#WHEN HE DRAGGED OBI WAN THROUGH THE FIRE FUCKING HELL

[purrvaire]

no but ewan mcgregor was so right when he said he was terrified by vader while shooting bc at first I was like <3 ahah pathetic meow meow on a murder spree <3 and then I was like OH FUCK PATHETIC MEOW MEOW ON A MURDER SPREE OH FUCK

#genuinely scared the living shit out of me #WHEN HE DRAGGED OBI WAN THROUGH THE FIRE FUCKING HELL #THIS IS THE EMPEROR'S FIST THIS IS THE MAN WHO WAS FEARED THROUGHOUT THE GALAXY #they really went there im so delighted #in need of a diaper bc i shitted myself #dont get me started on i am what you made me bc ill cry and ill claw my face #obi wan kenobi show #kenobi spoilers #kenobi series #obi wan kenobi #darth vader #anakin skywalker #star wars #hayden christensen #ewan mcgregor #lidia watches

[thatgirlinskullz]

Obi-Wan Kenobi Ep3 ***SPOILERS***

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-- it's gonna be all over the place as per usual

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ohmygod.. that episode.... aaaaaaaaaaaaa my heart. it hurts 😭💔

okay so first of all: baby leia, my precious, i love you! 💖💖💖

umm... where is the Grand Inquisitor? hello?! why didn't they address him at all?! hasn't he been collected? is he all right? is he safe? is he just chilling in a bacta tank?! i need to know!!! please for the love of all that is star wars PLEASE do not retcon Rebels. please (i assume they won't but still, i am scared) 😭

didn't mention this last time but Sung Kang is doing an AMAZING job as the Fifth Brother, imo. i am soooo happy with his performance and presence and ohmy they mad the Fifth Brother cool again!!! YESS!!

also just fyi, even if i may criticize Reva's character for being too impulsive or whatever, i still feel that Moses Ingram is doing a PHENOMENAL job and she is doing what she is supposed to be doing with her performance. so any slander i see about Moses will be reported. we do not stand for racism in this blog!! you may not like the character, which is fine, but please keep in mind that it is a FICTIONAL character that you have a problem with! which has nothing to do with the actor portraying her.

fuck racism and all the racists!!!!

anyywayyy....

who the fuck was voicing Freck?! i felt like i knew the voice.. i thought it was Seth Rogen?! but it's not?! was that Zach Braff?! that's the only name i see in the credits that could have been it. what the fuck. i need to know xD

QUINLAN VOS CONFIRMED ALIVE AND HELPING PEOPLE OHMYGOD THIS IS HUGE!!! you have no idea how happy this makes me!!!

while i may have my issues with Vos, i feel like he was a very good friend of Kenobi, so even just the mention of him makes me happy, and just to see the look on Kenobi's face when he finds out. oh the joy. the hope. i love it!!

also this means that Vos is legit back to the light and he is doing what he can to help the galaxy which just makes me feel a lot of things.. i feel like he's doing it for Ventress.. which.. ugh. my heart 😭😭😭

also HAYDEEENNN 💖💖💖💖😭😭😭💖💖💖

he is back and he is menacing and i love him ohmygod

and that vision of Anakin.. noooooo.. my heart... 😭😭😭

glad they did the voice with James Earl Jones, though, otherwise we would have heard a LOT of complaints... and honestly, the voice is James Earl Jones.

but i do love Hayden's presence. you can see some of his, aka Anakin's mannerisms in there, in the movements, and I LOVE IT

as for the rematch.. oh boy....

that was heartbreaking..

not only do we see Obi-Wan completely traumatized and scared and broken for the first time ever, running away, barely being able to defend himself, Anakin is THERE, he is there and he's angry and he's hurt and he wants Obi-Wan to feel the same pain he felt.. and that just.. breaks my heart. 💔😭

the way he dragged Obi-Wan through the fire.. aaaa. noooo.. dammit.. that hurt so much..😭😭😭😭

but then he just... left?! i guess it's either that he want's to play with him and hurt him emotionally and mentally more, OR it's the good in him that doesn't actually want to hurt him.. idk... but it hurts...

so i guess that wasn't THE rematch... we'll get more...

but damn... this was a hell of a round one...💔

#star wars #sw #kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #kenobi spoilers #obi-wan kenobi spoilers #spoilers #spoiler alert #darth vader #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #ewan mcgregor #omg this episode hurt #can't wait for more XD

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Brain Fart

Obi-Wan Kenobi x plus size reader

Star Wars Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Anakin has a brain fart during a mission then discovers his Master and padawan’s dark secret.

A/N: kind of shit, sorry. I’ve been super busy with uni so I’ll only be uploading once a week with hopefully better stories. But requests are still open though it may take me a while to get to them!

Warnings: age-gap (reader is 18+), forbidden romance, secret relationship, smut, inappropriate use of the force, fwb with implied feelings, au where Obi-wan knows about Anakin and Padme and is fine with it

WC: 1.9k

Minors DNI

“What was that fucking word!” Anakin cut through a sea of droids. “Is this really the time!” Obi-Wan responded, sweat breaking out on his brow from the exertion.

“Master!” Another figure darted in front of the pair, cutting down a row of droids that he hadn’t noticed yet. “You really should be concentrating!” Her chest heaved, the bra band barely keeping her heavy breasts in place. Blasters fired all around them, the red beams coated the room in a flaming haze.

The mission had gone sideways fast. What was supposed to be a quick and easy escort mission with the three Jedi had quickly become an ambush after they were betrayed by the Zygerrian senator they were meant to be protecting so now, instead of a quiet night back on Coruscant, they were cutting down wave after wave of those stupid hunks of metal and Anakin was useless.

It was about 10 minutes into the battle when his internal monologue became an outer monologue that was very quickly getting on both his padawan’s and old master’s nerves. His comments about how many droids there were, to musing about how crap the ration bars are, or even muttering about his not-so-secret meetings with Senator Amidala. Then all of a sudden, his entire body froze, his mouth hanging open as if he were an opee sea killer.

His sandy eyebrows furrowed, the scar across his left eye becoming more prominent, as it usually did when he was confused or agitated. Shots fired all around him, somehow he was not hit once. His young padawan ran circles around him, her h/c stuck to her forehead with sweat, dark blue robes rumpled, attempting to protect her idiotic master.

Obi-wan was having a crisis at the pure stupidity of the man. How the hell did Anakin survive past childhood? “I can’t remember that fucking word!” Y/N pulled him into an abandoned corridor as Anakin began to mindlessly swing his lightsaber in some sort of desperate attempt to remember a hidden part of his vocabulary, missing the way the pair of Jedi were pressed against the wall, Ben lowering his head, his lips barely brushing hers, one hand grabbing her thick waist while the other was planted firmly on the wall behind her head.

“I’ve got it!” They threw themselves away from each other, Obi-wan using his robes to cover his hard crotch. “Wait, no I don’t.” He whispered a subtle ‘later’ to the girl before destroying the last of the droids, his hand clapping against Anakin’s shoulder. “Let’s go before more of them show up.”

“It starts with, what the fuck does it start with!” “Master can’t you just think of another word and move on?” Y/N and Obi-wan had their pinkies linked as they walked behind him, being a lot more bold than they normally would be since Anakin was way too absorbed in his own head. “No! It’s going to bother me until I remember what it is! You’re my padawan, tinks, you should know what I’m thinking.” “I don’t think it works that way.”

“Well why can’t you make it work that way!” The throbbing in Obi-wan’s head gave him flashbacks to Anakin’s own padawan days. Y/N’s hand slid up and pressed tightly against his pulse point, somewhere she had discovered relieved his headaches to a more manageable level. He sent her a small smile as a thank you.

Their hands slipped apart as the ship came into view, more dead droids surrounded it, the clones dragging them away to clear a path as the sun of Agamar dipped below the horizon, signaling a steep drop in temperature over the rocky planet. “General Skywalker.” “Rex, what’s that word?” He raised an eyebrow at the Jedi. “Which word?” Anakin threw his hands in the air in frustration. “I can’t remember!”

The commander made eye-contact with the younger woman and she just shrugged, both of them used to her master’s antics. “General Kenobi, Master Yoda is waiting for you to report back to the council.” “Very well, I’ll leave you to deal with Anakin.” “I don’t think I did anything to deserve this.” The clone grumbled as he walked off towards the back, planting himself in the seat next to Y/N whose head was tilted curiously as she observed Skywalker pace the length of the ship, saying random words, pausing every once in a while when he found one similar to the word he was thinking about before shaking his head and continuing on.

“How long has this been going on?” Rex whispered in her ear. “About 10 minutes after the ambush started so about 45 minutes.” “How have you not killed him yet?” He wrapped an armoured arm around her, a usual occurrence between the two friends. She laughed. “Oh believe me, I was tempted but I don't think it would’ve been very ‘Jedi-like’ of me.”

A rumbling began below their feet as the Republic gunship rose into the air to meet back up with the cruiser still orbiting over the planet. At this point, all of the clones were watching the general, each one trying to figure out what word he was thinking of. “Is it an animal?” “No!” “A person?” “No.” Kenobi slumped in the seat to Y/N’s right, sighing in relief. “We’re getting a few days off while the council sends another Jedi to investigate any more potential betrayals.” “Thank fuck, I’m exhausted.”

Rex moved his arm away from the padawan in favour of leaning forward and participating in the subtle teasing of Anakin. The ship rocked as they left the atmosphere, Y/N’s plump body was sifted forward and Obi-wan slipped his arm around her so he could slip a large calloused hand beneath her robes to cup her wide hip. She settled back against him, a sly smile appearing on both of their faces.

He massaged her flesh lightly, chuckling as the clones shouted random words while Ani got increasingly more agitated. Soon enough, the ship was docked and slowly, everyone filed out, leaving the Jedi. “Master? Are you alright?” “Yeah this is just really bothering me, tinks.” She squeezed his shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out master. Maybe you should meditate.” He sent a glare towards her, smacking her upside the head. “Don’t sass me. Be in the courtyard at daybreak for sparring.”

Obi-wan chuckled and followed him out of the ship, pausing for a moment. “My chambers, after sunset.” A shiver ran down Y/N’s spine.

And a few hours later, as the massive starship left them safely on Corusant, she ran through the temple to her own quarters, practically skidding down the halls in her excitement. The other Jedi weren’t phased by her behaviour as it was well-known that her generally happy demeanour made her hyper and Anakin loved to send her on fruitless errands through the palace to get rid of some of her energy.

As night fell, Y/N snuck through the halls, dark robes covering her naked body. Before she even raised her fist to knock on the metal door, it slid open, revealing a shirtless Obi-wan. His smirk made her knees buckle and he pulled her inside. She rested her hands on his chest, slowly tracing the trail of ginger hair down to the top of his trousers where it disappeared beneath them.

Her fingers wrapped around the elastic and pulled his hips to hers, his hands held her jaw as they kissed, their bodies getting closer and closer, only breaking apart to pull their clothes off before their lips crashed back together. “I’m going to ravish you tonight love. You’re only cumming on my cock.” She giggled as he grabbed her thighs and hoisted her up, pinning her to the wall, his hard cock was trapped between them, already leaking pre-cum.

“You know better than to tease me on missions, little one.” Her head fell to his neck, mouthing at the pale skin. “Didn’t mean to, master.” His cock twitched at the title. “Fuck.” She screamed as he thrust into her, using the force to stimulate her clit, her nerves being set on fire.

“That’s right. Only I can make you feel this good.” Obi-wan was thankful that he had the privilege of having one of the only soundproof rooms in the temple because of his high status since Y/N couldn’t stay quiet as he pumped into her. Grunts and slaps filled the room as their highs grew, her nails scrapped down his back so hard she almost drew blood. “Yes yes yes.” She chanted, tightening around him to the point where he found it hard to even pull out, so he started grinding instead.

A warm feeling wrapped around his balls, caressing them the same way Y/N would whenever she sucked his cock. “So good master.” She whispered in his ear, biting the lobe harshly with a particularly hard thrust. “So naughty using the force to touch me.” “Jus doing what you taught me.” “Bad girl.”

“I know what the fucking word is!” All of a sudden the door beside them opened and Anakin rushed in. Everybody stopped.

Obi-wan was mid-thrust, Y/N was pressed against his chest in an attempt to hide her own, Anakin’s mouth was open in shock as he pointed at the pair. “What. The. Fuck!” The door shut and locked behind him as they scrambled to put clothes back on.

“Ok ok. So my old master is currently hooking up with my padawan. How long has this been happening?” He directed the question at Y/N. “A while. After that mission to Mandalore we hooked up for the first time and then just didn’t stop.” “A year?! How did I not notice this!” Ben chuckled. “Well you spent an entire day trying to remember one word. It was incredibly easy.”

He ran his metal hand through his dark hair. “Still! She’s my padawan, I should know this stuff! You figured out about Padme and I a week after it happened.” “More like 10 minutes after. You walked out of her quarters really happy.” He winked at Y/N as she giggled behind her hands. “Keep laughing tinks, the more you do, the more laps around the temple you have to do.” She shut up immediately. “Yeah that’s right. I’m still your master.”

“Can we pick this up later, Y/N and I have something we need to finish off.” Anakin made a face. “First off, gross. Secondly, I remember the word!” “So are you going to tell us or just keep us in suspense?” Y/N leaned back against her partner’s chest, savouring his warmth. “Yes, right! I was thinking about Padme on the mission and I was thinking about a word to describe her and I just now remembered it while I was filling out reports.”

“So you remembered a word that describes your wife while doing something incredibly boring and frustrating.” “Please don’t fill out reports when you’re thinking about me.” She whispered in Obi-wan’s ear. “Never.” He kissed her neck, chuckling. “Anyway,” Ani glared at them, “I remembered the word and it was… oh fuck. I forgot again!”

“I guess you should go do more reports then.” The older master sassed. “Shut up! I’m just going to go. I never want to see this again!” As soon as he was gone, Obi-wan threw Y/N over his shoulder and strode over to the bed in the back of his quarters. “Now where did we leave off.” She smiled and dragged him back on top of her. “Why don’t I help remind you.”

