OBI-WAN KENOBI // & i just can’t pull myself away, under a spell i can’t break. ( @kybercore )
dreams are hazy, fickle things. she can feel GHOSTLY TOUCHES on her skin, on her face, and she sighs in her sleep, brushes unconsciously at her face, her nose, before rolling over. ( in her mind, she’s back home, on a beach with her family, with her nieces. there is a large dragonfly in front of her, tickling at her skin, and she bats it away with a smile. ) a draft hits her exposed shoulder as she turns, tucking one arm under her pillow as she goes. she hovers under the surface of waking, partially in her bed, partially at home on naboo, in the sunlight, listening to ryoo and pooja laugh as they splash each other. stars, she misses her family. she exhales heavily, lips parting, and a shiver runs down her spine as fingertips trace over bare skin. ( the dream shifts, falls apart underneath her feet, cracking and fraying at the edges. the beach is gone; her nieces’ laughter echoes and fades away, and a faceless lover behind her presses his mouth to her neck. her head tips, lips part. ) her fingers tighten and tangle in her sheets, her breathing picks up.
her name. her name. it’s being whispered in her ear, telling her to wake up, coaxing her back to reality. she sighs, her breathing disrupted, as the dream falls away again, replacing itself with her bedroom, her walls, her sheets, her bed, a body behin––––––––––––––––
padmé wakes with a start, eyes snapping open immediately, heartbeat jumping straight into hyperdrive. she struggles against a grip on her skin, FEAR settling somewhere in the base of her spine as she tries to surge for the nightstand, where a blaster hides in a compartment accessible with a quick press of a button.
she doesn’t get that far.
the hand on her shoulder shoves her back into the mattress, and her mouth opens immediately, a rush of air entering her lungs, ready to release in a SCREAM, because typho is only two rooms over, and dormé is in between, and –––– a hand claps over her mouth, heavy, firm, while another one pins her down, her left arm trapped underneath the intruder. her right hand snaps up, wraps around his wrist, trying to tug his hand away from her mouth, ready to dig her nails into his skin, ready to BITE, when his words register. the room is dark, and it’s been a decade, but she knows that voice. eyes widen, and a noise of shock is smothered by his palm as she, slowly, stops struggling underneath him.
it can’t be. –––––––––––––––––––––– and yet it is.
her hand reaches up again, fingertips curling around his palm, tugging his hand ( gently now, gently, so he’ll see she’s no longer ready to lunge for a blaster, no longer ready to scream. ) away from her mouth, leaving them both hovering somewhere just over her throat.
❝ ... obi-wan ? ❞ her voice is a gasp. a murmur. were it not for the hand still pinning her firmly to her mattress, she’d swear she was still dreaming. ❝ obi-wan, is that really you ? ❞ she releases his palm and reaches up, her fingertips catching the side of his face, tracing through stubble. he’s warm. she shivers. ❝ i thought –––– ❞ she breaks off, blinking up at him, amazed.