#muse-writings

You’re a nurse on the Star Killer Base. It’s a fairly quiet job in the First Order unless a mission goes horribly wrong or Kylo Ren has a tantrum in front of a bunch of people. Neither of those two happen often, so your days are littered with stocking supplies and dealing with engineers who had a slip of the hand or played too rough with their coworkers. You had never met Kylo in your few years working for the first order, somehow you were always just super conveniently on your off day for working, or on call for the engineers. You don’t meet Kylo until your fifth year in. At first, you don’t know what’s going on. Everything is confusing during the shift change, and with a bloodied patient withering in pain on a bed while yelling at everybody, it doesn’t help the situation much.No one would tell you what was going on, other than this patient was above the rest, and for fuck’s sake can someone take his lightsaber away before he kills someone with it!Somehow, you were thrust onto Kylo as his personal nurse, essentially doing anything he wanted.You often found yourself being the one holding him down when anything was being stitched up or when someone was cleaning the gash on his face that he was refusing to stitch up.You didn’t put together who he was until you mentioned there hadn’t been any tantrums from Ren in a while. It’s then that he speaks up to you, telling you that you should watch your mouth in front of your superior. You become flustered, apologizing until he tells you to shut up and just put the cream on his face. ~When Kylo is ‘discharged’ from the medical ward (he actually just left and threatened anyone who tried to tell him he had to stay) he commissioned you as his personal nurse.You never really knew how stupid Kylo Ren was until you had to follow him around all the time. “I hit the doorframe with my head again”“I got my hand stuck in the ramp for the command shuttle”“I tripped over my cape”The worst one though, was when he sends for you. And when you go to find him, he’s hiding in a supply closet like a child. You end up arguing with him to come out of the closet, but he ends up pulling you in, saying that he can’t come out. He has a hole in his pants. You’re not listening of course, because you’re in such a small space and there’s no room for both of you in the closet. Not to mention your fear of small spaces.Kylo is rambling to you about his pants and how they ripped, but you’re too busy focusing on breathing and trying not to freak out. Kylo doesn’t notice for a few minutes before freaking out about you freaking out, you stumble out of the closet, someone looking over when you fall onto your hands and knees, breathing heavily.They notice Ren in the closet, using his cape to cover his torn pants. They snicker, ready to spread what they just saw. Kylo kneels beside you, using the force to calm you down before asking if you would like to come to his quarters to rest while he changes. He carries you, using you to cover the rip in his pants while he walks. The next thing you know, you’re laying in Kylo Ren’s bed with him putting a kiss on your forehead (thinking you’re asleep and won’t notice) as he changes his pants.

His eyes caught hers, losing himself in the deepest shade of blue that he’s ever seen. She had never been around the café before, at least, not when he was around. He would have noticed an ethereal beauty like hers before now. Her voice danced through the warm air of the café’s walls. It was low, soothing in a way. The kind you would want to speak to a man in pain. She stood at the counter, legs parted only an inch. Her boots were dripping with melted snow, and the leggings she wore were slightly darker right above where the boots ended from the snow she had likely stepped in. His eyes travel slowly up her slender calves, following the line of her thighs to the tight bum that was holding her pants up. Going further upwards, her figure was lost in an open jacket and a loose knitted sweater. Her neck protruded from the neckline, stray hairs falling from the messy knot upon her head. Even from the distance, he noticed the multiple gold studs that were in her ears. “Witches brew, no milk, one sugar” She says gently “And one of the vegan muffins” “right away! I’ll bring it out to you as soon as it’s done” the barista says, grabbing a cup and a sharpie “Can I get your name?” The syllables fell from her lips, and Armitage closes his eyes, saying her name in his head a few times. It was a beautiful name, it suited her. He looks down when she turns, facing the seating areas. Her eyes flit over the slender, orange