Taglist

@im-a-slut-for-fluff

#obi wan kenobi #plus size reader #smut #fluff #reader insert #female reader #obi wan x plus size reader #obi wan kenobi x plus size reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x y/n #anakin skywalker #padawan!reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x female!reader #obi wan x female!reader #star wars

[captainrexisboo]

Ice

-DJ Khaled voice- Another one.

What the fuck?? Four fics in just one weekend?? After two whole months of inactivity?? Aha, I am in no way as productive as you think I am. I’ve been sitting on all of these projects for almost three months now lmao- but they’re here now for your viewing pleasure, babes! This is a one shot Rex x Jedi!Reader, but they are not together. They do not get together. This is just Rex, pining for some oblivious Jedi General (you) and dealing with it by being grumpy and thinking he has the upper hand in teasing the reader. I left the gender of the reader pretty ambiguous I think? I hope?

No warnings apply, except I guess foul language if you don’t like that. And vague imaginings of semi steamy scenarios. Some angst if you squint. But really, it’s just fluffy pining, with a needy (and in denial) Rex. Comments, questions, reblogs and replies absolutely welcome and encouraged!

~

“T-take off the a-a-armor.”

The jaig eyes turned to you, the blue and white blending into the Pantoran ice and snow effortlessly. This would be the only environment suitable for their stark white armor as camouflage, and here you were demanding him stripped. Knowing you couldn’t read his bewildered expression, Rex tilted his head to you in a curious motion, “Why?”

“It’s fekkin’ f-freezin’ Cap,” you spoke through chattering teeth, pulling your robes tighter around you. He chuckled at your cursing, no other Jedi talked so blunt like you did, so casual. It was even worse when you were outside the temple, falling out of regulations and decorum the moment it was just you and your troopers. Hell, they didn’t even have to be your troopers. Force knows how often you’ve snuck around the barracks on Coruscant, going from battalion to battalion, whoever had furlough, making sure every clone gets at least a moment's worth of normalcy in their too-short life. Rex would be lying if he said it wasn’t endearing, and he may have felt a slight smidgen of pride that, aside from your own men, you seemed to find yourself in the 501st bunks the most.

“So? I’m perfectly toasty in this specialized insulated armor. You’re the one that decided not to wear your cold-assault gear until we got to the surface, General L/N,” Rex teased, drawing out your name and title nice and slow, biting back a bit of laughter at the way you scrunch your nose whenever you got annoyed, “Why would you want me to de-kit? To be cold with you?”

“Don’t c-call me that, Rex,” you bit out, groaning at the formality, and the chill going down your spine, “Y-you know I’m just Y/N.”

“I’ll stop calling you proper, when you stop being a Jedi,” he chided, prodding some more at the fire in the dim cavern, the only light being the glowing embers in front of you and whatever was being illuminated off the snow right at the mouth of the cave. Your ship had crashed into the freezing moon in the midst of a brutal blizzard, luckily right next to the base of a mountain with accessible caves. Unluckily, you were also 15 klicks west of your rendezvous point, with the wind and snow causing major damage to your transmitters and interfering with the signal in your commlinks. You weren’t going anywhere, or talking to anyone, until the storm let up.

You huffed at his strict persona, you know Rex only acted so dogmatic to rile you up. You saw how nonchalantly he acted around Anakin and Ahsoka, even Obi-Wan at times. No, with you it was entertainment, a game to see how much you could take before breaking, and he loved it. Even without the Force, you could see it in the shake of his shoulders at his quiet laughter, hear the coy smirk in the dip of his drawl, watching the extra swing in his stride as he walked away triumphant every time, so sure he had succeeded in driving you crazy. This time, he had nowhere to run.

Ignoring his baiting taunt, you crawled around the fire to sit right next to him, “P-please, Captain? I’m r-r-really kriffin’ c-cold, and while the fire is so delightful, I think i-it’d be in both o-our best interests to h-have a second source of heat.”

Rex nearly dropped his stick he was using to poke at the kindles, tensing slightly before clearing his throat, “Oh? And what ‘source of heat’ did you have in mind?”

“D-don’t play dumb,” you shivered again, pouting at how you stuttered while he sat a little too well composed for your liking, “I know the K-Kaminoans t-taught you all about s-s-survival tactics. I d-do it with my boys a-all the time. Strip to your b-blacks, m-me to my t-t-tunic, then I’ll wrap my robes around the two of us. B-body heat, Rex.”

Your boys. Your affectionate term for your ever-faithful battalion, that apparently frequently slept and cuddled with you in the most innocent and familiar of ways. Still, something about it made Rex’s stomach stir, his mouth twisting from a smirk into a silent snarl under his helmet. He wasn’t against ‘cuddle puddles’ with the vode, every single brother took part in them, and it wasn’t unusual to find a stray jedi or padawan compacted in the very middle of the pile. He knew for a fact that the 212th had regular arguments as to who’s turn it was to use General Kenobi as a pillow (and that Cody never partook in those bouts- no, he was always the General’s pillow). In theory, he knows it's more than a possibility for you to be a part of them, especially with your extremely relaxed extroverted personality, but actually hearing you say it out loud had something ugly rear its head to sour the Captain’s mood. He attempted to shoo the little creature away, trying to scare it off with a forced cough to make it scurry back into hiding and leave his inner peace alone. His mind clear again, he peered into your pleading doe eyes through his visor, seeing the flames flickering reflections off your irises in a whimsical dance. His gaze went lower, following the slope of your nose, before tracing the shape of your full pout, lips trembling and reddened from the cold, nearly beginning to chap. The slight clicking of your teeth as he watched you shiver under your robes made him resign to your request, sighing as he removed the cowled helmet, “Fine. Why you didn’t just wear your own cold-assault gear is beyond me, but I’ll help you stay warm this time.”

“Oh, thank the force,” you whimpered, immediately dropping the outermost robe from your shoulders, staying on your knees as he stood up to remove his layers. Rex nearly dropped his cuirass, watching you unwrap your tan-colored linen underneath to reveal a gripping white tunic, clinging to your every curve and muscle, no part of you left to the imagination except the actual flesh itself. You even discarded your boots and breeches, leaving you in opaque black tights. Without the safety of his helmet, Rex tore his eyes from you, desperate to hold onto some semblance of rectitude, taking a deep inhale through his nose before continuing his own removal. Rex could feel the tip of his nose numbing just slightly, shaking his head at what the hell was he doing-

“You know, if we get found like this-”

“We’ll s-say I got hypothermia and you were ‘d-doing your duty t-to protect the Jedi’,” you giggled, a little forced, hands coming up to rub at your shoulders, attempting to create some friction, but wincing at the iciness of your fingers, “Rex, hurry!”

Your whine of his name had him hesitant to remove the bottom half of his armor, already starting to feel something forbidden gathering in the depths of his stomach. He tried to fend off the feeling by turning his head to the stone wall and talking- though whether that was an effective decision remained to be seen. “I’m just saying, can’t you use the Force or whatever to warm yourself up? Isn’t that something you can do? I know you can use the Force for healing purposes, this’d be like that, right?”

“If I had f-followed the path of m-m-medical practice, sure,” your breath came out in little clouds as you puffed through another tremor, wrapping your dark robe around your shoulders as you waited for Rex to finish, “But, I didn’t, I chose the kn-n-nights, and so I’m here, and n-now I’m your problem.”

“My problem,” Rex grumbled under his breath as he sat back down, tugging at the final parts of his boots, not caring that you could actually hear him, “Skywalker is my problem. Tano is my problem. Kenobi can even be considered my problem at times, but you, General? No, no, no. You’re not my problem, you’re-”

Turning back around to face you, he nearly choked on his own spit. He hadn’t realized how close you were, and without his helmet, his nose brushed against yours in an innocent bunny kiss, the brief friction making him jump back nearly a foot away. A teasing chuckle left you at his skittish reaction, cocking your head to the side as you opened your robe back up and beckoned him closer, “Wrong way, Captain. C’mere.”

His throat felt tight, closing off almost everything, even air, and despite his discarded layers he was certain the back of his neck was beginning to sweat. The way you so carefully had folded your legs, thighs pillowing together in such an enticing way, leaning on your elbow to pronounce the slope of your hips and curve of your waist...he could so easily wrap his arms around you perfectly, before settling his head to rest on your chest and memorize the beat of your heart- the pinch of his nails digging into the meat of his palm drew him out of his mind before he could fall any further down that rabbit hole. He cleared his throat, throwing his gaze to the floor as his entire being tensed, “This…i-is not regulation, General.”

“Oh my maker you’ve been hanging out with Echo too much,” you groaned, throwing your head back dramatically, “Rex, please?”

He swallowed down a hard gulp of air, inching his way over to you, without looking up from the floor. You met him halfway, dragging your thickest robe behind you, and sighed in relief at the natural waves of heat coming off of him. Every single clone ran hot, and you trapped that heat by throwing the robes over the two of you, wrapping your hands around the back of Rex’s head and pulling him into your neck as you leaned against a standing rock.

One minute his eyes were counting cracks and jagged holes scattered over the cave floor, and the next they were gifted with a gracious view of your form, so close he could smell your clean body wash, a soft mint that tickled his nose, and he had to count to ten to control his breath so he didn’t just inhale you instead of oxygen. It was a concentrated effort made extremely difficult due to the delightfully sharp pressure of your nails against his scalp. You already felt like heaven, he had to tense himself from wanting to grab for more of you- which he didn’t have to do anyways. You had pulled him into you, his nose brushing over your neck, the tip still chilled, making a breathless giggle leave you, “Oh, your nose is s-so icy!”

“Who's fault is that,” Rex grumbled into you, mumbling to try to keep his lips from mouthing over your exposed collarbone. What he couldn’t stop was the delighted shiver that ran through him as your hands started massaging the tired planes of muscle in his back, making him lose a bit of discipline and dropping flush against you. He made a horrified sound, the breath strangled in his throat as he felt a nervous sweat thickly dripping over the back of his neck, before that sweet amused sound left you once again.

“Rex, you're so tense! Here, lemme just-”

Your hands worked in smooth motions, rubbing deep into his tired tissue. He could feel his eyes roll back into his head, biting the swell of his lip to keep any lewd sounds from leaving him, focusing on syncing his breath with the flow of your touches. His form was finally slack, keeping you trapped underneath him as his arms tentatively found their way around your waist, holding you to him, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You hummed at the coverage of him over you, leaning to nuzzle against the side of his head, the prick of his blond tickling the tip of your numbed nose. You whispered to him, eyelids growing heavy as you curled into him, “Thank you, Captain.”

Your breathing evened out, deep and slow, your hands coming to a rest, stopping on the small of his back and between his shoulder blades. Rex couldn’t believe it; you had fallen asleep in his arms. His eyes slowly peeked open, and he wiggled a bit, getting to a place where he faced you instead of the rock you were both leaning on. His eyes were nearly level with your jawline, he could trace the profile of your parted lips, still threatening to chap in the cold air, but your breath didn’t stutter anymore from the chill. He really was helping keep you warm.

He had dreamt about those lips, memorized the way they shaped his name, watched the direction you preferred to run your tongue over them while you were deep in thought. He licked his own lips in just that way, thinking about how maybe it’d feel if he were to do that to yours.

Maker, he was awful. Thinking about his wretched togue playing at your perfect lips, while you laid so peaceful and trusting underneath him.

Rex prided himself as a man of honor, he wasn’t so foolish as to attempt anything, but even just thinking about you in this vulnerable way as you let him hold you… he felt slimy, unworthy to be in your good graces. He let out a shuddering breath, not in the cold but in longing, exhaling your name as his arms brought you impossibly closer to him. For however long the two of you had, however long the storm lasted, he would treasure this. He would treasure you. 

He was a fool for fighting you on this. Being lulled by your breath to join you into rest as the blizzard raged on, the only thing he would change would be how late he was in agreeing to your conditions. When you both awoke, with the snow settled and communications running, when you were both with your respective teams, and yourself in proper gear, Rex would still have tonight in his memory. He would still be holding you in his arms, breathing you in, and playing the memory of your heartbeat, the soft thumping tempo so soothing, on repeat in his mind.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #captain rex imagine #captain rex x y/n #captain rex x you #pining #cuddling for warmth #oblivious reader #grumpy captain #hes done with your shit but fucking hells youre so damn cute #swtcw fanfic #commander rex #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars #my writing #liz speaks #jedi!reader #oblivious!reader

[shatouto]

more raised-sith anakin whump and jedi obi-wan comfort, co-written with @obiwanobi ! (also available on ao3) pls check out the rest of the series if you haven’t (it won’t make a lot of sense otherwise)

content note: non-graphic depiction of violence; mention of past sidious-style abuse; just please proceed with care

a little more

Anakin shivers alone in the nightly winds.

He counted exactly five sunsets and sunrises since the meditation incident. Obi-Wan never brought it up again, and acted like nothing happened. He still smiled and joked with such kind eyes; still asked Anakin about his progress on the newest cleaning droid in their quarters and offered to read to him before bed. Even Ahsoka never brought it up, even though Anakin was sure the Jedi would tell his apprentice about his major offense.

He couldn’t eat. He could hardly sleep. His stomach churned every time Obi-Wan said a gentle thing to him, in that usual melodic lilt of his. His breath halted every time Obi-Wan passed him by and pat his shoulder or brushed his hand. His Master had made him wait before, but never for this long without reminding him of his misdeed. But waiting time was meant to make the punishment more excruciating, so perhaps this is the point all along - that he suffers before he gets what he deserves. Or maybe the smiles are only a beautiful facade before the Jedi discards him for good. Because, let’s be frank: what worth does he have here?

The sky is a lightless inky ocean with not even a speck of starlight to speak of. Anakin turns his gaze one more time towards the lights of the Jedi dormitories. This is what he has to do, to be able to stay, he reasons. This is the only way.

He makes his way down.

The Lower Levels of Coruscant are singularly illuminated by artificial light, if they are illuminated at all. Here where celestial lights never reach, every grease-streaked face is tinted in the neon magenta and cyan of gaudy store signs, or the sickly green of long battery life storm lanterns. The alleys are perpetually murky, a certain stickiness that holds the sole of your shoes whenever you peel your feet from the ground. A cacophony of howling fight dogs echoes from afar, and the light above him flickers. Anakin doesn’t even need to glance around.

