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babypinkhearts · 4 months

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spare me this - anakin skywalker

pairing: anakin skywalker + fem!reader

summary: the council assigns you on a deathly solo mission, forbidding anakin to join you.

warnings: angst (i don’t know what is wrong with me!! i am addicted to writing it now), mentions of injury and death, anakin is so sweet and sosososo in love it’s almost pitiful, fluff

a/n: i feel like i put a part of my soul in this. i feel so drained but finishing this feels SO rewarding. another day for firsts! this is my first time writing for anakin, or anything star wars related :) this has been sitting in my drafts for MONTHS. i figured, while i still feel motivated to write, let me finish this!!! hope you all enjoy <3 i loved writing it

“three days.” you repeated faintly.

you disliked how quiet anakin was at times. it often left you more troubled than relaxed.

you frowned when he didn’t look at you from his stubborn stare at the ceiling. sighing softly, you mimicked his eyes and looked upwards, your neck rested against the headboard of the bed.

“we will come back victorious, and we will be right here. together again.”

the night before your mission’s departure, you slept in anakin’s room. it would have been much easier to ignore him, act like he didn’t exist for a while. the two of you were far too dependent on one another. the love sometimes felt overwhelming.

however, anakin’s fear was far too evident. it was strong - too strong to the point where you genuinely believed someone else could detect it. you decided that if you could soothe his worries, he’d be relieved of his thoughts.

but anakin didn’t speak. he refused, and his body simply forbid him from trying. not a touch or word was directed at you. it had almost been an hour of pure silence.

unbeknownst to you, there was a helpless feeling of uncertainty that anakin could clearly sense from you. that was what was driving him crazy.

bloodshed was a promise, you already knew it. your master had spoken grimly about the mission, and it was anakin who realized - much quicker than you - that this battle would not end seamlessly.

there was a large, if not, inevitable chance of you coming back alarmingly injured.

you were calculated, strong, and reliable. it was you who the council had chosen to lead the mission.

they were selfish, anakin believed.

“obi-wan knows this will kill me.”

anakin bleakly spoke, his voice muffled by the blanket he had brought up to his face. you decided against expressing your surprise to the sound of his voice.

while obi-wan had no idea about the true nature of your relationship with anakin, he was aware that you served as each other’s weaknesses. jedi code called for the banishment of any attachments, though obi-wan knew he himself had begun to break them when he started to form a brotherly bond with his once-padawan. he held no room for judgement.

while you hadn’t spent nearly as much time with him as anakin had, you felt very fond of him. there was a certain soothing atmosphere that only seemed to arrive in his presence.

secretly, obi-wan had pulled you aside mere hours after your mission was announced. his voice was low as he spoke, and he had gently held your arm the entire time.

“you come back within your scheduled arrival, and everything will be fine. i cannot promise you we will be at ease if you take longer.”

and, of course, through unknowing ears this was a simple comment - a statement of encouragement, really. but it was a completely different story when you could see the true intentions in his words.

anakin would not be at ease, is what he had wanted to say.

and obi-wan was right. from the moment you explained your mission to anakin, he had gone silent. you had been in your room, slowly walking in circles as you counted the tasks you were required to fulfill on your journey.

you hadn’t noticed how awfully pale your jedi had become.

now in present, you realized he had never left his stage of shock.

anakin hated this. he hated how guilty he felt for the resentment he had towards your capabilities. you had impressed the council too much, and it had put you in a dangerous position. he hated how careless you tried to sound, and he hated how you only gave the reply of “yes, master” when being told the instructions of your suicide mission. most importantly, he hated how he was forbidden to join you.

“how do i live? how do i function when you could be dead at any moment?”

you froze, eyes widening.

anakin’s words were cold, and you fought the urge to feed into his frighteningly grim thoughts.

pursing your lips briefly, you forced a smile, brushing back his hair from his forehead. anakin was laying on his back, eyes still narrow and focused upwards. you tried to keep the mood light, attempting to add a little amusement to calm the tense atmosphere his question had made.

“we’re both aware i’m capable enough to handle myself. i used to beat you during training, and i saved you from-“

your playful smile faded, and you gave up talking once you realized he had started to look up at you.

anakin knew you were strong. he didn’t need to hear your reassurance, especially when he knew even you were undoubtedly terrified.

for a while, he just stared at you. it wasn’t intimidating - he could never direct an emotion like that at you - but you felt exposed, almost as if you should shield your face.

anakin felt troubled, trying to piece together all his discomforting emotions clearly. to have you so close seemed to be a punishment. you shouldn’t be here. he shouldn’t be seeing the worry in your eyes, or watching the slight furrow of your brows. although, there was something so beautiful about your concern. he wasn’t made to feel these kinds of emotions, especially ones that one mere person could provide.

for a moment, he wished he didn’t know you. selfishly, he knew that would relieve him of the pain.

“anakin,”

his name that only ever sounded right when you said it.

“what’s the matter, ani?”

there were no protests made when you moved closer to him. the security and serenity he felt with your arms around him made it feel impossible to refuse.

anakin trusted you with his life. he’d give you his life in a heartbeat. he’d do anything for you. and yet - why couldn’t you help him believe you would be okay on this mission? it was cruel, picking on his one and only weakness. his heart, which you held so effortlessly. his mind consisted of you, you, you.

with a shaky sigh, he spoke.

“you’re scaring me.” he quietly admitted.

his eyes were glossy, nearing a depressive red. his stare was piercing. you weren’t sure you wanted his attention anymore.

confused, though mostly alarmed, you continued to look back at him. scaring him?

“you think you’re going to die, don’t you?”

your eyes widened, and suddenly you felt very vulnerable being in front of him.

“anakin - what?” you stumbled out, shaking your head in surprise. he couldn’t be serious. you attempted to talk, reassure him that you would be fine, but his gaze was unfocused. he didn’t want to listen to your futile words. anakin knew you better than anyone else.

“please, do not lie to me.” he whispered, and in that particular moment, you had never seen him so small. “spare me that.”

anakin skywalker, the reckless jedi who consistently charmed his way through trouble. someone who was so spontaneous, yet brilliant.

love kept him going. it wasn’t unrequited. he knew that more than anything. love got him up in the morning. love was adrenaline. love was everything and so much more.

he couldn’t bare losing it.

“i-“ you shook your head again, pausing briefly to lay beside him. a hand was placed on his cheek, and you caressed his face gently.

anakin’s eyes closed, and once more he felt a wave of anger pass through him. he hated the council, he hated the jedi. he hated everything to do with this. they were trying to take you from him. your sweet touches, your soft voice, your caring nature. he felt so bitter it hurt.

you pursed your lips, letting a sigh escape you.

“i will tell you this.“ you whispered, cupping a hand around his soft face. “i am scared. i act like i am not because that is what i must do.”

for the past couple of hours, anakin had assumed that hearing you admit your fear out loud would put his mind at ease. maybe, if you admitted you weren’t invincible, he could convince you to take extra care of yourself.

but your words had the opposite effect on him.

you were scared. and he wouldn’t be there to help.

“i cannot promise you i’ll be unscathed, anakin, but i can promise that i will come back to you.”

it took everything in you to not break in front of him.

you forbid him from continuing the conversation further after that.

when the morning you had dreaded arrived, you silently awaited for a signal on your commlink to commence your departure.

you had left anakin, quietly pleading for him to stay optimistic during your absence. he had helped you get dressed. his touch was like a feather, gently escorting you to a hell you could only hope would be generous to you.

weapons were hidden under your robes, as usual. two lightsabers, because you had learned from anakin years ago that an extra could never hurt.

you couldn’t help but wonder if he felt possibly felt guilty.

anakin had trained you, hoping that an increase in your skill would payoff on the battlefield to solely keep you safer when he wasn’t around.

but you had surpassed his expectations. and now, you were in this position.

it had been an honor to be praised so highly. though, you quickly found that, in reality, it was not something to completely look forward to. anakin’s worry being the main reason.

when your commlink finally sounds off, you waste no time in leaving.

three days, you had claimed to anakin.

when you finally return, a week had gone by.

and just like you had repeated to anakin so many times before - you were victorious.

though, not unscathed.

“medical-“ you breathed heavily, your hand glued to your side as you stepped out of your starfighter, your heart pounding in upmost fear as you realized your vision had begun to blur.

you couldn’t tell who grabbed you first. it wasn’t anakin, you knew that by muffled noise of calm reassurance. if anakin were here, he would have the entire building burned to the ground in seconds. if it weren’t for the excruciating pain you felt everywhere, you could have chuckled at the thought.

“requesting medical attention - yes, this is urgent.”

blinking as quickly as you could, which looked evidently labored, you watched as obi-wan spoke through his commlink.

yours had broken days ago, leaving you stranded with no communication. retreating was never an option in your mind, and you stupidly had fought until your mission had succeeded.

the consequences of your actions truly haunted you as you were lifted on to a table, the strong scent of medication telling you that, yes, your wound was as bad as it felt, if not worse.

and finally, the mask put over your mouth lulled you to a more painless state of sleep.

upon the first few seconds of opening your eyes, you tried to immediately close them again.

of course, anakin was right next to you.

you heard him jolt in his seat, repeatedly calling your name as if you would die if he stopped. his voice sounded hoarse. gently, you reached your arms out, silently begging for him to touch you. you needed his embrace. you can not have gone through all this effort for nothing. he was why you had tried so hard to survive. without a word, anakin complied to your silent request. his hands cupped your face, while yours did the same to him.

his chest was shaking with uneven breaths.

“i made it back - just like i said, right?” you spoke quietly, smiling through a wince. joking was never the way to handle serious situations with anakin, but fuck, you really couldn’t handle how broken he looked.

he didn’t smile. he hadn’t taken your eyes off of you, almost as if you would disappear the second he looked away.

“don’t ever do this to me again.”

you quickly stopped speaking at his tone. unstable and hurt. you can’t promise that to anakin. it would be selfish. you help people - your mission had hopefully saved thousands. what is one life to lose if it can save so many more? you’re skilled, why not use your potential for something extraordinary?

“leave the order with me.”

your eyes widen, bigger than you mean them to.

“i-i can’t do that.” you reply immediately, shaking your head in his gentle grasp. leaving the order was nearly unspoken of - all of these years training, dedicating your life - what would it have been for? you can’t leave. people need you - the galaxy needs you.

you would have anakin, but could you live with yourself? all these years, you’ve been taught to be selfless, so why is anakin proposing such an idea?

you’re sure he can see the conflict on your face.

“you almost died.”

his bluntness forces to you remember the stinging pain on your side. you shake your head.

“that’s a part of the job.” you speak firmly. “i would be injured a hundred times over if it meant someone won’t be.”

anakin immediately lets go of your face.

“listen to me,”

it’s nearly a full-body sob, and you watch as he stands straighter, attempting to compose himself.

you feel your heart drop to your stomach.

“you’re hurting me - i don’t care if i’m being selfish! i love you. i love you more than anything, and i know i cannot live without you.”

anakin skywalker’s love for you was almost pitiful. he himself nearly couldn’t stand it. how can one person cause so much heartache? why is it possible to care for someone as much as he does for you? his outburst was childish, and he’s aware. but he needs you to see him, so raw, so authentically. maybe if you could see the pain he was in, you would spare him more easily.

“anakin…” you whispered, so quietly you almost doubted he heard you.

the reality was, you tended to push anakin away. you were hesitant to love him. you felt greedy whenever you allowed yourself to love him so deeply. you were meant to serve others, not have feelings of your own. anakin was your weakness, and that scared you more than anything. if you were going to be powerful enough to save millions, it would be foolish to have a flaw.

but, clearly, anakin didn’t care about weaknesses. he had you, and loved you with open arms, and despite this, he preformed better than you in nearly everything. how does he manage?

“i love you too much.” his voice was defeated, and the anger he had previously held dissipated. “obi-wan saw me sulk after the three days. he stopped me from seeing you when you arrived.”

you nodded slowly. it made sense, you couldn’t imagine the scene that would have occurred if it had been anakin carrying your half-conscious body. anakin skywalker reacted according to his feelings. he was spontaneous.

you sighed quietly.

“i would never leave the order, anakin. i wouldn’t be able to live with myself.” you spoke, and winced as you visibly saw him tense.

you had to be honest with him.

reaching a hand out, you grabbed his, gently interlocking your fingers.

“but, i can promise you that i will never take a mission like that. it was reckless, i know. i’m so sorry.”

he didn’t speak, taking a seat on your bed.

he was unsatisfied, you knew that.

but you couldn’t change the entire trajectory of your life for him just because he worries you’ll get hurt. it would be wrong, and you know, though he won’t say it out loud, anakin agrees with you.

he allows himself to give into desires. it’s not because he feels he’s “deserving” of them, but because it’s something that comes so natural to him. so why must it be wrong to love you?

anakin is confident with your abilities. he knows how strong you are. but it’s second-nature for him to worry. you’re something so precious to him in this world of despair.

so he’ll stay silent and let you do whatever you please. he cannot hold you back, and he’s now painfully aware of it. but, he can help you.

more trainings, better advice, and more time.

you have each other, and he is satisfied with that forever.

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euphoriacafe · 2 months

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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make-me-imagine · 11 months

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Worth Saving

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

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Gn!Reader

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

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

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

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

Words: 2.3k

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

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

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

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

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

"Don't get your hopes up."

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

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

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

"Damn"

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

"Y/n? What is it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I found a bunch of data drives"

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

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

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

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

"There they are!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where are you?"

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

"How are your injuries?"

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

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

"Not good."

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

"Obi-Wan, don't"

"Don't what?"

"Don't come for me."

"What are you talking about?"

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

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

"You mean you're not worth it?"

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

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

Your silence told him exactly what he already knew.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Anything to make you stay"

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

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

"Y/n? Y/n!"

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

"Y/n?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

--- --- ---

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

"Don't go Y/n."

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

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

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

No. Not yet.