haired man in one of the seats, a quilt that was supplied by the café was folded and resting on the bench behind him. In her brief assessment, she notices the peaks of a tattoo from the tops of his collar. She hides a smile, walking and moving to sit on the opposite side of the café, where she would have a good view of him without it seeming obvious that she was staring. Her tote-purse drops into an empty seat, and she curls up on the bench that rested against a window. She pulls out her silver laptop with a dark grey case on it, the logo shining through the contrasting shade, a notebook follows, and she sets up the table accordingly as she shifts out of her jacket. “Witches brew and vegan muffin!” the barista says happily as she bustles over, setting the mug and the plate onto the table. “Thank you” The girl says gently, pulling out her headphones from her bag. “No problem, just call if you need anything” She says with a smile, moving and coming over to Armitage “Need a refill?” “Yes” Armitage says, glancing up from his laptop “Hold the espresso” “Alrighty!” She grins, grabbing his empty mug and taking it behind the bar. His eyes trail to the girl once more. He was clearly older than her, she couldn’t be more than her early twenties, and judging from the textbook she had on the table, she was a local university student. He took more of her in, her bangs swept to the side so she could see. She wore no makeup, nothing to accentuate her high cheekbones and her strong jawline. Her nose curving slightly at the tip. Her lips were a gentle pink, not offset from the tone of her skin. From the front, he could see her collarbones and clavicle protruding under her skin. He doesn’t notice that she’s looked up from her laptop, holding her tea in his hand as he admires her. The shy smile she gives him flusters him for the quickest of moments. He doesn’t return the smile, but simply nods in response. ~ For months, their only interactions were the smiles and nods they gave each other when they first arrive in the café. They were aware of each other’s presence, and often found comfort and solace in each other’s company. Each visit she made to the café, he was there. She learned more about him each time as well. With the warmer months came him with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the top button of his shirt unbuttoned. She always became captivated by the tattoos that covered his pale skin. The more she came in, Armitage found himself using her as a muse. He kept finding little bits of her within the characters he wrote through his editing. Be it looks, or mannerisms he had noticed from her, every time he reread his chapters, she jumped out at him. His family had never been supportive of his writing. He was born out of wedlock, though no one, not even him, could consider himself a love child of anyone. Maybe if he had grown up with his mother, he would have known love or kindness in his life. But he had not once met his biological mother. His father and his wife were soulmates. They had been together since childhood, but even so, his father had been unfaithful to the woman he was supposed to be with for his lifetime. Armitage had known these facts for his entire life. His stepmother would never let him live it down that he was a child born out of adultery. His father had trained him as a child to be a military brat. His father wanted him to pay for being born by bringing some form of redemption to the Hux name by becoming a high-ranking general in the military. His father was nothing but disappointed when Armitage announced that he was going to become an author. His father was still disappointed in his only child even after the paychecks and the royalty cheques came in. Not to mention when Armitage started to cover his skin in permeant and intricate artwork. Brendol Hux found a further hatred for his son. Maybe more than his wife felt for the child that looked identical to his father. Armitage’s fingers tapped the keys on his laptop, the pale fingers being the only part of his hands that didn’t have black ink on them. He was working on the newest chapter to one of his horror novels, trying to get a rough draft out by his deadline the upcoming Friday. His fingers still when a small figure approaches his table. He glances up from the screen for the first time in hours, the small ethereal beauty standing in front of him with a timid smile, her hand clutched tightly around the strap of her backpack. His eyebrow quirks, and he notices the blush that spreads over her nose and her cheeks. “hello” She says timidly, clenching her fingers