Here, there is no shortage of fists itching to throw a punch.

It takes little more than a shove and a cuss, to get himself thrown to the ground. Anakin springs back up onto his feet with ease; by then, several people, of various species and stature, have gathered around him. Some of them reeks of booze, others of blood. From there on, it’s easy.

His knuckles collide with a jaw. Bone cracks under his metallic fist. Force-blinds are no match for him; he has taken down dozens on his own when he was but a whelp under Master Sidious’s tutelage, thirteen years of age or so. That’s not to say they don’t land a good blow here and there, but a few bruises on the face are hardly more than a tickle compared to the burn scars that litter his body. When a sudden blast rings in the relative silence and misses him by a hair, Anakin grins. He whips around and uses the Force to simultaneously yank the blaster from the shooter’s hand and fling the marksman across the street. He opens fire.

Some of them fall, some of them run. Some of them remain, and then run when they see him toss the blaster away in favor of meeting them hand to hand. The more they come at him, shoot at him, the more his blood infuses with thrill. He feels renewed in misery, in the knowledge that this show of abandon will surely earn him the punishment he deserves, where all else failed. His metal fingers are capable of cutting skin, breaking bones, if he so wants, and he does. There’s blood on his hands, warm, soaking the sleeves of his too-soft robes. There has always been blood on his hand; a little more doesn’t make any difference.

When he’s done, Anakin thinks, he’ll be back in the Jedi’s quarters and kneel at the door to his bedroom. He’ll wait there, ready, so that when the sun rises, the Jedi will come and see what he has done. This is not something the Jedi can ignore in favor of delaying his punishment. He smiles and shivers at the same time at just the thought of it.

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

Obi-Wan’s startled voice runs him through like a spear. Anakin stops dead in his movements, wide-eyed. Obi-Wan? Here?

His pause promptly earns him a blaster shot to the shoulder. He snaps his head back towards the bastard who shot him, hand thrusted out in a Force-push. The shooter flies through the air and slams against a store sign. Another blaster fires.

Obi-Wan deflects it away from Anakin.

Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

He staggers back and back away. This isn’t right. The Jedi should be asleep. He’s not meant to be in this nest of rats and vipers; not meant to know anything of this, to see Anakin in this state—just, just observe the aftermath and dispense his justice. Only the aftermath. Only when Anakin is ready.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anakin says, his center lowered, his stance battle-ready. The scums around him scurry like cockroaches under the light of a lightsaber, even as Obi-Wan thumbs it off and clips it to his belt. “You should be in bed, not here.”

“The same could be said to you,” Obi-Wan says. Neon lights flicker on his face, his furrowed brows and tight lips, and there’s no light that’s ever been so dull, duller than the spark of dismay in his eyes that Anakin doesn’t want to acknowledge. “I would much prefer you to come back...”

“I have to be here.”

Obi-Wan is unflinching. He crosses his arms not only in a refusal to engage, but also in clear disapproval. “May I ask why?”

It’s the disapproval that makes Anakin’s heart drop.

“No,” he grits, breaths stuttering. He closes and opens his hand and warm sticky blood seeps into the cracks of his palm. If there is some semblance of a reflexive surface here, Anakin would look right into it, so desperate he is to see what color his eyes are. How does he look like to Obi-Wan right now? Does he deserve a punishment yet? Does he deserve anything?

Because if not, if he doesn’t, if he has no worth and Obi-Wan grows tired of him, he’ll be on his own again, facing the fact that he has lost everything and everyone and has nowhere to go and nothing to be. Hells, Anakin knows he shouldn’t be like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be so weak as to fear losing any one man, let alone one Jedi, one stupid Jedi; he shouldn’t care; why does he care so much; he hates it, he hates it.

“Why are you here?” Anakin backs away, towards the source of sound - there’s a gambling den nearby, where he could conceivably squirrel himself away. “What are you trying to do?”

Obi-Wan only raises his hands, palm forward. “To get you home. Anakin, you have...”

“Bantha shit,” Anakin spits. They’ve gathered yet again a sizable amount of curious onlookers. “What do you want, Jedi?”

“Anakin, please, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Anakin roars, even though that is exactly what he has been seeking. Direct orders, uncomplicated. But not like this. Not with this benevolence. “If you’re not going to answer me then don’t fucking tell me what to do!” He steps back and back, and the only thing the Jedi does is match every backward step of his with one step forward of the exact same length. “Fuck you and your nice little lies; never say one straightforward thing, ever, because you’re too good for it, what a good Jedi. Just say you want to drag me back by the scruff and punish the nine hells out of me.” He gives a teeth-gritted grin. “Say it! I know you want to say it!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even deign to look taken aback. He says nothing, does nothing, just stands there in that damned little display of harmlessness, so patient, so calm, like he’d be ready to ask for a cup of tea and sip it slowly while watching Anakin any moment now. So that’s how it is, huh?

The bystanders scatter in shrieks when one of them is suddenly lifted in the air, scrabbling at their neck with strangled noises. Anakin’s eyes are not even on them; he glares at the Jedi as his fingers curl. “Say it.”

Obi-Wan finally moves. He stands between the hapless stranger and Anakin. His eyes harden, the shadows on his face sharpen, and his voice turns steel-cold. “No.” He takes Anakin wrist in a vise-tight grip. “Let them go. Stop this, now.”

Finally.

Anakin lets go. Not just of the person, but of everything. He drops to his knees with his wrist still in Obi-Wan’s hand, and when it’s released, his arm swings down limply, colliding with his thigh in a dull slap. His head hangs as his eyes squeeze shut. He tucks his tongue back and tries not to wonder what it’ll be this time - lightning or lightsaber burn, electro-whip lashes or an invisible hand around his neck, water running over his face or the cold hard curved confines of the Sphere...

But nothing comes.

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice has always been very soft for someone so capable at fighting; even so, this is probably the gentlest tone he’s used yet.

“Anakin,” he says again, and the name feels safe in his mouth.

Anakin won’t be fooled. His Master liked to lull him into a sense of safety during his lessons, coaxing him to let down his guard just to strike harder after and make sport of his tattered body. He should know better. He should…

“Anakin, please, look at me.”

Obi-Wan’s voice is worth a little more pain.

He opens his eyes to find Obi-Wan’s. The Jedi is crouched before him, close enough to touch if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Anakin can’t decipher the look on his face or even the hand hanging in the air between them that doesn’t have a lightsaber in it ready to strike him or lightning to burn him.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Anakin doesn’t dare to breathe too hard.

Obi-Wan’s brows knit together. “I could not understand why you would leave in the midst of a night to do this. Where have I wronged you?” He sighs again into silence. “You scared me, Anakin.”

A punishable offense. So here’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, listing his sins before punishing him, ordering him to keep his eyes open in wait of the punishment to come. Anakin stares at him, eyes stinging, waiting. But instead of the burning of a blade on his back or a slow Force-choke around his neck, calloused fingers find his wrist. They move lightly above his skin, cautious, taking their time as if to unravel the tension under his flesh, wrapping around his hand. Anakin braces himself for the twist, for the sudden deceit and pain. Instead, Obi-Wan's thumb starts rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand.

“May I take care of you, then?” Obi-Wan asks, and something in his voice breaks a bit. “You’re hurt, dear one.”

These last words are like a saber to his heart. Anakin never thought Obi-Wan could be this cruel.

“Don’t,” he chokes out his last defiance, as his fists start trembling, “don’t call me that.” He bows his head deeply and shuts his eyes and goes as still and silent as possible. His insides are curling in on themselves, yet he doesn’t dare move. He’s nearly holding his breath, as the air moves around him. Fabric rustles, and he can feel arms drawing around him, and This is it he thinks, this is it, the pain will come and he will finally be released—

Obi-Wan pulls him to his chest.

This is not right. This is not real. This can’t be true. Nobody could be this gentle; nobody could forgive just like that, not with the insults and insolence and innumerable unpunished offenses old and new. Anakin does not get touched like this. He should not. His shoulders are squared stiff and his muscles constrict so hard that he starts shaking. He can barely breathe, because every breath knives into his tightened throat. His nose stings and his eyes burn and he gasps for air, only to take in a sharp sob.

“Please don’t… Please don’t do this to me.” Anakin gulps, clutching his own torso, fearful of the sudden warmth and tenderness. “Just—just punish me, I deserve it, please punish m—” He nearly bites his tongue trying to suppress the next sob. Tears always angered his Master. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I beg of you, please stop making me wait, Master, I’m sorry, please, just…”

Obi-Wan pulls back only to take Anakin’s face in his hands. Thumbs wipe over his cheekbones. “I’m not your Master,” he hushes, brushing hair back from Anakin’s forehead. “I’m not going to punish you, Anakin.”

And then Obi-Wan does the unthinkable: he lowers his outermost mental shields. He lets Anakin in, on his own. His concern scatters across the expanse of his psyche like gemstones, like blinking stars. His words are as true as the moon. I would like to bring you home. I would like to keep you safe. Obi-Wan’s hand cradles the base of his skull. Lips press into his hair. I would like to see you smile.

Anakin’s mouth falls open in a wail. He smushes his face against the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and soaks his robes with tears. He cries his throat raw and parched, cries until his jaws tremble, his teeth clatter, his head goes light. He lets go of his own flanks and bunches his fists into Obi-Wan’s robes instead. Obi-Wan’s arms are wrapped firmly around him like a promise.

Anakin hiccups one last time, and sags.

—

Ahsoka paces near the Temple’s gate. The Temple Guards glance at her every once in a while, and she’s a little bit annoyed, maybe, but that’s nothing compared to the worry brewing in her chest right now. Dawn is peeking at the horizon, and her Master is nowhere to be found.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she mutters to herself, flooding her and Obi-Wan’s bond with the rightful amount of indignation. You should’ve taken me with you, Master!

She’s surprised to feel Obi-Wan’s response immediately. A brief sense of reassurance, and a nearness - he’s approaching. His presence is too mired in concerns for her to make out the exact message, but she gets the sentiment. Her worries go through and mirror his own. They’re probably worrying about the same thing, then.

Ahsoka knows Obi-Wan is back before he’s even within sight. Yet the sight of him still suffuses her with equal parts relief and amazement. In the light of dawn, her Master marches into the Jedi Temple, a gentle silhouette against the rosy sky. Limp in his arms, head pillowed on his shoulder, is Anakin No-Name, formerly known as Darth Vader, currently unconscious.

“Let them both in.” Ahsoka tells the Temple Guards, showing them her datapad. “Words from Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan looks at her gently, mouthing a soft thank. Her steps fall beside his, and for a while there are only the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the great hall.

“Master.” Her eyes flick to Anakin, noting his red, puffy eyes in stark contrast with his ashen face and… are those dried tears? There is blood on the ex-Sith’s robes and on her Master’s and she sort of really wants to know which is whose. “Is he alright?”

“More or less,” Obi-Wan answers. Ahsoka frowns at him, yet he seems too deep in thoughts to notice that. She sets a hand on his arm.

“Master, the Council has…”

“I know, young one.” Obi-Wan pauses when Anakin chuffs, shuffling his arm to rearrange the ex-Sith in a more comfortable position, and continues on his way. “I would prefer you to go back to sleep. This is my responsibility to bear.”

#obikin #raised as sith anakin #always a sith anakin #ex sith anakin #so many names #star wars prequels #clem’s au #our au :’) #also im sorry i can’t take ‘kriff’ seriously #i have to say fuck #let anakin say fuck 2k21 #ALSO i wrote this last week but #i had to Exercise Some Self Control

[corrupt-fvcker]

Masterpiece (Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader)

Masterpiece ( Obi-Wan Kenobi x gn!Reader )

Warning: nothin’ but fluff and shirtless obi-wan, i wrote this as gender neutral but PLEASE message me if there’s any concerns (aka i fucked up and used pronouns)

Word Count: 1.6K

Author’s Note: just a quick piece about reader getting caught drawing obi-wan. had a lot of fun writing this, hope y’all enjoy. one hundred percent inspired by a daydream i had when procrastinating homework. my requests are open!!

Obi-Wan looked ethereal. It was storming on Coruscant, raindrops incessantly pattering against the glass of the viewport as distant shuttles raced through the ebony night sky. Your apartment was silent other than the soft crackling of the fire Obi-Wan had constructed, your living room tainted a warm orange from the reflection of the dancing flames.

Your shirtless boyfriend hadn't spoken a word for over an hour, quietly sitting cross-legged on the glossy floor facing the fireplace. His freckled back was straight, strong forearms resting on his thighs with his calloused palms open to the ceiling. Your eyes followed the curve of his spine, admiring each and every mole and battle scar that painted his skin. His shoulders were broad from years of fierce training, the pale skin dusted with a flurry of tan freckles. You diverted your gaze to the back of his head, his auburn hair in need of trimming and still slightly damp from his shower.

It was his second night back from a particularly long mission, and it must've been tedious because he was keen to dismiss any conversation regarding the three-week-long battle, no matter how many times you insisted that you'd rather talk about it then have him bottle it up. But even though he was with you now, back home safe, you knew that your Obi-Wan wasn't exactly here. His body was roughly three paces away from the couch you were perched in, but his mind was much further.

Meditation had been a regular practice for Obi-Wan ever since he was a padawan, and you had to entertain yourself when he followed through his routine of meditating at sunrise and sunset. The thought of you being awake at sunrise was comical, which luckily meant that Obi-Wan was back in your shared bed with you by the time you stirred awake. But every night, you were forced to leave your lover alone for an hour or so -- which should've been easy, except you missed the ever-living hell out of him.

Though over time you grew used to the hour of alone time Obi-Wan's routine meditations offered, you learned to busy yourself. But you weren't going to give up so easily, you were going to spend time with him even the general was half-unconscious and unintentionally ignoring your fabulous company. So every night when his cerulean eyes fluttered shut and his chest rose and fell at a suspiciously slow pace, you drew him.

There was something so incredibly peaceful about Obi-Wan meditating, a silent beauty that begged to be captured on paper. Obi-Wan never looked so relaxed, all the worry and tension in his muscles melting from his body like hot wax.