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

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

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

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

He smiled softly "Of course I did."

"Even though I told you not too."

"Yes"

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

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

"And you did hold on."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

xx End xx

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

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @rexit-mo, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry

Star Wars & Obi-Wan Taglist: @hoeforthefictional, @asgardianhobbit98, @agent-catfish-kenobi, @maellem, @locke-writes, @stargirl-05, @linkxneptune, @skylions-den, @sardonic-the-writer, @emptyflowerpots, @hoodedbirdie, @gatefleet

#obi wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #star wars #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi/reader #star wars x reader #star wars/reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan kenobi oneshot #obi wan kenobi one shot #obi wan kenobi angst #star wars oneshot #star wars one shot #star wars angst #star wars imagine #obi-wan x reader

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athenaluthor · 3 months

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Darth Vader

husband!vader series:

i. the beginning (fluff, slight angst)

ii. living daylights (18+)

iii. hesitation (fluff,18+)

snippets

i. past time (18+)

Obi-Wan Kenobi

one shots:

spring (fluff, tooth-rotting fluff)

banners/dividers by @cafekitsune

#anakin skywalker x reader #darth vader x reader #anakin skywalker #darth vader #hayden christensen #vader x reader #star wars #fluff #angst #obi wan kenobi #pregnant

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skyebounded · 11 months

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What’s Right, is Wrong.

.Masterlist. .Starwars Masterlist.

premise: You wanted it all, and now you are realising that it might not be possible, and you need to tell Anakin.

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader

warnings: angst, smut, p in v, fingering? overstimulation, semi-public smut, sexual themes, etc. I don’t know at this point.

wc: 4.3K

a/n: I read over it like once, so there is that. Also, this is my first time writing for him so if it’s not good, apologies.

It was a mistake, falling for him. You had dedicated your life to the order, years of training and devotion all so that you could help bring balance, and all they asked of you was to remain free of any personal attachments, and you failed. You knew the moment you had met Anakin, with his charm and , that it would always prove difficult to keep to the laws bestowed upon you.

You had spent years with him, growing, learning, training, and after all that time, he wore you down. Leading you to wonder constantly what the things that were so blatantly forbidden to you, would be like, and eventually, you broke as did he, Unable to keep yourself from wanting him, needing him. In the worst possible ways he consumed you, made you weaker than ever before. You couldn’t go on like this, you just couldn’t.

You had no idea what Senator Amidala was saying to you, despite its importance, you had checked out, your mind distant, stuck with the tall handsome Jedi that owned your mind, body, and soul. She hadn’t seemed to notice, and perhaps it was because you found the room to occasionally nod and make other gestures that you were taking in everything that she was saying, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. It was a blessing that she hadn’t sought any responses from you, before she had left, leaving you alone with your thoughts and some surrounding padawans.

If you closed your eyes now you could still feel his fingers, feather-light on your naked skin, body pressed against yours, sweat riddled and tired, but unrelenting, his arms wrapped around you in an attempt to keep you from disappearing from his grasp. The tired, unhurried thrusts as he rocked his hips against your own, helping you to find that state of utter bliss that only he could give you. And then there was the imprint of his plush lips down your neck, spine, sternum. His mark, permanently branded on you.

The chatter of the room had fallen to just above a whisper as Anakin stormed into the room, crossing it in three large strides. His strong hand wrapped around your arm as he pulled you slightly into him.

“May I have a word with you?” he hissed, raising his brows as if to stress urgency over his request. He didn’t seem to care just how many people were surrounding you or even looking at you, nor the person that you had been speaking to at that moment. Whatever was on his mind was clearly more important, and you had the strongest urge that you knew exactly what it was.

You exchanged a quick glance with the padawan you had been talking to before Anakin had pulled you off with him, out of the room and into the desolate hallway out of earshot as he pushed you up against the nearest wall. His tall frame looming over your much smaller one, as he looked down at you, eyes desperately searching yours for the sole reason he sought you out. If this had been a different situation, you could have almost guaranteed that you would have folded right then and there. Staring back at him, you suddenly found it much harder to keep your eyes on his, though they were full of confusion and some well-hidden pain, and you couldn’t fully blame him for it.

“Ani-” you started, finding it harder and harder to find the words to explain to him just why you couldn’t do this anymore. The arrangement, the understanding had simply been ‘try it once, and then we’re done’ and after once, it turned to twice, and so on. Living for the moments that you could shut yourselves away in a dimly lit room, with no prying eyes, completely engulfed in each other. But it became an addiction, lying awake thinking about him and only him.

“Why did you leave?” he cut across you, ignoring the way his name fell from your lips in such a soft and delicate way. He didn’t have the time for your excuses, whether they were logical and well-reasoned or not. He only needed the truth, the unfiltered and undeniable truth. He thought he knew the reason, but he wanted you to look him in the eyes and tell him why, tell him that you didn’t want this anymore, whatever it was, not the fucking note that you left thinking it would be sufficient enough for him. You had never been so wrong about something in your life.

One of his hands was firmly pressed against your abdomen, holding you in place in case you got the sudden urge to run from him like you had done earlier, he couldn’t risk it this time.

“Why?” he prodded, and you felt that shift in energy, something more compelling and urgent. You cast your eyes down, taking a deep bated breath as you tried to search for the words.

“Anakin, we can’t, we can’t do this and you know it. It’s wrong, forbidden-” you explained, gesturing towards the room where you had just come from as if to better help explain your point, but Anakin couldn’t see it, he wouldn’t.

“If it is so wrong then why doesn’t it feel that way? It feels right, beyond right, and I know you know that.” Anakin argued, the vein in his neck growing more prominent, as he clenched his jaw, trying to calm himself. His eyes were fluttering between your own, watching closely for any indication that you understood, agreed with him, his brows creased in determination as his hand moved to caress your hip, gently lifting up your robe just enough for him to make contact with your skin.

He was right about one thing, it had never felt more right than to be with him, consumed by him and everything he did. Every fibre in your body calling for him every waking moment, desperate for his touch, his presence, like if you didn’t get it you would surely go insane. To have your mind plagued by the very thought of him, finding yourself counting down the minute until you could see him again, feel him, taste him. The mere thought of him, a disruption to your existence. It was to the point of total madness, and not a single second of it felt wrong, or like it should be forbidden, and yet it was. That’s what they had told you, that's what you had spent all those years knowing, practicing, preaching.

You had slipped up, catching yourself wanting something that you couldn’t have, like a piece of forbidden fruit that had been dangled in your face, and Anakin had been nothing shy of happy to oblige, only wanting the same thing. You had both failed, getting so caught up in the feeling, the need and want, that you couldn’t stop, couldn’t resist. With every encounter, it became harder to see reason, to see where the true problem lay, and even now, even now you weren’t sure that you knew what the problem was.

You had spent the past few days fighting everything in you, telling you to go on, that nothing had to change or stop, but you couldn’t ignore that little part of you that screamed out that it was wrong.

“Anak-”

“You left me, with a note…A note? Is that really what it means to you, what I mean to you? Is that my worth, y/n?” His voice sounded broken like he was trying to keep it all together. If you reached out to him, you would be able to feel, sense his fear and anticipation. He was scared and confused. He couldn’t lose you, not when he had no reason to, it would tear him apart. It had been cruel of you, but in a split second, a moment of poor judgement, you panicked and did the only thing you could think to do. You left him alone with a simple note, and his thoughts, hoping that by some chance it would suffice. Guilt wracked you as you looked at him, that looming gaze filled with disappointment and betrayal.

“No, I-its just, I knew you would try and stop me, and you can’t, we can’t.”

You could see the rage bubbling inside of him, no matter what you said, did, he wasn’t going to see the problem, because to him it wasn’t a problem. He would instead abandon the Jedi than lose you, to lose what he had with you, and if that's what he had to do then he would, he didn’t care. You meant more to him, this meant more to him than everything else he had grown to know, love.

“What is so wrong about it?” He asked, his teeth clenched, “Nothing that we have done is wrong y/n? Nothing, it has only felt right, addicting..”

“Anakin, have you ever considered that this is the reason it is wrong?” you start, your features hardening under his blunt gaze. “I can’t get you out of my head, I can’t get the feeling of your hands on my body, your skin from skin, your taste from my tongue, and assuredly I cannot get the feeling of you consuming me from my soul. It's permanent! It doesn’t stop, day in and day out you are the only thing I crave. I don’t seem to care about much more, Anakin, not the things that I should care about, and that is where the problem lies. We have a goal, a purpose to serve and I can’t seem to find myself wanting anything to do with it anymore.” You could feel the way your eyes were prickling with emotion, your head reeling trying to make sense of it all, trying to convince yourself that what you were saying, that you needed to stop, was the right thing to do.

Anakin’s hand shifted just slightly, further up your shirt, his thumb soothing your skin with gentle massages, a gentle reminder of the way his hands felt upon your skin.

“And I see nothing wrong with that? There is nothing wrong with that, I-”

“Anakin, no,” you state plainly, seeing his brow twitch and his jaw clench.

His face contorted at your response, finding it harder and harder to make sense of it all. The truth was, he couldn’t, he couldn’t see your reasoning.

“Is that what you really want? Do you want to stop? I want the truth, I want to know what you really want, not what you think you should want. I need for you to tell me.” he explains, praying that you would tell him that you take it back, that you were scared and that was all.

The silence that fell over the pair of you was deafening, consuming both of you. You were holding your breath and you hadn’t even seemed to have noticed it, but he had. He felt drained, watching your eyes search his. There was no hiding the conflict in yours, he could see it, all he needed was for you to be honest with him.

You felt nothing but guilty as you looked at him, knowing the truth was, you didn’t want to stop, but more so that you had to. You had been foolish to think you could have it all, and it was all finally coming down. As you looked at him, his eyes pleading with you to give him the answer that he wanted to hear, you just couldn’t say goodbye to him, not yet. Ignoring every sensible thought that you had, you leaned up against him, brushing your lips against his neck, hesitating for a single moment before kissing his soft skin, clenching your eyes shut as you moved them down the side of his throat.

He couldn’t help but fall into place, hoisting you up into his arms, clumsily pushing you into the nearest empty room, backing you up against a sturdy wall. Small gasps like moans trickled from his lips as you continued your attack on him, sucking, biting, licking his skin until any type of mark blossomed. Your fingers curl into his hair, desperate to pull yourself closer to him, your body, firmer against his. Rolling your hips against him, all of the fabric of his robes, obstructing you from what you really needed, the friction that you so desperately craved. Groaning in frustration, he lowers you to the ground, pulling back from you the moment your feet touch down.

“Take these off..” He demands, something in his voice dripping with lust, as he reaches for his own hem to his pants, tugging them down, letting them fall to his ankles. You bite down on your lip, letting out the softest whimper as you catch sight of his cock, hard, thick, and leaking drops of precum. It takes nearly all of your willpower not to just drop to your knees, take it graciously into the palm of your hand, and let your tongue glide around it, licking up every little bead that formed and dribbled down his length, running your tongue over that prominent vein. He was staring at you, that look of pained authority on his face, as he waited for you to do as you had been told. “Now.”

You fumbled quickly with your trousers, pulling them off and kicking them aside, already long forgotten. He stared at you, knowing what this meant, what this gesture meant. After this encounter, it was done, left on both of you like a permanent stain. Anakin moved forwards, slotting his lips against yours, kissing you with such fervour and passion that your back and head hit the wall with a soft thump, his hands gliding up your inner thighs, feather-light touches. With each whine and whimper that left you, his hand came closer and closer to your aching cunt, his fingers gliding through your fold collecting every ounce of arousal that pooled between your legs, gently spreading it around as he slowly worked your clit, taking in your sharp gasps.

“Why would you want to stop this, when I can make you a mess with a few simple touches?” He murmured against your cheek, starting to leave his own trail of kisses on your delicate skin. “When you clearly crave me the same way I crave you…” he was talking to that part of you, the part that wanted him more than life itself. Appealing to it as best he could in hopes of changing your mind, making you see the reason that he dwelled on, and it was working. Anakin curled two thick fingers into your tight hole, smiling against the shell of your throat when you moaned deeply, your walls instantly clenching around his fingers as if they were begging him to never leave, and he could think of nothing more than the feeling of your soft walls milking his cock the way they had been his fingers.

“When I can make you feel this good?” Thumbing at your clit while he pumped his fingers inside of you, kissing down the side of your neck.

“Ani..” you mutter, not sure of what you intended to say. There was something about hearing his name on your tongue that drove him mad. Spoke to the most carnal parts of him, and then it was the way you spoke it so softly, like it was something so pure. He wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to let you go after this, he toyed with the idea of not allowing it at all but he couldn’t force you, he knew that. Anakin pulled himself from you, hand wrapping around his cock. Gliding the tip through your folds gathering your slick, watching your mouth fall open in anticipation, your fingers clawing into the fabric of his robes. Your eyes were pleading with him, begging him to fill you with every inch he had to offer, satisfying that feeling of emptiness that his fingers had left.

“Tell me what you want. Tell me and it's yours.”

Hard against your entrance, waiting for nothing more than the words to fall from your perfect lips, he stilled, his eyes searching yours for that familiar sense of warmth and invitation that they always held, and there it was, hidden behind the fear and longing. Pushing against you ever so slightly, the head of his cock now nestled into your aching cunt. He needed to hear it just as much as did, he needed for you to still want him and nothing more, he was desperate.

“you, Anakin, I need yo-”

It was more than enough, music to his ears as the words fell from your lips, almost like a prayer, and he couldn’t wait anymore. Anakin housed you up in his arms, pinning you against the wall once more, as he lined himself up to your entrance. His eyes met yours, searching for any sign of regret, finding none. With one snap of his hips, he forced the full length of his cock into your needy cunt, and with another, he had your head falling back against the wall, eyes clenched shut, as a deep breathy moan left your lips at the delicious stretch of him. His eyes consumed every expression that lined your features as he pulled out of you, watching that sense of panic over the thought of him leaving you empty and unsatisfied, only for him to sink back into your soaking pussy, causing you to let out nothing but pleasure-filled sounds. There was no holding back the particularly high-pitched moans that were being ripped from you, sounds that surely someone would hear if they walked by, with each precise thrust of his hips. Sounds that resided deep in your chest begging to break free.

