#and obi-wan (stroking anakin’s hair as he sits in his lap)

[tennessoui]

I just wanted you to know that pbatmb lives inin my head rentfree so often I randomly just think about it. Either the main fic or the Aus (like Amnesiewan) on tumblr. It's so good and whenever I reread it I get so obsessed about it again

omg you’re so brave I don’t even venture into the pbatmb tab cause so much goes on there there’s too many lil pbatmb aus housed under the same tag lmao (anakin gets amnesia, obi-wan gets amnesia, what if it was a/b/o - which turned into a fish hook an open eye of course)

but I was thinking about pbatmb today and I have to add like…what if obi-wan gets busy with politics (something pretty bird anakin is known to dislike) so anakin starts going to fighting rings again without permission (something mobi-wan is known to dislike)

And then during a fight some brash young non corrupted cop leads a team to bust up the ring anakin’s at and anakin gets arrested and he’s like wait I’m pretty sure this isn’t supposed to happen? and the cop gives him a long impassioned speech about being new to the city and touch on crime and how a new day is dawning on coruscant and anakins like huh. ok. can I have my phone call

And he of course calls Ahsoka because he doesn’t want to be the one to tell mobi-wan that he’s been arrested

so mobi-wan swans down and asks politely to meet with New Cop and his husband in the chief’s office which is a request that’s immediately granted and then he asks New Cop all friendly about the charges against his husband and hey, were there any witnesses?

and New Cop was like yes there were many witnesses

and obi-wan (pacing behind a sitting anakin) strokes anakin’s hair and is like ‘and do these witnesses understand that they’re accusing my anakin? Anakin kenobi?’)

and anakin preens and New Cop is like it doesn’t matter the name of the person they saw. it just matters what they saw

and obi-wan is like (pushing his fingers into anakin’s neck to the point of pain) how very cute. you must be new here.

and anakin is like you should ask the witnesses again what they saw 🥰🥰 I don’t think anyone will say they saw anakin kenobi 🥰🔪

[sugarrrvenomm]

can u do a fic where the reader is obi-wans padawan…… perhaps where he has to punish her for something …….. :D

ummm this got away from me ,,, anyway enjoy ,, ⭐️🐰🫶🧸💌

♡ having anakin as a padawan made obi-wan sterner the second time around. but also … softer. 

♡ which is why his preferred method of keeping you in line is taking you over his knee

♡ hardly ever is it a “punishment” spanking, but that’s because his regularly scheduled “maintenance” spankings do the job just fine

♡ once a week, late at night, your master slinks to your quarters as the sun sets, telling anyone who asks that you’re meeting for meditation before bed. when he walks in, you are—sat on your knees atop a thin meditation mat like the good girl you are. he tells you as such, coming up behind you and petting a hand over your hair, “my good girl. are you centering yourself for me?”

♡ “yes, master.” you open your eyes and turn to look up at him, resting your head on his thigh and squirming in anticipation, even as his presence quiets your mind, turning your thoughts into a pleasing, low buzz of safety and arousal

♡ you weren’t sure when obi-wan’s hands on you became arousing. maybe they always had been. you just pray to the force he doesn’t notice. 

♡ “come now, padawan. let’s get you all sorted out.” he walks over to the singular place to sit in your meager padawan quarters—a soft, ottoman-like piece that’s just big enough for him. he pats his thigh and you stand up, going to him and standing between his spread legs. he reaches up, stroking your padawan braid between his fingers reverently before tugging gently so he can plant his lips on your forehead in a soothing gesture, before he’s cooing, “over my knee.”

♡you nod, and do as he says. you’re still clad in your robes, only missing your belt and boots. you’re so used to this that you no longer shake when you bend over, settling yourself over your masters lap with his help, your ass in the space between his legs and your fingers barely brushing the floor. he tugs up your tunics, just enough to expose your backside. never once has he gone as far to pull your leggings down, despite how you dream about it.

♡ before he begins, he rests a hand on the back of your thigh, squeezing once to signal he’s about to start. obi-wan tries not to be affected by the way your flesh pillows beneath his fingers through your pants. he doesn’t know when this started becoming arousing either, but he desperately wishes it would go back to when it wasn’t. you’re his padawan, for force’s sake.

♡ the sooner he gets it over with, the sooner he can return to his quarters and stand under the spray of his cold shower until he can’t feel a thing. so, he makes sure he’s got you secured, with one hand on your hip, then swings the other down in a swift crack against the meat of your ass. 

♡ “why am i doing this?”

♡ “to make me a better jedi, master,” you tell him, panting already.

♡ crack. another hit, on your other cheek. your pretty voice, combined with the way your ass ripples, has him gritting his teeth. “that’s right, padawan.” slap slap slap. you make a hurt little sound. “master does this because he cares about you. because he wants you to succeed.”

♡ you try to contain your noises, and curl your toes as the spanking continues. he’s not even hitting that hard, he never does, but it stings, and sends desperate lightning bolts of forbidden arousal to your pussy, which you can feel getting warm and wet between your legs. 

♡ your cute little ass won’t stop jiggling through your leggings, and he has to distract himself. he strikes you, over and over again, in quick enough succession that there’s no time for him to see the way your backside moves, and the sound of his slaps overpower your muffled whines. soon, the pain in his hand is threatening to take over the heat pooling in his gut. 

♡ what obi-wan doesn’t expect, is the way you react. you’re usually so well behaved during your spankings, so docile. now, you’re squirming in his hold, like you’re trying to get away from him. of course, he can’t possibly guess it’s because his flurry of strikes have gotten you feeling like you could come from nothing at all, like your cunt may start pulsing in orgasm any second now just from being spanked by your master. 

♡ “padawan,” he chastises, grabbing your hip even tighter and bringing his hand down. with the way you’re wriggling, it doesn’t land quite right, and hits dangerously close to your center. “what has gotten into you?” he grits out through his teeth as you kick your feet. you don’t seem to be reacting well to his strong-arming, so he settles his voice into a coo, even as he continues to spank you. “i need you to be good for me, little one. master can’t help you if you don’t let him.”

♡ his coddling only makes it worse. you thrash. “master,” you pout, and obi-wan cannot take it anymore. the irritation at your unusual outburst combines with his frustration at his own arousal and he growls, stopping his strikes only for a moment to grip the band of your leggings and tug, exposing your ass to him. your underwear are modest cotton, but pale pink—certainly not jedi issued. he’s truly lost it, because the only thing he can think to do in response to the obscenity of his own actions is to double down; slapping your exposed ass, and oh. this is is even worse. like this, he can see how his hand has already turned the skin pink like your panties.

♡ “master!” you cry out, sticking a hand behind you to block him, but he catches your wrist with his other hand. 

♡ “no,” obi-wan says, sternly as he can, slapping your ass again and feeling his cock throb in his pants. he might be harder than he’s ever been in his entire life. “you know i do this because i love you.”

♡ you make a sound he’s never heard before, and this time when you thrash your legs, he can’t help looking where your legs part, and your panties cup the part of you he’s been thinking about for far longer than is appropriate.

♡ “fuck,” he suddenly curses. there’s a damp spot. you’re wet. his padawans pussy is drooling in her panties, just for him. from him. from his spanking.

♡ he forgoes the spanking, for now, forgetting himself completely and gripping your thigh tight, spreading you wider so he can get a better look. “oh, darling. why didn’t you tell me?” finally, you settle, and now you just shake, unsure of his reaction. “are you all wet from your spanking?”

♡ crying out, tears pool in your eyes as you’re stuck between arousal and embarrassment. still, you only feel yourself get wetter.

♡ obi-wan’s breath comes out in a shudder, and he slides his big hand up your thigh, and touches the damp spot with his thumb, just barely. “does it ache?” you don’t answer, only mewling, and he pushes his thumb against you harder, feeling his cock drool sticky pre-come into his briefs. “tell me, padawan. what’s worse? the soreness of your ass, or the throbbing of your little cunt?”

♡ “obi-wan,” you moan, finally looking over your shoulder at him, eyes big and wet.

♡ your master pumps his hips up, and against your hip you feel him, rock hard and rubbing on you. “it’s okay, honey, you don’t have to be embarrassed. look how hard you’ve made me.

♡ you continue to squirm, sweating in your robes. “hurts.”

♡ “mm, i bet it does,” he hooks a finger under the side of your panties and tugs it, exposing more of your ass. “you’re so pink.” he lets it snap back into place, then smoothes his hand over your ass completely, going down until he’s fully cupping your center. “and i bet this pussy’s all messy too, huh? is your cute little clit all puffed up for me?” he moves his hand in a big, sweeping circle over the whole of you, and it shouldn’t be as stimulating as it is. he’s just teasing you, watching the way the damp spot blooms and spreads.

♡ “what should i do with you, padawan?”

♡you suck in a shuddering breath, and gather your nerves, “i—i—,” you sniffle, and he slides his hand under your tunics to rub your back. “i need you to make it better, master.”

♡ obi-wan groans, and uses all the control he has left to gently lift you off of him, and get you settled the way he wants, on your back. he tugs your leggings all the way down, but leaves your panties. for now. he hovers over you, taking off his tunics and exposing his muscled, hairy chest. you whine at the sight, and he chuckles. “patience,” obi-wan purrs, before tugging his own trousers down just enough to free his cock, tucking the waistband under his heavy balls.