around her strap in an attempt to cool her nerves. “Hello” He replies softly, his voice surrounding her like a warm, comforting hug, “May I sit?” She asks, pointing to the empty chair across from him. “Do you not wish to sit in your own spot?” Armitage asks, referencing her usual seat on the other side of the room. “I was thinking we could talk” She replies. “Now why would we do that?” He asks her, his fingers pulling away from the keys before wrapping them around the handle of his coffee mug. “Because I’ve run out of reasons for us not to” She tells him. He lets out a chuckle, taking a sip from his overly bitter coffee “Have a seat” She tries not to rush her movements, pulling out the seat and setting her bag against the table stand as she moves to sit on the comfortable chair. She pulls her knees up, her heels resting on the edge of the seat, reaching under and grabbing the laptop from her bag. “I’m [name]” She says as she opens the laptop, quickly typing in her password with ease. “Armitage” He replies quickly, looking back down to his screen, trying to pretend like he’s not too interested in her being so close to him. They fall into silence, nothing but the sounds of their fingers on their keyboards being heard from their table. There were others milling around in the café, ordering their drinks before leaving through the front door. “Refills?” The barista who they had learned to be Alicia asked. “Yes please” She says gently, looking up and giving the woman a smile. “Yes” Armitage says curtly, not looking up from the screen. Alicia nods, grabbing the mugs and walking away with a pep in her step. When she comes back, she sets the steaming mugs back down onto the table, along with two muffins on a plate. “Muffins on the house” Alicia tells them before leaving and heading back behind the counter. More silence filled the air between them, and she starts to wonder if maybe it was a mistake to join him at the table. “Have you met them?” Armitage asks suddenly. She looks up, eyes widening. Almost as if she was a dear in the headlights. “What?” “What is a very impolite way of asking ‘pardon’” He tells her “I asked if you’ve met them, your soulmate.” She looks down to her wrist, seeing the intricate lace design on her wrist. She looks back up to Armitage. “I don’t know” She tells him honestly “If I have, they haven’t made themselves known to me” Armitage nods, grabbing his coffee and sipping at it. “What about you?” She asks, nodding to his tattoos. “Have you met yours?” “I don’t have one” He tells her after a moment of thinking “I don’t have a tattoo, or a soulmate” “That sucks” “I wouldn’t say so.” Armitage says, shrugging his slender shoulders “It gives me options” “Options are limited when you may be the only one without a true soulmate” She tells him, leaning forward on her forearms that she rested on the table. “Better to have limited options than to be stuck with someone who doesn’t love you” He says simply, and she knew to drop the subject.  There was a bite to his words that she knew would be dangerous to carry on with that certain line of questioning. “When did you get your first tattoo?” She asks him, eyeing his covered arms. “When I was twenty” He says, looking up at her once more. “The first one was the compass rose on my shoulder” “Does it have a meaning?” She asks, closing her laptop slightly, a small smile on her lips. “I was lost when I was younger” He tells her “I was alone, I got it to remind me that there’s a direct route to where I need to be. None of the other ones really have a meaning.” She nods, pulling up the sleeve of her sweater to right above her elbow, showing off the constellation and the cursive lettering. “I got this on my eighteenth birthday” She says, pointing at the quote. “I added the quote last year” “Did you get it done locally?” Armitage asks her, closing his own laptop. “The constellation, no. I got it done when I was in London for my high school grad trip.” She tells him “The quote I got done a few blocks from here when I started University” “I got mine done all over” He tells her “I get one on each book tour I go on. My favorite artist is out in Berlin” “You’re an author?” She asks, eyes widening again “anything I would know?” “I have eight novels on the New York times best sellers list” He tells her with a shrug “I have four others that didn’t quite make it onto the list” “What genre do you write?” She asks, finding the topic that they could truly lose themselves in. “Horror, I have a few mystery novels on my list” He chuckles, rubbing his hand over his face and then through his hair “I have one romance