He captured your lips, moans, and whimpers, in a clash of needy tongues, and teeth, silencing the flow of sounds that left you. He wanted to hear every blissful sound that you made at his expense, but he couldn’t risk someone coming in and stopping this moment, ripping it from him faster than it had begun. You wrapped your legs around his middle, craving even more, drunk on the feeling of how utterly full you felt, how deep his cock nestled inside of you, hitting that sweet spot as if he had known it his whole life.

“Why should we have to give this up….” He mutters through clenched teeth, his thrust becoming harder, “I won’t..I can’t..” he groans, burying his head into the crook of your neck, sucking at the delicate skin. He meant that. He would rather die than be without you and he needed you to know that. Your nails dug into his back, fisting at the fabric of his tunic that you wished wasn’t there, allowing you to feel his heated skin so perfectly pressed against yours. Clinging to him as each well-placed thrust forced you harder against the wall. He was the only thing you had to sturdy yourself.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours filled your ears, mixed with his desperate moans, and grunts, clouding your judgement rather quickly. Every word he said, every question he asked you, made you second guess. How could you want to give this up? The truth was, you didn’t want to, never. And even now, with him pressed deliciously against you, beads of sweat falling from his brow, while a thin film-like layer coats your skin, his cock so perfectly buried inside of you as if it was made for you, you couldn’t imagine being without him, and you knew that.

You wanted to tell him that you took it back, that you didn’t mean any of it, but you couldn’t seem to find the words. It’s like they were stuck in your throat unable to surface and all that came out was lewd sounds. Your fingers card through his hair, tugging on it so that he was staring up at you, his open mouth pressed against yours as you moaned into it, stealing kisses here and there. You urged him on, soft whine-like pleads and encouragement left you the quicker his pace came, his fingers gliding up your bare-tired thighs, to the apex of them, the spot where you needed him the most. Deft fingers flicked against your clit, as you took in sharp inhales of breath, as he drew tight and precise circles into it.

He treated your body as if he knew it, knew it better than you ever could, like he knew just what to do and when to do it, to have you melting like a puddle at his touch.

“Fuck, ani-“ you moan. There it was again, that beautiful sound of his name on your tongue, falling from it like it was sweet honey, urging him on, begging for more and more. His head falls forward, groaning deliciously at the way you took him so well. Good, so fucking good.

“The things you do to me, woman..” he groans, getting drunk on the way his cock dragged inside you, the perfect amount of friction for his head to fog. You felt that familiar coil of warmth settling in your lower abdomen, surging through you with each thrust. You were close, so utterly close. “Ani I’m close…just like tha-“ You couldn’t even finish the sentence before your climax burst through you. Your pussy spasms around his length, a soft submissive sob escapes you. Seeing you like this, feeling the way your walls clench around him, gave him a slice of madness, a need to pound into you at a faster speed, desperate to see you become a stuttering mess, begging for him to stop. Sound after sound, profanity after profanity left you, your body, torn between needing more of him, and yet not. Your fingers clawing into his shoulders. “Ani-” Your whimper of his name was nothing but breathy. You couldn’t think straight, all you could see was him, all you could feel and think was him and only him, as each pulsing wave of pleasure washed over you.

Anakin had no intention of letting you down too quickly, letting you catch a breath. Pushing you through your high, reviling in the way your body convulsed under his. Your head thrown back and eyes desperately clenched, your mouth hanging open and moaning after moan escaped you.

“Ani-s’too much…” you whine, feeling every nerve in your body sent into overdrive, every sense of yours flooded in nothing but overstimulating pleasure. Your legs shake around his body, your cunt fluttering around his length as he drills into you, swallowing up every delicious sound that leaves you. “Ani..ple-ease.” Anakin’s hand finds your chin, tilting it back down so that your face was level to his. His teeth tugging at your bottom lip.

“Not till I’ve had my fill of you..” he pants, tightening his grasp on you, pinning you even firmer against him and the wall as if you could go anywhere. You let out a soft whimper as yet another wave rushes over you, and you take to silencing yourself by catching him in a heated kiss, biting down on his lip a tad too hard, feeling that metallic taste of blood against your tongue, feeling that strange sense of satisfaction overhearing him groan rather loudly. You could feel him pushing you over the edge towards a second orgasm, but your mind and body were already starting to feel numb. Drunkenly hazy over the way he was determined to overstimulate you. His fingers were relentless against your tired and abused clit, surges of ecstasy rippling through the entirety of your body. You could hear him saying something, but you had no way of comprehending the words leaving him.

Anakin was reaching his end, his well-measured thrusts were becoming sloppy, but not once did they waiver in their mission. The only thing keeping him grounded was listening to the way you begged him, your body begged him for one more, but as your legs shuttered around him and your pussy clenched around him, he couldn’t help but spill into you. Warm thick ropes of cum soothing your abused walls, as he too shuttered, head buried into your chest, strings of profanities and praises leaving his lips like a prayer.

His hands squeezed your aching thighs, as you relentlessly tightened them around his waist, almost as if you didn’t want him to release you, to pull out of you. His pace slowed, thrusts becoming more like desperate spurts as he pulled yet another orgasm from you. His name falls from your lips as it spread throughout you. Anakin stilled inside you, listening to the sound of your stuttering heart, beating rapidly as it slowed back to its normal pace, while your fingers carded through his hair, in such a soothing manner. Neither one of you wanted to move, to come back to the crippling reality that you resided in. He could stay the way he was forever, blissfully wrapped up in your presence, and you, you could do the same. Feeling his warm protective body, holding you so desperately close.

After what felt like an eternity, he set you down, holding you up with a gentle squeeze of your hips. You didn’t dare look him in the eyes, knowing that if you did, you would crumble. You knew what you wanted, but as of right now, you could see no clear way of having it, not without surrendering everything else. You wanted nothing more than to say fuck it, give yourself over to him permanently, but you didn’t know how. How to let go and do just that. Pulling your pants back on and righting yourself, you take a deep bated breath. His gaze lingered on you, the painstaking look of loss on his features.

“Ani-I…I’m sorry…”

“I know..” he speaks, his voice breaking just a little.

You thought that perhaps you’d find your way back to him, and perhaps it would be sooner than you anticipated, falling back into the addicting pattern you had created, and maybe this time it would go further, but for now, you wouldn’t. Wiping the tears from your face, you take a long, painful look at him, before exiting the silent room, not daring to look back.

#Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker imagine #starwars #star wars #ani skywalker #anakin skywalker angst #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x reader smut #obi wan kenobi #starwars fanfic #anakin fanfiction #smut #angst

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cookybananas · 29 days

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This Wasn't The Plan (Former!Anakin Skywalker x Reader)

Angsty. Spoiler alert: main character dies

When an old friend reaches out to you asking for help, but the mission doesn't go as planned.

This is set 9 years after the events of Revenge of the Sith. Your former lover, Anakin Skywalker, has turned to the dark side and had become a Sith Lord by the name of Darth Vader. But you don't know that. You believed in Obi-Wan's lie that Anakin had died on Mustafar and that the Republic had fallen into the hands of the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious who had created the Empire. The hunt for surviving Jedi ensues. This forces you and Obi-Wan to go your separate ways and into hiding to protect yourselves from the inquisitors who are on the hunt for the both of you.

---

I packed some rations in my bag, the last thing I needed before heading out. I looked at my lightsaber that was on my bed, deciding if I should bring it or not. After putting some thought to it, I sigh to myself, clipping it to the belt of my old Jedi robe I was currently wearing. I set out to meet up with Obi Wan at the coordinates he had sent me. It had been 9 years since I had seen my good friend. I didn't think he would ever contact me again, especially through the force. But apparently this was an urgent matter.

Obi-Wan told me there wasn't much information given to him when he reached out to me. Apparently he had gotten a holographic message from an unknown individual, saying that there were some former Jedis needing our help on the planet of Kashyyyk. I was hesitant at first about the mission, but he convinced me to come along with him. Plus, it's not like I had anything better to do with my life. I was a scavenger, I tore apart ships and weapons from the Empire and resold the parts to make a living off of them. I didn't earn much, but it was enough to keep me alive.

The Jedi had fallen years ago from Order 66. My masters, my fellow Jedi who I had trained with, the younglings whom I taught, most of them didn't make it from the purge--they were all killed. Anakin, the love of my life was killed right before the Empire had rose to power, I lost my best friend; Padme. Obi-Wan and I had gone our separate ways and went into hiding. Just when we thought everything was going well at the time, that glory had dissolved as if it were nothing.

There have been many times I had cried myself to sleep at the thought of losing Anakin. Part of me still believes that he's alive somewhere in the star system and part of me wants to believe what Obi-Wan has told me; that Anakin is truly dead and that I need to move on to live for myself. As much as I wanted to reach out through the force to him, I couldn't. I was worried that an inquisitor was nearby and could sense me. Or worse, the belligerent Darth Vader who has been in a pursuit of killing Jedi since they had they had fallen. I had to close myself off the force many years ago. Now that Obi-Wan needs me, this puts the both of us at risk of falling into the hands of the Empire and Darth Vader.

"It's good to see you again my old friend." Obi-Wan said, embracing me into a tight hug, to which I happily returned. Obi-Wan aged quite a bit the last time I saw him. The wrinkles around his eyes were prominent now, his beard grown out and untamed.

"And you as well Obi. Maker...it's been so long." I said, getting a little teary-eyed at our little reunion. Obi-Wan looked at me with sad eyes, nodding in agreement.

"Well, we have a long way to Kashyyyk, that should give us time to catch up Y/N." He gave me a small smile, as we made our way into his small ship, setting course to Kashyyyk to help our Jedi brothers and sisters.

"Do you have a plan?" I spoke up, breaking the long period of silence between us. Obi-Wan scoffed at my question.

"Well of course I do Y/N, you didn't think I would go in blindly would you?" He replied, smiling to himself. I snorted at his response, reminding me the many memories I have of him, Anakin, and I back in the days of the Clone Wars. Anakin and I were the ones that would go guns-blazing in during missions. Obi-Wan would always be the person coming up with the plans beforehand, to which sometimes Anakin and I did follow, sometimes.

Obi-Wan runs over the plan with me. The coordinates that he was provided had given us a location at a base in the lush forests of Kashyyyk. Apparently that's where the Jedi are said to be located. Once we land, we would split up to find any remaining Jedi and relocate them back to Alderaan. Obi-Wan had been in touch with Bail Organa since the fall of the Republic and had informed him about this mission.

The ship lands on an empty landing pad that was located outside the entrance of what looked like an abandoned temple. Obi-Wan and I exit out the ship, taking a look around our surroundings.

"I've got a bad feeling about this" I spoke up, scanning the environment.

"Meet me back here in an hour. If you can find any Jedi, we'll relocate them to Alderaan." Obi-Wan said.

"Sounds good to me." I responded. We both make our way into the temple, going separate ways once we enter.

The Sith Lord stands tall as he gazes at the stars through the windows of the ship. He ponders to himself, when all of sudden he felt something in the force. Assuming that the presence was belonging to his former master, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Vader smiles to himself for being able to finally have Obi-Wan walk into his trap after what he had done to him all those years ago. But then he felt the pull become stronger and stronger by the moment. No... it can't be, the Sith Lord thinks to himself. It couldn't possibly be her. Y/N... You died 9 years ago. The remnants of your ship were in pieces when he had searched for you. You couldn't have survived the impact at the state of ship he found it in. When Anakin--Vader, had found the japor snippet that he had given you was on the ground, it pushed him further to believe that you had died on impact. He believed your clones got to you when Order 66 occurred. He blamed himself for causing your death. You deserved a better fate. But at the same time, he didn't want you to see what he had become.

Vader pushed his thoughts to the side. Still believing that you had died all those years ago.

A good amount of time had passed. I wasn't sure how long it had been but it surely has been over an hour. I hadn't seen any Jedi yet, yet alone any traces of any Jedi being here. Something isn't right, I know it isn't because the force has been trying to tell me something since we landed.

I felt another presence in the force. It didn't feel like it was Obi-Wan. I froze in place, hearing footsteps in the distance; becoming closer and closer to me. I turn around, igniting my lightsaber as I was met with an inquisitor standing behind me with their double-bladed lightsaber already ignited.

"Well, well, you're not definitely Kenobi. But I'll gladly take you in as well." The inquisitor said, stepping closer to me as I took a step back. I wasn't fit to fight them. It had been years since I last fought with my lightsaber. Without thinking, I immediately turned around and ran away from the inquisitor. I took out my comlink to get a hold of Obi-Wan as I ran to find the exit.

"OBI-WAN, IT'S A TRAP!!" I yelled into the comlink, but I was met with static in response. The connection wasn't strong, perhaps the inquisitors had intercepted our communication or the connection on Kashyyyk just wasn't as good.

I found myself in what looked like an abandoned throne room. I hid myself behind the throne, trying to catch my breath as I tried to disconnect my force signature so the inquisitor wouldn't find me as easily. I cursed myself for agreeing to come along with Obi-Wan on this fallacious mission.

As the footsteps of the inquisitor drew nearer and nearer to the room. I overheard the inquisitor's voice, as if they were talking to someone else. I peaked my head over the throne to see the inquisitor in the doorway talking to a holographic figure on their wrist.

"Lord Vader, it's important that you know that not only one Jedi has fallen into your trap but two." The inquisitor said boastfully, holding up a hologram of Lord Vader.

"Very well inquisitor. Locate them now. I will deal with Kenobi and his friend accordingly. I want them alive." Lord Vader's mechanical voice booming through the hologram.

