honey you’re familiar like my mirror years ago with sith!obi please madame
i hurt myself w this i- (also warning! there is canon-typical injuries here. no violence within the fic, but know there is a mention of blood!)
death - sith!obi x reader
When darkness consumed him, she felt it. She could’ve sworn the cosmos shifted, as if Coruscant itself had flipped on its axis. And in that moment, she felt the pull of the darkness, she felt the way it pulled her down, and as she fell to her knees, she could feel him.
He was gone.
Yet as she lay in her cell, hands tied behind her back, knees against the cold durasteel, she doesn’t feel that pull. As her hair, pulled out of her buns now, falls in front of her eyes, she does not feel the enveloping darkness.
But as she feels the ache in her shoulders and neck, as she feels the pounding in her head, she feels him.
Blood trickles from her temple down the side of her face, but she doesn’t move. Her gaze stays on the ground, and she closes her eyes, listening. The hum of the ship is quiet, but still, the footfalls of droids, the brushing of a cape against cold durasteel.
She does not feel the pull to the darkness. But God, she feels him. She feels him as he comes closer, she feels him as he stops behind her door, and she feels him at the release of his breath.
The door hisses open.
“My love.” His voice is… different. It’s not Obi-Wan’s, it’s not the whisper she’d heard during late nights, when they were both young padawans sneaking around hallways, avoiding the gazes of Jedi Masters.
Just like the durasteel against her knees, he’s cold.
Just like her bed, he’s cold.
“I always thought I’d see you again,” He says. There’s a pause in his voice, she hasn’t looked up yet, part of her afraid that he’ll still look like Obi-Wan Kenobi. Maybe he’ll still look like her love.
She isn’t given a choice. He kneels in front of her, and he sees the dark boots, the ebony cape brushing the floor. He’s drowning in shadows. Then, a gloved hand grasps her chin, lightly bringing her face up to his.
The first thing she notices—his eyes aren’t blue. His hair is shorter than when she’d last seen it, but his beard was still the same, his face still the same.
And like blaster fire to her chest, he looks like Obi-Wan Kenobi. God, he looks like the man she’d told so many years ago that she’d loved him. But his eyes aren’t blue.
Her breath is stuttering, and without much control over her own actions, his name comes out like a gasp.
His brows knit together, his head tilts, something like amusement crosses his face. As he crouches before her, he ducks his head, quiet laughter—barely more than rushed breaths—leaves him.
“Oh, my love,” He whispers, “You should know not to call me that anymore.” He leans in close to her, his lips by her ear, “Say it, dear.”
“No,” Her words fall past her lips as though forced out of her. She shakes her head as she fights against the restraints. “Obi I- I know you’re still in there please-“
He moves away, tutting. He stands up in front of her, making her gaze follow him.
“We can fix this Obi-Wan, please-“
She watches as he turns away, facing the doorway. He holds his hands behind his back, he stands tall—he stands like a Jedi.
“I remember when I was like you,” He begins, “Seems like many moons ago now. Your idealism, my dear—“ He turns, once again letting his gaze meet hers. “I’ve always admired it.”
“I beg you,” She whispers, “Please try.”
“That’s all you wished, wasn’t it?” He replies. He moves closer to her, crouching once more to meet her eyes. “I’m finished with just trying.”
He moves close to her ear once again, fingers coming up to brush loose hairs away from her face.
“Say my name,” He whispers.
Silence passes between them, and once again, she can hear the hum of the ship, the footfalls of the droids.
“Solus.” Her voice is broken, cracked, it feels as though it is shattering. “Darth Solus.”
He moves away, standing to turn his back to her.
“Your Obi-Wan,” He begins, “I’m sure he misses you.”
As he leaves, he pulls a hilt from behind his back—her lightsaber, she realizes—and drops it onto the durasteel. He waves his hand, and the restraints on her wrists loosen. He leaves without another word, but she feels him.
God, she still feels him.
Darth Solus, not Obi-Wan Kenobi. Not the man who kissed her jawline in the moonlight, tangled in slate-colored sheets. Not the man whose laughter would come close to her ear, who would trace her skin with quiet fingertips.