novel published as well, but it’s the least popular.” “Are you bad at writing romance?” She asks him. “Yeah” He laughs “It was my first novel that was published. No one’s first published is their best. It’s why so many authors don’t release a second.” “They get discouraged by bad reviews?” She asks, tilting her head. “Yes” He nods. “How did you get past it?” “I changed genres” He shrugs “I found something I was good at” “Do you like Stephen King?” “You can’t be a horror novelist and not own a Stephen King novel” “I didn’t ask if you owned one of his books, I asked if you liked his writing” “It’s selective.” Armitage says, “I enjoy some of his single novels, and the dark tower series, though I’m not the biggest fan of his short stories” “I liked the Dark Tower Series” She tells him, sipping at her tea “Though I struggled through the first book. I can’t tell you how many times I started and restarted it before I was finally able to get past the first half” “You read horror?” He asks, eyebrow quirked. “Certain authors” She says, “Certain books” ~ After their first conversation, they would meet up at the café to work together. They often worked around her class schedule, and more often than not, he would be her “peer editor” for her assignments. She was an amazing writer, for essays at least. There was never much that he would make her edit. Just a few grammatical errors he’d occasionally help her with, or he’d be her human thesaurus. She adored his company, and she’s not quite sure when it happened, but she moved her seat once more. She ended up curled up beside him, resting against his side while they both typed away at their keyboards. There was a comfortable arrangement between them. They weren’t lovers, though they weren’t just friends. Armitage isn’t quite sure how the arrangement came to be. Her allowing him to hold her while they drink their daily coffee. “When’s your deadline?” She asks him, looking up to him from under her lashes. “Monday” He tells her. “Is everything stressful on a Monday for you?” She giggles. He gives her a crooked grin. “It seems like it, doesn’t it?” “Do you think you’ll get it done?” She asks him, adjusting her position on the small bench. “I think so” He nods, wrapping his arm around her shoulders, typing away with his left hand. ~ The Monday comes, and she’s running late to the coffee shop. Her class had run late, and she was walking briskly down the street, hoping to catch her bus before it departed. She didn’t want to wait another hour for it to come back around. She accidentally steps in a puddle, grumbling when her entire foot up to her ankle becomes soaked. She jogs down the street, holding onto the strap of her bag. She jumps onto the bus, showing the bus pass to the driver before swinging around one of the poles and sitting down on an empty seat. “Wet day out there, ain’t it?” An older woman from beside her asks. “Yes ma’am” She says, nodding. She shoves her headphone into her ear, settling down and pulling a book out of her bag. It was one of Armitage’s early mystery novels. She wasn’t far into it, but she was thoroughly enjoying his writing. She had bought it, since he didn’t want her reading his earlier works. She had to sneak and buy it quietly without his knowledge. After the twenty-minute bus ride, she presses the button, signalling that it was her stop. The bus squealed to a halt, and she stands up. Muttering a quick goodbye to the lady beside her and shoving the book into her bag as she hops off the bus. Trying to avoid another puddle – not that it would matter. Her foot was already soaked. She moves quickly down the two blocks, one right turn and another before she opens the door to the café, her hair dripping wet. Armitage looks up, chuckling at her appearance. He stands from the bench, taking her bag from her. “I ordered you your tea” He tells her, smiling. “Sorry I’m late” She mutters, leaning against him as his arm wraps around her. “I could have come to get you” “I didn’t know you had a car” “I do” “I’ll keep that in mind” “What made you late?” “Class ran longer than expected” She tells him, curling up against him on the bench when he sits down. “Did you make your deadline?” “I did” He tells her with a smile. She lets out a small squeal, moving to her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, leaning in and placing a kiss against his cheek. Armitage closes his eyes for a moment, trying to imagine how her lips would feel against his own. When she pulls away, he looks at her. She was beautiful, even in the dim lighting of the café and the darkness of the rain outside. She was glowing. He