"Yes my lord." The inquisitor turns off the hologram, scoffing to themselves and kicking a pebble off the ground. "Why do they matter to you this much?" the inquisitor says under his mouth.

I held my breath, hoping that the inquisitor doesn't walk into the room I'm in. When I don't see them in the door way I make a run towards the door, only to be stopped by the inquisitor.

"Nice try, but I have orders to follow Jedi scum." the inquisitor spat at me, blocking the doorway. I furrow my eyebrows, igniting my lightsaber again.

"You won't take me alive."

"I wish I didn't have to, but I have orders from Lord Vader himself." the inquisitors says before swinging their double-bladed lightsaber. Our lightsabers clashing with one another. I try catching my breath as I fight the inquisitor, but the 9 years without fighting, has made me lose some abilities in my Jedi skills.

"I see the years have not been kind to you. You're out of shape grandma." the inquisitor comments. I grunt in response and roundhouse kick the inquisitor, sending them flying across the room. The inquisitor gets back on their feet again and darts towards me.

Just when I think I can take them down, the inquisitor's blade makes contact with my shoulder. I cry out in pain as I'm thrown off balance. I step back, grasping my shoulder that was just cut. The cut was bright red and burning.

The inquisitor laughs at my pathetic state. Determined to take down this inquisitor, I run towards them with my saber. I was able to dodge their first swing, but on the second swing, the inquisitor's blade had found itself impaled through my stomach. I let out a gasp. The inquisitor looking surprised at themselves at what they did.

The inquisitor draws their blade back. My saber falls out of my hand and rolls away from me as my body hits the ground. I clutch the part of my stomach where I had been just stabbed.

I try to control my breathing as I watched as the inquisitor walk out the room without saying a word to me. The building starts rumbling, as if it was starting to crumble down.

Then next thing I know, I see Obi-Wan running into the room, running up to me.

"Y/N!" Obi-Wan kneels down and cradles me in his arms. He brushes a strand a hair away from my face, his hand now holding one of my hands.

"Y/N stay with me now. I'm gonna get you out of here." Obi-Wan looks at me and looks down at my wound. His eyes were filled with panic with the hole inside my stomach.

"O-Obi Wan, you have to go." I said weakly, looking at him.

"I won't leave you here Y/N." He responded, squeezing my hand and body tightly.

"Y-you'll die here." I said as the building starts to crumble piece by piece. Pieces of stone and debris falling from the ceiling.

"Don't say such nonsense, we have to go" He pleaded.

"Obi-Wan...My place is here.. and... he's here...I can sense him." I breathe out. The hole in my stomach making it harder for me to breathe.

Obi-Wan's eyes widen. He knew he was here as well. Obi-Wan was about to lift me off the ground until I spoke up.

"Leave me here Obi-Wan...Get out of here...S-save..your..self" I huffed out my last breath.

Your body goes limp in the arms of Obi-Wan. The last thing you saw was a dark figure, watching from the doorway before your body succumbed to your injury. Vader... You whispered under your final breath before dying in the arms of Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan lets out a strangled cry. He closes your eyelids as the feeling of guilt creeps up on him. But the mourning over his good friend was short-lived. Obi-Wan freezes in place as he feels Vader's presence nearby. When he looked up, he saw the Sith Lord standing by the doorway, menacingly. Obi-Wan, lays your body down on the cold stone floor, now towering over your body to square up with the Sith Lord.

Vader who had been watching the entire situation unravel, his breathing became heavier as he starts to hyperventilate. Causing the temple to shake even more, pieces of the temple fell down around them. He had felt you, he felt your pain. Your first cry was enough to have the Sith Lord come and look for you, but your second cry was enough for him to feel the amount pain you were in.

"What have you done?!" Vader's mechanical voice barked, echoing through the room.

"This was your doing Anakin!" His former master retorted. Vader slowly makes his way over to him, striding menacingly to where Obi-Wan and your lifeless body was.

Obi-Wan backs up away from Vader. Vader kneels next your body and touches the nape of your neck to find a pulse to confirm that you weren't dead, but it was too late. He clenched his fist and lets out a booming cry. Obi-Wan couldn't see it, but he was crying under the mask. The building continue to shake more under his agony.

"Leave. Now." He said, glancing back up at his former master. Obi-Wan was hesitant at first, but soon nodded in response and made his way out of the crumbling building towards his ship.

Vader scooped up your body and carried you bridal style out of the building, making sure to give you a proper burial once he landed on a planet worthy of your funeral. As he makes his way out, he and Obi Wan look at each other one last time before Obi-Wan takes off in his ship.

Vader boards his ship, laying your body down on the table. He takes off his helmet, revealing his long blonde locks and handsome face that were still in pristine condition. He examines your face for sometime. Forgetting how beautiful you were. The years have not been kind to you. He noticed how your cheekbones are more prominent now, perhaps due to lack of food and having to remain in hiding. He brushed your hair with his gloved hand and started whispering all the things he wanted to tell you. He wanted to start a family with you after the war was over, but it is far too late for that now. He wanted to raise his family on Naboo, or Alderaan. The life he dreamt with you, had diminished the day he founds the remains of your ship.

He started to feel guilty for being the reason of causing you a great deal of suffering and now, he was now the reason for your death. He sat next to your body and had held your left hand that still bore the wedding ring he made for you. You both had gotten secretly married on Naboo, just right after the Clone Wars had begun.

After a good amount of time had passed, Anakin--Vader had eventually gotten up from his seat and took off his cape to cover your body with it.

This wasn't how the mission was supposed to go. He didn't expect you to be here, let alone be alive. All he wanted was his revenge on Kenobi, but little did he know that you would be caught in the middle of it.

The guilt that Obi-Wan had felt was unbearable at first. He wished he didn't rope you into this mission. He didn't think for one second that this could have been a trap for himself and for the both of you. Obi-Wan lives out his days with a heavy heart for being the reason you died.

Vader spends the next several years alone, wondering about the day he will kick the bucket. It isn't until one day, a new hope emerges and relieves from him the dark side. Where he would redeem himself and be reunited with you as your force ghost had waited a long time for him to join you in the afterlife. Together, you both spend an eternity together without having to suffer ever again.

#hayden christensen #Hayden christensen x reader #anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x you #anakin x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker angst #anakin angst #star wars #Star Wars angst #obi wan kenobi #obi wan and anakin #darth vader #Darth Vader angst #darth vader x reader

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meshlasolus · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories MASTERLIST

Series Rating: T

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!Reader

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi reflects on his years, his losses and his gains, his strengths and weaknesses, and in the middle of it all.... you.

If you're a fan, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

If you'd like to see what the Padawan looks like, come here and here

PLAYLIST

PRINTED BOOK AVAILABLE

Episode 1 Episode 20 Episode 39

Episode 2 Episode 21 Episode 40

Episode 3 Episode 22 Epsiode 41

Episode 4 Episode 23 Episode 42

Episode 5 Episode 24 Episode 43

Episode 6 Episode 25 Episode 44

Episode 7. Episode 26 Episode 45

Episode 8 Episode 27 Episode 46

Episode 9 Episode 28 Episode 47

Episode 10 Episode 29 Episode 48

Episode 11 Episode 30 Episode 49

Episode 12 Episode 31 Episode 50

Episode 13. Episode 32. Episode 51

Episode 14 Episode 33. Episode 52

Episode 15 Episode 34. Episode 53

Episode 16 Episode 35 Episode 54

Episode 17 Episode 36. Episode 55

Episode 18 Episode 37 Episode 56

Episode 19 Episode 38 Episode 57

EXECUTE ORDER 66:

PART I PART II PART III FINALE

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan series #obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #obi wan kenobi x padawan!reader #obi wan x you #obi wan angst

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

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Caught

pairing: Obi Wan Kenobi x Amadala!reader

word count: 1k

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

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

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

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 3 mins 39 seconds

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

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

“But he’s the late one!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then the knock came on the door.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uhm…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anakin smirked at Obi Wan.

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

“No promises!” Anakin yelled from the hallway.

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @mandoloriancookie @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy @milly-louise

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oliviajdjarin · 2 years

Text

Din Djarin: Good

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: He was the only one you ever told your weakness to, and yet he wasn’t good enough to shield you from it.

off-canon version of Season 2 Episode 3 titled “The Heiress.”

Warnings: Din is insecure, reader is also insecure, Din is described as taller than reader, reader almost drowns, din is a simp, reader gets checked out, jealousy, coughing up water, descriptions of a neck snapping, chest compressions, but a happy ending.

A/N: Thank you for your request @ione-23. I really hope this is what you were looking for.

Din Djarin Masterlist

(gif gotten from Pinterest)

Of all the words that Din Djarin could describe himself with, good would not be one of them.

He had killed people. Good people. And for what? A couple of credits? A warm meal? One less creak in the Crest’s walls?

He wasn’t good. He was a surviver.

Until he met you.

The day you agreed to be his partner, you unlocked something deep inside his chest, deeper than the kid could manage to worm himself into, and he started to see himself as more…neutral.

He wasn’t good, but he wasn’t bad enough to make you leave, and that was good enough for him.

It was scary, the lengths at which he would throw himself to keep you with him. By his side.

He didn’t know it was possible to crave another person, but you had him entranced by not just your looks and mind, but by your heart.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for that kid,” you said to him after he explained just how much work getting the baby back to his own kind would be. “And there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Relief had flooded him, as well as another feeling that had his brain screaming to pry himself away from you before he let it take root.

You had taught him how to trust someone, talk to someone, need someone, and you had shown him that that wasn’t a weakness at all.

Unless, of course, the people you were trusting were half a dozen Quarren fishermen who were all too eager to take the three of you on their boat.

He should have trusted his gut, but you had managed to pry that open too.

“It’ll be fine,” you had assured him. “Not everyone in the galaxy is actively plotting against us. Some may actually want to be helpful.”

It was the way you had looked into his eyes as you spoke, resting your palms on his chest plate so he was forced to look down at your perfect face, that really got him. You could ask the world of him, to throw everything he had ever been and ever will be away for you, and he would find himself saying yes. Without a doubt in his mind.

“They will take a us to a Mandalorian. What better chance would we have of finding one without them?”

You spoke to him like you did late at night on the Crest: softly, intimately, and with understanding in your eyes, and it weakened his knees.

“Okay,” he responded, and his stomach fluttered at the way your eyes glowed.

“Okay,” you said, and walked through the cantina to tell the Quarren his boat would have two extra passengers.

He watched as the fisherman’s eyes raked down your body as you walked, and the flutter in his stomach quickly turned to nausea.

He trusted you, probably too much, but he couldn’t shake the pit of dread in his stomach. Something was off about this, but he forced himself to swallow it down and ignore it.

He trusted you. That should have been enough.

~*~

Din could feel the thickness of the salt in the air through his helmet, and the constant movement of the crew members made him more than uneasy. He kept his eye on the water to steady himself, but he kept an eye on both you and the kid through his peripheral vision.

It was the only way he could continue to breathe.

“Hey,” you said beside him, and he looked to his left to meet your gaze. You always had a way of finding his eyes under all that armor.

“It’s alright, we’re almost there.”

You squeezed his leather covered hand and smiled at him softly before walking over to the kid’s pram. The kid’s arms waved in excitement, and he released a cry of joy.

If there was one thing that could undo him more than anything, it was seeing you with that baby.

He felt himself smile at the sight of you tickling the baby’s belly and the sound of your combined laughs.

His Clan.

The tightness in his muscles and the thickness in his throat eased for one precious moment, before the voice of a Quarren filled his ears.

“You ever see a momacore eat?”

The male leaned against the side of the boat as he spoke, spreading his legs and broadening his shoulders as he did so.

It was that movement that spurred Din to make his six-foot frame that much more obvious. The male wasn’t even half his width, and a picture of the male’s neck squeezed between his leathered hands while he gasped for air—

“The child might take an interest,” the male continued, “or the lady.”

The lady.

His lady.

“Sure. Why not,” you replied with an awkward sounding laugh, and led the kid’s pram to the edge of the water-hole.

“You comin’ Mando?” you questioned softly, and tilted your head slightly to the side.

He swallowed. Your head always did that when you asked him a question. It was endearing enough to center himself, and he exhaled deeply.

He nodded, and the corner of your mouth lifted into a genuine smile.

“Come on over,” the fisherman said and gestured to the massive hole in the center of the ship. The creature inside had to have been bigger than Din had ever seen. “Get a good look, let the kid see.”

You stepped closer, peering over the ledge, and the wooden floor creaked under Din’s weight as he reached for your forearm.

“Hey,” he said, sharper than he intended, “be careful.”

He hated the flicker of fear in your eyes.

“I will,” you responded, with understanding once again lacing your voice.

He loosened his grip on you, and let his hand drop to the side.

Relax.

The Quarren brought a net full of fish over the edge of the water, and dropped them all into the center. The water began to bubble with white foam, and both you and the kid leaned a bit closer to see the creature finally show itself.

“She must be hungry,” the male said, and the child cooed in curiosity.

“Oftentimes we will feed her in the early morning, but we missed that cause we were going out of port—”

Din’s body moved before his brain did.

One second, he was watching you and the kid be viciously shoved into the water and instantly swallowed by a mass of teeth and fangs.

And the next, he was diving in after you, with words you had spoken to him months ago as the only sound in his mind.

“I have no weaknesses, Djarin,” you mumbled to him. The flashes of hyperspace coated your skin like a blanket, nearly knocking Din from his feet.

No matter how many times you said his name, in any variation, he would never get used to it.

“None? None at all?” he replied with a rare chuckle.

“Nope. Nothing,” you respond, and he ignored the way your dimples were shining. “Except water. I hate water.”

“Water?”

“Yes. I never learned how to swim. It comes with living on Tattooine.”

He grunted in acknowledgement.

“If you ever tell anyone that, Din Djarin, I’ll steal the Crest for myself and take the kid with me.”

