doing so well. and cody's grunting and making comments on how he can't believe that the general is cock-drunk and pussy-drunk and how much is suits him to be so fucked out and taken care of hehehehehe

@rain-on-kamino you're going to forever be tagged in my brain rambles and star wars bs until you tell me to stop, and i know that cody is my love, and idk how you feel about obi-wan but but but i still wanna share

#char rambles #char writes #˚:✧｡• commander cody #˚:✧｡• obi wan kenobi #˚:✧｡• smut warning #obiwan x reader #commander cody x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x reader x commander cody #i fell bad for tagging this properly and not just blog org tags but...