doesn’t say anything as she takes her mug and blows at the tea, trying to cool it a little bit so she could drink it. “Are you happy with the novel?” she asks him, sipping at the slowly cooling liquid. “As happy as I can be.” He nods, leaning back and stretching out his legs, taking his own half empty mug and slowly nursing the last few sips. “What does that mean?” She asks, brows furrowing. “Writing creatively with such a deadline puts a toll on anyone” He says quietly “It’s the one thing about being a published author with a writing deal. There’s so many deadlines that I can’t flush out stories or characters as much as I want to.” “Oh” she says, eyes dropping. Armitage nods, leaning closer to her “Want to know my favorite part?” She looks up at him, eyes meeting his “What?” “You” was all he said before he leaned in, his lips pressing to the corner of her mouth, trailing to the side before they were flushed against hers. She lets out a mix between a moan and a ‘oh’ as she presses against him, feeling his arm wrap around her. She would never be able to describe the kiss, and he would never be able to write it out on paper. There were no definitions, no words for what he was experiencing. “Oh” she whispers, her forehead resting against his jaw. Her eyes closed as she revelled in the moment. “yeah” Armitage says lamely, pulling her closer. “I liked that” She tells him, looking up at him with the smallest of smiles. “I can do better” He replies, his lips tilting up into a smirk. “Wanna test it out?” She asks, giggling as she leans in once more to capture his lips. ~ As her school year began to close, she spent more time in Armitage’s apartment. Often resting on his couch or sprawled out on his bed. He always made sure school was her first priority, sex would always be there, but she needed to get her work done. “You sound like my father” She’d always tell him. “I’m old enough to be him” He’d always respond. He wasn’t actually old enough to be her father. There was an age difference between them, yes. But Armitage liked to make it over dramatic, acting as if he were a fifty-year-old rather than a thirty-two year old. But, as her semester ended and the summer began, there was nothing stopping them from being in his bed at all times of the day. Today was no different. Armitage was sprawled out along the bed, leaning against the wall with a book in his hand. He wore nothing but a pair of boxer briefs. She was curled up into his side, her fingers following the lines of the tattoos on his chest. He arches for a moment, stretching his long limbs out. He always loved the feeling of her nails against his skin, be it gentle like she was now, or when she dug them into the skin of his back and sides. She could never get enough of his tattoos. She could never get more than the two she currently haves. But she loved to admire the artwork that Armitage had decorated himself with. As her fingers move, she examines his tattoos. Stilling on his inner bicep when the black lines become a similar design. The swirls and the hard edges become so familiar that she forces herself to look down at her wrist, seeing it’s match on her own skin. Soulmates. But was it possible? Each soulmate tattoo was unique to the pair. But how could Armitage have the same one as hers? He said that he didn’t have a soulmate tattoo. She opens her mouth, Armitage looking over to her, eyebrow quirked as he waited for what she would say. Nothing comes from her lips, and she thinks better than to bring the subject up. She knew how much he hated the concept of soulmates. How much he truly believed that soulmates weren’t real, that no one, not even fate itself, could determine who would love who. She moves, resting on her knees as she leans towards him, pressing her lips against his in an attempt to distract herself, and celebrate, him being her soulmate. She wouldn’t want in any other way, but knowing Armitage, he would break off whatever their relationship was because he was against the system and didn’t want the fates to prove him wrong. Armitage lets out a groan, closing his book slowly and setting it on the table beside the bed. “What’s this for?” He asks, running his fingers through her hair as he adjusts his seated position. “I just love you” She whispers to him, resting her eyes as she leans in and kisses him once more. “I know” He tells her, holding the back of her head to keep her still. He never told her that he loved her. Although they both knew that he loved her more than anything. But his upbringing, he was left scared to enjoy his emotions, terrified that he one day may become