Tonight, Obi-Wan had been silent for much longer than usual, nearly two hours as you focused on the finishing details of your sketch. And you were actually proud of your work, which you always found difficult when it came to any of your art. You had finally managed to capture every flicker of beauty Obi-Wan possessed, and even if it was just a drawing, it was undeniably him.

You smirked, gazing down at your sketch with only a twinge of scrutiny lacing your mind. His hair wasn't quite right, you'd struggled to add texture to it without making the back of his head look like a bird's nest. And his back was actually a bit more muscular than the slightly leaner version carefully etched onto the paper. Nevertheless, you were pleased with tonight's drawing and you blew away the eraser shavings with a small puff of air from your pursed lips.

Now all you had to do was outline the pencil sketch with a black ink pen, which was always a frightening task but you could never claim your drawings to be officially finished without the black outline.

You quietly stood from the plush cushions of the couch, setting your sketchpad down on the sofa before you ventured into the office to fetch a pen.

When you returned to the living room, your heart stuttered.

"Don't look at that!"

Obi-Wan had moved from his spot on the floor, leaning into the couch as he examined your art with precision, his pupils carefully following every faint wispy line of your pencil's graphite. Your stomach was rolling, your face suddenly feeling hot as Obi-Wan reluctantly tore his gaze from the drawing to look at you.

"Did you make this?"

No reason in denying it, the skin of your hands stained from your pencil and your signature was undeniable scribbled in the right bottom corner of the page as well as the front cover.

"Uh, yeah," you answered timidly, unmistakably embarrassed. It was one thing for someone else's eyes to even look at your artwork, but it was entirely something else for Obi-Wan to see not just your drawing but a drawing of him. Obi-Wan -- the man that has spent his entire life living in his body, who knows it better than anyone, looking at an imperfect reflection that you drew.

You swallowed thickly, beginning to panic when Obi-Wan continues to silently examine the sketch. "I know it's not perfect, I'm not the best artist. I don't think I really did you justice." You try to say this with a smile and glimmer of humor in your voice, but you knew that you plainly sounded nervous.

"It's... amazing," he spoke softly, eyes flitting between you and the paper. You hadn't moved from the doorway, feet stuck in place like your body had been frozen in carbonite. Obi-Wan's rosy lips curl into a soft grin. "You're amazing."

Relief floods your system, like a dousing of refreshing water. You were just glad it didn't weird him out that you stared at him for two hours while he was meditating (though you had a hunch that he was guilty of watching you in the morning while you were still asleep).

"Really?" You questioned, eyebrows furrowing. "I think it's off."

Obi-Wan shook his head in disagreement, smiling down at the paper. "No, I think it's perfect. A masterpiece."

You couldn't help but laugh, watching Obi-Wan stare at the drawing with an expression of pure adoration. "You just like it because it's a picture of you."

Obi-Wan huffed out an amused chuckle, the wrinkles that etched the corners of his eyes creasing as he turned to look at you. "Maybe," he teased, "but I know you're far more talented than you give yourself credit for."

You crossed your arms over your chest, silently dismissing his compliment as you ventured over to sit beside him. He opened his arms, allowing you to lean against his side and his strong arms surrounded you as he continued to gaze down at the piece of art. He was warm, invitingly so, and you thanked the Maker that Obi-Wan hadn't tugged on a shirt after his shower.

"Can I keep this?" Obi-Wan asked, the vibrations from his voice thrumming throughout his entire body.

Your head was nestled into the crook of his neck and you pressed a chaste kiss to the warm skin. "Of course."

Obi-Wan smiled, setting the page down carefully on the thick armrest of the couch before firmly securing his arms around your waist. He pivoted on the cushions, swinging a leg behind you before tightening his grip on your waist and dragging you up his bare torso, his skin providing more warmth than the fire ever had to offer. He relaxed into the throw pillows that lined the armrest, leaving both of your bodies at a comfortable angle. His breaths were soft and slow, ghosting over the top of your head.

"I missed you, darling," he promised, his voice low and laced with undeniable exhaustion.

A soft smile flickered over your features, hugging his arms that were loosely wrapped around your body. "I miss you too."

Obi-Wan pressed a delicate kiss to the crown of your head. "And you're so beautiful."

Now you were grinning. 

What a complete sap.

"You're just saying that because I drew you."

Amusement shadowed over Obi-Wan's face but he shook his head. "No, I'm saying it because I love you."

You rolled your eyes playful. "Whatever you say, Obi-Wan. Just stop snooping in my sketchbook."

A moment of silence drifted between the two of you, and for a second you assumed that Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

"Is there more?"

Your mind is cautiously blank, raising an eyebrow even though he can't see it from behind you. "More what?" You replied hesitantly.

"More drawings," he answered simply.

More drawings of him, you figure he means.

"Uh... no?"

Apparently not nearly as convincing as you needed to be. 

Long fingers dug into your sides and you unwillingly shriek, jolting off of Obi-Wan and tumbling to the floor with a hollow thump.

"Hey!" You frowned, lifting your head up to face the bastard except he's already running off with your sketchbook tightly grasped in his hands.

Oh shit.

"Give it back," you hollered, racing after him but he'd already locked himself in the refresher. You pray that his ego doesn't enlarge too badly once he sees the nude images you drew from memory.

Yeah, you were screwed.

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #ewan mcgregor #star wars #fanfic #fanfiction #corrupt-fvcker #my writing #reader insert #self insert

[highsviolets]

give me love (i’ll put my heart in it)

summary: you think about your relationship with Ben, musing on endings and beginnings. set in between ‘complications of time’ and ‘gingerbread cigarettes.’

pairing: lifeguard!Ben x reader 

warnings: angst-ish? I guess? Nothing crazy. Some language.  

links: prev / next / series masterlist / full masterlist 

a/n: yes hello hi I still write for Obi-Wan! Thanks to Brit, who encouraged me to post this, as well as being the fearless champion of this series. If you wanna, listen to this while reading.

give me love (i’ll put my heart in it) 

The cigarette isn’t working like it’s supposed to. There’s no burn, no squeezing in your lungs. Smoke that’s exhaled in a practiced breath lingers. Reluctant. It doesn’t want to dissipate — building blocks of nothingness can’t dissolve into their own substance, after all. Or can they? Maybe they’re just waiting for permission((letting go)).

It doesn’t matter anyway. A rock is your path, and you kick it, and you watch it travel down the sidewalk. Does it know? Does it know that its existence was a hindrance to yours?

Marlboros feel different without him around. When you haven’t stolen it from his backpack, or pocket, or right out of his hand. It doesn’t taste like heady spice, tingling tobacco. There’s an anguishing aftertaste in it wake, all metallic and slippery and….fucking hell, what’s the word? Where you miss the way things were before? Reminiscence? Nostalgia?

Ben would know. He’s good with words. The inhale is sharp, this time. From the death stick or the thought of him, you can’t say. Probably him, you decide, and pull the flannel tighter around you with your hand. He has always drawn you closer that you already were.

Ben is good with words, and he is good with cigarettes. Somehow the two things mold together, pressing and pulling: a play-doh question of eternal causality. Which came first, the cigarettes or the words? It sure as hell wasn’t you; he was already everything he is when he dragged you from crushing currents and brought you back to solid land. and you had lit his cigarette and worn his t-shirt and kissed him against the metal of his car, so hot it was cold, so hot you didn’t feel him save you from drowning just to set fire to your eyes. so hot you forgot the sensation of suffocation, his life squeezing yours in a box, a box shaped like the narrow white-and-red packs in back pocket and the metamorphosing of his books and the lewd lines in his sketches of aromatic deep blue futures ((those too that he would construct on your body, all arches and gilded strokes)). Hands are Ben’s forte: his weapon of choice. It is how he constructs you, brick by brick, and how he punches you apart, snippets and cuts and incisions through rips in paper and bleeding ink and scabs made from ashes.

He’s here and not here, as he always is. But nothing works even when it’s all the same. Ben will always linger, in crevices in dark armor that you carry shrouded and half-discarded, limp from a weary frame. And he will be there too, in drizzles of gold and honey sunlight. Perhaps you will never be able to smoke a fucking cigarette again((you won’t be able to stop))

Christ, it’s been a while, you had thought when he offered you one for the first time. Funny. That was the last time he had asked. Each ensuing occasion had been a woven branch of phone lines and psychosomatic communications, almost inebriated in their understanding of you and him. you&him drunk, drunk and drowning, hapless as he crashed into you without permission because he didn’t need to. When you had said yes to his cigarette you had said yes to him, and when you said yes to his question on Fukuyama you had assented to his words.

You feel out of place here: disjointed and rheumatic moans echo in your ear while you traverse pavement.This is his turf, and fall suits him better than it suits you. His hair matches the leaves, and his turtlenecks accentuate his cheekbones. He says he likes your flannel (you would, you told him, leaning into the heavy palm caressing your cheek, you picked it out.) But fall is far too esoteric for your liking, too erudite, too intellectual, too restrained. It is everything Ben is and everything you are not. And somehow he is summer too, drowsy and vibrant orange, and fucking hell if he isn’t winter and spring too.

Ben is entirely too alive for his own good — whole fragments — stitching — beloved, licentious breath.

And too pretty at that, you think, catching sight of sky through liquid smothered eyelashes that approach eroticism in their melancholy. You’re not like the girls he knows here. They’re posh and come from towns that aren’t like yours. Like yours and Ben’s. Their penmanship is precise and they have unsaddled accents and when he converses with them he never has to explain himself the way he does with you, tripping and fumbling with words and lighters and dousing the two of you gasoline just so you can see the patterns with which you’ll burn; damn it all if he never has to stop to tell them about a book because they’ve already internalized the moral principles of righteous words, and Christ you just can’t fucking compete with them, with these girls who adorn their words in painted lips.

Your mind has done what it’s been trained to do, exercising agency when you most seek comfort. Lattices of neurons have listened to what you want, twisted electrons pathways and energy levels shattering any semblance of a resting state. There is no rest, not with him and not without him, either. Ben is fast and slow; he is glacial, earthquaking movements. You do not realize you are moving — until you strain for the horizon and discover that it is no longer there.

He is outside, smoking. Corduroy meets brick at the upper reaches of his shoulders, stiff and formal, where his hair would be if he hadn’t cut it just a few weeks back. You wonder if he is really the one that is breaking you; perhaps you’re the one that’s casting him off-balance. Wet — Hot — Car — Skateboard — Library — Braids — Hands — Jackets — it’s always you going into him, so how is it that he has entered into you. maybe there’s a reason you failed biology after all. you could never see things as they really were. before lingers; there will never be an after, not for him((not for him with you)).

what’s wrong, baby, he says and the cigarette falls from his lips but not his hand, not the one that’s taking your arm so you face him head on((you’ve never been able to do that, maybe it’s time you start, maybe it’s time you finally start acting like him, and those girls with painted hands)).

you want to say something witty, something that doesn’t just cut but leaves an open wound. a phrase that will make him hurt in all the same places you do. a clump of letters that will make him understand. that’s what Ben always wants, isn’t it? To understand? you thought the phrase had been soft green and vibrant purple. now it’s a double entendre, or maybe a pun, all dual definitions of sneers and hypocrisy. Ben would know, of course. He’s good with words.

time stretches. temporality feel different as he stands, now upright. waiting. he’s waiting. waiting and yet still moving. blue eyes pluck at your tearstained cheeks((sifting through realities)).

the world needs to stop screaming, to stop screaming and let you think for once, no, you are tired of thinking, you are not like him, you are raw and uncensored gushes of emotion((exuberant hiding)).

Ben tilts your chin, thumb veering up your jaw. the pattern of his fingerprint — all coiled, swaying swirls — imbalance of charges — soft stings to jolt you awake. his touch is so familiar: wrapped in hundreds of occasions past. you relive them all in an instant, from the first to this last ((there is no after)).

but these are shadow-truths, ones you read in the way his hands grip your back and fall back to his sides((limplanguidlazy)) and you want to kiss him, kiss him one more time with eyes wide open. so you can watch him slip away, and slip away with you watching, you think. it’s a lie((Ben told you truth is a certain point view))

ben does not kiss you, but apologizes instead. blue eyes never lose your face and the meanings pressing against your skin feel sticky, over enunciated and slurred at the same time. he is right, but you cannot help but thinking that it is because he has made it so. he has achieved his greatest goal: ben now lives in a reality of his own creating. one fabricated with shards of bloody glass and violet scrunchies ghosting along the fringes of notebooks. most of all it is created with his words. because ben is good with words.

you smile and nod because it what you do, that is what you always do when the world((him)) crashes at your feet. and you walk away. it is really you that have been left, and him who has succeeded in the undoing. but it is all words, words and shadow-truths and half-hearted grasping at living((maybe he will realize how loud it is without him to tame the wind that’s rushing in your ears))

obi tags: @ohhellokenobi @profkenobi @goldenkenobi @rentskenobi @nobie @roseofalderaan @mcu-padawan @anakin-danvers @obitwo @obirain @justrunamok @catsnkooks @answer-the-sirens @lussyyung @cherrykenobi @royalhandmaidens @snips-n-skyguy0501 @kyjoraven @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @ina-lotta @inukako @i-am-i-am-obiwankenobi @princessxkenobi @wille-zarr @badedum-badaboom

#obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x y/n #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan x reader insert #obi wan kenobi x reader insert #star wars fanfiction #90s au #fic: breathless #ewan mcregor #cristina writes #feel free to send any typos my way #i know they exist lmao #userkarina #usernobie #shadesofstarwars

[norcumii]

some musings on TCW season 7

One of the things that makes Tumblr difficult is that I really, REALLY don’t want to harsh anyone’s squee. I don’t want to be that person who sails in, sneers disdainfully at what people are enjoying, and then ambling out, having sucked as much joy out of the room as possible.

My brother used to do that about ANYTHING I was watching, and I still resent it. I don’t want to do that to anyone.

Meanwhile, I’ve reached my saturation point with Season 7 of clone wars, and in my own tired, perpetually exhausted way, I want to scream. Thus, kvetching under the cut. In all seriousness, if you’re enjoying Season 7, then please, PLEASE skip this rant. I sincerely hope you continue to enjoy and Season 7 continues to entertain.