“Point taken,” he replied, “I don’t know what I’d do without you two.”

“You’d survive.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

The memory was pulled away from him as he hit the frigid water, and swam as far down as he could.

All there was was blackness and abyss, and the weight of his armor forced him to swim back to the surface.

“Except water. I hate water.”

He sucked in a breath and grasped the cage as tightly as he could to keep himself upright. The heaviness of the beskar threatened to pull him down with you.

He had never felt so panicked in his life.

“I never learned how to swim.”

You were down there. The kid was down there. Drowning. Alone in the stomach of maker knows what.

He wanted to join you, or at least take your place.

The Quarren began hitting his hands with their fishing poles to try to get him to sink down with you, and for the first time in a long time, Din Djarin had no idea what to do.

If he stayed where he was, you and the kid would drown, but if he swam to get you, it was highly likely that all three of you would drown. His heart pounded so loud that a thought as logical as that drained him.

His arms ached. The poles hurt and the weight of his body was too much.

Would the infamous Mandalorian resort to begging? You had already been under for too long, and the Quarren were not letting up.

He would. In a heartbeat. He couldnt lose you. Now that he got a taste of what being happy feels like, he couldn’t take the fall of going back. He wouldn’t survive it.

“You’d survive.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

He brought just enough air into his lungs to bring his pleas to his lips, offering the males anything they wanted, but sudden bursts of blaster fire began to echo in the chamber. Grunts and shouts continued as the cage opened, and Din was pulled from his watery grave.

“Save—save them,” he choked to the stranger. “Save her. My child—”

“Don’t worry brother,” the woman replied, “we’ve got this.”

A Mandalorian. He was speaking to a Mandalorian.

It was frightening how little he cared.

His eyes were glued to the water as another female dove in after you, fearlessly. More blaster shots rang out from the black water, and the woman who had spoke to him kept her hand pressed on his shoulder to keep him still.

Every creak and rock of the boat threatened to send him over the edge.

You needed him, and he wasn’t there. He was sitting and watching.

Useless. He was utterly useless.

Suddenly, a sound similar to an engine roared from under the water, and the female shot into the sky with both you and the kid in her arms. Luckily the kid had closed his pram before being swallowed by the monster, but you didn’t have such luck.

The woman landed roughly and laid you down to rip open the child’s pram. He cooed at Din when he saw him again, and half of Din’s heart felt full again.

The other half was laying on the cold, wet ground, not breathing.

“Cyare,” he mumbled, and ripped the Mandalorian’s iron grip off of his shoulder. His soaking boots stomped across the floor as he ran to you and fell to his knees at your side.

“She’s not breathing,” the woman stated, and Din’s eyes were locked on your solemn face.

He could pretend you were sleeping, that you both were sleeping, and that he’d wake up to you only feet away from him. Happy. Healthy.

“Come on,” he pleaded to no one but himself. “Wake up. Wake up Y/N.”

He rocked your body side to side, desperate for any movement or intake of breath, but there was nothing.

“We have to do chest compressions. Now,” the woman said sternly, and placed her hands over your chest.

“Don’t touch her,” Din responded, and the woman went as still as death. “I’m doing it.”

The woman stepped away hesitantly, and Din pressed his palms against you gently.

“I don’t want to hurt you. Please don’t let me hurt you,” he mumbled. The difference in his tone with you was apparent. He sucked in a shallow breath and pressed down.

The intake of air you let out was like music, and it was as if he had entered his body again.

You lurched forward, coughing up buckets and buckets of water, and Din stroked down your spine as you did. He could hear how painful it was for you.

“Breathe cyare,” he whispered. “Just breathe. You’re okay.”

He took deep breaths with you, guiding you, and you held tightly to his forearm. Your eyes were glassy and your lungs were not yet cleared, but you were alive.

As your breaths evened out, you wiped your nose and looked up at him. Your eyes trailed over his helmet, and you brought your free hand up to his neck.

“You jumped in after me,” you said, a small smirk on your face, and ran your fingers over the soaked fabric of his undershirt. “Didn’t you?”

He nodded slowly, and let you press your cold fingers against his pulse point. The skin there was sticky from the water, but it was warm from his body heat. It sent a chill down his arms, and his eyes fluttered shut.

You needed to feel his skin and his heartbeat to know that he was really there, that you didn’t drown. You were alive, and you needed him.

Your eyes moved to the figures standing behind him, and widened at their familiar looking helmets.

“D—Mando, how—”

“No,” he replied, and grasped the back of your head. “Stay here, just for a minute. With me.”

He pulled you closer to him and rested his forehead against yours. You flinched at first, likely feeling the burn of the cold metal, but you relaxed into it and placed your hands on his chest.

He wanted you to look at him, only him, not them, and you smiled into the embrace.

He knew you knew what he was doing, and he knew the Mandalorians behind him knew what he was doing, but he couldn’t have cared less.

He wasn’t good, or kind, or deserving, but he had you, and that was enough.

“My Y/N,” he mumbled, and you hummed.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

Tag list: (I have not written for Din in a while, so If your tag is either not here or messed up I do apologize. Id love to add new people :)

@leahkenobi @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @em---r @just-a-sewer-goblin @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darth-voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @punkiwiki. @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 @petals-opento-the-moon

#din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars fanfiction #star wars #din djarin headcanon #din djarin angst #din djarin smut #book of boba fett #obi wan kenobi

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uyuartik · 3 months

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

tags: angst, fluff, arguments, period typical misogyny (of course not from obi wan), just overall wealthy pricks being little shits, the trope of THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, but not really, do you believe in second chances (i don't) (💀), little smut compared to the rest because originally there was no smut in this (but i HAD TO use that idea), REPOST because i fucked up in the first place

a/n: welcome back for the finale!

well, i can't think of anything to say except this has been a blast for me, and i'm so happy that there are those who enjoys this madness as much as i do. hope you like the ending too. thank you all!

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

part one | part two | part three

enjoy!!!

word count: 8.3K

chapter three: fuck it it's fine!

You don’t board that ship. A slight sickness you excuse, then spend your days sulking at home, still covered by the expanse of your lies. It is not totally untrue, though. You did really wake up with a swollen throat, and that put the integrity of your health during the journey at risk, thus with great grief, canceled the plans. Nobody knew that you’d not even mention the symptom on any other day, just requesting some honey tea and hardly noticing it disappear in the morrow. And it exactly worked out as predicted, more so, without leaving its discomfort for remorse. But after that, the hours stretched out each day, like you were living in a different plane where you were not welcomed. Perhaps you actually weren’t, for if you followed your fate, you’d be eating different foods, and walking foreign corridors. In an attempt to run away from that feeling, you try to socialize just a little, attending even the most dull tea parties. Also, your preference of company has to be specialized now, and that proves difficult sometimes.

So, that’s exactly why you indeed sulk at home, even though all your efforts.

But not tonight.

Then again, perhaps you should've.

His presence has nothing to do with it, to be perfectly clear. On the contrary, he makes it a little endurable. The forced small talk and empty eyes you once feared dearly are not the case, even after your last encounter. Of course, there's a little awkwardness, an uncertainty about where the line of intimacy now stands, shadows of anger and disappointment still darkening the atmosphere, but the overall sensation comes down to longing. You both lost a great friendship, cast it aside in a blink, but your souls don't accept this new arrangement that quickly, trying to fall into the familiar rhythm once more each time you feel your walls break. You don't allow it, neither does he. Yet, it is about the only thing that turns this night into a not complete waste of time. Even a pleasant one, you'd dare say.

If it weren't for literally everything else except this.

The hushed little uninformed jokes start during the dinner. It is the lord of the house that says them, to his close circle, barely hanging onto etiquette he had glimpses of. As minutes tick and glasses of wine roll, that glimpse is gone, and even in your seat at the end of the table, you hear him clearly. The pressed lips and masked mimics pretending not to be aware of it soon become apparent on every face, excluding you and Lord Kenobi. You glower the first time another of the guests feels confident enough to make his dirty contribution to the subject. Typical, you try to stay calm, tapping your fingers on the table. The world is filled with the likes of him, and the last thing they deserve is your attention. The reflex doesn’t go unnoticed by him, and he sends a sympathetic smile, showing that you’re not alone and accepting this invitation was a most regretful choice. He uses a few retorts to close the deal, let the dinner continue in different matters- or in silence, that would be fantastic indeed, but his smart wit and slight intimidation work only for a couple of minutes. Now it’s your turn to reflect that sad smile, and you do.

The sadness doesn’t come from the circumstances around you all, though. Your heart feels heavy, for not trying better ways to handle that morning. That guilt will haunt you, drag you into the gloomy pit you’ve been in, and maybe, you should stay there for some time, a penance for your mistakes.

After dinner, when the ladies and gentlemen huddle around different interests, you get a chance to cool off. The soft peals of laughter and giggles fill the room, a much more pleasant sound than the roar of men. You get to entertain others with your stories of other cities you’ve been to, and they tell their interesting incidents, and make fun of their husbands, people who deserve, as their commotion spills out of the walls. The topic of their conversation, marriage, diffuses out into your circle in such a way, that once again, you’re restraining yourself, trying to listen to the problems one of the ladies is complaining of, and not to hear the crude comments going on on the other side. You’re stopped from rushing out of your armchair simply out of respect you have for the woman speaking when you pick up your name passing in their remarks. Plus, Kenobi’s words, you don’t flatter me by offending the lady, reach every ear in the room, sharper than a knife. Your cheeks burn with anger, then with gratitude, and at last, out of embarrassment, because how are you going to explain he’s just doing an honorable thing, that it’s his character to defy ill minds when he sees one, and this has little to do with his “pursuit” of you? Your breaths are shallow and quick as you focus on the discourse, and dodge every attempt to pull the subject towards your relations.

Though, the snake doesn’t give up on eating, even his own tail, it seems.

In less than half an hour, a joke about abduction is whispered, and you surge from your armchair, the screeching sound echoing. You murmur what resembles to be an excuse (you’re still deciding whether they are worthy of one), and send one glaring gaze at the group, enough to make one flinch, and walk out.

Out of the entire house.

Lucky for you, this is a night in which you carpooled with another guest, meaning you only have your own feet to carry you away in this pouring rain.

But of course, that’s not enough to deter you.

You take big steps, enforced by your fury. Thus, the house leaves your sight in no time, but not their audacity, still ringing in your ears. Implications about your freedom. Complaints of wive-hood. Humor about how perfectly reasonable is to get rich, by kidnapping a young woman… (Honestly, after all that, you don’t have mercy for them of the panic they might experience when they realize their guest is not refreshing in another room, and have left the estate altogether. Alas, that guest is you.) You string curses at them, the only form of thinking you have in regard, and feel the bulk of emotions resonate with every stomp, even spilling out of your tear ducts. Your dampening body, and the length of the road don’t make it any easier, feeding your frustration. Your only anchor is your self worth, the reason you began this path in the first place, and you desperately hope it will turn the tide in a while.

Though now, the picture you paint with those foul words and wet clothes isn’t exactly the brightest.

It is still among these moods, that Obi Wan catches up to you. You’re not exactly surprised to see him, his carriage closing the twenty minute distance you put between yourself and that damned house with a speed that you think can’t be that good for the horses in the long run. They stop abruptly at your side, and you have all those insults readied if it turns out to be that fucked up man or polite declines if it is indeed Obi Wan.

But, you can’t speak them. The world feels like it freezes, the raindrops slowing down, and carrying away your burdens as they fall to the soil. The small door opens, and Obi Wan rushes out of it, with an expression that is so honest and raw. His fright vanishes at the sight of you, that scared gaze dissolving, eyebrows relaxing… You can actually see his lips move, Thank God. He is totally undisturbed by the downpour, already making his strands stick to his forehead. His hands find yours, and pull you close, almost like an embrace. You look into his eyes, how focused they are on you, as if they could burn you from the inside with their intensity. You have an undeniable urge to kiss him right now, and that has nothing to do with lust, but your wish to undo the last couple of weeks, uphold that strong connection once the two you had. Of course, you don’t, you can’t, thus, you let him lead you inside, and continue towards whatever destination.

Funny, how you feel much calmer doing the thing you thought you wouldn’t. Moreso, you have no woes about it either.

The silence is deafening, but nobody dares to open their mouth, the greatness of the storm of emotions you both are having too heavy on your tongues. He puts his less soggy jacket around your shoulders, you welcome it with a nod. That’s the moment you realize the redness on his knuckles. It’s not hard to guess the scene, and that has your head turned to the floor, processing the entire night. It is also at this moment that you become aware of your fresh tears, still sliding over your cheeks. Even if he notices them, he doesn’t do a thing about it, an indifference you’re grateful for. He just looks out of the window, and contemplates, same as you.

===

The tub filled with hot water doesn’t make you any wetter, but it helps with the temperature. You’re sorry that you exhausted the owners of the inn you had to stay in, (for it was getting impossible to travel in that rain) with this request, but a voice tells you that Obi Wan wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re unbelievably silent as he sorts it all out, staying in your bubble, unintentionally playing the part of the damsel in distress. You listen to his list of requests, for the horses, for three rooms (the best reserved for the lady, he insists), a tub to be prepared for you, and some tea-

“No need.” Your voice is weak, but it is clear. He would’ve protested this answer, but it is the first time you’ve talked after leaving the house, how ironic, and the realization sets deep in both of you. After that, you feel the words pile up on your tongue, but in a blink, you find yourself in a room. Alone.

“So sorry, I thought they gave me this room.” He stands at the door, holding it half open, face turned in the opposite direction.

“Obi Wan.” His gaze hesitantly finds your way again. God, he’s about to kill you with that blues… “Can we talk for a second?”

You name yourself a hypocrite for asking that, in this state, but you can’t breathe with all that untold things if you spend another second without explaining yourself to him, and apologize for all the trouble you’ve caused. And, isn’t this already proof of the trust you have for him, how vulnerable you can be in his presence?