exactly like his father. She smiles, letting out a giggle as she pushes him down onto the bed. Her leg swinging around so her knee could rest on the other side of his legs. She peppers kisses along his jaw, her fingers running through the perfectly neat hair that he always kept immaculate and in perfect order. “Do you think you’ll ever find them?” He asks softly, his hands trailing up and down her sides. “You’re soulmate I mean” “I don’t know” She tells him. “Not everyone finds their soulmate.” “If you did find them, would you go with them?” His eyes held… sadness? Worry? “I don’t know” She repeats, shrugging. “Would you rather have your spouse have the title of soulmate? Or would you ever settle for someone who doesn’t have a soulmate?” He asks her, he seemed like he was trying to ease his mind. “I don’t know” She repeats once more. “All I know is that, right now, I love you.” “You could learn to love your soulmate” He whispers, leaning back against the wall again. “I’m sure I could” She shrugs “But why would I want to love them when I love you?” “They could be attractive” “You’re attractive” “They could be smart” “You’re smart” “They could be everything you want” “You’re everything I want” He holds her eyes, leaning in and kissing her once more. She lets out a small whine, arching herself in towards him. He lets out a chuckle, pushing his hands under the loose shirt she wore. He tosses it away when it’s off of her, her hair falling once more around her shoulders. He could never get enough of her body. The slender figure and the arch of her back, the soft skin of her breasts protruding towards him. His hand trails up her side, a chuckle escaping his lips as he pinches her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She didn’t get much pleasure from breast play, so he often kept it to a minimum. The erect buds often gave him amusement though, and she liked his touch in general. Anytime he touched her, she felt like the most beautiful woman alive. He always took his time with his foreplay. He never wanted to rush it with her. “Tij” she whispers, leaning into his touch. he lets out a chuckle, his spare hand grabbing her bum and pulling her flushed against him, the tent in his boxers greeting her heat. ~ She never told him that they were soulmates, and maybe it was a good thing. They didn’t last more than three years when they had the dreaded conversation. “I think we should end this” He tells her, sitting in their favorite coffee shop. She doesn’t respond, but her hands still while holding the mug, halfway to her lips. “We’ve had a good run” He whispers, holding his coffee in his hands, spinning the mug so the dark liquid in it swirled along the walls of its confines. “We have” She nods, her voice didn’t sound like her own. It was a stranger speaking for her. “I don’t want to ruin what we’ve had” He says “But you have so much life ahead of you to be dealing with an aging writer” “I don’t know what to say” She says quietly, searching his face. “Is this why you’ve been so distant this week?” “Yes” He nods “I want you to go out and explore, find your soulmate” Even while he was breaking her heart with his words, she couldn’t tell him that they were soulmates. That they were the ones destined for each other. But she would never want to go against what Armitage truly wanted. “I understand” She tells him, setting her mug down and standing from her seat. “I guess it’s a good thing I never broke my apartment’s rent.” “I guess so” He responds, not looking up at her. She turns, walking out of the café, knowing she may never return to the building that had given her so much comfort in her university years. ~ She had set up the appointment the day after Armitage had broken up with her. She had never been one to cry over boys. She had made it a rule to herself when she started high school that she would never give a boy the power to break her, to invoke tears from her. She never strayed from that promise. It was a Tuesday when she walked into the heavily art decorated shop. “Hey!” A tattooed man says from behind the counter “You my 2:30?” “Yes” She tells him, nodding. “Come on back and I’ll show you what I have for you” He says with a smile “If you’ve forgotten, I’m Jamie” “Cool” She says, following him to the small cubby area that held a chair. She sits down, Jamie twirling on an office chair. “So we’re going to coverup the old tattoo under the mountain, sound good?” Jamie asks. “yes, thank you” She says with a smile. ~ She walked out of the shop, the plastic wrap surrounding her wrist, a slip of paper with Jamie’s cell phone number written on it.