I haven’t watched it: I’m practicing that much self care, at least. There’s been lots of meta and gifsets running around, so I’ve gotten enough second hand exposure – along with useful meandering through various wikis and such – that I feel able to comment about it.

It is indeed very cinematic, and I guess if you dig the art style, then it is a very good example of said art style. But from a broadstrokes perspective, the writing?

What an absolute screaming dumpsterfire.

The thing that finally pushed me from “meh” to “nope, gotta rant about this” was a fascinating piece of meta here, about how Maul is the prism character – the lens through which the story is told. Now, that’s my phrasing and not the OP’s, and again, I haven’t actually seen this so I’m taking a lot of things at face value.

It’s a fascinating approach, and makes the angst and despair that much sharper – especially if you apply this post about parallels to RotS, and let’s not forget the very impressive mocap for the lightsaber fight.

My question, however, is why the FUCK would you do that in the first place? (Not the mocap. That’s genuinely impressive.)

First off: you’re putting the audience in the same boat with the villain. Your lens character is the one who frames the story, who puts into perspective how one interprets events. In this case, that implies that what Ahsoka, Rex, and the rest of the clones are doing is in the antagonist's position, which might be part of the whole “nothing is true and nothing is false but everything is fucked” atmosphere that they seem to be trying to foster (see: Ahsoka’s arguments with Obi-Wan. GFFA has some good breakdowns as far as I can tell). So Maul is supposed to be the lynchpin of this story, either as the protagonist or the Sancho Panza to the protagonist.

That’s a damn weird take on this particular story. Is it about Mandalore? Is it about Ahsoka’s journey? Is it about Maul’s journey? Or are we trying for something meta about how it’s how Maul and Ahsoka’s journeys parallel each other’s, and how those contrast with Anakin’s?

Have you noticed yet who’s missing from this equation?

For a show that’s called “The Clone Wars,” there’s been astonishingly little clones involved in the broader plot. So let’s take a step back from this one issue and look at the season as a whole.

There’s been ten episodes so far this season, out of twelve total. Six of them have centered around Ahsoka. The other four have been about Rex and the Bad Batch. Now, let’s set aside the whole very valid debate about having so many female centric characters and stories is grand, and we need lots more. That’s a damn good point, and Star Wars as a whole needs better diversity on all fronts. Not the particular lens I’m looking through at the moment.

There’s been four of ten episodes about clones. In the final season of The Clone Wars. Yes, they show up in other episodes, but that’s not the focus.

Why would you do that?? We got five seasons already where the clones are more background noise with the occasional highlight (The Deserter, the Umbara Arc), and the entire freakin’ war has been named after them. Ok, so maybe that’s to some degree social commentary about how the Republic was viewing them – background noise against which the weird mythical Jedi shit really stood out – and the sixth season was more a hodgepodge of “we have THESE episodes nearly in the can, rush to finish them because this is important shit to get out the door to bridge from this series to the movies.”

They didn’t expect to have the chance to make this season. They could’ve done pretty much anything, since they didn’t even default to just using the episodes that WERE 70% done (if not more) and had been released into the wild as animatics.

So why pick these stories to tell? And moreover, why this way? Why not make the last hurrah that the crew could not have expected be something coherent and about the actual people that the damned show is named for?

Let’s play with hypotheticals, since kvetching without reasonable alternatives is considered uncouth these days. Let’s say one wants the Bad Batch “rescuing Echo” arc (and that it’s not agony porn. To be fair, I’m not sure if it IS agony porn, thus the presumption that it’s an arc to be had). Since we already spent SIX ENTIRE SEASONS beating home the point that clones are individuals and to be respected as such, rather than introducing new clones who are “aberrations” just to drive home hey, they’re clone versions of TF2 characters clone versions of terrible action movie heroes individuals, how about this?

Cody calls in the Bad Batch, a squad that gets sent into the worst situations and honestly, isn’t ever really expected to come out alive. They’re bad clones, you see. Their leader is probably a man named Dogma – he’s a Jedi killer, but damn loyal to the Republic. His second in command – not that either of them are happy about that – is Slick, a Brother Killer and all around asshole. The other two members of the squad are two deserters: Cut Lawquane, who was found and brought back to the army, and Boil, who was caught trying to leave after Umbara. They have a civilian support member, Suu Lawquane (a damn good sniper, and she now has armor as well as actual clothes).

Bring so many of Rex’s issues home to roost. Make that poor man question all his life choices. He’s still reeling from the whole chip arc and Fives’ death. Let him see what the Grand Army does with its too loyal soldiers, how Dogma did the right thing against orders and is now leading others into the meat grinder on the daily. Let him see what the Grand Army does to traitors, like Slick whose hands are red with the blood of his brothers – just like Rex’s, after Umbara. Cut, who left after too much death, and built a life. Boil, who lost so much, who had enough and just wanted to go find the one remnant of good things that he’d ever encountered in his short life.

They’ve got slave explosive implants somewhere – three because they’re flight risks, Dogma because – well, no one can say why, but it’s so. Let Slick shove Anakin’s nose into the fact that the Jedi are still leading a slave army, have Anakin have to confront that it’s not hyperbole anymore, not when the clones have chips in their heads and now these have slave implants they literally don’t know where.

Hell, have Anakin blow up at Cody over this, and perhaps Cody has to pull rank – establish on screen that he’s running so much of this damn war. He doesn’t like what’s been done with the Bad Batch either, but he can only put out so many fires, and keeping this from raging out of control is the best he can manage.

Let the audience see consequences. Let there be fallout as they go searching for Echo, and the Bad Batch’s various past issues bounce against the experiences of Rex and whoever’s along with him.

(For that matter, if you still want to tackle Mandalore and all that, have one of the soldiers going along with be Vaughn – get to know the man for a little bit. See how Random!Clone reacts to all this, not just Jesse and Kix. Someone without the history with any of these men. While we’re at it, Dogma had Kix in the firing line against Jesse. GIVE ME THE REACTIONS, DAMMIT! AND! And does Rex ever have to say to Dogma “you did the right thing, that Jedi needed to die”? How much does that blow EITHER of their minds?)

Show us travel time. Show us what it’s like for a bunch of soldiers to be stuck in a tin can flying through space along with an entire penal squad of brothers who spit in the face of what the GAR stands for – for reasons both good and bad. Show us what the years have done to Dogma and Slick, how Cut and Suu have adjusted from a life of growing things to having to murder things. How Boil just is done, and wants to head to Ryloth (hey, maybe Numa is currently living with her new sibs/cousins/friends/arch-rivals Shaeeah and Jek).

Then add poor Echo into that mix. Echo, who doesn’t quite know what he’s doing anymore, who was in the Citadel, then stuck in a nightmare of battle sims, and now in this new nightmare of a war that dragged on even longer – and no Fives.

Let us grieve along with him. Fives got a four episode arc (gee, I wonder why this season wanted to start with a four episode arc dealing with the last Domino >_>) where he fell, let us watch Echo’s rise and how he deals with all this.

Let him decide he wants to leave some of the more painful memories behind, how he can’t stay with Rex because it hurts too much, but at least now he’s got some fellow exiles to watch over.

Let the last we see of him be Echo using his new abilities to dismantle both the insidious little buzzing chip inside his and his team’s heads, along with the explosives they also have to bear. Fives died because of the chip, let Echo help others to live in spite of it.

Then slide the camera focus from Rex to Vaughn. Perhaps he gets assigned to go find the former Commander Tano (did he know her at all? Or had he just heard about her?). We could follow him across Coruscant, meeting various civilians who had Strange Encounters with that nice young Togruta. Maybe we get a fun montage: Vaughn questioning people, their various reactions, possibly as a nice voiceover to What Really Happened – that also gives a grand opportunity to get people’s impressions of the Jedi and their clone lackeys.

Then off to Mandalore, still from Vaughn’s perspective. Let us watch this poor man’s rise, as he has to be the metaphorical third wheel to The Team’s reunion. He’s the poor uncomfortable bastard in the room, but he’s a good man, loyal and skilled.

(Also, why could we not get the clones receiving patches or decals of Ahsoka’s markings, and play with that? Emphasize the clones’ individuality – some have it on their shoulder bells, some did the helmets, some have the design down the arm, along the leg – just...diversify, dammit!)

Have Vaughn keep up with Ashoka all the way through to the fight with Maul. Have him be hit, have him be disarmed for the fight – all he can do is witness it (for that matter, you can echo the Duel of the Fates, with Vaughn being in Qui-Gon’s position of dying on the floor).

Then let us see Order 66 from the clones’ perspectives. Show us the sieges, show us Bly and his squad following Aayla into the woods; show us Wolffe and the pack separating from Plo; show us Fox patrolling the Senate.

We’ve seen the Jedi die already. Show us the other side, if you insist on breaking our hearts, and show us how the clones go from good men to good soldiers.

Let me see Cody, let me see the aftermath on Utapau. Let me see Rex breaking, or refusing to break, or whatever it is that happens.

Let this season be about clones.

#star wars #season 7 #critical commentary #sass and murder show #the clone wars #character analysis #thinky thoughts #inappropriate feels about clones #meta #long post is long #writing #useless screaming #spoilers #SO MANY SPOILERS #just venting

[almighty-avenger]

Waiting - Peter Parker

Relationship: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: The reader is concerned about Peter coming back to her after fighting crime all day. This causes her to think of the night they started talking and forming their bond.

Warnings: Swearing, drinking, a sweet kiss

Words: 4480

A/N: This is my first imagine so please be kind. It is a bit long but PLEASE bear with me. I worked hard on it.

KEEP IN MIND:

The regular writing is present time

The slanted writing is a flashback

Enjoy my loves <3

+++

Waiting. It’s an agonizing feeling. To expect outcomes of situations that you have no idea how to decipher or understand.

You weren’t patient, you never were and you couldn’t be now. Especially not now, at a moment like this.

But, yet, here you were, still waiting.

The remaining question: How will this all end?

11:37 p.m. the clock presented.

Exhaling a frustrated sigh of defeat, you roll over on your mattress, eyes burning of fatigue. Your body craved desperately to drift off, into the land of slumber where you could escape your thoughts, your worries, your fears but your stubbornness remained tall and strong-like a cement wall.

How could you sleep when he was still out there?

You gaze out the tall window that was feet away from your bed, its glass sprinkled with raindrops from earlier precipitation. Outside, it led right out to the fire escape where he would usually arrive to slip into your room. Gazing out the window now, you reminded yourself to buy some plants and flowers to add some beauty outside your window. You’ve been meaning to do it for weeks now.  

As you kept staring, you search for a looming shadow or listen for a delicate tap against the glass, anything that signaled that he was here. That he had come back to you, that he was safe. You could never truly sleep soundly unless you knew for certain that he was okay.

Who were you waiting for?

Peter Parker, that’s who.

A.K.A Spiderman

A.K.A your best friend    

A.K.A the love of your life

Your head buries itself into your soft pillow as you think of him, your cheeks warming as you picture his tousled chocolate locks, sparkling brown eyes and heart thumping smile. The damn kid made you feel like the zoo escaped in your stomach whenever you locked eyes and you hated/loved him for it.

You both met last year, when you moved to Queens as a sophomore. At the time, Peter was identified as “The Dude You Had 30 Second Small Talk with in Chemistry Class” and those “conversations” you two shared were rare, usually right before your teacher started her lecture.

Like, the occasional: “Hey, did you read the chapters last night for Chem?”

Or: “Your poem in the literary magazine was real good, Y/N!”  

Or, ironically: “I saw Spiderman swing above me on my way to school… coolest thing I’ve seen all week!”

But, sadly, you both merely classified as acquaintances to one another.

Until…

+++

Last Year, Halloween at 11:37 p.m.

Your eyes bore into the back of your friend, Jess, her lengthy golden hair whipping from side to side as she sprints to the door ahead. You didn’t bother to keep up with her, no matter how freezing your body felt in the frigid wind. The brisk air whips against your stockings in a brutal manner and it was then, that you wish you wore pants to this party instead of your moderately short black dress. It was practically November. You trudge through the decaying grass as you cut through the lawn, arms crossed over your chest, crunching leaves under your Doc Martins.

Reaching the door, were are welcomed with a gust of warmth along with the scent of sweat and weed.

“Ah, refreshing…” you mutter under your breath, while rolling your eyes.

Scanning the perimeter for Jess, you spot her by the stairs, many feet away, chatting with her other friends. Anxiety kept your feet planted by the entrance as you watched them speak to one another. Her friends were not your own, only strangers that you glanced at politely in the in the hallways or had exchanged three words with during your month at Midtown. Despite your discomfort, you walked on toward them, mentally giving your anxiety the middle finger since it had kept you from doing so many other things in your life.

You’re only two steps into walking forward until Jess turns and dashes up the stairs, as if she were the roadrunner and you were the coyote.

What the fuck…

Huffing out in frustration, you make a beeline to the snack table close by, not in the mood to follow her again. You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, you weren’t going to follow her around like a lost puppy.

She’ll be back. She can’t leave me alone at a time like this…

Your mind attempts to reassure you but it didn’t ease the rapid thud of your heart.

You could do this, but not alone.

Fifteen minutes later, you were still attached to the table as if it were your best friend. You occupied your time by looking down at your phone, chomping on chocolate pretzels and frowning at anyone who gave you an amused smirk.

Right then, a group of upperclassmen made agonizing eye contact with you a few feet away. The girls attempted to be discreet about their staring but failed, the giggles they tried to hide with their hands giving them away. You glare into their posse circle until they get intimidated and look away, embarrassed.

You sigh out sadly as the last stare glances away. The brave face you masked on before the party was faltering into a look of pure insecurity.

You thought you could be brave.

You thought you could handle this but the anxiety was overpowering you.

Why the hell where you still here? What was the point?

You had your doubts coming here but Jess had begged you to come, had encouraged you, had basically dragged you here and then left you alone. Alone. At a party. After she promised to stay with you all night. It was social suicide, especially due to the situation you were in now. Clenching your fists in anger, you started for the door until a familiar face stopped you.

Sweet relief seeped within your chest.  