♡ overwhelmed, you have no idea what do with all the desire running through you, or with the sight in front of you. your master coos, settling down over you, lowering until his big cock nestles in the space between your thighs, pressing against your panties and throbbing against your cunt. he barely moves his hips, but moans like he’s sinking inside of you.

♡ “are you a virgin?” he’s a bit disgusted with himself for asking, but he can’t stop.

♡ “uh-huh,” you nod, trying to hump back up along his big cock.

♡ “ugh,” he groans, “of course you are. my perfect little padawan. master’s the only one that gets to touch you, isn’t he?” you make the same little uh-huh sound, and obi-wan lowers his head into your neck, holding himself up with one hand now so he can reach between your bodies and pull your panties down enough for his fat cock to slide along your wet cunt. padawans cunt. my padawans little, wet, virgin pussy. 

♡“you’re perfect,” he mumbles into your neck, thrusting along you faster, breath hitching as he feels his leaking tip glide over your swollen clit. he brings his hand back up, and stuffs it under your tunics, until he’s cupping one of your breasts, squeezing it gently and rubbing his thumb over your nipple to hear the way you gasp.

♡ “master master master.” he covers you completely, and you’re drowning in the scent of him, so close that you can rub your nose along his neck and taste his sweat. “obi-wan,” you murmur as the tip of him nudges your entrance, “will you fuck me?”

♡ “oh, gods,” he pants, and fuck does he want to. he wants so terribly, so horribly, to sink his big cock in your pussy. no prep, no fingers, just the slick of how wet you are would be enough. he’d get so deep he’d knock your cervix, fucking right up against your womb until you were all swollen with his come like you should be.

♡ “i shouldn’t,” the reasonable part of him grits out, even as his hips pump faster and he imagines spreading you open, how cute you’d look as his come slides out of your used pussy, before he bends down to lap it up and suck on your clit until you squirt all over his face. “baby, honey, i can’t.”

♡ “please!” you beg, nudging your hips up and trying to catch the head of him at just the right angle to get his cock to sink in. “don’t you want to?”

♡ “padawan,” he hisses, letting go of your tits and bringing his hand back out to slap your thigh. “first, getting soaked from your master punishing you like a naughty little girl, and now begging him to fuck you? is that really what you want? for your master to take your virginity? you want master to own your cunt?”

♡ his words are too much, and you feel your pussy throb between your legs, pulsing as you’re sent over the edge by his voice and his weight and the thrust of his heavy cock against your soaked pussy and clit. it’s wordless, but you nearly scream, biting into his neck and bucking your hips to prolong the shaking of your legs.

♡ “fuck, fuck, oh, sweetheart, my pretty little padawan, let me feel that cunt throb, mess my cock just like that,” obi-wan stares down between your bodies, watching the wet pink of your pussy gliding along his cock, the sounds getting nastier and wetter and so fucking dirty it sends him right over the edge too, and your cute little pussy is getting painted white.

[13ag21k]

I had this little silly idea of Obi-Wan ending up reporting back their latest progress to the council during one of their missions literally sitting on Anakin's lap. Because Anakin insisted on not letting Obi-Wan stand for one second longer than needed after they had taken refuge in an abandoned and shabby building during a hard and extensive battle where their men had suffered many injuries, Obi-Wan had also managed to injure one of his legs.

So Anakin being himself wouldn't let go of him and literally drags Obi-Wan to sit on his lap during his call with the council. Obi-Wan knows he can't win this silly battle and gives into his exhaustion and lets himself rest just for a few minutes, while he is also easing Anakin's anxiety and stress by gently stroking his hair or rubbing circles on his back and it works wonders because Anakin almost seems to fall asleep and that makes Obi-Wan smile fondly at him when his head hits Obi-Wan's chest, his hair tickling Obi-Wan's neck, as he is talking and Anakin's arms begin loosening around his waist.

Meanwhile the entire council are preparing themselves for a long kriffing lecture about attachments for their sweet return home. Obi-Wan surely senses that but as Anakin starts to fall asleep against his chest and his breath evens, his body starting to relax, worrying about the council is one of his last priorities while his apprentice and his men are stuck on this godforsaken hell of a planet.

[solarlotus]

for the fic request, how about omega anakin feeling insecure when a bunch of senators start flirting with alpha obi-wan so he starts rubbing all over obi-wan like a cat to scent him because that’s his alpha and the senators need to back off while not knowing obi-wan is doing the same thing with him and growling at anyone who try’s to flirt with anakin.

I normally write omega Obi Wan, so this was a good challenge. Hope it's ok!

Anakin hated them, stupid senators. Obi Wan had always mistrusted politicians, yet he flirted with them as if his life depended on it. They called him the negotiator, Anakin preferred aggressive negotiations, especially when Obi Wan was having his arm patted, the woman was actaully patting his arm!

It didn't get any better as the afternoon wore on. Every caf break Anakin was chided for sitting in the corner scowling and Obi Wan was trailed by three omega senators, one woman and two men. They were small and dainty, perfumed and delicate. They were not like Anakin, who was tall and commanding, a leader of men and armies. As far from the traditional omega as you could get. Of course Obi Wan enjoyed their attentions, he thought bitterly. He was probably fed up of an omega who smelled of engine oil and the blood and sweat of battle.

It all got too much at dinner. Despite pulling Anakin aside in the rest room and reassuring him that he was the most beautiful omega, that he was his mate, his true love, Anakin was not appeased, especially when one omega, a delicate lady with flowing blond hair and a tiny waist practically sat on his lap.

Something snapped inside Anakin, his brows were drawn in a deep scowl and he radiated anger in the Force, enough to cause Obi Wan to drop his soup spoon, uncharacteristically splashing his perfectly ironed robes. Anakin put his arm around Obi Wan, letting his sleeve slip up his arm, exposing his wrist. He rubbed his wrist over Obi Wan's side, glowering at the blonde senator, who was now shrinking back, but her heavy perfume still hung in the air, hung over his mate.

Anakin brought his other hand to Obi Wan's chest and began rubbing there too, quick strokes down his torse.

'Anakin,' Obi Wan whispered, embarrassment creeping up his face. He stood and pulled Anakin with him, heading swiftly for the rest room. As soon as the door was locked Anakin was on him, rubbing his wrists up and down his arms, over his back, furiously scenting him, driving away the cloying omega scent of the blonde woman.

'Anakin! This is an official dinner, this is not seemly!' Obi Wan hissed.

'She was all over you, master, I can't stand it, she stinks of... of unmated omega and you wanted it!' Anakin said, voice choked and tears forming in his eyes.

'Of course I don't, I'm using every part of the Force to keep the smell from getting to me... Oh, Anakin, you're too busy being angry to sense my discomfort?'

'She wants you,' Anakin growled.

'Well, she can't have me, I'm yours.'

'Say it again,' Anakin said, still furiously rubbing his scent over Obi Wan.

'I'm yours and you are mine, my omega, my mate, my love. And once this war is over you're going to be full of my pups.' Obi Wan leaned forward and licked Anakin's neck, kissing the soft skin of his throat before biting down on his scent gland, causing a rush of pheromones. Anakon moaned, slick had begun leaking. Then Obi Wan smiled into his throat, a hand slipping down the back of Anakin's pants.

Anakin went pliant, mewled, he could do little else as his alpha dipped his fingers into his hole, how rapidly slicking, and coated his digits, he brought them up to his mouth and sucked them clean, moaning as Anakin stood submissive and waiting. Again Obi Wan put his fingers back in Anakin's hole, causing Anakin to moan prettily.

'Obi, I need it, I need you.'

'Later, be a good boy and you can have my knot after we've finished with this blasted dinner.' Obi Wan brought his fingers up again and rubbed the glistening slick into his neck, over his scent glad. 'Now, when anyone looks at me, all they'll see is you,' Obi Wan whispered, kissing Anakin long and hard, a promise.

[lacontroller1991]

Sleep Head canons (Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader)

Requested by @halietigges​: late night cuddles with Obi Wan and reader where they’re both so relaxed they eventually drift off into slumber together?

Author's Note: So I changed up the request a lil. Hope you enjoy!!!!

Warnings: mentions of sexual intercourse

- Obi-Wan is a big fan of snuggles, especially during the Clone Wars. Often times he would come home, your home, from a mission and would just crawl into bed behind you and pull you flush against him. 