“Yaycee!” You squeal, letting out a loud giggle. The bathtub was full of slippery limbs, the mini Australian shepherd making the entire bathing experience difficult. Yaycee hated baths, and you often just let her jump into a lake to get her washed, but today, she ran through a mud puddle that covered her completely. “Y/N?” a familiar voice calls. “In the bathroom!” You call, watching the door open hesitantly to reveal your best friend. “I came as quick as I could. Are you oka-“ Peter stops, looking at the mess in front of him. There was mud all over the bathroom, on the walls, the floor, all in the bathtub. You had mud all over your arms and legs, shedding dog hair clung to your hands and you were in a bathing suit, standing above your three year old dog. “This was the emergency?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “Yes!” You yelp, grasping blindly for your dog that bounded out of the bathtub “Grab her!” Peter scrambles, trying to grab Yaycee, but she darted past him into the hallway. You quickly shut off the water, scrambling out and running after the soaking wet dog. You followed the trail of wet footprints, chasing Yaycee around the couches. “Peter!” You yell as she started running towards him. He bends down, unable to grab her due to how wet and slippery she was. You trail after her, gasping when your wet feet lost their grip, sliding and tumbling backwards. You landed on your butt with a loud whine. “Ow!” “Are you okay?” Peter asks, trying to hide his laugh. “Yeah” You grumble, taking his hand and as he was helping you onto your feet, you pulled him down, laughing as he landed on you. “Y/N!” He laughs amidst a groan. You kiss his cheek, pushing him off of you and heading into the kitchen, opening the door to the pantry to grab the bag of training treats. You return to the bathroom, shaking the bag. Peter laughs when Yaycee runs past him to get into the bathroom. She hops up onto her back legs as you hold a treat above her head, Peter comes into the bathroom, closing the door as you let her have the treat. Peter removes his shirt, knowing that it would get wet if he left it on. He helps you get Yaycee back into the tub. She squirms, but you both keep your grip on her. Peter turns the water back on, and you grab the shampoo. Peter gets her wet again, and you squirt some shampoo onto Yaycee’s back, running your hands through it and letting it become foamy and bubbly against her fur. She squirms in Peter’s arms, and he groans when she headbutts his jaw. You wince at the sound, running your hands over her short hair and her legs, groaning when she tenses. “Yaycee no!” You cry, watching her begin to shake, water and soap flying everywhere and clinging to every surface. Peter lets out a booming laugh, watching as you shielded your face with your arms. You shoot him a glare, but he holds her still as you begin to rinse her off with water you collected in a measuring cup. When she was rinsed, Peter reaches over, grabbing the towel and wrapping the little dog up in it, lifting her out of the tub and holding her like a baby. “Thank you” You grumble, rinsing your hands off before turning the water off, stepping out of the tub and grabbing the other towel, attempting to dry yourself off. Peter takes her out of the bathroom, and you head to your room, changing into some shorts and a tanktop, returning to where Peter was sitting on the living room floor, rubbing Yaycee with a towel. You sit beside him, handing Yaycee a treat, pulling your fingers away quickly when she grabbed a hold of the small treat. You and Peter let out giggles, watching You sit beside him, handing Yaycee a treat, pulling your fingers away quickly when she grabbed a hold of the small treat. You and Peter let out giggles, watching Yaycee get out of the towel and begin to run around the furniture, yapping loudly.

Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was the most rule abiding man in the galaxy, even more so after taking Anakin Skywalker under his wing. He did everything by the book, every word he uttered, every movement he made, every person he interacted with. He never strayed from the words written for the Jedi. That was, until he met you. You, with your infectious smile and your beautiful voice that often-cracked jokes that even Obi-Wan couldn’t not laugh at. He had met you in a market on your home planet, on the outreaches of the galaxy, lightyears away from the Galactic Republic. No force could sense you. You had stumbled into him with your little basket of dinner ingredients that your mother had sent you to get. Obi-Wan knew he was in trouble when you invited him and Anakin to your home for dinner. You lived on a small farm with your mother and younger siblings, whom kept him company while you and your mother prepared dinner. He had learned, while he ate, that your family had fallen from the planet’s line of royalty after an uprising years prior. He enjoyed your presence, and kissed your cheek when you offered a safe place for him if he ever needed it. Of course, he took up that offer, staying in the small spare bedroom for a few days a couple months later. You showed him around the major spots. You took him to the river, and you took him to the old mill where you had shared your first kiss, and