“Hey! Curly Twirly!” you call, grinning, as you spot Michelle’s curly, wild hair from afar. That was the nickname you had given her yourself. She was the first friend you made at school, having been assigned together for an activity in one of your classes. She always managed to make you laugh in the dullest situations and although she’d never admit it, the walls she built over her exterior seemed to crumble whenever you two spoke.

She was wearing an orange shirt with the word ‘COSTUME’ printed on the front. You smirk at her irrefutable wittiness. Why the hell didn’t you think of that?

Her head turned toward you at the sound of her nickname and that was when you noticed the unsettling look of agony in her eyes. You only caught a slim glimpse of that look until she masked it with a plastered smirk. Something was up, you knew because the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Y/N, thank the Black Widow you came to this lame ass party…” she calls.

You widen your eyes at her sentence, getting caught off guard. Even though you two were friends, M.J. never said something like that to you before or…anyone really.

She approaches you, gazing at your outfit with extreme focus.

“Spectacular costume, Wednesday Adams is one of my role models.” she smirks.

You were dressed in a black dress with a peter-pan collar, black stockings, Doc Martins and had tied your hair into two braids. Boom. Behold, your costume.

“Shocker…” you say, the sarcasm clear in your voice. If Wednesday Adams were a real person, she and M.J. would be BFF’s.

“I’m surprised you’re here…” she admits, swiping a plastic cup from the beverage table and filling it with punch. The punch was obviously spiked, the cup she filled reeked of alcohol- vodka probably. You cringe as the cup comes too close to your nose for comfort, the intense scent still making you sick to your stomach.

“I thought people were still giving you shit?” she asks, sipping her beverage.

“They are,” you admit. You roll your eyes but not at her, at the assholes around you who continued to talk about you in front of your face.

“Yet, you still came?” one of her perfectly plucked eyebrows arch.

“I wanted to prove that they couldn’t get to me, but I don’t think I’m fooling anyone…” you truthfully confess.

You wished so badly to not give a shit, but you did.

“Hey…” she nudges her shoulder into yours. “You fooled me…”

You smile graciously. She had been one of the few people who didn’t judge you based on that stupid video.

“Besides,” she huffs, frowning. “Fuck what other people think. They don’t know jack-shit about you…” she continues. “This is just another ‘Midtown Mini Drama’. It’ll be forgotten in a week.”

“Thanks M.J…” you mumble. “God, I’d so rather be in bed with a book right now…” you admit, shamelessly to her. You knew she would understand, the girl had her nose in a book 24/7.

“Amen, sister.” she mutters as she tips her face back, draining her drink down in a one gulp. You cringe instantaneously, again, nearly tasting the bitterness in your mouth as you watch her. You were glad you were sticking to you lemonade and pretzels tonight.  

“What the damn hell?” M.J. bluntly utters, causing you to snort in amusement. Your eyes followed to where hers were fixated- the entrance of the party to where Ned Leeds and Peter Parker were standing.

WTF?

“Twice in one month? That’s monumental.” you murmured in her ear as you both continue to gaze at the spot the two boys were standing. It was true that they didn’t come to many parties, only attending one bash weeks ahead of time that a girl named Liz had hosted.

You study the costumes of the two boys and notice both dressed as Star Wars characters. You recognize Ned to be Obi Wan Kenobi with his white tunic, white pants, belt and brown robe along with Peter as Darth Vader, dressed black from the neck downward and the iconic mask he held in his hands.

You smirked at their choice of attire, these dudes where hella cool.

As they linger throughout the monumental house, they came upon the snack table several minutes later where M.J. and you were still standing. They approached you as M.J. was gulping down the spiked punch as if she were dying of monumental thirst while you were inhaling the snack table like you were a vacuum on supersonic mode. (Especially the chocolate covered pretzels. Yum.)

Peter locks eyes with you and graciously delivers a soft smile when you have about six pretzels in your mouth. Embarrassed, you cover your mouth with the back of your hand and give him a wave with the other. You realized at that moment, under the neon flickering lights how cute he really was. Why you noticed now? You had no idea.

“Evening, ladies…” Ned suavely greets as he approaches MJ and you with Peter by his side. You swallow the pretzels painfully, not having the chance to chew every single one as you prepare to speak.

“Hey guys,” you smile, brightly. “Having fun?”

As the two boys begin to reply, M.J. cut them off.

“I wouldn’t decipher this party with the word ‘fun’.” she quips, her tone laced with boredom.

“That’s because you’re still sober…” you tease, mimicking her past action by bumping your shoulder with hers.

“This is why I keep you around…” she smirks, once again.

She turns away from you and the boys, back to the table to refill her cup, yet again. You stare at her, growing even more worried and mentally cursing yourself for the sentence you had just said. This was already her fifth cup.  Why was she drowning herself in alcohol? You wouldn’t be as concerned if she was a regular partier but this behavior wasn’t normal.

“What are you doing?” you ask, stepping slightly closer and setting a hand on her shoulder.

“Getting shit-faced.” she responds, blankly. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do at parties?”

“She has a point…” Ned adds, from the side. You spot Peter hit him in the arm with your peripheral vision.

“You know what I mean…” you whisper in her face. “Why are you drinking so much? Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” she bites, her eyes narrowing. “Leave it alone.” she harshly whispers.

“MJ, talk to-”

“I don’t need a babysitter, Y/N.” she barks at you over the music, glaring at you with so much intimidation it made you feel small and insecure. “Just, leave me alone.” she continues, the same cold tone latched within her words. She never spoke to you that harshly before.

Usually, for you, whenever you got into an argument with someone, you were quick witted and decently sly but as for right now, you were speechless.

It was harder to stand up to your friends rather than your enemies.

Before you had the chance to regain the strength to argue back, she whips around and stalks away to another room, taking her drink with her. You watch her back until it disappears and release a sigh. You desperately wanted to go after her but you didn’t want to smother her and possibly get her even angrier at you. She obviously didn’t want to be near you, hence her walking away…

The music begun to kick in to a louder beat, muffling the voices of other party-goers surrounding you. You could barely hear yourself think, the pounding music thumping throughout the walls was distracting. The room felt even more clustered and full, causing you to sweat and pull at the collar of your dress.

“–Okay?”

You whip your head to your right to where Peter was standing, closer than he was before. He was staring at you, pure curiosity swimming in his orbs. His eyes- so gentle and welcoming, looking at them had you feeling calmer. He was the warm fire in a rainstorm.

“What?” you dumbly utter. The damn music was causing your hearing to dysfunction, it was drowning everything out, even your own damn thoughts.

“You–Okay?”  

The words were hard to understand over the bumping but you could read his lips. You smile sadly at him. He was such a sweet guy, he barely even knew you and here he was, asking that question. He could have easily walked off moments ago, escaping the awkward banter between you and Michelle but here he was.

“Yeah, thanks.” You nod, smiling gratefully. “I should probably just give her space…”

He mimics your nod, agreeing with you. You glance at your surroundings and realize Ned was nowhere to be seen. Huh, where the hell did the dude go?

“–Seventy three?” You heard the number he mumbled but once again, you didn’t hear the full sentence.

“Sorry, what?” you laugh, awkwardly.

“Did­–? Seventy three?”

Ugh, this fucking music. It wasn’t even a good song either…

Clenching your jaw in frustration, you exhale. You wanted to chop the DJ’s head off.

“WHAT?” you yell, leaning in closer toward him, so close that you could see the purple and pink hue of his lips. (They looked soft…)

“DID. YOU. DO. CHEM. YET?” he bellows. His voice and face was still friendly even when he was screaming in your face. He was talking about the chemistry homework that had been assigned. You were to read page seventy-three in your textbook and complete the five paged packet that was due Monday. You haven’t even started yet.

“Oh!” you realize. “Uh…no, not yet.” you confess, yelling, slightly ashamed since Peter probably already finished it. That kid was an absolute wizard with anything science related. He had the highest grade in class, no doubt. He nods in understanding, looking away then back to you again, as if he wanted to say something.

“I–I can give it to–”

“Do you want to go outside?!” you yell, interrupting him. You would be able to hear everything he said to you out there. Besides, the pot in the air was getting stronger, giving you a headache.

He only stares at you, blankly.

“WHAT?” he shrieks.

You already get the answer you need. You turn around, latching onto his wrist and lead him out the door with you. You felt your cheeks grow hot at the sudden gesture, you just grabbing him and leading him away but you couldn’t deny the giddy pound in your chest.

+++

Lifting your head up from the pillow with sonic speed, your eyes blink rapidly. You zero in on the time displayed on your cable box that rested on your dresser.

2:34 a.m.

Shit.

You had fallen asleep.

Breathing heavily, you struggle to remain calm. You stumble out of bed to your window, leaning your head against the cool glass. You gaze out, scanning the fire escape as if he would magically appear in that moment. Peter has never been this late, ever.

What if something happened?

You stand motionless for a moment, the light patter of rain against the roof and the pounding drum of your heart the only noises you could hear. Scrambling for your phone seconds later, you dial the digits you have ingrained in your brain.

+++

Last Year, Halloween at 12:41 p.m.

“So?” you ask, leaning in slightly closer towards him in curiosity. “How was your first drink?”

“Terrible…” Peter winces, scrunching his face up in the cutest way possible as he crumples the plastic cup in is fist. He gulped down the whole drink in one sitting and you were impressed since this was his first time drinking. He had gotten some punch in the house before coming outside with you.

“Tastes like piss, right?” you ask.

“Like piss…” he agrees.

You giggle like a child as he stares off into space, blinking slowly and gazing off in wonder, a dazed look on his face. One of your eyebrows arch.

“Oh my god…” you breathe. “Are you already buzzed?”

Silence.

“Maaaybe?” he gets out, his voice slightly high-pitched at the end, making you cackle like a hyena.

“You are such a lightweight, you’re adorable.” you gush.

The words sprang out of you and it caused a small blush to ignite across his cheeks. Peter glances down at his high-tops bashfully, a tiny grin lacing his lips. While looking at him, you painfully resist the urge to leap in front of him and squish his cheeks with your fingers. God, he was so cute.  

“Um–I–I…uh…” he stutters.

“Peter, calm down.” You smile. “I’m just teasing.” Your body shakes with laughter again at his painfully awkward stuttering.

You and Peter were currently sitting side by side against a tree outside the house. Although there was still a slight chill in the air, the temperature outside had gotten slightly warmer, leaving you refreshed and cool.

Some others from the party even came outside as well, one pair came out to lay on the lawn to stare at the stars or some came just to walk around in the cool air and drink with their fellow friends.    

It had been about half an hour since you two had been hanging out with each other. You talked about school or the randomness of your daily lives. During those 30 minutes, you came to learn that Peter was a total cinnamon roll and you adored the way he talked to you.

As you glance toward the monumental home, you are reminded of M.J. The agony in her eyes, her strange behavior, the excessive drinking.

“I should check on M.J…” you say, out loud.

“Good idea,” Peter nods. “I’ll come with.”

You rise from the grass quickly and look down at Peter in amusement, who seemed to be struggling to stand. You giggle painfully to yourself as you help him up, both of your hands gripping on his surprisingly muscular biceps. Damn, what was he hiding under all those layers?

You steady him as he rises.

“Thanks, Y/N…” he flushes.

“Anytime,” you grin.

As you start to walk up the lawn, toward the door, a heavy arm slings over your shoulder, halting you. The monstrous weight nearly pushes half of your body downward and a horrid stench of body odor slaps you like whiplash as it emits from the strangers armpit.

“What the fu-” you speak out, scrunching your face up in annoyance and disgust. You nudge the body off you and turn to face the unknown male.

He’s stocky and much taller than you, with dark hair and a lazy smile. He held a beer bottle in his big fingers and was dressed as a Yankee baseball player.

“Can I help you?” you angrily spit. You didn’t like being touched by guys you didn’t know. Who the hell does?

“You don’t remember me?” the tall boy grins, taking a step closer toward you.

You take a grand step back, too grand however, because you collide into Peter’s chest. With this amount of proximity, you get a whiff of Peter’s scent- laundry detergent, pine and deodorant.

Sweet mama, you could sniff that boy all day like a flower.

“You really don’t remember me?” the random tall boy asks again, snapping you back to reality.

“Clearly.” you snarl, not in the mood to deal with any self-righteous pigs tonight.

“Y/NNNNNN!” a girl shrieks into the air in excitement, causing you, Peter and the stranger to jump in horror. Seconds later, two arms sling over your shoulders in a crushing hug, forcing Peter to back away from you. Hot vodka breath fans in your face and you shut your eyes painfully, cringing.

“Where have you been?” Jess laughs in your ear while she squeezes you painfully.

“You tell me,” you flatly reply, frowning at your friend that had abandoned you all night. You shrug her arms off your shoulder. “You’re the one who ditched me.”

Her eyes roll in annoyance, making you even angrier. “Don’t be so dramatic…” she mocks.

More people linger around the tree that you and Peter once occupied alone. Most of these people were Jess’s friends and some were random strangers. They all circulate around you, making you uncomfortable. You catch Peter standing side by side among them, looking timid himself.

“Whatever,” you huff. “I’m leaving.”

“What? No!” she begs, her manicured fingers latching onto your arm. “I got Brandon to come and see you!” she explains, excitedly.

“Who the hell is Brandon?”

“That’s me, Hot Stuff.”

You glance over to the stranger who had put his arm around you. Brandon gives you a wink as he nudges Peter to the side as he steps closer to you and Jess. You only stare at him, unfazed by his comment but suddenly able to recognize him.

You remember who he was and it made you want to slap yourself with a cactus.

Because you were such a drunk idiot last weekend.

“What are you anyway?” he utters, looking at your costume up and down. “Some goth bitch?”

You don’t even try to hide the irritable glare on your face.

“I’m Wednesday Adams, you moron.” you bite.

You see Peter grin shamelessly behind Brandon. In attempt to hide the laughter that lingers behind his smile, he covers his mouth with his sleeve.  

“Woah, chill.” Brandon’s thick eyebrows raise in shock. His stunned reaction only lasts a fraction of a second until that annoying, careless smirk appears on his face again. He stares down at you with interest, giving you the impression he’s most likely wondering what you look like without your clothes on.