- After bad missions, he will crawl into your arms, more often than not waking you up, not that you mind. You would adjust your position in bed to allow him the most space and you would wrap your arms around him, hands combing through his hair

- When he head nightmares, and very rarely he does, he wakes up in a cold sweat and will go to the training room and practice his light saber techniques. You’ve only caught him a handful of times, though he would always insist that he’s fine and that you should go back to sleep

- His favorite thing is sitting on the couch with you, laying his head in your lap as the two of you watch holo vids together. He always picks the more goofy movies and you picking the more horror ones, courtesy of Anakin of course

- After intercourse is another one of his favorite things, he loves pulling you to his chest as your head rests there and listens to his heartbeat

- On the rare occasions that the pair of you do not have missions, you and Obi-Wan would spend one day just in bed, not really caring what was going on in the galaxy around you. You and him would just lay in each other’s arms whispering soft soothing words as you and him would gently fall asleep into a deep slumber

- You love watching him sleep, though you would never admit it. You just love the way his features become soft as he lightly snores into the room. This was your favorite Obi-Wan. The soft one that only you got to see

- He stays up for a while after the two of you complete your activities just stroking your hair with a fond smile before he too eventually drifts off into slumber

[stardust-kenobi]

Sunlight

Obi Wan Kenobi x Fem!Reader

Summary: Obi Wan is stressed about the war, and you offer him some relief in more ways than one.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: fluff, smut, riding 

A/N: I feel like this is kinda similar to the mando fic I wrote with the whole “oh you’re stressed, wanna fuck?” scenario but it sure is a good scenario so let’s go with it 🥰

I have been so MIA, but I hope this was worth the wait!!

Requested by anon; hope you love it ❤️

gif cred: @coredrive​

His chin rested in the crevice between his index finger and thumb. He was absent for his words. The foggy rays of light that beamed onto his face illuminated the crystal blue in his eyes. His brows were furrowed, pressing against one another with intense thought and pondering. His body leaned forward with his mind racing faster now. You couldn’t read his thoughts, of course, but his body told you everything you needed to know.

Sitting on the sofa next to Obi Wan provided you with a view to observe his position and the way he so clearly was lost in his mind. You wanted to speak up, but you needed to read him further. Your sight traced the curve of his lips and the golden glow of his hair in the suns light. A stray lock of hair rested on his forehead, so delicate and light. He must have known you were staring at it, as he quickly ran his fingers through his hair, taking the loose lock with it.

“Obi Wan” you called to him gently.

He was unphased and still, refusing your call unintentionally. You speak up again, with no reciprocation.

“Obi Wan” you said firmer this time, and placed your hand on his knee, hoping your touch would snap his attention away from himself.

His body jolted slightly, and he blinked himself right out of the funk inside his head. He shook his head before turning to you, visibly traveling back to reality.

“Darling, I’m so sorry” he sighed, looking into your gaze.

“Are you alright?”

“Just have a lot on my mind. Nothing you should worry yourself about” he smiled, playing off his obvious distress. His smile said more to you than most people would recognize. To you, it meant that no matter the mood he was in, looking to you brought him instant happiness.

“You can talk to me. You know that right?” You consoled him.

Obi Wan’s expression changed. He appeared confused.

“Oh no, it’s nothing serious, I promise you” he assured you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. You care too much for me” he tried to hide a flustered smile at how much you worried.

“Of course I care for you, Obi Wan” you said, displeased at his doubt. “I care quite a lot about you”

“And what did I do to deserve compassion from such a wonderful woman?” His voice grew softer while he placed his palm on top of yours that still laid on his knee.

You tried to hide your smile but you were unsuccessful in your attempt. You were without words but your expression said it all. Obi Wan looked into you for a moment before releasing a deep sigh and turning his attention to your hands.

“If you truly wanted to know what’s on my mind, I’ll tell you, but it would only bore you”

“Of course I want to know, hush” you scoffed.

“Well alright...” he began. “Anakin and I have been instructed to think of more effective strategies for our battles in the war. The council told us we need to direct our troopers better. Really, I don’t...I don’t even know what that means. We’ve been incredibly successful, especially recently. We aren’t sure where this is coming from.” He paused to think “Anyhow, its been plaguing my mind to create new plans but I’m just lost with it. Anakin is, as well” he rambled, but you listened to every word he said. Even if you didn’t fully understand what your boyfriend was saying, you were there to support him.

“That doesn’t make sense, Obi Wan. You’re the best general that they have” you praised him. He raised his eyebrows, indicating that he wasn’t so sure of that.

“I hardly think so. But thank you”

“Maybe you should rest. It may help you clear your mind” you suggested warmly. He smiled at you with affection.

“Oh no that’s alright darling. I’ve been doing plenty of resting and meditation. It hasn’t helped much” he began, sounding defeated. “Don’t you worry”

“Okay”

“I’ve been quite distracted as well. That’s only made it harder to relax” he blurted almost hesitantly.

“What’s distracting you?” You pried.

“Just...certain things.” He sounded as if he hinted at something.

“What kind of things?”

“You.”

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking of you, a lot, and...its becoming...very distracting” he spat out quickly, hoping that the faster it left his lips, the faster he could pretend he never said it.

Butterflies danced in your tummy and your cheeks were flushed red. He thought of you. To think he thought of you with the extent of being a distraction made your heart skip a beat or two.

“I distract you? What kind of thoughts of me could possibly distract you to this extent, Obi Wan?” You subtly teased him, and hoped he provided the answer you wanted.

“You’re just so...breathtaking. Just watching you walk in a room drives me crazy” he danced around what he wanted. Your breath hitched in your throat.

“I see” you purred.

“I just, stars, y/n, I need you” he pleaded softly. A warmth grew inside of you. It had been a while since you two had any intimate time together, you’d both been so busy. It was still a new relationship, and his affection was still very unfamiliar to you, which is why you were so nervous.

You responded without words, but simply a repositioning of your hips into his lap. Straddling his his thighs spread widely on the couch, you pressed yourself into him firmly. His slight arousal was already apparent through the thin of his robes’ fabric.

“I’m all yours, Obi Wan” you whispered against his lips before locking them with his mouth. He vibration transferred from his lips into yours, so eager for your touch.

“Show me that you’re mine now, my love” he breathed into you. You shivered at the seduction of his gruff voice. You grinded into him instantaneously, feeling him grow against you while you did so.

“I can relieve your stress, Obi Wan. If you’ll let me”

“Maker...do as you please with me” he begged of you, his fingers digging into the curves of your waist and pulling you into him. Obi Wan’s words of encouragement turned you on immediately and you noticed the bulge that continued to grow against your heat.

“Just relax my love” you gently breathed as you wrapped your hands over his tensed shoulders and he rolled them back into your grip.

Your hips shifted backward to allow yourself access to his desperate and sensitive core. Your fingers pulled at the hem of his pants in order to release him. Obi Wan gladly lifted his body to shimmy his trousers down slightly. You watched in eager anticipation as his cock was revealed to you. You bit your bottom lip, and you could feel Obi Wan looked intently at you, observing how you watched him and admired his most private region.

“Please...” he whimpered. Impatient for your hands on him, starved of touch beyond comprehension.

“Whatever you wish, Master Kenobi” you whispered against his lips, before pressing them into his again, and slipping your tongue into his mouth. With your eyes closed, your hand navigated to his cock, completely stiff and awaiting your caress.

His body jolted as you wrapped your fingers around his length, applying only slight pressure. As you stroked him gently, Obi Wan pulled away from your lips to release pleasurable sounds from his throat. His head laid back against the sofa and his took in the sensation of your touch. You continued to pump him firmly, responding to how his body leaned into you and the moans he produced.

“Stars, y/n, let me have you, now” he pleaded for the warmth inside you. You could feel the pooled wetness already formed within you, knowing you needed no foreplay to continue with this. Nothing out of the ordinary with him, it never took much to arouse you with Obi Wan, sometimes you questioned if he was subtly using the force on you.

You lifted your gown to your thighs and pulled the thin lace of your panties to the side. He watched you, mentally preparing himself for you and eyeing you like you were his next meal. Inching forward and hovering yourself over his cock, you breathed deeply, heart racing as if you’d never loved him in this way before.

You lowered yourself slowly, never breaking your gaze into his eyes. He whimpered for you to continue and bury him within you. The walls inside you wrapped around him gracefully and a blissful sound escaped you, throwing your head back at this first feeling of being filled for the first time in so long.

“Wait a moment” he requested, pulling your attention from pleasing him. “I just want to look at you” He says before swallowing hard in attempts to continue his patience while your hips are sewn together. “I want to feel you--just like this”. You felt the gentle twitch of his cock within you, as he cherished being warmed and comforted by your body.

“You’re so beautiful” he whispered as if there was anyone else in the vicinity. 

Man he knows how to make you putty in his hands, doesn’t he?

Obi Wan nudged you with his fingertips to indicate he wished for you to carry on with your intentions. It was heaven for both of you while your bodies rolled together with unity you formed. Obi Wan breathed out tenderly and his hands trembled against your hips as you guided your sex up his length, adding motion to your effort.

“Oh, darling” he groaned. The sunlight moved into position to highlight his features. Stars, you thought, he looks like an angel. The soft illumination of the evening sun peeking through the windows painted a vivid picture of his facial features, and the expression he displayed as a result of your touch. His eyes shut gently to take in the sensations you provided him. Your palm explored the texture of his robes, still clung to his skin on his chest, never given to chance to be removed.

“Obi Wan” you vocalized sweetly. His eyes peered open to meet yours. He was melting for you while you overtook him. You always made sure to be vocal and responsive in bed with Obi Wan. He often showed you how much he adored your whimpering by pulling you into him or fucking you harder. Today was different. It was your turn to take care of him. Nonetheless, his cock pressed against your most delicate and sensitive spots inside you while you rode him, your moans would be anything but quiet.

