With You Here | Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Synopsis: Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong, and in order not to break under the pressure of your failure, you have resorted to the only thing you know can bring you temporary release, alcohol. 

Warnings: female reader, alcohol abuse, throwing up, lots of throw up, the reader is drunk, fluff, comfort, bad writing, like not my best writing at all but oh well, mild addiction?, slight angst, 

*drabble*

Word Count: 1235

Notes: this week's updates will be shorter because that's all the ideas i had. I am working on part 2 of A Love That Can Never Be Tainted, but the last one took me an entire month to do, so don't expect it any time soon. i'll try to do longer work but for now, bear with me, please

Masterlist

Originally posted by gffa

You were barely awake, the room spinning too much for you to form a coherent thought. Your hands clenched the seat as Obi-Wan held your hair while you leaned over the toilet bowl. His touch was gentle, his hands roaming over the small of your back. If you weren't as intoxicated as you were, you could sense his growing concern mixed with the melancholy he didn't try to quell. He was beyond worried for you, having just found you five minutes ago practically passed out with bottles littering the floor. He had tried to coax an answer from you as to what happened, and from your half-strewn-together sentences, he got the gist. But as he was about to escort you to bed, you stumbled into the bathroom, and it only took him a second to get the idea, following you in and sweeping your hair from your shoulders. 

You gagged, releasing the pure alcohol in your stomach. Obi-Wan focused on your back as more vomit fell into the toilet. 

"Shhh shh, it'd be okay, my dear. I'm right here, shh," he cooed as he felt your disgust and anxiety spike. He hated seeing you drink because you only did it when you couldn't navigate your tangled emotions. You would shut down and turn to the bottle instead of him. Over time he had gotten used to it, but he never grew accustomed to the heartache of you feeling like you were unable to talk to him. He knew it was the byproduct of years of swallowing your emotions, but it didn't put his concerned mind at ease. 

He pushed those thoughts aside. That was far from what he ought to be focusing on. Instead, his attention needed to be on you and your well-being as your ghastly eyes and sunken expression indicated that you weren't as fine as you claimed to be when he first found you.  

His words laced with empathy passed through your ears, and you barely registered them, more focused on the smell of alcohol and the fiery throb in your throat. The burn raced up your throat again, and more vomit spilled into the toilet. Then, finally, you closed your eyes, the pounding in your head becoming too much.  

"You're doing so well, my love, that's it, shhh," he gently coaxed you from your frazzled state of mind into something akin to peace. His hand danced over your spine, where he let it create patterns. With so much stimulant, you found it difficult to believe that you could even focus on the man beside you for a moment. Instead, you fell back from the toilet, your back smacking against the tub behind you, black spots somersaulting over the white overhead light. The pounding behind your eyes was relentless, keeping the room rotating in waves or circles, a pattern you couldn't predict. 

"Hey, let's get you to bed, my sweet, c'mon, atta girl. You're doing so well," Obi-Wan encouraged you as he held your arm. Your head lulled to the side. Funny feeling. 

Obi-Wan sighed, his golden-red hair disheveled as his arms snaked around your waist and the back of your head, and in one swift motion, you were airborne, or more accurately, lifted. You giggled loudly at your weightlessness, a lopsided grin falling from your stained lips. 

Your head jostled with every step, adding to your dizziness and increasing it by tenfold while your arms flapped uselessly by your side as Obi-Wan, a pillar of strength, gracefully carried you to your bed. 

He set you down on the mattress, and you rolled in circles, giddy with an emotion he couldn't quite place. Your carefree smile filled him with a slight sense of joy. He hadn't seen that look in a while, genuine happiness, and it touched his heart with such a force that his chest fluttered. Seeing you so happy brought a smile to his face, despite the circumstances. 

Obi-Wan pushed back the hair that fell into your eyes as you giggled, pressing a sloppy kiss to his hand. He grinned at the gesture as he sat down on the corner, stroking your hair. His right hand was next to the outside of your hip, keeping you from moving around while he attempted to get you to relax.  

"You need to get some sleep, my love." His hand traced the outline of your face, his touches so feather light it felt like a dream. 

"No," you defiantly pouted, descending into a fit of giggles. Usually, Obi-Wan would never think of using the force on you, no less to influence something, but he knew the longer you stayed up, the worse the hangover would be in the morning. So you watched him with half-lidded eyes, squirming on the bed as Obi-Wan's eyes fluttered shut.  