“You’re kinda feisty, aren’t you?” he slurs.

“To self-absorbed assholes? Yeah.” you swiftly reply. “Keep testing me and I’ll get even meaner.”

Everyone around you snickers at your snark. From the sidelines, you see Peter’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets in flabbergasted shock. He doesn’t care to hide the laugh as he lets it out with ease. It was a lovely sight to him, watching you roast this drunk buffoon in front of you. You were so sassy, so…irresistible.

“Y/N!” Jess bellows.

“What?” you ask, innocently.

“Stop embarrassing Brandon…” she scolds.

“He’s embarrassing himself, I’m just mocking his stupidity.”

Holy shit, you needed to be stopped.

“Um, okay…” Peter pipes up, stepping to the side of you. Everyone in the group whips their head towards him in shock, they didn’t even notice he was there.

“We should get going…” he mumbles as he grabs onto you elbow and leads you away from everyone and to the house.

“She’s my DD!” Peter awkwardly calls toward the group.

As the two of you walk across the lawn to the door ahead, you realize Peter still hasn’t let go of your elbow. His face leans in close to yours.

“You’re dangerous…” Peter whispers into your face, only he’s smiling when you look over to him.

“Am I scaring you, Parker?” you beam, unable to hide the amused smirk from spreading across your face.

“A little.”

“You still have time to run away, right now.” you teasingly warn.

“I–I don’t want to…” he manages to reply, fumbling with his thumbs as he looks down toward the ground.  

The two of you stop in front of the entrance of the party, both of you standing on the doormat, your shoulders touching.

“So,” you start, “We grab M.J. and I drive you both home? Sound like a plan?”

You don’t bother for a reply from him, your fingers latch onto the door handle but his voice calling your name stops you.

“Y/N…” he sighs, finally making eye contact with you.

“Peter…” you tease, breathing out his name like he did yours.

“If–If…I wasn’t drunk right now…” he states, slowly, looking down at his feet. “I’d kiss you.”

“O–Oh!” you squeak, squeezing the door handle in bewilderment. That was absolutely the last thing you expected him to say. You knew it may be true because there was no way in hell Peter Parker would say something like that to you sober.  

“W–Would you?” you attempt to joke, grinning ear to ear in excitement and closing your eyes, making sure this wasn’t a dream.

“Yes…” he breathes next to your ear, you could practically hear the soft smile in his voice.

Without thinking, you lean in, capturing Peter Parker’s lips in a sweet peck.

+++

“Hey,” you speak shakily into the phone, your voice trembling erratically and embarrassingly. “Call me as soon as you get this, okay?” You squeeze the phone in a deathly grip as you struggle to keep breathing. You hang up before you get pathetic and start crying like a goddamn baby on the phone.

The tears start to roll down your cheeks with speed, similar to how the rain slides down the glass of your window outside.

Maybe you were getting worked up for nothing but how were you supposed to know? How were you to know what happened out there?What happened to him?

You stare outside the glass motionless, blankly, numbly.

There was nothing you could do now, only wait.

+++

Part 2???

#peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker spiderman #spiderman #spider-man: homecoming #spiderman imagine #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagines #peter x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker fluff #tom holland fluff #spider-man #spiderman homecoming #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #avengers x reader

[gffa]

Holy hell, STAR WARS tumblr has been on fire these last couple of weeks! So many people posting so many cool snippets and AUs and feelings-laden fics! In addition to some really stellar AUs on AO3, it’s like an absolute candy store around here these days. ♥ STAR WARS FIC RECS: ✦ time to change the road you’re on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 24.3k wip    The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future. ✦ Home Again by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, light kink, 1.7k    When Anakin’s emotions overwhelm him, Obi-Wan is always there with a firm hand and clear eye to help him find his way back from the dark. ✦ Finally Home by starbirdrampant (ineasako22), obi-wan/anakin/padme & luke & leia, ~1k    “send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it” tumblr prompt ✦ Of Beds and Padawans by Vee017, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    A one sided pseudo discussion of nightly habits goes awry as Anakin takes ObiWan’s meaning in a completely different direction than intended. ✦ Where Have We Come? by soaring_heart, obi-wan & anakin, 1.9k    The first time was one of the hardest and the easiest. Obi-Wan loses at Mustafar, but instead of dying he wakes up at the dawn of the last day of the republic, doomed to repeat the worst day of his life, over and over again. ✦ Tumblr Ramblings (Obi-Wan Time Travel/AU-jump) by gaealynn, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast,    At the end of RotJ, Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to help Anakin cross over and instead – wakes up on Naboo. ✦ Falls the Shadow, part 1 + part 2 by phosphorescent-naidheachd, obi-wan & padme & luke & leia (& anakin), 2.8k wip    Under the auspices of JEDI GENERALS ANAKIN SKYWALKER and OBI-WAN KENOBI, an elite strike team was smuggled onto the planet in carbonite. But when the slab of carbonite containing OBI-WAN KENOBI was lost before he could be defrosted, the team was forced to prioritize… and to leave him behind to an unknown fate. ✦ Cold Comforts by Sealgirl, obi-wan & mace, ~1k    Not long after he becomes a Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself in need of reassurance. ✦ untitled by spectral-musette, obi-wan & ahsoka & caleb, 1.3k    A short scene set in the slightly-less-sadness-AU (in which Obi-Wan finds Ahsoka Tano and Caleb Dume after Order 66, and the surviving Jedi stay together). Obi-Wan is exhausted, Ahsoka is restless, and Caleb misses his Master. ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, anakin & palpatine, 1.3k    “Ah, Anakin, my boy. Welcome!” Palpatine comes toward Anakin with open arms. ✦ untitled by bedlamsbard, obi-wan & anakin/padme, 4.1k    For those just joining us, this is the concept work for the third alternate universe in the Ouroboros series, which is an AU where Dooku kills Palpatine and takes over the Republic, declaring himself emperor. ✦ i hold with those who favor fire by penultimatepanic, mace, 1.3k wip    Mace thought the sight of the Temple would test his tenuous control over his anger all over again, but, as he sits in the shadow of an abandoned repair shop’s roof and looks at the smoking hulk of it, the only feeling he can identify is a deep weariness. ✦ untitled + untitled by bedlamsbard, obi-wan/padme(/anakin?), NSFW, dark!obi-wan, 5.7k    Backstory: The Republic has fallen. The Jedi Order is broken, its surviving Knights and padawans scattered across the galaxy. The Sith lord Count Dooku has declared himself the leader of a new Galactic Empire. ✦ Everything That Rises Must Converge by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin & luke & leia, 5.1k    In which Leia makes it to Tatooine’s surface after the Tantive IV is boarded, and nobody is prepared for this particular family reunion. full details + recs under the cut!

✦ time to change the road you’re on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & cast, 24.3k wip    The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future.    Chapter 5: This is an update rec and will focus on this chapter, rather than the fic as a whole. Oh, I read this entire chapter with a heavy feeling in my chest, in exactly the way the fic was supposed to give me, that it lived up to the potential of it in all the ways I was hoping it would. Ahsoka and Anakin have found Obi-Wan on Tatooine and the entire chapter is about trying to piece together what happened, along with just how much it weighed on Obi-Wan, just how much of him died back on Mustafar. The little touches, the way Anakin is so on edge here, but then flings himself at Obi-Wan to cry on him, the way Obi-Wan brushes Anakin’s hair out of his face when he’s sleeping, the way every word about what he knows feels like it’s a heavy stone being dragged up a mountain, all of it made me feel that sheer weight of feeling, how much love and care there was there and how much it hurt when things all went bad. It’s lovely writing and does so much justice to these characters and events and the Ahsoka pov is used so well to show how worn down this version of the man she used to know is, how different Ben Kenobi is from Obi-Wan Kenobi. There’s so much hurt and anger and exhaustion here, in all the right places and it’s so good. ✦ Home Again by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, dom/sub, light kink, 1.7k    When Anakin’s emotions overwhelm him, Obi-Wan is always there with a firm hand and clear eye to help him find his way back from the dark.    Holy hell, this fic was made for me, but also it’s just incredibly lovely and perfect. It’s set in a relationship between them that is dom/sub, in a way that benefits Anakin so much, you can feel even in a pwp fic that Anakin has all this noise in his head and the way Obi-Wan takes him in hand cuts through that and clears it away. I would have loved it just for that. I would have loved it just for the delicious and well-described sex, the light kink and the spanking and then the fucking, it has some really beautiful imagery here! But I think my very favorite thing (if just barely, because I have many favorite things about this fic) is the tension the author builds up–the way Obi-Wan seems like he��s ignoring Anakin, but you feel how much his attention very much is on Anakin, the way he gives Anakin an order, who doesn’t quite know what’s coming, that tension that nearly boils over in him before Obi-Wan cuts through it. The build-up had me feeling wound up, so that the release was even better, making this a really satisfying and well-written fic! ✦ Finally Home by starbirdrampant (ineasako22), obi-wan/anakin/padme & luke & leia, ~1k    “send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it” tumblr prompt    This is super short, it’s just a snippet, but oh man it’s lovely and it’s exactly what I want from dometic, sleepy Obianidala. With Anakin sandwiched between his two favorite people, the three of them curled up together on a tired but content morning, until they’re woken up by the screams of two tiny little terrors and it’s PURE ADORABLE. Cuddles and kidlets, Obi-Wan pressed against Anakin’s back, who is pressed against Padme, until the children clamor in between them and it’s just everything my gross domesticity loving heart wants. ✦ Of Beds and Padawans by Vee017, obi-wan/anakin, 1.3k    A one sided pseudo discussion of nightly habits goes awry as Anakin takes ObiWan’s meaning in a completely different direction than intended.    I am always here for bed sharing, especially where Anakin just crawls into the bed and kind of flops there and is unfairly beautiful just by being Anakin. This is cute and entirely fluffy and soft and adorable and made me feel all warm while reading it, which I need in this fandom sometimes! ✦ Where Have We Come? by soaring_heart, obi-wan & anakin, 1.9k    The first time was one of the hardest and the easiest. Obi-Wan loses at Mustafar, but instead of dying he wakes up at the dawn of the last day of the republic, doomed to repeat the worst day of his life, over and over again.    I’ll warn ahead of time that this fic isn’t about resolution, but instead about the repetition of Obi-Wan caught in a time loop, trying to figure out how to stop it, how to solve things, and how to save Anakin. It’s a fic that really is about those two at the heart of it, that Obi-Wan has to live this day over and over, that he tries so many things to save Anakin, to understand him, to help him, to just steal him away, to die with him, to be caught up with him. It’s a bittersweet, ouchy fic, it never stops hurting, how deeply Obi-Wan loves him and how many tragic turns their lives take in these moments, how many different ways things can go wrong or just not quite right. And that’s what really works for me here, even if it’s not really solved, the foundation is there, the love between them is there, the sheer amount of how important Anakin is in Obi-Wan’s life and vice versa is there. ✦ Tumblr Ramblings (Obi-Wan Time Travel/AU-jump) by gaealynn, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & cast,    At the end of RotJ, Obi-Wan reaches out a hand to help Anakin cross over and instead – wakes up on Naboo.    I am always willing to pick up a time travel fic, especially if it’s Obi-Wan time travelling, so I enjoyed this half-fic, half-scenario piece just for those things! And I love that this is an Obi-Wan who has suffered through so many terrible losses, the weight of that isn’t gone, but he’s still that guy who keeps getting up again, who doesn’t know how to surrender when something like this is put in front of him. And, oh, there’s a scene in the second chapter where he meets bb!Anakin again, where he knows there will be hope now, and there’s cuddling and, oh, it’s Anakin and just. I had feelings all over the place during that scene alone! ✦ Falls the Shadow, part 1 + part 2 by phosphorescent-naidheachd, obi-wan & padme & luke & leia (& anakin), 2.8k wip    Under the auspices of JEDI GENERALS ANAKIN SKYWALKER and OBI-WAN KENOBI, an elite strike team was smuggled onto the planet in carbonite. But when the slab of carbonite containing OBI-WAN KENOBI was lost before he could be defrosted, the team was forced to prioritize… and to leave him behind to an unknown fate.    This is such an interesting AU and it has me hooked in under 3k already! On that mission with the carbon freezing, Obi-Wan is lost and it sends things careening out of control in a different way, because Anakin kind of loses his shit about it. And Obi-Wan wakes up to this galaxy that’s entirely different and, oh, I’m fascinated by all the changes this would mean–not directly witnessing Vader’s crimes, not fighting him on Mustafar, not having the horrible burden of everything he had after ROTS, waking up to Padme still alive, waking up to the twins being these bright little sparks, waking up to Anakin suddenly being gone. The writing builds all of this up nicely, you get a nice amount of the good stuff already, even though OH MAN I WANT SO MUCH MORE, I want so much the second part of that conversation with Padme or just Obi-Wan’s reactions or just anything more from this one! ✦ Cold Comforts by Sealgirl, obi-wan & mace, ~1k    Not long after he becomes a Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi finds himself in need of reassurance.    This was short but it was absolutely lovely and a really solidly good read about Mace Windu supporting Obi-Wan in a Jedi-like way, but being just what Obi-Wan needs to hear at the moment. I love the potential with this dynamic and these two characters, so it’s nice to see a solid and well-done little fic that’s about this one moment that means so much to both characterizations! ✦ untitled by spectral-musette, obi-wan & ahsoka & caleb, 1.3k    A short scene set in the slightly-less-sadness-AU (in which Obi-Wan finds Ahsoka Tano and Caleb Dume after Order 66, and the surviving Jedi stay together). Obi-Wan is exhausted, Ahsoka is restless, and Caleb misses his Master.    In a universe that’s slightly less sad, where Ahsoka and Caleb Dume are there with Obi-Wan, where they do at least have each other, it still strikes against just how much they’ve lost. There’s hope still here, there’s some bittersweetness, but each of them has lost so much, each of them is word down and wounded at heart, even as they dust themselves off and keep going. It’s short but a really interesting little AU snippet that I’d love more of, but also stands well on its own! ✦ untitled by stonefreeak, anakin & palpatine, 1.3k    “Ah, Anakin, my boy. Welcome!” Palpatine comes toward Anakin with open arms.    I should probably start collating these recs together but, eh, I don’t care, this AU is one of my happy places and I love seeing it update whenever the author gets a chance to. And I greatly enjoy how much Palpatine haaaaaates Obi-Wan for fucking up all his plans in this AU, which is already an echo of canon, where… one of the things I love so much is that I feel like this is a really good fic series for showing how things could have gone better, if only things had been nudged in the right direction, that they weren’t doomed to tragedy from the start. And seeing Palpatine’s plans fizzle out in front of him and how he makes more to keep up, the audience knowing that they’ll probably blow up in his face as well, is really, really satisfying and fun. ✦ untitled by bedlamsbard, obi-wan & anakin/padme, 4.1k    For those just joining us, this is the concept work for the third alternate universe in the Ouroboros series, which is an AU where Dooku kills Palpatine and takes over the Republic, declaring himself emperor.    You’ll probably definitely be lost if you haven’t read at least the first fic of the Ouroboros series, though, you can gather a lot from context if you really want! And this is lovely where… it’s an Anakin/Padme scene, but it’s very much about the trio with Obi-Wan, it’s very much about Anakin’s desperate love for both of them, as seen through Padme’s eyes. It’s leaning towards a trio, but Anakin is definitely the center (as is the way I would see it going, because he’s just so… Anakin is so intense, he’s so bright, he burns so hotly, that he kind of overtakes the emotional aspect of any scene), but it doesn’t feel unbalanced, either. I’m not explaining it well, but I really enjoyed that feeling of something weighing on me, that genuine sense of tension I feel with the characters as they try to figure out what to do and how desperately Anakin wants to see Obi-Wan again, how desperately he wants to keep Padme safe, and just what a giant ball of feelings he is. As Anakin Skywalker should always be. ✦ i hold with those who favor fire by penultimatepanic, mace, 1.3k wip    Mace thought the sight of the Temple would test his tenuous control over his anger all over again, but, as he sits in the shadow of an abandoned repair shop’s roof and looks at the smoking hulk of it, the only feeling he can identify is a deep weariness.    Part 2: This is an update rec and will focus on this chapter, rather than the fic as a whole. I’m so glad this fic updated because I have a growing appreciate for Mace’s character, as well as it’s just really intriguing and heartbreaking in all the right ways. This is more of a reflecting kind of chapter, it’s very muted or understated, it’s about Mace having the space to breathe for a bit and try to take in everything that’s happened after Order 66 and to try to begin to marshal himself, and it’s just… really sad and heavy and full of so much loss, in that quiet, reserved way that suits the character so well. ✦ untitled + untitled by bedlamsbard, obi-wan/padme(/anakin?), NSFW, dark!obi-wan, 5.7k    Backstory: The Republic has fallen. The Jedi Order is broken, its surviving Knights and padawans scattered across the galaxy. The Sith lord Count Dooku has declared himself the leader of a new Galactic Empire.    I think you could read this one without being that familiar with the Ourboros series, the summary gives a solid background and you can pick up enough on context, and honestly it’s about Obi-Wan feeling out of his head and trying to remain isolated because he’s so dangerous like this, but also wanting contact with another human being. And he just can’t go near Anakin, he can’t risk that, Anakin is too precious and dear, you can just feel that about Obi-Wans feelings towards him, but Padme is gentle and solid without being too much, while still being warm and someone important. It’s just a really good balance between the two, but also oh man Obi-Wan going down on Padme and then fucking her over the desk, how it’s about these two characters in this moment, but also not, how it’s also about what thoughts of Anakin have stirred up, and I love how sharp and messy and dark Obi-Wan and Padme are here, it works so well for me and also it was just really, really hot. Padme pulling her massive skirts up and Obi-Wan licking her open and then wrapping herself around him as he desperately pushes into her, all rough edges and desperation and care between the two of them. So good for me. ✦ Everything That Rises Must Converge by victoria_p (musesfool), obi-wan & anakin & luke & leia, 5.1k    In which Leia makes it to Tatooine’s surface after the Tantive IV is boarded, and nobody is prepared for this particular family reunion.    This was an interesting, if surprisingly kind, AU where Leia makes it to Tatooine and Vader’s right on her heels and everything comes spilling out. I think my favorite part of it was the sheer weight of history between Obi-Wan and Anakin, but also I enjoyed that everything was just a lot softer and kinder here than in canon. Not entirely soft and kind, it’s still Star Wars, but the pull of family and old friends overwrote a lot of the anger and hate that had been stewing in these characters for so long. It was a fun little read that I enjoyed a lot!