“Yes, my love, don’t stop. You make me feel so good, y/n” his hands glided up and down your curves. An array of chills shot down your spine at his caress and you grinded your hips in the same motions that you lifted up and down onto him. You switched to a rotation of your hips that you knew drove him crazy every single time. It was simple, really, but you always used this technique on occasion. You’d raise your hips swiftly, and lower yourself slowly at an angle while grinding down onto him.  His breath hitched suddenly and he grabbed you firmly, pulling you forward and pressing you against his chest. Obi Wan was never great at letting you take over, even when he wanted you to. He liked to take you as his.

Next, Obi Wan made a quick motion that you were unable to process before it was already happening. He lifted you and placed you down onto the sofa, and hovered above you.

“I’m sorry, darling but-” He started “In order to relieve my stress, I want to have you like this...is that alright?” He checked with you, always, never to leave you uncomfortable during your intimate moments. You smirked and nodded your head in approval. Returning his cock to bury inside your pussy, he began to thrust quickly. A moan created by the sensation of this new angle became trapped in your throat finally released with a blissful sigh.

“Obi Wan, I love y-...you” you whispered, piercing your gaze into his eyes. His thrusts halted at your sentiment.

You’d never said that to him before.

But you did. You really did love him.

“Y/n...” his voice broke. His eyes were hopeful.

You wondered if now was the best time to tell him that, but you couldn’t take it back now. You didn’t want to.

He cupped your face with his hand that wasn't supporting himself above you.

“I love you” he smiled through his words. You smiled back, your face pressed against his palm. “More than you know, my darling”

He resumed his thrusting, jolting you both back into a different mindset. Obi Wan’s hips slapped the inside of your thighs repeatedly, putting himself as deep into you as possible, but still barely fitting. You let him set the pace he desired, after all, you still wanted this to be about him.

His moans were so rough and breathy as they crept from his throat. Something about your body causing him to sound so beautiful aroused you tremendously.

You felt the pit of your belly tense while Obi Wan curled his hips into you faster. You were so close to your orgasm.

“Mm, Obi...yes, right there” you pleaded for him to keep his pace.

“Does that feel good, my love?”

“Y-yes it feels so good. I’m gonna cum” you whimpered, desperate for your release.

“Not yet, darling. I want us to cum together”

It would be a challenge to hold it back, but you did, for him. Thankfully for you, it was only seconds later that you heard his moans and whimpering grow louder and choppier, indicating that he was close to his release.

“Stars, y/n, I’m so close”

“Cum inside me, Obi Wan” you purred.

“Are you sure?” He barely managed to say.

With your nod of approval, Obi Wan spilled himself into you followed by his unmuffled sounds that released his sexual buildup as well as his stress buildup. Your close peak reached your core, and washed over you, contracting your walls around him while he came inside you.

“Fuck yes!” You cried, seeing stars with your head thrown back against the sofa.

Obi Wan gripped the back of your neck firmly, but was careful not to hurt you. He was trembling softly as he floated back down. He smirked at you while the two of you attempted to catch your breath. A small chuckle escaped you.

“What is it?” Obi Wan curiously pried into what humored you so suddenly.

“I just...maker, I..I really do love you Obi Wan” you felt the need to repeat these words to him. He needed to know, and you never wanted to stop saying it. He smiled in the way he did before, so warm and inviting.

He sat next to you and placed your head on his lap.

“I love you, too. I always will” 

“Let me know the next time you’re feeling...what was it that you said? ‘Distracted’? or ‘Stressed’?” You teased him.

“Believe me, I will” He giggled with you, before you both drifted into a peaceful sleep.

[anakinspraisekink]

Obikin Kinktober #9 ~ Dressed Up, Dacryphilia, Cock Warming

Masterlist

Gif

Other relevant tags: Rated E, Modern Setting, Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub (Dom Obi-Wan, sub Anakin), Top Anakin, Bottom Obi-Wan, Praise Kink, Light Verbal Humiliation, Cock Rings, Gags, Light Subspace

Word count: ≈1.8k

Read below or on ao3!

Anakin always enjoys going to Obi-Wan’s work parties and functions. He may not necessarily be interested in the intricacies of what Obi-Wan’s workplace talks about during these events, but Anakin usually finds a way to entertain himself. Even if it is just watching Obi-Wan be in his element. 

Anakin loves to be Obi-Wan’s eye candy on his arm, loves showing off for Obi-Wan’s colleagues and flaunting his relationship. He loves to be good for Obi-Wan, laughing at everyone’s jokes and praising Obi-Wan whenever the opportunity arises. He especially loves watching Obi-Wan interact with everyone, when he gets in heated, passionate discussions that make his hands start moving, when his eyes light up as he gets an idea or when he starts rubbing at his beard when he’s thinking. It’s mesmerizing. 

Obi-Wan usually teases him subtlety throughout the evening too, and can never keep his gaze and his hands off of Anakin for long. Anakin likes to tease right back, including the memorable time that he murmured in Obi-Wan’s ear during a fancy dinner that he was wearing a plug under his nice suit, and Obi-Wan had to excuse them both to the bathroom to see for himself. Obi-Wan’s colleague, Quinlan, still hasn’t lived that one down. 

Tonight, Obi-Wan had been particularly relentless. He always looks so good in his suits, especially when he wears the gray one that goes so well with his eyes and hair. He just looks like a boss, looks like a Daddy, and it always gets Anakin so hot and bothered. And Obi-Wan kept staring at Anakin intently over the rim of his glass, licking his lips a little too obscenely after taking a long pull of his drink. The possession he has over Anakin dripped off of him as well; tonight he had his hand rubbing over Anakin’s lower back or gripping his thigh, around his waist or casually draped over Anakin’s chair. 

And God, those low, heated whispers Obi-Wan loves to give him. 

Usually they’re safe for work, just clarifications on whatever people are talking about, or an observation, a joke. But sometimes, out of nowhere, they’re, well, not safe for work. And tonight Obi-Wan had told him, “We’re almost done here, and then Daddy’s going to take good care of you tonight, sweetheart.” Then Obi-Wan had turned away and returned to his conversation with someone next to him as if nothing had happened, while Anakin had struggled to regain his composure. 

Flashforward after the event, when they’d finally gotten home and were making out on the couch, Obi-Wan had said, “You’ve been so patient and good for me tonight, darling. Can you sit still for just a little longer? Daddy still has some things to do.” Anakin didn’t know that would entail Obi-Wan sitting on his cock to answer work emails, but here he is straddling Anakin’s lap with only his bottom half bare, fingering himself while Anakin can’t do anything but watch. Obi-Wan had made Anakin get fully undressed and had fitted a cock ring on Anakin as well, so that his hard cock is slighter bigger and even more sensitive and throbbing than usual. 

Obi-Wan could possibly look silly in Anakin’s lap with his shirt and suit jacket still on as he scissors two fingers inside of himself, but he doesn’t, not one bit. Anakin has to keep chewing on his bottom lip to stop from whimpering. His Daddy looks so in control, so in charge and full of power, half-lidded eyes staring at Anakin and small gasps escaping his cool facade as he presses against his prostate. And then, Obi-Wan takes his fingers out of himself and strokes Anakin’s cock with more lube, making Anakin mewl, and Obi-Wan lines up Anakin’s cock with his hole. 

Anakin’s head falls back as Obi-Wan sinks down on his cock, slow and devastating. Obi-Wan groans in satisfaction as he sits all the way down, and Anakin can barely breathe because it’s so impossibly hot, tight, tight, and he feels Obi-Wan’s body rippling around him as he adjusts to the stretch, and then . . . that’s it. He stops moving. Anakin’s cock aches with need, wanting nothing more than to fuck up into Obi-Wan with abandon, but he knows he can’t do that, not yet. 

“Daddy . . .” Anakin whines, helpless to stop himself, his sweaty hands gripping onto the couch cushions at his sides. 

“Hush, Anakin, you’re okay,” Obi-Wan chides, but he still searches Anakin’s gaze, making sure he really is alright. Anakin nods, and Obi-Wan squeezes around his cock in response, making Anakin choke out a moan. Then Obi-Wan reaches to the side to wipe the lube from his hands onto his discarded pants, before picking up his phone. “Now just be quiet and still while I answer a few things, and then if you’re good I’ll let you get what you want.” Obi-Wan proceeds to look down at his phone and open up his emails, flicking through some while Anakin sits there and tries to breathe normally. 

Obi-Wan doesn’t even seem affected, his brow furrowed in his usual work mode look as he types quickly on his phone, shifting every once in a while which has him tightening around Anakin’s cock in a way that feels unbearable right now. He doesn’t even know if Obi-Wan is really answering his emails or only pretending, but just the guise of being ignored, of simply being a thing to be used to fill Obi-Wan up until he’s ready for him, like he’s a toy, has got continuous heat rolling over Anakin. 