He waved his hand in one fluid motion over your head, focusing the force on easing you to an unconscious state of mine. You slumped on the bed a moment later, soft snores emitting from your carefully parted lips. Obi-Wan leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. He hated to see you so upset, especially when there was nothing he could do to change it. His first desire was to help you, but you shut him out, and hours later, he found you a sloppy mess on the floor, practically dumping yourself in contraband you got a hold of. All he wanted was for you to be okay, and now you obviously weren't, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do to help. As much as it tortured him, he would talk to you in the morning, and hopefully, then, things will be set straight. 

His lips left your forehead, and he pushed back the tangles of hair; his. You were his, and although it was something he cherished more than anything, the word felt foreign on his tongue. Obi-Wan wasn't used to the responsibility that came with being yours, something that he would adapt to better accommodate your needs. He would learn how to better care for you as time went on, but now he was stuck learning how to assist you. The self-placed responsibility of caring for you proved to be a more intricate task than he initially imagined. 

He stripped from his attire, his eyes softening as they landed on your sleeping figure. Settling into bed, Obi-Wan made himself comfortable, his head furrowing into the crook of your neck, his arms enveloping your waist. His beard scratched the place where your neck met your shoulder as he caressed your skin with a final kiss for the night. 

"Goodnight, my dear."

Mando every time he encounters like any person

canaries underground

There are good days, and bad days. This is a good one.

“Gwyn came over so that Mama could clean the kitchen-”
“It looks lovely,” Ben says dutifully and only mostly sincerely, and she twists her lips against smiling in reply to the sparkle in his eye.
“-thank you, and nap time came with hardly any screaming.”
“Hardly any?” Ben raises an eyebrow down into the baskets. “Leia, you’re losing your edge.”

part two! time for unions! of…various kinds! the good news is, i still have some ideas for part three, so stay tuned.

hear me out..

"Let him go..."

From "clone wars" and "revenge of the sith" final again

---

*also thanks you all for your reposts and likes, guys

Originally posted by writinglionqueen

For those who asked for more… a continuation!

pls pls

Why do people stop commenting on fics if they’re more than a week or two old? Please comment on old fics. Tell me you like my one shot from 2014. Tell me you like my old multi-chap I finished in 2016 that I spent a year writing. I will be fucking thrilled.

Fics are not social media posts. There’s no “stalking” someone’s “old posts”. They’re meant to be found and enjoyed years down the line. No need to be nervous.

I reblog this message every time it comes across my dash because it’s true. And also: 

When I first started writing fanfic, back in the mid 1990s (yes! the late twentieth century!) one of the discouraging things about it was that people treated fanfic as if it was disposable. It seemed like what most readers wanted was a constant stream of new content, whereas I tend to produce one big work every 6-12 months. It made me sad that people seemed to think there was no point to re-reading or saving old fic. There is no sell-by date on fiction! It does not get out of order! It can still work even years or decades later! 

So yeah, I have stories up at ao3 that are literally a quarter-century old, and every time someone leaves a comment on them I am very pleased to get it. We get attached to our stories and it cheers us up to see that they are still finding readers. It means that they are still ‘alive,’ in some way. 

AO3 is not social media, it’s (essentially) a library.

You’re meant to engage with any and all of it, regardless of age.

This. (And you could make a case that the older the fic on which feedback is received, the more it’s appreciated…)

This is the honest truth from start to finish.

Last year I did a podcast discussing a fic which was posted in 1995, and the day before yesterday, the author (who left fandom in 1997 and hasn’t been heard from since) emailed me to say thank you.

Reblogging this for people new to fandom or who do not currently engage with fanfic in this way to

1. Consider leaving a comment on a fic you’ve read, no matter how long ago it was posted. You can really make someone’s day by doing this and commenting on fic is a great way to actively participate in a fandom. You might even make a few fandom friends this way!
2. Try treating fanfic less like a published book and more like an open love letter inviting you to reply. I’m willing to bet that the vast majority of fanfic authors do not think of their fic as a book nor of posting it to Ao3 as “getting published” in the traditional sense. None of us are getting paid any money, for one. And while there’s nothing stopping you from treating a fic like a book (you can read as much or as little of it as you want, you can download and save it like an e-book, etc.), unlike traditionally published authors who I imagine will be able to get some readership statistics about their books through sales numbers and book reviews, a fanfic author will have no indication if their work resonated with you in any way except through a comment. So, consider writing back on a fanfic and letting the author know if you loved their work. Authors are often looking to make connections with their fellow fans. Consider responding, even if it’s just to say a simple ‘thank you.’

I know that commenting is not effortless, but consider it an act of kindness. And we could all use a little kindness and connection with each other these days.