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #obikin #obidala #obianidala #ahsoka tano #mace windu #fic recs #star wars fic recs

[wirerosebuds]

hide a heart of war [stuckony] http://archiveofourown.org/works/8091886/chapters/18604579

i'm terrified something's gonna

happen (even though i know it will) [chardee] http://archiveofourown.org/works/12920226

i'll take this bullet for you [peraltiago] http://archiveofourown.org/works/3891877

mac and charlie get high [charmac]

 http://archiveofourown.org/works/1336534

we hold eachother [charmac] https://archiveofourown.org/works/5798689

love so sterng I: pound puppy eyes [charmac] https://archiveofourown.org/works/18453947/chapters/43719539

the involuntary hug [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/36925002?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_182059224

together [gavcon] https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924818/chapters/37127273?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_186430547

heartstring [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918393

blue screen [hank and connor] https://archiveofourown.org/works/15286611/chapters/35462181

classy potluck palooza https://archiveofourown.org/works/10925961

devil's backbone [regan] https://archiveofourown.org/works/10217699/chapters/22674920

when tommy met alfie series https://archiveofourown.org/series/909525

four times bruce and thor touched and one time they kissed https://archiveofourown.org/works/13985265

kisses [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/689621

that's amore [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14771840

make love your goal [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/12826635

no trait as much as this [stony] https://archiveofourown.org/works/17796131/chapters/45515233#workskin

colds and heat regulators [gavcon] https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318286

news flash [thorbruce] https://archiveofourown.org/works/14683158/chapters/33924879

• sweet as cherry wine:

“Can I come in?” Eddie asks, teeth chattering.

He’s soaked to the bone, a cornflower blue polo clinging to his small shoulders. It’s the only thing he’s wearing besides a pair of khakis that are also soaked through.

Richie is suddenly very sober.

“Eds?”

or:

Eddie leaves Myra and shows up at Richie's door.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20538782

• find your fire:

Richie Tozier meets a cute firecracker of a guy when he accidentally sets off the fire alarm in his apartment.

It's just too bad that said guy has got a boyfriend - doesn't he?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12598800

• we are all going forward, none of us are going back (time loop series):

Richie reaches up a shaking hand and puts it on Eddie’s stomach.

“Uhhh,” Eddie says. “Is this a bit? Is this a really inopportune bit? ‘Cause I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Richie, but this is kind of an important moment-”

“What the fuck,” Richie says, not for the first or last time, and lurches forwards to hug him.

(Or, Richie gets stuck in a time loop.)

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480916

• they knew well enough. (eddie loses his arm series):

Beverly knows there’s something going on with Richie. The way he had lost it, the way he had cried—she’s not sure if he would ever cry like that for her, or Bill, or even Stan. He had always been particular about Eddie. She pets his hair back again and rests her head on top of his, sighing and closing her eyes. Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s more than she thinks. Either way, she’s sure he’ll say eventually. Richie’s never been good at keeping secrets.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1480820

• how things are supposed to be:

Eddie Kasprak isn't gay. He is about to get married and live a happy married life with Myra. 

Then, his friends drag him to a male Strip Club and things go just as you'd expect them to go.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13990968

• yours truly:

Eddie Kaspbrak has it bad. He’s bullied for being a tiny, delicate, hypochondriac boy. He’s also bullied for being very, very, very gay. Long story short, his life isn’t the easiest.

However, that’s all a piece of cake when compared to his gigantic, pathetic crush on Derry High’s most popular and oh so very straight Trashmouth, Richie Tozier.

Richie has no idea he even exists.

Right?

Wrong.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/12841674/chapters/29321982

• i am terrified your body could fall apart at any second (eddie survives and they get married)

you wrote 'don't forget'

on your arm when you were drunk

and i got mad at the fact

that you had to remind yourself at all

i got mad when i shouldn't have

it's just that i got so scared

that you had already forgot

-"You Wrote 'Don't Forget' On Your Arm" by flatsound

Turns out even near death experiences can't make Richie Tozier grow a pair.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20660747?view_full_work=true

• the greater fool series:

Who is the greater fool, (or something like that) asked Obi Wan Kenobi, the fool or the fool who follows him?

Richie is the fool. Obviously. Eddie is the fool who followed him. And now Eddie feels like he can answer Obi Wan with confidence: the greater fool is the one who doesn’t call bullshit on the bullshitter and instead goes, what the hell, why not? It’s not like there’s anything better to do.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/848619

• for better, for worse:

Eddie's done a fucking lot of brave things in the past year and a half. He did a lot of brave things in Derry, and then left his wife and started therapy and came to Ben and Bev's wedding even though he's been in love with his best friend for somewhere between six months and thirty years. Even though he knew it'd be fucking hard. He's not sure how many brave things he has left in him.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892413/chapters/49662362

• yes, homo (five times the losers thought richie and eddie were "just friends"... and one time they didn't)

The Losers all know Richie and Eddie are the best of friends. So it's not so weird to Stan that Eddie moves in with Richie after his acrimonious divorce. And Bev doesn't raise an eyebrow to all the ridiculous dog co-parenting gags Richie plasters his social media with. Mike thinks Eddie's bedroom in the apartment him and Richie share is pretty spartan, but he'd just moved in a few months ago, and Eddie was kind of like that, anyway. Bill thinks Richie's new act is funny as hell, especially all those gags about how him and Eddie are a "couple." And when it comes time for Ben and Bev's wedding, Ben sends Richie and Eddie separate invites, so those two wild bachelors can each bring their own plus-ones.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21407644

• irreversible things

The thing about being famous is that everyone knows who you are.

The thing about being famous is that everyone has an opinion about you.

The thing about being famous is that Richie Tozier can’t take it for another minute.

The thing about Eddie Kaspbrak is that he has no idea who Richie Tozier is.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19858561/chapters/47027968

• skin&earth series

Eddie Kaspbrak is ten years old. It's his first time at the quarry with his friends.

--

The descent feels like it lasts both for a few seconds and for eternity. Free fall is terrifying, but his hand is still latched onto Richie's, and it tethers him, makes him feel like he isn't just lost in space.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/849696

• i will make you hurt

Eddie has struggled with school the past couple years, and his last year of high school is already off to a bad start. His mom hires him a tutor from the nearby University and things seem like they might start looking up.

But when Eddie's tutor takes an interest in him, everything starts to fall apart, and Eddie is forced into a situation he never even imagined.

https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/33656952?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false

• no dice

“You’re pretty.”

“What?”

“You always were.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20668082

• only if for a night

Richie and Eddie have been together for more than a year, and Richie is still having trouble allowing himself physical intimacy.

Eddie tries to handle it gracefully.

He does not.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20892752/chapters/49663157

• you got married? what like to a woman?

Eddie shows up at Richie’s hotel room door to ask what the fuck that "joke" at the restaurant was supposed to mean.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21117032

• fear of the water series (blackbird)

“Ho-ly fuck,” Richie whispers, and Eddie has never been so fucking scared. Not when he saw the leper, not when he confronted his mother about his pills, not when they fought It in the sewers. Never. Eddie screws his eyes shut and clutches at the material of his jeans.

Please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice, please be too high to notice

“Eddie?”

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1468856

• stupid deep series (look on up)

There’s a little wrapped package in Eddie’s coat pocket. He tries not to think about it too deeply. He has, after all, been carrying it around for months.

https://archiveofourown.org/series/1512914

• big dog, little dog

“Roscoe, no! NO! We’ve talked about this.”

Richie looks up, perplexed, seeking the source of the sound and finding, to his delight, a short, adorable brunette man being pulled by a beast of a mastiff, headed straight in their direction and fast, despite the snow on the ground.

“He’s friendly, I swear!” the man yells, just in time for Roscoe to reach his destination: Enzo, who, to his credit, looks up at the big dog with far more curiosity than fear.

Richie holds tightly to Enzo’s leash, wary (“he’s friendly”--yeah, he’s heard that before) as Roscoe recovers from the run by nosing at Enzo’s butt.

“That’s what was so urgent you nearly yanked my arm out of its fucking socket? You goddamn weirdo,” the man chides, panting, industrial strength leash extending taut from one of his small hands.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13623714/chapters/31281825?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_270878059

• facetiously yours

Richie Tozier represents everything Eddie despises: he’s loud, he’s obnoxious, and worst of all he’s messy. And to top it all off, as if the universe simply couldn’t get enough of Eddie’s misery, Eddie is forced to listen to his nighttime festivities whether he wants to or not. Nothing about his neighbor should be appealing in any way, shape, or form.

Too bad his dick didn’t get the memo.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20639915

baby please come home [reddie] https://archiveofourown.org/works/21945457

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21486541 buzzfeed presents

boys don't cry (but apparently richie tozier didn't get the memo) https://archiveofourown.org/works/22370593

phuket series https://archiveofourown.org/series/1597291

• i love you now like i loved you then (this is the road and these are the hands)

Somewhere in their phone calls after Derry 2.0, Richie and Eddie had decided to finally take that road trip. Richie would fly in from LA, then they’d drive back there from New York.

It’ll be just like it could’ve been, Richie had said once.

(Or, Eddie and Richie resume.)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22783078

this is my hyde side https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174536

• what's funny

It started at the Derry Townhouse when Eddie needed to charge his phone and get an answer out of Richie. As the night went on, they started to remember what they lost, and the mistake that lead to almost losing everything...

https://archiveofourown.org/works/20643572/chapters/49021859

• wonder violet

"Right." Eddie's not sure what to think. "Well, thanks, for sticking up for me." Eddie's also not sure if he means that, but it feels like something he should say.

"Yeah, 'course," Richie replies. "You're my sister's best friend."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/13179045/chapters/30143751