Anakin tries to be quiet, he really does, but it’s just so hard. He’s so hard. Desperate, strangled little sounds keep escaping him, his entire focus drawn to the inescapable pulsing of his cock buried inside of Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan finally sighs and looks away from his phone to gaze at him. “You’re so noisy,” Obi-Wan remarks, and he huffs out an amused laugh with a shake of his head. And suddenly he’s undoing his tie from around his neck and rolling it up. “Open,” Obi-Wan tells him, and Anakin instantly obeys, not even realizing what Obi-Wan is about to do until the tie is pushed into his mouth, a makeshift gag. 

Oh, fuck.

“Nngh—” Anakin moans, the sound muffled and garbled by the fabric. His breathing is heavy, his body hot all over, flames utterly consuming him because of how easily Obi-Wan can control him, can make him shut up with his tie in his mouth. 

“There, does that help?” Obi-Wan asks, voice deceptively honey-sweet, and Anakin nods dazedly, head swimming. “Good boy.” After that, Obi-Wan goes back to his phone and Anakin takes some big breaths through the gag, trying to settle himself down. He manages to do it well enough; his cock still aches something terrible, but he’s able to let it be in the background, keeping himself calm instead and his eyes closed shut. He’s just thinking that he can really get through this, when Obi-Wan’s voice suddenly cuts the silence and makes his eyes snap open. 

“This is Kenobi.” A startled little sound escapes Anakin through the gag. Obi-Wan is talking on his phone, using his authoritative work voice as he discusses something with the person on the other end. Anakin starts whining despite himself, unable to take the heady reminder of how much of a boss, of a Daddy Obi-Wan is. Obi-Wan tugs on his hair in warning with one eyebrow raised, and tears spring to Anakin’s eyes. He doesn’t even know what Obi-Wan is saying, his mind too melted to pay any attention to anything but the renewed throbbing of his cock.  

Once Obi-Wan ends the call with a quick, “I’ll see you Monday, Windu,” he’s tossing his phone onto the couch cushions and smirking at Anakin, who whimpers, knowing whatever comes from the look is going to make him blush. “I knew you were a little slut, baby boy, but this?” Obi-Wan rolls his hips a tiny amount, drawing attention to Anakin’s hard cock. “I could practically feel you getting harder inside of me. You love hearing Daddy making work calls while sitting on your dick, huh?” The tears in Anakin’s eyes start falling now, big, hot drops rolling down his face, hiccuping and gasping through the fabric of the tie. Everything is just so much, he’s boiling up by desperation and need. 

Obi-Wan finally takes his tie out of Anakin’s mouth, the fabric all damp with saliva. Anakin immediately cries out a pitiful, “Daddy,” and Obi-Wan tuts and cups Anakin’s face with his hands. 

“Oh, darling, you poor, sweet thing,” Obi-Wan teases, “is Daddy being too mean?” He clenches around Anakin, which makes him practically sob. “You’re doing so well for me though, you’re so pretty when you’re crying and making a mess of yourself, just feeling so much.” Then Obi-Wan starts undulating his hips, grinding his ass into Anakin’s lap and finally giving him a taste of what he wants. Anakin starts moaning helplessly, head falling back and eyelashes fluttering, as Obi-Wan casually slips his suit jacket off while he continues moving his hips. 

“Please—” Anakin chokes out, and his hands move up to grip onto Obi-Wan’s biceps before he can stop himself. Obi-Wan had told him to not touch earlier, but now Obi-Wan doesn’t reprimand him, just lets him tightly hold onto him, falling apart while Obi-Wan still looks so composed and put together. Obi-Wan leans in to gently kiss away the tears still streaming down Anakin’s face. 

“Mmh, you always fill me up so well, sweetheart, your cock feels so good,” Obi-Wan murmurs. Anakin whimpers, trembling all over. “You’re so strong, so beautiful, dear one. You’re doing just perfectly.” Obi-Wan bucks his hips harder, tightening and clutching around Anakin’s cock with intent, and Obi-Wan’s words sink into him like warm syrup. Anakin is just a mess of incomprehensible noise, unable to say or do anything, unable to move but grip weakly onto Obi-Wan’s body. 

Obi-Wan’s hips finally stutter, a ragged gasp unexpectedly escaping him as he loses his composure for a moment, Anakin making him feel good. And just that slip in Obi-Wan’s facade, the proof that Anakin is being good for him, sends Anakin suddenly catapulting over the edge of orgasm without even knowing he was right there. His orgasm is ripped out of him, and he comes inside Obi-Wan so hard that he thinks he might black out for a moment, the fierce pleasure utterly destroying him. When he comes to, Obi-Wan is gone from his lap and the cock ring is taken off of him, and instead, Obi-Wan is cuddled against his side, holding him close.  

“Mmm—” Anakin sighs deeply, nuzzling even closer to Obi-Wan, who kisses his temple. He feels worn out and loose-limbed, utterly taken apart in the best of ways. 

“You okay, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks quietly, and Anakin nods sleepily. 

“’M good. Did you . . .?” Anakin struggles to use words, gesturing to Obi-Wan’s body, wanting to know if he came too. 

“Maybe later,” Obi-Wan quickly assures, and Anakin squirms at the thought of getting to suck on Obi-Wan’s cock and swallow his come, if Obi-Wan lets him. “For now, just let me enjoy you being all soft for me,” Obi-Wan says, kissing him on the head again. Anakin hums and turns his head into Obi-Wan’s neck, breathing deeply and feeling so loved by his Daddy. 

[luthiensaralonde]

Safe and Sound

obi-wan kenobi x reader 

Summary: Where the reader lives quietly with Obi-Wan on Tatooine, but is worried sick when he doesn’t return home at his usual time. 

Word Count: 1.2k

a/n: Just a little fluffy one shot. This can be seen as a reader with platonic feelings or unrequited feelings. Your choice. 

You sat in the small hut for two with a book over your lap. You were sipping on a glass of water and enjoying the quiet moment. You didn’t think you’d be allowed to go with Obi-Wan to Tatooine, but here you were.

After Obi-Wan decided to watch over Luke, and Yoda told him about Qui-Gon, you timidly asked them what would happen to you. You were with Obi-Wan when the clone troopers turned against the Jedi, you had to sit and watch your friend witness his Padawan kill younglings on a hologram, and you waited with bated breath as Obi-wan left to fight Anakin. Then, you watched as Padme died. It was all too much, and you had nowhere else to go.

“What about me? Where should I go?” You queried, your hands twisting together under the table. The two Jedi looked over at you solemnly, and you refused to meet Obi-Wan’s gaze. Instead, your eyes rested on Yoda, who was contemplating your fate.

“Accompany, Master Kenobi, you will.” He finally spoke. Your eyes widened, mirroring Obi-Wan’s expression.

Obi-Wan gazed at you for a moment before looking at Yoda and nodding in understanding. He wasn’t going to argue with Yoda, but you could tell he was uncertain. Did he not want you there? Obi-wan couldn’t prefer to live out the rest of his life in solitude, looking after a baby from afar. But alas, he knew it was his duty, and he probably didn’t expect you to be tagging along.

That was two months ago, and things were going pretty well on Tatooine. Obi-Wan spent most of the evenings watching over Luke and would usually come inside right before dark. He spent the mornings in meditation, the afternoons either fiddling with kyber crystals or reading. Sometimes he made trips to the Cantina in Mos Eisley to keep up with what was happening in the galaxy or go the market to gather supplies.

You spent most of your time reading, exploring Mos Eisley, and a few times you’ve accompanied Obi-Wan to the Cantina, but it wasn’t your favorite place. The most time you and Obi-Wan spent together was when you renovated the hut. He fixed a lot of the walls and added a heater amongst a few other things. You painted, fixed the floors, and added special touches to the hut. Like a curtain between you and Obi-Wan’s beds, and other things that made the hut look more like a house than a sandy cave.

It was late in the evening now, and the sky was on the edge of darkness. Obi-Wan was usually home at this time, and you were mildly worried. You knew he could take care of himself, but promptness was a consistent thing for Obi-Wan, and this just wasn’t like him. After a while of worrying, you put your book down and walked up the steps to look out the door. The two suns had set, and it was completely dark out. “Obi-wan, where are you?” You whispered into the dark night. You stepped out onto the sand and gazed into the vast desert for any sign of the Jedi. The stars were your only source of light, and they weren’t as bright as they usually were. You began to pace in front of the hut with your arms wrapped around yourself. After minutes, you felt yourself begin to panic. What if he was killed? What if the empire had found him?

What if. What if. What if.

You probably thought of a thousand ways Obi-Wan could be killed, and you felt your heart begin to thrum, and your breath thickened in your chest. You exhaled, trying to steady your breathing, but the tears began to fall.

“Y/N?”

You heard his voice, and you swung around a little too quickly and nearly stumbled as you staggered over to him. “Where were you?” You asked in a panic filled voice.

He lowered his hood, “Forgive, I went to the Cantina, I overheard something interesting, and wanted to investigate.”

“Oh.” You realized, your gaze falling to your feet, “Of course you did.” You could have laughed.

“What are you doing out here? You know it’s dangerous, even standing close to the door. The Tusken Raiders couldn’t care less that you’re waiting for me.” You could hear the worry in his voice. You gazed up at him, and his eyes widened upon seeing your tears. “You’re crying?” He walked over to you quickly and placed his hands on your shoulders, “I did not mean to bring you such worry. I’m terribly sorry.” His rueful gaze raked over you briefly.