to your favorite bakery, and the old palace where your family once resided. Obi-Wan enjoyed his stay, never wanting to leave, but he had to. He had duties to attend. The third time he saw you, you ran to greet him at his ship, asking about his recent adventures. He takes your arm, letting you lead him to the house. You made him lunch, listening excitedly about his missions. That was the first time that he kissed you on the lips, the first time he touched you. The fourth time he came to see you, was the first time he saw you naked. It wasn’t the first time he made love to you. But he did sit beside you in a bath. The fifth time is when he shared your bed. He had never felt such pleasure – he had been in training when he came of age and felt sexual desires. Once again, he never wanted to leave your side. But yet again, he had to. He wasn’t quite sure when he felt the stirring in his heart for you. Or when he became nervous to see you, or when he began stumble over his words when speaking with you. He had been in your company for nearly six years. You had barely changed since the first time he had laid eyes on you. He started to put more months between his visits to you, but found that he ached without your voice and your body. He didn’t know what to do, what turmoil you were causing him. He adored you, possibly even loved you, but he was a Jedi. He could not love, or have a relationship with you. Unfortunately, the council were extremists when it came to relationships, but he could not abandon his position. He started writing letters to you, and each one ended up destroyed before it was finished. He could never find the right words on how to tell you his feelings. It was against his minds wishes that he ended up on his ship, travelling the lightyears to your planet. When you looked up from the sink in the kitchen, your heart fluttered, the familiar ship landing in one of the fields. The pilot did not visit you as often anymore, but you understood. He was busy. You turn off the tap, drying your hands on a towel as you walked outside, your younger sister running out to greet the bearded man that stepped off the ship. The wind was whipping your hair around your face, and you reached up, pushing it back as you stood on the front steps, letting out a smile as Obi-Wan spoke to Luanna. When he got to the steps, he looked to her. “May I have a moment with your sister?” He asked. Luanna gave him a pout, but went into the house without complaint. “I wasn’t expecting you for another few months Master Kenobi” You say, stepping down from the steps and wrapping your arms around his neck, the tea towel still in your hand. “Neither was I” He tells you, leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on the corner of your mouth. “Is everything alright?” You ask, brows furrowing. “Yes, come inside, I have some things to discuss with you” He says, his hand on your lower back as he guides you into the house. His hand was warm, sending shivers up your body. You go to the kitchen, placing the towel on the counter as you grabbed two mugs. “I just brewed some tea” You say, asking silently if he wanted some. “Yes please, nothing in it” He replies, watching you as you moved, your skirt flowing around your ankles. You pour the tea from the teapot into the mugs, setting it back down before handing him the tea. “It’s hot.” You tell him, moving and sitting with him on the small couch. “What do I owe the pleasure of your company?” “I found something for you, I thought you may like” He says with a weak smile. From his pocket, he pulled a small stone out. A tiger’s eye. It was the stone the first book you read together was named after. The stone had a small hole in it, a leather band going through it and turning it into a necklace. “Oh Obi-Wan” You whisper, taking it from him and examining it. “It’s real” He tells you, shifting closer. “It’s prettier than I would have imagined” You utter, sliding the chord over your head, letting the stone rest right above the valley of your breasts. You look up to him, leaning in and giving him a kiss “You didn’t travel so far just to give me a gift, did you?” “No” He says, rubbing the palms of his hands against his pants. “You’re nervous” You observe, noticing his unusual behaviour. “Yes” He replies. “What is it Obi?” You ask, shifting closer, placing your legs over his. “I – Oh y/n” He whispers “I wish for so much for us” “What do you mean?” “Us. I have tried many times to write something to you. To try and end what we have. I have never gotten to the end of writing those letters. They turned into confessions –“ “Confessions of what?” “My love for you” He says, looking up and catching your eye. He sees the slight blush crossing your cheeks, and your eyes widening. “Your love for me?” You whisper, fingertips raising to touch your lips that he had kissed so many times “Yes” “But Obi-Wan, you can’t love me. It’s against the rules” You say, tears coming to your eyes. “I know” He grumbles “Oh I know. I have tried so hard to hide it. But I can’t be away from you” You move closer, now sitting on his lap. Your head rests on his shoulder, eyes closing as you listen to his breathing. “I love you Obi-Wan Kenobi” You say, kissing the bottom of his jaw. “I just wish we had the chance to be together”