And, there’s nothing he’s not seen before, after all.

He gingerly closes the door, locking it in a swift motion, and makes his way to you. You pull yourself together, and reach for his hand for him to help you out.

“No, stay. Your fingers are still cold.”

You can’t hide the small smile forming on your face as you settle back, careful to keep most of your body underwater. He, ever noble, keeps his eyes straight on your face, which somehow doesn’t help. There’s something about his rolled-up sleeves, the matching three-piece suit down to two for the damp jacket sits behind the chair in your back against the fireplace. His hair is drying up in all defiant shapes, and you have to stop imagining that morning he woke up next to you.

“I just wanted to say thank you. For everything. I- I never intended to cause this big of a mess, and make someone clean up after me. Certainly, not you, of all people. You shouldn’t have tired yourself this much, and I’m sorry for it.”

“You can’t expect me to do nothing.” The sentence begs for a dear to be added in the end, and he has to fight his throat to silence himself. Instead, there’s a kind tug at the corners of his lips.

“You’re right.” You nod. “But the truth is, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I needed to get out, I just couldn’t sit there pretend I didn’t hear all those nasty comments.”

His fist clenches at the reminder, and you once again spot the bruises settling in on his knuckles, filling with the desire to mention them, but you inevitably decide not to. “That asshole-“

”He was obnoxious since the first hour, and loud, but that doesn't scare me, for thus he has proven himself to be just a foul mouthed man. But, that title started not to cover the extent of it- it was too much and I couldn’t take it anymore. You may say it was obvious from the start, but I tried my best to not evolve this into a thing I would regret afterward. And I succeeded.”

“So you don't even regret ever setting foot in that house?”

A tinge of disgust seizes your face, but only for a moment. Even with all those words echoing in your ear, you don't have hatred in your heart, or any remorse. You're not so quite sure about its reason, nor do you wish to be, avoiding all analysis. Like you don't know the basics already. But the sudden change in your expression tells everything. “I don’t think I can ever regret it. At least, not in its entirety.” You say, hugging your knees and lowering your head. Hot steam no longer hits your skin, you realize in your attempts of distraction.

There's a second of silence in the room, despite the thunderstorm raging outside. You are as cold as in the beginning because of it, and you almost contemplate how good of an idea this conversation was, especially under these circumstances.

“I’d say the same.” Obi Wan speaks, and that's when goosebumps rise on your skin. Your eyes meet his, then flutter away quickly, overwhelmed. Does he mean-

Why is him meaning that any different than yours, huh? Why is it any worse when he says it?

“You should get out of there.” He reaches for a towel, and you shyly stand up, turning your back and pressing your arms around yourself. Nothing he hasn't seen before, right? As the coarse fabric is draped around your shoulders, you can’t help but feel afire, the imprint of his hand around your shoulders for a second lingering way more than it should, creating a tingling sensation.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I must return to my room now.” He folds his hands together, like trying to preserve where they’ve touched, and his eyes still stay respectfully up, causing your heart to lose its rhythm. There has never been a scenario that involved nakedness without… sexual intentions, and clearly, it’s not even crossing your minds right now. Your awareness of it takes up all the space in your mind, tosses every other idea out, and leaves you at the mercy of your soul.

“Obi Wan.” Fuck, the way you call his name, it is bound to weaken him every time. “Can you-” Oh, haven't you demanded enough from him? “I- I would like it if you stayed.”

His mouth hangs open for a second, with a subtle sharp inhale. His fingers tighten around each other, then relax all together, hanging free by his side. “Of course.” For all the words that come to his lips, it’s a most simple answer.

Not that you have any complaints.

You’re filled with another kind of thrill, being this open with your wishes, but having no clue whether they’ll take the night, having no clue where you want the night to go, or how to act in this very moment, half covered. You just know that you prefer him, being in the same chamber as you. You’d prefer to listen to his idle talk or slow breaths, than the silence of the room. You’d prefer him to snore in your bed than to picture him in his own, lying awake. (Because let’s face it, it’d take a while for him to surrender to sleep, if left to his own devices.)

He takes a step towards the armchair, unbuttoning his vest and you come back to your senses, stepping out of the tub in the opposite direction, towards the nightgown the innkeeper gracefully lent to you. It’s slightly large for your body, definitely not tailored for someone close to your size, but if Obi Wan ever heard you commenting on the fact, he’d wholeheartedly claim you still looked like an angel. Since you don’t, he doesn’t too, but it’s obvious in the way he takes in your form, a battle of excess fabric against your movements. He has to bury a groan when your sleeve falls down your shoulder, a simple accident. He knows that shouldn’t have been seen by him, or you didn’t do it on purpose, that tonight is not meant for those activities, and it shouldn’t get him so bothered up, but it fucking does. Does it also make him want to slap himself? Yes.

Walking near the fireplace, you wring the excess water from your hair and run your fingers through the strands before rubbing that towel aggressively, for the fact that it is already soggy enough, and is not gonna do much. You despise sleeping with wet hair, it is an invitation for you to get sick, not to mention that you’ll be sharing the bed, leaving frustrating streaks of wetness on the sheets for them.

“Hey, hey, let me help you.” Is he a little bit scared? The answer is another yes. But he’s not gonna stand there and watch you fight with your hair. He takes the fabric, locating the most usable spots, and slowly massages your strands with them. Objectively, it’s not a lot different in terms of overall results, but it does more than that anyway. Despite the forbidden intimacy, despite the question of “How is he so good at it?”, you’re lulled by the constant movements, the tension in your muscles easing off. He keeps you by the fire longer than you would’ve stayed, and that achievement belongs solely to him. Frankly, he too is not sure how long the two of you could stand like that, or put an end to it. All that matters is that your hair is pleasantly damp, less bothersome, and he did that.

To be honest, with each minute he is in your presence; the task of holding onto his manners, respecting his broken heart, and following your lead is getting harder to manage.

“Thank you.” You murmur, eyelids barely held open, and he feels like a juggler, suddenly losing his sense of balance, and dropping one of his props.

“You’re welcome.” Perhaps he was the one to thank, for the pleasure. That’s the second prop, falling down.

Still, it’s obvious how that sentence misses a darling thrown out after it.

You climb the bed, and he follows suit. You both favor the edges of the mattress, and there’s a ridiculous distance between both of your bodies, but you’re both too timid to use it, even at the risk of tumbling down.

Only after the urge to find a better position kicks in that you move, and end up just a little closer, face turned to his side.

He’s already turned to you, eyes closed but definitely not trying to sleep, or relax if nothing. He opens them of course, after you rustled the sheets that hard.

“What if I get sick tomorrow?” Admittedly, that’s a silly question, but the scenario occupies your mind. All the elemental factors are present, and you only have a formal dress on your back. Also, the fact that it would be all your fault, yet you are the one to complain? You hate yourself for saying it out loud.

“Then we would stay ‘til you got better.” His point-of-fact words, softened with his bedtime voice, must be annoying. Must be. It is not. It is the raw truth, straight from his core. You won’t disrespect it, (again). “I would take care of you.”

(Doesn’t he, always?)

A shiver runs down your spine.

(He’d name this place heaven, if it allowed you two to stay together a little longer.)

“Obi Wan.” Whispering, trying your best to break that ugly silence, not to crush under the weight of his words, but more importantly to let him know your truths, the alignment of your soul. “I- I never told you how much I appreciated you. Now just today, but especially today.”

He’s trying so hard not to sound rude, or leave you unanswered, but none of them are good enough. Thankfully, you are not expecting one. Your fingers ghost over his knuckles, afraid to hurt him. he’s not even sure you’re doing that, ‘til you hunch over, and press a small kiss over them.

That’s all the acknowledgment he needs, ever. It wasn’t becoming of a gentleman, obviously, but the situation didn’t require gentleman-cy, too. He has no recollection of how his fist ended up in that man’s eye, except for the exact second it happened, feeling his shirt slide from his other hand as the impact sizzled through his bones, and sent the man to the floor. He found himself in the middle of saying God knows what- he still doesn’t have a single clue, and thinks about the possibility of how they’ll resonate, ‘til it reaches his ears once again.

Though, he has no fear regarding that, or the altercation before it. Nor regret.

“I am honored that our names are spoken together, a testament of our likeness.”

The third prop.

It falls, most obviously, but he doesn’t show it. Not under these circumstances. No matter how you try to avoid the subject of love, or a future, he’s burning for it, burning for you. In that moment, it is settled that it’ll always be that way, forever. You’re absolutely crushing his heart, and maybe even crush yours in the process (for which reasons, he’s never sure), regardless of your intentions pointing otherwise, because he knows you’re pushing through your struggles to speak up, select the appropriate expressions, to honor your past. He’s touched by your effort, as well as your words, oh, your words… This is the only compliment he’ll ever accept, and it’s not even meant to be a compliment. Your voice is already etched into his brain, and there will not go a single day he’s not reminiscing about it.

Thus, with such strong emotions, his every muscle twitched with the desire to pull you closer, wrap his arm around your waist, card his fingers through your cool hair as your lips meet. He wants to kiss you slowly, savor your taste and caress your tongue with his, for the sole purpose of being close to you. You, throwing one leg over him… You, falling asleep in his arms as he gets to bathe in your enchanting scent… The feeling of your warm breath against his neck as you take refuge in there… He’s surprised he doesn’t have to chain himself not to act on any of these images.

(Oh, it very much feels like he has done that anyway)

Yet, it is probably the worst night to do so. It has all been too much, and all this on top of that is a recipe for disaster. A disaster he’s been struck with nonetheless, though, perhaps he can spare you from.

When it comes to you, he has always put his heart before his mind, (but never disregarding the latter part. It is the essential element to keep both of you safe, to never compromise your social statuses, to create the optimum atmosphere for your relationship to flourish (by your own unusual standards)). For the first time, he’s not following that code. Even he can’t imagine the consequences if he doesn’t.

You’re glad that nothing has changed. No response from him, no action. His relaxed expression tells you enough; the calmness of his eyes, his slow breaths and the slight curve of his lips… To be honest, you’re relieved to see your words reach their destination but also set with the urge to prove them. To press down your mouth on his, from which you hope for an answer; to hold his hand without causing any discomfort, or simply hug him for a second, eliminating all space between your bodies like your souls.

Alas, the role of the hypocrite is a part you no longer wish to play, and you’re perfectly willing to hurt yourself by not succumbing to your wishes, and refrain him from further confusion.

“Good night, Obi Wan.” You say, fingers grazing over his for the last time, and curl yourself into a ball.

“Good night, my dearest.”

===

The morning is unlike the previous example.

You wake up to him getting up, so there’s no way for you to know if your bodies drifted closer during the night, but considering the position of your arm, extended way beyond the middle, it is quite possible to assume some physical contact was present.

Considering you two are not facing each other, thus acknowledgment of the situation is not a matter, your embarrassment is half of what it should be.

Though, your cheeks burn brighter each second you can’t peel your eyes off of him, filling up the rest of that cup. Watching him walk around, the movement of each chiseled muscle on his back as he puts his shirt and trousers on quickly highlights another impropriety. He is perfection, even in that drowsy state of the human condition, there’s harmony to his every motion, the slow steps he takes, the way the fabric glides against his skin, the subtle fine arrangements of his fingers to make sure it looks decent, even how he breathes causes him to blend into the room, but also bedazzle it in his grace, make him stand out like a crown jewel, a masterpiece of arts that name the place.

You can only stop your ogling once he leans in and stirs the flames, which were already going strong since they were last fed before you went to sleep- wait, that doesn’t seem possible, did he actually sever his sleep to tend to it?

Is there any other explanation you need?

Your heart may flutter out of your chest after this realization, so you skirt out of the blankets. Of course, the sound draws his attention, and you’re caught, forced to react.

Yet, the unstoppable smile forming on his lips inspires a similar response on yours so easily, so naturally that you don’t feel obligated at all. On the quite contrary, that simple mimic banishes any pretense, showering you with reassurance and bravery, the motivation to act on your own true terms, not society’s or the ones you pressured onto yourself.

“Good morning.” The simultaneous greeting pulls a giggle from both of you, and it is all so small, yet so much. You sway away from his direction, casually reaching for your clothes, hoping he doesn’t notice the tremor of your legs when you shed the nightwear and put the chemise on. Because you know, he’s watching you. Divine justice, perhaps.

“Be careful, Obi Wan, I might start to think you enjoy watching me get dressed too much.” The snarky comment, fighting its way out of your mouth further softens the atmosphere, and it is like the first days of spring after a harsh winter, soothing your souls with relief.

“Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head, consumed by his usual forward banter. A scene taken straight out of your past. You shimmy into your dress instead of coming up with a cleverer response.

“You don’t sound sick.” He says, indicating that he’s been paying attention.

Biting your lip, you turn away. “Actually…”

“Is there something wrong?” He ends up right beside you in a blink, as if the world changed by your unfinished sentence.

Your heart picks up a different rhythm, hands raised in position to tie your ribbon but frozen. “It’s nothing, my throat just feels-”

“Do you want me to call a doctor?”

That was the exact reason why you started with it’s nothing. Alas… “No, it’s probably just my overthinking and coming up with strange sensations.” And if not, it depends on how well you spend tonight, so there’s not much room for intervention. Definitely not in medical terms.

“Pity.” His comment makes you scoff. After that, you can’t reward him with your concerns, can you? It is funny, ugh.

“Let me help.”

Your heart can’t get any rest as the tension simply changes garbs, his fingers trailing over yours and leading a 180° turn, leaving a blazing line along your skin, to tie the ends of your ribbon together. Your arms tentatively fall to your sides, not sure what to do with their freedom. His breaths lick your neck while he attentively, slowly smooths his creation, and you’d probably freak out if you weren’t so focused on the sheer range of his skills.

(Also the mystery of how he comes to acquire it, but it’s only the deep, dark parts of your mind speaking. Moreover, you do not pride yourself in a position to be jealous. You absolutely are, on that tiny level, and no, you’ll never admit it.)