You were surprised by his actions. He pulled you in and held you close for a brief moment before resorting back to keeping you at arm’s length. “Let’s go inside.” He suggested as the two of you entered the hut. He smiled at the stove, seeing the pot of tea steaming from a fresh brew.

“You’ve made tea.” He grinned, and you nodded timidly. A part of you felt silly, and he probably thought you were overreacting.

“I’m sorry, Obi-wan, I should have trusted you were doing something important.” You finally said, and he turned to look at you as you moved closer to the couch and then sat down, gazing at him with a little more fire than you intended.

He glanced at the tea and decided now wasn’t the time. He slipped off his robe and tossed it aside before sitting next to you. “It’s alright. I should have returned to tell you where I was going. I did not mean to cause you grief. However, you shouldn’t worry about me.” He said offhandedly.

You looked up at him with wide eyes, your mouth falling open, “What? No, I’ll always worry about you, Obi-Wan. I care, okay? So don’t ever do that to me again.” You didn’t mean to scold him like a child, but you did. He had no right to tell you not to worry. You cared about him so much, and you would always worry about him. 

His cheeks turned a little more red than usual as you reprimanded him like a naughty child. The corner of his lips tugged into a slight smile, and he nodded in understanding, “Okay. Understood. Now, are we done?” He asked, his pale eyes full of mirth.

“Yes.” You brought your hand up to stroke the side of his hair and let it slide down to his beard. It was something you did often, and he didn’t seem to mind. It was always a quick gesture of affection after you had a serious conversation. It surprised him at first, but now he was used to it and even took comfort in it. You stood from your spot on the couch and fixed both of you a cup of tea. You smiled as you stirred the hot liquid, glad he was home safe and sound. 

[glimmerglanger]

*whispers* if youre taking spicy prompts, may i suggest impotent!obi-wan + prostate stimulation for obikin please? Only if youre okay with it!!! I cannot thank you enough for all the chocolate cakes and sincerely wish you to be happy. thank you again and again and again!!!

soooooooooo i originally planned for this be for Sunday, but it’s really more ~feelings~ and dealing with a rough spot than just spicy. (Though, it is not safe for wizards, to be clear). It’s just not predominantly spicy. SO. I’m, uh... posting it now, instead? It also got longer than I expected.