i’m back with more of my au’s because i discussed barista!anakin with sav last night and i cannot stop thinking about it 😳😳 barista anakin skywalker who writes your name on cups in sloppy script and gets your order wrong on purpose because he wants to see you again 🥺🥺
omg YES HANNAH 🥰 he would be an absolute DREAM! one day he just gets so fed up with going nowhere that he just writes his number on your cup and writes it all neat so you wouldn’t miss one 🥺
angel!!! here i am to check in on you once again and remind you to drink water and to please never make me look at that dbh icon from the other day again 😌 love you
SCMDNSAKJDSAK oh my gosh hannah i was ggoing absolutely buckwild in my dining room last night because i could not STANDDD looking at my old icon anymore so i changed it. dechartian snipers already know my location and are coming to get my ass as we speak for ruining the white agenda :(( girly u know i can’t make promises i know i probably won’t keep PERIOD like who knows what will happen in four days 🤤 (manifesting nothing please please please gosh every time i’m reminded i’m like GOSH there better not be an announcement we’ve suffered enough in 2020). LOVE YOU, MIJITA!! hope you are staying hydrated, not staring for too long at the computer screen, and taking some time for yourself 😌💕
you are once again number one in the theme game and we all get to sit here and admire it 😌😌
this compliment from the queen of mobile themes herself?? Y’ALL GO AND GET THIS BITCH SOME JUICE AND GET A ROAST READY WE GONNA BE FEASTING ALL NIGHT!! thank u sm miss. hannah 🥺 you dropped this on the way to my inbox 👑
'moon dances over your good side' with obi because i will SOB. i adore you bye
perhaps. perhaps i am SO soft. and i missed chandrila!reader so here she is :)
flowing - obi-wan kenobi x chandrila!reader
Her dress is sheer, an open back and material like stardust falling over her. Yet—despite the elegance of her gown—she doesn’t stay within the ornate walls of Theed Palace. She leaves, walking the streets of the city, heels clicking against the cool brick pathways.
The sun is long gone, the moons finding their places high in the sky. She’s guided by their light, fresh pools of their heavenly glow flowing through the streets.
She should feel unsafe, she should be keeping a careful watch of her back. But she knows he isn’t far behind, never is.
So when she does look back over her shoulder and sees him watching from a staircase, it isn’t a surprise.
His backdrop is the palace, lights from the ballroom leaving him to appear dim. Yet there’s a smile on his face—she can see it perfectly even in the dark.
She turns fully and crosses her arms at him, tilting her head as a smile works its way onto her face in return. Even from afar, she can see the way he ducks his head in laughter as he moves towards her. He crosses the pools of moonlight, his boots hitting against the bricks, until finally he stands before her, hair windswept and lips upturned.
“You shouldn’t walk alone out here, you know,” He says. Her eyes flit about, and then she takes a step closer to him, tilting her chin up to look at him.
“Was I ever alone?” She asks. His laughter is light, breaths of bliss more than anything.
“No,” He whispers, “I don’t suppose you ever were.”
The bright blues of his eyes look more grey in the night, but they look kind. They look over her face, falling from her eyes, to her lips, to her dress, and then back up again. Admiring freely.
Her hand comes up then, rings cool against his cheek at her touch. His hand comes up to her wrist, and then he turns, pressing his lips to her palm.
It’s rare to find a city as quiet as Theed. While Senators talk and drink in the palace, the city itself is undeniably serene. In this moment, it feels as though there are no other souls except for them, the only sounds their whispers and their shoes against the brick.
“I hear there’s a pretty lookout by the river,” She whispers. Obi-Wan’s eyebrows raise, a smirk coming onto his face.
“Now what reason could you possibly have to love rivers as much as you do?”
Her eyes narrow playfully and she whacks his chest with the back of her head. He laughs as he grabs her hand, holding it against his chest. He leans forward, his face mere centimeters from hers.
“I’m only joking,” He whispers, before pulling away and moving towards the lookout, her hand still in his, “You wanted to see the river, didn’t you?”
And so she lets him pull her along, until they come upon the cliff. The stone fountain in the middle offers a quiet trickle of water as it falls over the celestial statue. Obi-Wan lets go of her hand, moving to the railing. He rests his arms there, leaning over and watching.
She stays back for a moment, observing. Obi is basking in the heavenly glow of the moons, every bit of him alight with the cosmos.
He looks youthful again. If she’d known him as a padawan, before Qui-Gon’s death and before he took on the role of master, she imagines this is what he’d be like.
In the moonlight here, there seems to be only so much he can care about, only so much he can devote his time to.
It’s then when he looks over his shoulder at her, and then he opens his arm out to her, beckoning for her to join him.
The smile on his face is like no other. It’s not bright, not unbridled, it’s not from laughter—she sighs, happily—his smile is unconscious. It comes up to his eyes and leaves his lips in a permanent curve.
And so she moves into his arms, and he wraps them around her, his lips close to her skin. He presses them to her neck and shoulders, his hands wander the expanse of her exposed back. And throughout it all, she can feel the upward curve of his lips.
She savors it. Her hand may come up by her shoulder, letting her fingers fall into his hair as he kisses the juncture of her shoulder and neck, but mostly, she watches the river, allowing herself to feel his bliss through him.
Ever flowing, she thinks, ever moving. The river is constant. Its waters carry with them memories of love, of loss, of life.
On Chandrila, they said that to share love by a river meant the love would be everlasting. That as long as the river flows, as long as the waters are brought to the seas, that love would carry on.
And just as on that first night, the river flows, and the moon shines over them.
And just as on that first night, what had been the beginnings of affection flowing between them has turned to love. Pure, ever flowing, ever lasting.
And she carries it with her, to every planet, to every heavenly body, to every moon and to every star. It flows.