Though, you’re not gonna comment on that, not when your heart threatens to fly out of its cage. The sacredness of the action brings back the echoes of your concerns, not a single one strong enough to overtake you, but the cacophony of them loud enough to occupy the entirety of your capacity.

All that talk of past times… Coupled with a little hesitancy, and how the tables turn…

“T- thank you.”

“My pleasure.” Like he just didn’t flip the dynamic, he carries on with his outfit, tying his cravat. His beautiful hands work expertly, effortlessly, and the result is perfect, even without a mirror, eyes on you the entire time.

“Is it looking fine?”

“Yes.” You meekly answer. It is decent, like he always is. Somehow witnessing that feels as sensual as the previous scene, pulling you further down the whirlpool.

Embarrassed enough already, you busy yourself with your hair, accepting the mess that it is, and decide on a simple bun, as much as possible. The practiced moves bring you some sense of calmness and control, even if the result isn’t perfect. The silence helps too, along with his occupancy of tidying up the room.

“Do you want to have some breakfast?” He asks. God, how does he still sound that cheery?

“No, thank you.” You don’t want to keep your father worrying any longer, and it’s not like you’re going to faint. The memory of your last food in the most unpleasant company is still strong enough to expel any thought of hunger.

That answer may be the clearest thought you’ve ever had this morning, yet it is the one that whispers doubt into his heart. You are silent, turned away from him, and far too engrossed in whatever unnecessary thing you’re doing. Because now, he fears that if the two of you leave this room, this building, all your lives in it will be a part of the history, never to be repeated or worse, mentioned again, lost in the torn pages. The joke about residing here for however long- seems awfully bitter, perfectly demonstrating he’d rather hold on to the possibility than put an end to this.

How could that be love?

Perhaps you were right, accusing him of madness.

That’s the only reason he walks out of the room to prepare the carriages, instead of cocooning the both of you in.

===

“Father!” You wrap your arms around him, who’s standing by the main entrance to your estate, waiting anxiously. He does the same, unaffected by the eyes that watch, the staff, and a mere acquaintance, Lord Kenobi.

Now Obi Wan knows who you got your bravery from.

He stands quietly, hands folded in front of him, not sure what to do but damn sure not to leave. He had plenty of time to think about his madness on the road, and decided it was not anything pathological- it was pure love and desperation for you. Isn’t that the nature of most of your meet-ups? Consoling each other in the positively dreadful situations, and utilizing everything to spend a second more together?

He hears you reassuring him of your well-being, and summarize the thing in pretty understated phrases. Even that makes him stutter over his words in a fit of rage. Obi Wan agrees. You distract him by speaking of the help you’ve gotten from a valiant friend, and that’s how he enters the conversation.

“Good morning, Sir.”

How he keeps it all cool, sharing and shaping his anger, silencing any doubt that may arise in him is a surprise, though he’s called a great negotiator for a reason, right? His work in various cases in court has earned him the title. He’s not overtly a fan of flaunting it. Though, it helps him a great deal in this instance.

At least, enough to have a pleasant exchange in these unpleasant circumstances, and secure permission to talk to you again.

Alone.

It is weird enough as it is already, you and him spending the night at some inn, him casually chatting with your father like his clothes haven’t benefitted from the merits of ironing, not to mention his hair being on the wild side after a slight treatment of rain, and now he is requesting your attention? Not only yours, but your father’s too in extent?

His plans have never been so crystal clear.

“No.” You declare your objection so clearly, in one word as the door closes behind him, giving you the privacy of the room. “No, no, no, no.”

“I haven’t even opened my mouth!” He objects, though it is more of a principal thing, than an actual defense. He knows you’ve worked it all out already. God, could he expect anything less from you? Your watery eyes and trembling hands break his heart into a million pieces, reactions so strong even before he has a chance to utter their cause. He caresses his beard, reevaluating if he should continue-

He can’t live with the consequences if he dares not. He can’t live with what-ifs, or not knowing the reason why you are so repulsed by the idea or would you still feel the same, if he told you about his love for you. Of course, that would require some magic, considering the magnitude and intricacy of it. How is he supposed to put the purest feelings he’s ever had to mere words, the origin of the butterflies caged up in his chest, the wires of his brain getting tangled up whenever you’re not around, and the constant intoxication from the strongest liquor he’s ever consumed? He’d rather die than sober up, and a part of him already recognizes that it’s not a possibility. It is his poison and antidote. There’s not a moment that passes without either of them.

And surely, he has no complaints about it. Never will. It is a brave choice, but what’s braver is this moment.

“No.” You repeat, hands clasped together to stop them from shaking. Your voice is low albeit steady, as much as it can be.

Because you do not lift your eyes to meet him. “You can’t propose to me, because I can’t refuse it. But I will. Then the whole country will wonder what is so wrong with you, and me, and they will talk about it all the time, for years to come. The whispers will be the first thing that you hear in every room you enter, and you’ll see the mischievous glint in the eyes of every person you meet, them scrutinizing whether those rumors are true. Our reputations will be tarnished forever, and we will hate each other for it.” And you can’t stand that.

You don’t sound like this is the first time you’re putting these words together. In all your distressed state, you sound awfully logical in your own way, so focused on one improbable, insane possibility (damn those reputations, he can never hate you), but devising every little detail.

“Why?” He basically hollers, running a hand through his hair. Why does that potential is the one you envision? “Why can’t you marry me?”

One can only dream that someone outside isn’t listening.

“Because- I don’t know!” You take a desperate step closer, showing him your honesty. You truly can’t quite name your aversions, and isn’t that already enough of a reason to stay away, spare the person you’re facing? “I don’t know how to be a wife! And I am scared. All my life I alienated myself from the idea of a marriage, I methodically dismissed every chance claiming it wasn’t the time, all the way ‘til I would say it was too late. I was content with that idea. Because I love- loved my life the way it is; I get more than I need from my father, and that is to remain unchanged when my brother takes over, and I am free as a bird, unbound by society’s expectations, traveling wherever, wherever and trying new things. I was, I am so happy about it that anything that may alter it I shun from immediately. And now I find myself in a place I never imagined, and I am scared. I don’t know what happens now. I don’t know what to expect. I don’t know what that future looks like for us.”

He moves towards you, his head tilted sideways in understanding, arms reaching for yours. Finally, finally hearing your justifications, the basis of your attitude, fills him with pride and compassion, and most importantly, gives him an opportunity to help you solve those problems, together. But, you hush him, squeezing his wrists in gentle guidance, with tears streaking across your cheeks. “I just know that I love you. I love you so much that my heart will always feel like a weight in my chest when I’m not with you, like a ship sinking, but never reaching the bottom. And I will continue to love you even if you stop loving me back, but I would rather lose you on my terms than by the burdens a marriage brings.”

“Why do you so believe that a mere contract would change my feelings? Do you think my affections for you are that fragile?”

You frantically shake your head, causing the drops to fall faster. “No, I’m not saying that-“

“Then what?” He snaps, though not because he’s angry. He wants to learn every single reason that’s keeping you away.

“You don’t know what that will do to us.”

“No, I don’t! And I don’t care! It will never change my feelings.” This, he can shout freely. This is the simplest truth for all his remaining days on this earth.

You don’t know that, you want to object. “Obi Wan…” Is the response that comes out of your mouth. “I am not a good bride.”

“No.”There’s acceptance in his tone, a punch to your guts. “You’re the love of life, my companion, my everything.” When he pulls you even closer, and cups your cheeks, you let him. “Haven’t we been through all the struggles a couple could share already? Haven’t I seen all of you, and let you see all of me? Haven’t you claimed my entire soul, and occupied my every single thought? You made me break my rules, and painted a picture I never thought was suited for me- and I came to like that picture very much. In fact, it’s all I ever want my future to look like, with you in it. You, exactly in the way you already are, with all your unsusceptibility to the norms and striking habits. I know that can be scary. I am afraid too. But, anything worth doing starts like this, I know it. And we’ll be the biggest idiots in the world if we let our fear rule us.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, the joyful sound making his breath hitch. It is reflected on his face too, and it is something you’ll hold on to, alongside the tears that begin to form on his eyes. Fortunately, they sit there, despite him kneeling in front of you, his fingers never leaving the bend of your arm, only to follow the route they create, and hold onto both of your hands. “Please, marry me.”

You’re convinced, but your tongue is still tied, so you nod. Your entire upper body shakes with the gesture in seconds, making you look like an overexcited child, on the verge of losing their balance with the restlessness of their legs. You barely feel him kissing your knuckles before he stands up and embraces you, stabilizing both of you in both physical and emotional terms. Let’s be real, if he kissed you instead as he desperately wished to, you’d fall on the floor (and continue there- ‘til somebody discovered the two of you in very indecent terms). His chuckles quickly become your favorite song, you feel blessed as they delight your ears, and make your chest vibrate like his. He revels in the newfound proximity, despite the fact that you’ve been much, much closer in the past. This is new. This is raw love, uncombined with other emotions, strengthened by the absolute truth that you two are meant for each other, and with the promise of you’ll do something about it. He holds you ‘til your sense of balance is restored, for he now has urgent matters he has to attend to. He’ll get to hold you forever soon, and that revelation doesn’t change the herculean feat of letting you go now. He can’t help but wipe the streaks of wetness on your face, though it forms again. He solely doesn’t repeat himself because of the widest grin on your lips. You press yourself to his palm, eyelids closing for a moment, then place a small peck on it.

“I- I’m now gonna go and talk to your father, get the papers right- and find a-” oh, that’s not “a”, he is going to require many others even if he keeps everything minimal, “I’ll be back in three, fuck, four hours, okay?”

“What? No!” You exclaim, almost giving him a heart attack.

“What’s wrong?” His fingers tighten, a slight tremble taking over them. You have to smile to get him to relax once again, and raise your eyebrows wittily, as if he is a fool for not imagining it already, reminding him of your nature.

“I’m only doing this once. I want everything to be right.”

He squints his eyes, grasping your chin. There’s a few seconds of silence, the time it takes for his nerves to settle. When it does, you’re struck by the intensity of his blue irises, the condensed calm before the storm. “So you want to stay as my fiance ‘til the next season starts, in eight months, succumbing to waiting as we get no freedom to ourselves, always in the center stage, enjoying the last of our bachelor states, the lonely nights and beds bigger than you can ever occupy.”

His other hand, wandering across your waist tells you exactly what he implies. While you actually weren’t planning on such a thing, it causes a surge of rush to overtake you, burning you from the inside. Pursing your lips as you free your face from his grip, with a contradicting shaky breath, you say. “I was always fond of winter weddings…”

To this, he laughs, echoing in the room, and you join him.

One can only hope whoever outside listens to this too, this moment of pure joy preserved in one more mind.

===

“I couldn’t be happier to be married to you.” Obi Wan whispers, but the sentence is loud and clear to you, etched into where he takes nest in the crook of your neck, hot breaths burning your skin.

“We’re still not- ngh“ Yes, this is supposed to be the rehearsal, the night before the main event. You two should be at the reception downstairs, among your many relatives and friends and other members of the society, all gathered for tomorrow morning, when these words of yours will be invalid.

Of course, you are further making a hypocrite of yourself by the way you hold onto him, legs wrapped around his waist, arms locked around his shoulders as he burrows his cock into you. It was impossible to wait any further, as you were separated by the whole ordeal of preparations and the watchful eyes. The moment you found a clearing, you two slipped away, cue to now, where your back on the wall as he supports you against it. You didn’t even get one meter away from the door, you could basically reach the knob with a simple extension of your elbow, but in the end, who cares? Who cares when he fills you so deliciously, scratching the itch that has been building for some time, peppering you with all the love in his heart?

Still, your sentence is cut abruptly as he drives his hips faster, rougher- very much an act of pedantry, advising not to get lost in the details. It works, the correction dies on your tongue, though a quite loud moan takes its place. His hand flies to cover your mouth, and your eyes pop open, meeting his. The pressure of his palm against your face almost forces another sound out of you. Fuck, you adore those blue storms, even when they are focused elsewhere, turned to the door as if it can see past behind it, scanning for intruders. You do actually whimper when the danger dissolves, the vibrations running among his bones, and he keeps up his pace, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

However, it is getting harder in terms of balance as he now has one hand to stabilize you, and despite your best efforts, it is quite hard not to slide off of the smooth fabric of his clothes. Remorsefully, you push on his shoulders, and he understands, pulling his cock out of you and burying his mouth on your skin. He stifles a sob in there, the frustration getting the best of him.

“Oh, you definitely had too much wine.” Look at who’s talking, you with those wobbly legs and bitten lips…

“No, I just had too little of you.”

Your heart flaps its wings out of your chest, as it does after his every cheesy compliment. You still cannot figure out how he makes you blush harder with those words, even as he ravages you in the meantime.

You reach for a kiss, it is always a good idea. He hums contently at the touch, grateful at the most basic form of contact. Obi Wan rocks against you unintentionally, and that’s how the unsatiated desire wages war, with desperate groans and roaming hands.

Then, his fingers tighten around your waist, and you find yourself supported against the vanity with your open palms, depositing most of your weight there (thank God, because you couldn’t trust your feet much longer). He pulls your hips back to his. Your back arches in a way that is most complementary to his chest, and fuck, it is a vision.

It literally is.

Fluttering your eyes open for only a second (that was your intention at least), you’re struck down with the image of the two of you in the mirror, faces contorted in the prettiest way that is possible in this dirty position, heavy lids and open mouths, fingertips whitened by the strong grasp you have on each other, the matching colors of your outfits…

Yes, even with that detail, you’re still on his side, agreeing you’d be idiots if you weren’t doing this.