Obikin, established relationship. Not safe for wizards. Implications of past torture. Set sometime during the Clone Wars. Starts tense, ends well.

~~~~~~~~~~

They’d been together - whatever that meant, for them, at any given time - for an embarrassing stretch of time before Anakin noticed that he’d never properly touched Obi-Wan. In his defense, they’d spent the majority of that time deployed on one planet or another, not always together, even.

It was a weak defense, as such things went. He should have noticed sooner. It was just that….Obi-Wan always had an excuse, a reason to bolt away as soon as Anakin’s hands wandered southward, or if Anakin tried to tug at his waistband, or if he pressed too close, or--

The realization that he - actually - had no idea if Obi-Wan even wanted him hit while Obi-Wan was climbing off his knees. Obi-Wan’s mouth was red, wet. His cheeks were flushed. A moment ago, Anakin’s hands had been in his hair and Anakin’s cock had been--

“Feel better?” Obi-Wan asked, flashing him a grin and licking across his bottom lip. He looked flushed, hot and bothered. But when Anakin reached for him, he slid to the side, continuing, “I’m overdue for a meeting, we should catch up, later, though, before you return to the Resolute.”

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin managed to say, around the sudden clamoring realization in his head. But he was talking to nothing. Obi-Wan was already gone.

#

Confusion hit first, as Anakni tucked himself back into his pants. He went back over his memories, sure he’d--what, forgotten bringing Obi-Wan off? That was kriffing ridiculous, and he knew it. But…

But it seemed equally as ridiculous to realize that he’d never even gotten a hand inside Obi-Wan’s trousers. They’d just been so busy. And Obi-Wan had always had a reason, had always seen to Anakin and then…. Slipped away.

The confusion, really, didn’t last very long. It was crowded out all too effectively by anger. 

#

Anakin had been stewing for hours by the time Obi-Wan got back to his quarters. Anakin hadn’t left; knew he should have left, but…

He was sitting on the edge of Obi-Wan’s bed - a bed where Obi-Wan had touched him, stroking him until he came, only a few days ago - when the door opened. He felt a wash of fondness and warmth from Obi-Wan through the Force, and gritted his teeth together.

“There you are,” Obi-Wan said, tone warm, crossing the room, bending, and Anakin turned his face away. He felt Obi-Wan hesitate, felt the way Obi-Wan’s hand tensed on his shoulder. Heard puzzlement in Obi-Wan’s voice when he asked, wry, “Not in the mood, darling?”

The anger that had been kindling in Anakin’s chest flared brighter. He looked over, scowling, and snapped, “I don’t need your kriffing pity, you know?”

Obi-Wan blinked at him, hand still resting on Anakin’s shoulder. “I’ve no idea--”

He cut off when Anakin stood, and took a step back. Anakin followed him, itching with frustration and with - with humiliation, too. “What?” he asked, fighting the tightness in his throat, “you thought I just wouldn’t notice that you’ve been - what, exactly? Helping me out of - of duty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Obi-Wan said, and then, louder, “Anakin!” when Anakin backed him into the wall. 

“I don’t need charity,” Anakin snarled, his spine a line of crackling lightning. “Despite what you might think, I don’t need your kriffing pity to get off. I’d rather use my own hand than have you -- put yourself out.”

Obi-Wan flinched at the words, color washing out of his face. He made to shift to the side and Anakin braced his hand on the wall. Obi-Wan looked across at him, mouth pressed tight, and said, “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but nothing I’ve done with you has been motivated by pity. Or charity. You must know that I--”

“What?” Anakin snapped, nerves strung too tight under his skin. “That you enjoy it?”

Obi-Wan scowled across at him, chin going up. “Of course, I--”

“Oh?” Anakin leaned closer, watched Obi-Wan’s eyes get wider. He put his other hand on Obi-Wan’s side, and rasped, dragging his fingers over cloth, “Then why don’t you show me how much you--”

Obi-Wan caught his wrist, squeezing hard, eyes getting strange and distant, expression….washing flat. All blank lines. He said, “Anakin, don’t.”

Anakin jerked his face to the side, barking a laugh. “Right,” he said, sharp, “that’s what I thought. I don’t even make you hard, do I? I think we’re done, then, if that’s--”

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan bit out, as Anakin pushed away from the wall, leaving him standing there, looking increasingly small. Anakin blinked, the sweep of his anger and embarrassment coming up short, blockaded.

He asked, “What?”

Obi-Wan’s mouth twitched, not into a smile. He was still staring forward, not at anything in particular. “I can’t ‘get hard,’” he repeated, gesturing out to the side with one hand, stepping away from the wall and tugging his robes to order. “Not since -- Rattatak. Ventress, she-- I - I can’t--” He cut off, shaking his head, sharply.

“I’m sorry to have upset you,” he said, before Anakin could recover from the curdling horror that had overtaken his anger too rapidly to be stopped. “I hope that your return to the Resolute is pleasant.” And then he was gone, just like that, out the door, before Anakin could lurch after him.

#

Anakin missed his transport to the Resolute. He sent Rex and Ahsoka a message, letting them know something required his attention on the Negotiator. He promised he’d meet up with them once they all reached their destination.

And then he grabbed Obi-Wan’s padd and did some research, anger and mortification still moving through him, but...but at least they had a purpose. He already had more than enough reasons to want Ventress dead. Adding one more to the pile didn’t make much of a difference in the long-run.

The shame of accusing Obi-Wan of - of being terrible to him, set heavier in his gut. Anakin pushed it aside. He could make it right. He could fix it. He was good at fixing things, always had been, even if people weren’t as easy as machines and droids.

He had a plan by the time Obi-Wan’s doors slid open again.

Obi-Wan hesitated in the doorway - he must not have been paying attention, not to pick up Anakin’s presence in the room before - and said, after a moment, “Something you needed, Anakin?”

Anakin stood, grimacing a little. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “A few things, actually.”

Obi-Wan nodded, still looking over to one side. He said, exhaustion in his voice, “Could they perhaps wait until--”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin blurted, into the space between them. Sometimes it felt like he was always apologizing to Obi-Wan, or to the Council, or to… Well. So many different people. Obi-Wan blinked, looking towards him for the first time. “I shouldn’t have...said those things I said, earlier, I just didn’t - you never told me, Obi-Wan. I didn’t know.”

Obi-Wan stared across at him. He said, “I told you I cared for you. I told you I wanted you.”

Anakin grimaced, flexing his hands in and out. “I know. I - I meant about Ventress. You never--”

He knew it was a mistake, even before he said it. Obi-Wan tensed across his shoulders, taking a half-step back towards the door, and Anakin blew out a breath. “But that’s alright,” he said, as reassuring as he could be, “I still shouldn’t have - I’m still sorry, Obi-Wan.”

He took a step closer, and Obi-Wan didn’t bolt, which was a good sign, he thought. Obi-Wan sighed, instead, and said, “I’m not angry at you, Anakin.”

“I know that.” Obi-Wan so rarely got angry with him. He sighed and risked touching Obi-Wan’s arm, relieved when Obi-Wan leaned into the touch. He dared pull Obi-Wan closer, into an embrace, chest aching when Obi-Wan leaned his forehead down, resting on Anakin’s shoulder. “I really am - so sorry. I just - I want you so much, and I thought - I thought you didn’t want me at all, and…” And he’d said idiotic, stupid things. He swallowed. “Let me make it up to you.”

Obi-Wan sighed, resting there against his chest, “There’s nothing to make up, I’m not--”

“There is,” Anakin said, shifting, breathing against his hair. “And I - I have a plan. Just. Come here. Please.”

Obi-Wan didn’t protest being led across to the bed, but he did wrinkle his nose. He said, “Anakin, I’m not exaggerating. I really can’t--”

“You don’t need to,” Anakin told him, ducking to kiss him. Force, he was an idiot. Obi-Wan kissed him so sweet and hungry, every time. He should have known--

Anakin shook that thought aside, sinking down onto the bunk and drawing Obi-Wan down across his lap. He felt a little tinge of embarrassment at how quickly he got hard; he knew Obi-Wan had to be able to feel it, but… Obi-Wan made no comment about it and did not seem bothered as Anakin drew him into another kiss.

“Are you apologizing by kissing me?” Obi-Wan asked, eventually, when Anakin’s mouth felt tender and his jaw ached. He sounded amused, more than anything. Relaxed. Anakin shrugged, a little. 

“Not really,” he said, and took the opportunity to start tugging at Obi-Wan’s belt. 

Obi-Wan made a little sighing sound, but helped, at least, with the removal of his robes. He said, “I know you like to solve problems, Anakin, but I--”

“I’m not trying to solve anything,” Anakin told him, kissing his soft, lovely mouth. “I just want to be close to you.” 

Obi-Wan shot him a look that said he didn’t believe a word of it, but didn’t protest further. He shivered at the kisses Anakin scattered across his neck and shoulder, anyway, and made sweet, delightful sounds as Anakin trailed touches across his skin. He hesitated, a little, when Anakin reached for his pants, and Anakin rasped, “It’s alright, let me.”

There were scars, all over Obi-Wan’s body. Some of them stretched across his stomach or ranged over his thighs. He’d never given them much thought. He traced them, absently, falling back into kissing Obi-Wan, stretching a hand out to retrieve the lubricant he’d set aside earlier. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan rasped, eventually, stained red all over his shoulders, voice quaking, “listen to me, I can’t--”

“I’m not trying to make you,” Anakin promised, kissing him again. “I have - I want to touch you. To make you feel good, but I’m not expecting -- just, just relax, alright? Let me take care of you. Just for a while.”

Obi-Wan wavered, tense in his arms, and then nodded. Anakin felt him relax, felt him choose to trust, and it made Anakin’s chest ache. Obi-Wan made a puzzled sound when Anakin tugged at him, turning him so his back rested against Anakin’s chest, while Anakin leaned against the wall. 

“I don’t understand what you’re trying to accomplish,” Obi-Wan rasped, as Anakin trailed kisses down his neck, sliding hands down his chest. He was painfully hard in his pants, but - but Obi-Wan had taken care of him so sweetly, earlier. He could deal with his erection, trapped in fabric, pressed to Obi-Wan’s back.

“I’m trying to make you feel as good as you make me feel,” Anakin murmured, making a protesting sound when he felt Obi-Wan open his mouth. “I know you can’t get hard, Obi-Wan. Relax.”

Obi-Wan cut off in a groan when Anakin nipped at his shoulder. Anakin smiled against his skin and slid a hand down his skin. Obi-Wan squirmed when Anakin tugged at his thigh, spreading his legs. Anakin drew his own leg up, hooking Obi-Wan’s over the top, and Obi-Wan gasped, “Oh, Anakin, I--”

“Sh,” Anakin murmured, nuzzling against his neck. “I’ve got you.” He curled his arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and held him, using the Force to slick his other fingers with the lube. “You just tell me how it feels, alright?” he said, sliding his hand down, back--

Obi-Wan jolted, a little, at the brush of touch against his skin. His head tilted back, heavy on Anakin’s shoulder as Anakin touched him, dipped a finger tip inside him. There’d been...instructions, for what Anakin wanted to do, dry and fairly boring.

Anakin was pretty sure he’d gotten the gist of them, anyway. He trailed kisses across Obi-Wan’s skin, sliding his finger out and in again, Obi-Wan squirming against him as he asked, “Good so far?”

“Strange so far,” Obi-Wan panted out, a wry note in his tone. “I’m not sure--”

“I am,” Anakin said, sliding his finger in a little further, looking--

Obi-Wan jolted against him, suddenly, stomach tensing beneath Anakin’s arm. He let out a little sound, wordless. Surprised. Anakin smiled against his skin, the beginnings of satisfaction warming his gut, making him harder.

He rubbed the pad of his finger in a circle, buried there, inside Obi-Wan’s body. And, oh, he liked the idea of being inside Obi-Wan. He’d entertained it before, a burning desire to get as close as possible and then closer, to--

He cut off those thoughts. That was...not part of the plan at the moment. Perhaps later. He circled his finger, instead, listening to Obi-Wan make surprised, ragged sounds into the air. There’d been all kinds of suggestions, about drawing this out, making it last, making a person beg--

Anakin didn’t want Obi-Wan to have to beg. Not for this. But he did adjust his grip, did dare a second finger, sliding two inside and feeling Obi-Wan’s spine arch, feeling the sound he made. “How’s that?” Anakin asked, rasping, the pads of his fingers circling to apply direct pressure.

“Kriff,” Obi-Wan panted, and he was flushing, all down his chest, wriggling in Anakin’s hold, and it did not matter that he wasn’t hard, Anakin could feel the pleasure echoing off of him. “It’s -- it’s good, Anakin, what---?”

“It’ll get better,” Anakin promised, meaning it, plans all clambering together in his head as he withdrew his fingers. Obi-Wan made a sharp noise of protest. “Don’t worry,” he said, switched arms, sliding his right hand down, between Obi-Wan’s legs, “I’ve got you, I’m going to take care of you.”

Obi-Wan arched when Anakin sunk two fingers into him, leather sliding against skin. The muscles in his thighs and stomach tensed. And he cried out, ragged, when Anakin ran a little vibration through his fingers, the metal thrumming as he dragged his fingertips in a circle, pressing down harder, feeling--

“Oh, fuck,” Obi-Wan panted, grabbing at his arm, body clenching around Anakin’s fingers. “Anakin--”

“Mm,” Anakin nuzzled at his throat, tightening his hold, so desperately grateful that Obi-Wan had let him do this, let him apologize. “There you go,” he rasped, “just like that, come on.”

And he felt it, when Obi-Wan came, felt the way he flashed all over with sweet, hot pleasure in the Force, felt it in the clench of Obi-Wan’s body, in the way he went limp, breathing raggedly, and it didn’t matter, really, that his cock had never stirred. 

“Force,” Obi-Wan slurred, sounding dazed, and Anakin hummed, sucked a kiss into his throat, and twisted his fingers, just a little.

[ahsokryze]

armor with a sick Obi-wan and protective Anakin?

armor - falling in and out of restless sleep. feeling safe when a loved one presses a kiss to their forehead and strokes their hair.

I went with a recently knighted Obi-Wan and Padawan Anakin, if that’s alright :))

~~~

Obi-Wan feels awful. For the last several hours now, he has been falling in and out of restless sleep; the sickness he seems to have picked up after his latest mission with his ten-year-old Padawan making a true state of slumber near impossible to claim.

He is curled up on the only bunk near the back of their ship, tossing and turning every which way, his fever high, and his nausea ever-present, as he tries to find a position of comfort. But it all comes to no avail.

Sixteen hours, he thinks. Sixteen hours he and his Padawan have still to travel before they can touch down on Coruscant. Back home. Back in his own soft, comfy bed. Unlike this hard, durasteel bunk his sickness has stranded him upon.

He turns to the side and his nausea heightens, and his head throbs. He closes his eyes. It wasn’t like he could really see much of his surroundings anyway, considering he is currently facing a dull, grey wall. Dull and grey. Much like he is feeling now.

Soon, Obi-Wan finds himself at the precipice of sleep; it’s calm waves nearly at his fingertips. If only he could reach a little further…

His head throbs again, and his fever burns, pulling him away from the water’s edge. Once again, he is forced away from sleep.

Despite the heat of his skin, Obi-Wan finds himself shivering. His weakened frame shuddering slightly, as he curls further into himself, pulling his oversized cloak tighter around his body.

But suddenly, he feels a small, warm hand caress his scalp. Little fingertips running through his hair, with such sweet tenderness, Obi-Wan can only purr under the touch.

“You’re gonna be okay, Master Obi,” a quiet voice whispers.

Next, he feels a brief, gentle, fleeting kiss touch down on the middle of his forehead. For a moment, Obi-Wan melts. He feels so safe, and warm, in the light of the familiar presence at his side.