Deciding to take the sight from its direct source, you turn your head to the side a little, looking at the adonis of a man you’ll soon call your husband, with his neatly trimmed beard and prominent cheekbones and long eyelashes you are slightly jealous of and so much more…

He meets your gaze, breathless with similar thoughts, that little tug on the corner of his mouth telling you all you need to know, but then he nudges your face to its previous state by a small clasp of your chin, and you’re watching him through the reflection, leaning forward when he starts to fumble with your skirt once again.

The moan that leaves you is totally incapable of being unobscured as he enters you anew. The change in the angle along with the visual stimulation has you teetering on the edge quite easily, like him, but he denies it, maintaining slow movements and choking out any noise that dares to leave him.

Of course, all is impeded when the door is knocked-

“Occupied!”

Your voices are synchronized, high and tight. The clock stops for a moment for your bodies, as if the stationary status makes it any less scandalous, and both of you fixated on the doorknob.

It never turns. Never.

Still, the dilated pupils remain a little longer, joined over the mirror, with big puffs of breath and shaking hands.

“Do you think they-“ There’s not an exact word that you can find to explain what has just occurred, but the sentiment is clear.

“Probably.” And the answer too is just as clear.

Well, the only thing lost is the trivial achievement of never being discovered before the wedding.

A wedding which is hours away.

So, you push back, wiggling your hips. His unrestricted sound is all you need to regain your spirits back, and you do it once more. Just like that, the wheels are turning.

“You realize there’s a bed behind us, right?” He asks as he slowly thrusts into you.

“Yes, but I like the view better here.”

#star wars imagine #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan imagine #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi smut #obi wan kenobi fluff #obi wan kenobi angst

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yourneighborhoodporg · 7 months

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The Guardian

Series Masterlist

Rating: T

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: When Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka crash land on the desolate, ice planet Hoth, they meet a stranger with great power and deep connections to their past. You join the trio, hoping to face your destiny, which has long been foretold. But when the Separatists and Sith threaten you and your newfound family, you’re forced to make sacrifices to defend your friends, fulfill the prophecy, and protect the man you’ve grown to love.

✨Playlist✨

Part I: Rescue of the Fates

The Hoth Arc

Chapter 1: The Accident

Chapter 2: The Revelation

Chapter 3: The Escape

The Arrival Arc

Chapter 4: Arrival— Part 1 & Part 2

Chapter 5: Identity

Chapter 6: Patience

Chapter 7: Master

The Dark Waters Arc

Chapter 8: Blackened Water— Part 1 & Part 2

Chapter 9: Ancient Instruments

Chapter 10: Troubled Water

Part II: Dawn of Enmity

The Malevolence Arc

Chapter 11: Alone— Part 1 & Part 2

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aniharas · 4 months

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𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳 | 𝘰𝘯𝘦

pairing: anakin skywalker x padawan!fem!reader

summary: you and anakin meet almost every other day to break the jedi code and indulge in each other's lust. but when you start noticing a difference in how he treats you after every hookup, you find it hard to decide if your secret relationship is good for either of you.

warnings: implied sexual content, miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort

wc: 6.6+ split into three parts

chapter one | chapter two | chapter three

a/n: inspired by blouse by clairo!

Morning bloomed over the bustling city of Coruscant, the rays of sunshine peeking through every window and curtain, including your own. Typically, their warmth would have been enough to stir you awake. But you were already awake, and the warmth pouring from the window could never rival the warmth of the Jedi Knight lying beside you in bed.

You and Anakin have ended up like this every other night for around a month. After each tryst, every nerve in your brain screamed at your body to cease your meetings. It was wrong; you both swore an oath to live under the Jedi Code. It also would insult your master, Obi-Wan, who just so happens to be Anakin's master. If your relationship with him had been exposed, it would reflect badly on Obi-Wan.

But the way his fingertips grazed across your bare skin felt like a slow, sensual fire, and it would easily burn all your self-warnings and anxieties away. That feeling was befitting, as you felt that described Anakin perfectly. He was a slow-building fire, growing each second the more he gave in to his selfish desires. Knowing he wanted you like this filled you with satisfaction like no other. You loved enveloping all five of your senses in him. The scent and taste of sweat beading across his honeyed skin; his long, dirty-blonde locks in between your fingers as his lips enveloped yours; the sight of him gazing at you every time you laid beneath him, as if you were his first meal after months of starvation, his own shiny treasure after a decade-long journey. The sound of his heartbeat would slowly lull you to sleep on those nights, and it had you wishing it could be like that forever.

Of course, that was wishful thinking. Every night you met with him, you felt your attraction for him grow. At first, it was a small crush, but now your feelings for him were big enough to swallow you whole. Every waking thought was about him. When you were out on missions with Obi-Wan, all that consumed your mind was when you would get to see Anakin again. Even as he lay next to you at night, you would still see him as you shut your eyes. It was like he was a sickness, slowly creeping across every part of your brain until it drove you crazy. It was embarrassing to admit that you didn't necessarily want to recover from the sickness that was Anakin Skywalker.

That's why you dreaded every morning after your hookups. You hated how badly you wanted his attention, which was something you never received outside of those late-night divulgences. The same eyes that reveled in the curves of your body the night before would barely lay upon you in broad daylight. It ate you alive every time you glanced at him in the halls of the Jedi Temple, only for him to walk past you like you were a ghost. Every time he did look at you was nearly unrecognizable, his gaze cold and unforgiving, usually accompanied by a scolding that you didn't even deserve in the first place. You knew that absolutely nobody could know about what went on between you and him, but you believed he could spare a "hello" or two.

You shifted around in bed to take in the awe that was the resting Jedi beside you. Then came the dilemma of whether you wanted to wake him up or not. He had a lot of duties to attend to, but you could never quell your selfish desires for him. You decided to stay put and enjoy your last moments with him for the day, admiring how the slow-rising sun cast its light onto Anakin's skin, his bare body illuminated like a god's.

Unfortunately, the sun was enough to awaken him. The moment you saw him stir, you hastily adjusted yourself into a believable (and provocative) sleeping position and let your eyes flutter shut. You didn't dare take a peek, as you felt that Anakin would be able to feel your secret gaze. After you heard what sounded like stretching, the weight of the bed shifted. You weren't a fan of how cold you immediately felt in his absence.

Even though your eyes were shut, you had the feeling that he hadn't laid his eyes upon you yet. You heard his footsteps making their way across your room, the rustling of clothes hastily being put on. Anakin, look at me, you silently begged. Please talk to me. Wake me up. Do something, anything to let me know you acknowledge me. A few more footsteps. The sound of your door opening. The sound of it shutting.

Just that easily, Skywalker was gone without a word or a glance. Your vision blurred over, rapidly-forming hot tears dropping with every blink. You knew it was pathetic to cry, especially if you were supposed to be used to it by now.

But you allowed yourself to be selfish for one last time today as you quietly sobbed into your sheets, burying your face into where he laid minutes before. You took in his scent, memorized all the aches in your body from the night prior, mentally restarting the timer as to when you would see him again. This never-ending cycle seemed to be doing more bad than good, but you would rather let every building in Coruscant fall than lose what you had with him, even if it was slowly eating at you from the inside.

All you needed was to pass the time until the next time you met up with him. Master Kenobi just so happened to need your help today. Today you were going with your master to Kamino, in hopes to unravel a Separatist plot to halt clone production.

"What did I tell you about being so reckless, young one?"

You kept tending to Master Kenobi's minor injuries, hoping every compression or bandage would help steer away from his inevitable lecture.

The mission on Kamino had been more chaotic than expected, with droids flanking from the heavens and the seas. You weren't too sure as to why you were brought along only to pilot his spacecraft, but had you not been there, your master might have fallen to his untimely death.

"Master, if I recall correctly, my recklessness helped save you when you were hurtling towards the sea," you remarked, glancing up at Kenobi only to be met with a reprimanding, but worried stare.

"I owe you my life, but you mustn't confuse recklessness for bravery, padawan," he said, then moving to examine your own injuries. Obi-Wan wouldn't have been upset with you saving him had there not been relentless droid-fire at your spacecraft as you moved in to save him. Some of the droid-fire had scored your side and shoulders as you had pulled your master to safety. He took your medical supplies and began tending to you instead. "You take after Anakin a little too well. I'm beginning to wonder if I am the problem," he joked with a small smile, though his eyes told a different story.

It was true, you and Anakin were very similar. You both were late-bloomer Jedi, you being a Force-sensitive slave child discovered during a Separatist base raid. The Jedi Council, more specifically Master Yoda, decided you would be a powerful asset to the Republic, as you were well-versed in Separatist-tactics, war strategies, and new bases and equipment. Master Windu reluctantly suggested you receive Jedi training in order to protect yourself and eventually lead missions involving eradicating the Separatist party. Seeing Obi-Wan's success with training Anakin into a fine Jedi Knight, the Council thought it would be fitting for him to train you as well.

"Maybe you are the problem, seeing as you almost let your padawan die," a sharp voice cut straight through your thoughts, compelling you to sit up straight and keep your head down. Anakin had barged into the medical ward, making a beeline straight towards you and your master. Once again, his eyes never once met yours, his business strictly with Obi-Wan. Seeing his blatant ignorance of your presence filled you with dread like no other, stronger than any feeling or injury in the raid on Kamino.

"What were you thinking? I didn't bring my padawan, too much was at stake here," Anakin chastised arrogantly, his glare at his master felt by everybody in the ward. "(L/N) and Ahsoka are not ready for this type of assignment. They're not capable."

Was that all he thought of you as? Merely a toy to play with every other night, with no further power or significance? Silent anger bubbled up inside you once more, culminating in your tear ducts, threatening to spill at any moment. Your master noticed your discomfort, his features expressing concern before turning to his former padawan.

"I thought you would be better at reading the room, young one," Obi-Wan remarked with a sigh, taking Anakin by the shoulder and escorting him out of the ward. You watched them walk away forlornly, a single tear slipping down your bruised cheek.

"Could you get your hand off my shoulder?!" Anakin exclaimed erratically in the hallways, lurching his shoulder forward to rid itself of his master's hand. He knew he was never the best at settling his emotions, but this assignment had really put him on edge.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to be mad at Obi-Wan for asking you to come along or to be mad at you for accepting and pulling such a rash maneuver. No, he had every right to be upset at you. Knowing you were brought along put him on edge. Anxiety coursed through his blood with every step and slash of his lightsaber, seizing his muscles, and causing missteps and bad judgments.

The moment he had Separatist henchman, Ventress, cornered at the edge of the facility hangar, he knew the Jedi Council needed him to close in and make the arrest. However, he couldn't shake the thought of her escaping with you in the vicinity, so he made the order to execute her. Unfortunately, he was a second too late as she managed to escape.

Despite successfully defending Kamino and driving out the Separatists, Anakin couldn't bring himself to care about any of it. He hadn't seen you or his master since the Republic's forces first landed. With every droid he destroyed, every shot he deflected, he couldn't help but think that you were dead or captured. He tried his hardest to focus, but you invaded his mind the way the droids invaded Kamino, and Anakin didn't have much luck keeping you out as he did with the clone planet. He felt you in every corner of his body and brain, influencing his every thought, every movement. He knew he needed to report back to his own ship and inform the Council of the raid and the aftermath. He was going to, until he laid his eyes on you and Obi-Wan, both visibly injured and limping towards the medical ward. At that moment, it was like he was a man possessed, one foot stomping after the other like a madman. He seemed oblivious to all the clones, medical droids, and generals he shoved out of his way just so his path to you was clear. Alas, you were relatively okay, and now he was being lectured by his old master.

"With all due respect, Anakin, (Y/N) is my padawan to discipline, not yours. You don't see me scolding Ahsoka whenever she has her flashy ideas," Obi-Wan said, still ushering his former down the hall, far away from the medical ward.

It was almost like with every step he took away from the medical ward, the more strain it put on his body. It felt harder to breathe, harder to move. Every fiber of his being was tense, and you were the culprit.

"If she is your padawan, then you should do a better job of keeping her alive. Do you think I want to worry about that?!" Anakin bellowed, his eyes blown open as if he were a rabid animal. He didn't even realize he was shaking until Obi-Wan gripped him by the shoulders to steady him.

"(Y/N) is more than capable of handling these situations. If only you paid more attention to her, you would recognize that she is a reckless, growing talent, just like you."

Anakin fought the urge to laugh at his master for thinking he knew you better than he himself did. Obi-Wan would never know you the way he did. Pay more attention to her? You had planted yourself in his mind and taken root the moment you became Obi-Wan's apprentice. He was intrigued by your history and felt like he was drawn to you, dare he say bonded. From that point, it was only a matter a time before the stars that were Anakin Skywalker and (Y/N) (L/N) collided. The supernova that was your first night together had changed him, but he didn't know if it was for better or for worse. Frustrated at his master, he said nothing in response, trudging away to return to his duties.

Not amused, Obi-Wan let him escape the conversation, but not without getting in his last word. "You worry too much about someone you barely even give the time of day."

Anakin stopped in his tracks, suppressing the urge to fling his master back into the wall. Why must he always speak on things he knew nothing about? He had to keep away from you for his own sanity, for the sake of his role as a Jedi Knight. The late-night trysts were already enough to throw him off, what more if he had spent more time with you? What more if his eyes met your ever-curious, teasing eyes more than he had to? Any touch from you would make him unravel and leave him vulnerable. He hated how easily you had him wrapped around your finger, and he hated the fact that you didn't know it even more.

He had to be selfish with you, keeping you close during the nights and pushing you away anywhere else. You were part of the little faith that he had in the Republic, the faith he had in himself. You made him feel truly needed, desired, and loved. He was already falling for the hedge maze that was you, and if he tried to navigate you more, he would only end up more lost. However, thanks to Obi-Wan, he had to be even more selfish with you. He needed you alive, and he was willing to do whatever it took to keep you out of harm's way, even if it meant stunting your growth as a Jedi.

finally posting the very first anakin fic i ever wrote onto this site!! hope u enjoy and don't cringe at it like i do haha

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#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #fem!reader #clone wars #hurt/comfort #angst #obi wan kenobi

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