As soon as he is lucid enough, he open his eyes to find himself looking up at his Padawan, who’s sitting on the edge of his bunk, with one hand still notably carding through his hair, and the other lightly grasping his hand. Oh. He hadn’t noticed that before.

“Anakin?” he whispers. The young boy’s eyes warm, and a smile reaches his lips.

“Yes, Master Obi?”

“Where did you learn to do this?” he asks, quietly. Anakin’s eyes shyly avert his gaze and he looks down at his lap. Though, he doesn’t cease his gentle ministrations; still stroking his now quite outgrown locks of hair.

“My mother. She used to do this for me when I was sick,” Anakin says. He pauses for a moment. “I guess I thought that you would like this too.”

Anakin’s eyes flitter back to meet his gaze. Obi-Wan smiles. Very perceptive.

And as much as Obi-Wan doesn’t want to admit it (he blames it on his current state), he finds that the boy is right.

“Thank you, Anakin. I very much do.”

~~~

[tennessoui]

would you ever do a hunger games au? like anakin and obi-wan in the arena and doing a katniss and peeta thing where they both survive? anakin maybe killing the competitors so obi-wan wouldn't have to? (just thinking that child killing is in character for him) anyway no pressure or anything I just haven't stopped thinking about a hunger games au of obikin and. I thought maybe you could do something with it!

i need you to know i shamefully snorted at the child murder thing i'm sorry and i'm also sorry this took so long and it's a bit all over the place and doesn't actually get into the Games at all (+ it's been years since I read the books so all inaccuracies should be tastefully ignored pls) this may not be what you asked for tbh but here you go!!

(content warnings: hunger games typical discussion of child murder, but nothing graphic)

(1.7k)

Anakin’s first emotion after his name is called is a strange sense of relief.

Good, he thinks. I’ll get to go with Obi-Wan. He won’t be alone.

He dutifully steps forward out of the crowd towards the stage, where the announcer is waiting next to Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan who is looking at him with an expression of naked devastation.

Anakin tries to convey that it’ll be alright, that it’s fine, that they knew this was a possibility. Sure, it’s Anakin’s last year eligible to be in the Games. Sure his nineteenth birthday is in two weeks, at which point he would become too old to qualify as a child to the Capitol, but what’s done is done.

Obi-Wan will be his mentor, because Obi-Wan has been the mentor for District Four ever since he won his own Games seven years ago when he was sixteen and Anakin was twelve.

That year’s known unofficially as the most boring Games in Panem history, but the Capitol loves how handsome Obi-Wan’s grown to be. So what if he didn’t kill his competitors messily or with a bloodthirsty joy? He’s so polite in his interviews all these years later, and look at those dimples!

It makes Anakin sick, every time Obi-Wan has to leave District Four and travel to the Capitol to be fawned over and stroked and used. His nightmares are always worse the weeks after he gets back, and he never lets Anakin hold him during them.

And it’s even worse during the actual Games, when Obi-Wan is put in charge of two children’s lives only to see them brutally murdered on screen a week later. The cameras always show his reaction when the competitors from District Four die. They must think he cries pretty or something.

Anakin hates the Capitol. He hates them for what they’ve done to Obi-Wan. What they’ve made him into

As he gets close enough to the stage, he notices that Obi-Wan’s hands are shaking slightly.

He doesn’t even listen to the name of the girl being called. She’s not important. She’ll be dead in a few days time. What’s important is Obi-Wan. What’s important is comforting him, is reassuring him. Is coming back to him.

This is the moment when Anakin resolves that these Games will become known as the quickest in history.

---

The girl is understandably sullen and upset on the train. “I should get a different mentor!” she demands. “It’s obvious you’re going to play favorites with him.”

Anakin doesn’t snap back because she’ll be dead in a few days. Though she really shouldn’t use that tone with Obi-Wan.

“I’m not playing favorites,” Obi-Wan insists. “I don’t have favorites.”

“You literally just wiped sauce off his mouth with your finger,” the girl points out. “And then he licked it!”

Anakin smirks at her. Of course Obi-Wan has favorites. Of course Anakin is Obi-Wan’s favorite. It took him years to wear down Obi-Wan until he allowed him this close, and years after that until he finally got to kiss him for the first time, just a few months ago.

If she thinks he’s going to give up any of his Obi-Wan time so she can get her hopes up about not dying in a few days, she’s got another thing coming.

But Obi-Wan shifts away from him and he looks guilty.

If Anakin could get away with killing the other person from his district, he would. But it’d probably make Obi-Wan sad.

“Is whining part of your strategy?” he asks waspishly instead. “I don’t think it’ll make you many allies.”

She has the nerve to look offended.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chides. Underneath the table, he squeezes his knee.

“Everyone in the district knows about you two,” she glares at him. “You haven’t exactly kept it a secret.”

Anakin hasn’t exactly tried to keep it a secret. The first night Obi-Wan had kissed him, he went straight home and told his mother, his neighbor, his schoolmates, his cat, and his ex-girlfriend.

(No one had been surprised, except maybe the cat.)

“It’s not fair,” she cries. “Who can I talk to to get a different mentor for me?”

“The ethics board,” Anakin smiles, all teeth, settling back into his seat and slinging an arm around Obi-Wan’s shoulders.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says again, this time more exasperatedly. “Robin, I promise I will be the best mentor you can ask for. It is my wish to see you survive as long as possible in the next few weeks.”

The girl jumps to her feet in outrage. “You can’t even say you want me to win!” she yells. There are tears at the corners of her eyes. If she were a little less annoying, Anakin would feel quite bad for her. Obviously Obi-Wan doesn’t want her to win. Anakin’s right here.

She storms out of the train compartment, her face in her hands. Anakin barely waits for the door to close before he’s slipping into Obi-Wan’s lap and throwing his arms around his neck with a groan. “God, I thought she’d never leave.”

He isn’t pushed away. Obi-Wan must realize they only have a handful of days left to be together before he goes into the arena.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan says wearily, even as his arms encircle his waist.

Anakin presses a kiss to his nose and then another to his cheek. “It’s alright to have favorites, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “And she should know there’s no way she’s winning anything. Don’t waste your time.”

“I will do everything I can to make sure she survives as long as possible,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I don’t think I can survive anything else.”

Obi-Wan’s voice sounds shaky, so Anakin presses their lips together. Best not to talk for awhile.

------

“We should discuss strategy,” Obi-Wan says later that night through frantic kisses. “Sponsors, story, training--”

“I have a strategy,” Anakin murmurs back as he moves further down the bed, rucking up his partner’s shirt. “Win.”

----

“You look absolutely radiant,” Anakin tells the girl in an undertone while they’re in line for their interviews. She turns around to glare at him. The designer for their district has gone for the typical fish designs that people always associate with District Four, and they’ve dressed her up in a shimmering iridescent gown that flares at the ends like a fish’s tail.

Anakin’s own outfit is mostly a fishing net draped over one shoulder and a pair of tight pants. The designer, much to Obi-Wan’s embarrassment and Anakin’s satisfaction, had taken one look at his shirtless chest and decided to dress him in as little clothes as possible.

“Weird braid,” is all she says.

Obi-Wan had done it late last night when both of them had tired each other out and Anakin had curled up on his chest. After his Games, Obi-Wan’s hands like to do something. The repetitive motion of braiding and unbraiding Anakin’s hair soothes his demons.

It’s one of the reasons Anakin’s grown it out to his shoulders, much longer than is practical for his district.

Obi-Wan had gone to unbraid it, and Anakin had stopped him. He wanted to keep it. To wear it into the Games.

“Thank you,” he says generously. “I saw your score. 7���s not too bad.”

She sneers at him. “Did you celebrate your 11 with your boyfriend?”

“Oh sorry,” he winces. “Did you hear us? I’m just so bad at biting my tongue when he does this thing with his.”

She scoffs in disgust and turns back around. “I hope he has to watch you die.”

Anakin glares at her back. He knows he can’t kill her himself. But there has to be a way to hurt her and her chances and still have plausible deniability.

When it’s her turn for an interview, she’s vapid and pretty. She laughs and touches the interviewer’s arm.

“I’ve never spent much time in District Four,” the interviewer says jovially. “But tell me, really. Is everyone there as beautiful as the people you keep sending us? I mean. Obi-Wan Kenobi, ladies and gentlemen, am I right?” The audience laughs and hollers. Anakin hates them all. “And now you, Robin, and Anakin Skywalker. Damn!”

Robin--Anakin needs to stop forgetting her name--giggles high in her throat. “It was a very, very enjoyable train ride up,” she says with a stupid wiggle of her eyebrows. “Just this side of too long.”

The audience loses it.

Anakin loses it.

He can’t believe she’s sitting there publicly suggesting that Anakin shares Obi-Wan with anyone. With her. The nerve.

The camera pans to Obi-Wan in the crowd, who looks shocked, embarrassed, and deeply troubled.

Anakin won’t let this stand. He just hopes Obi-Wan forgives him.

The interviewer greets him excitedly when he walks out, and Anakin gives him a sheepish sort of smile.

“Lady killer Skywalker!” the interviewer says. Anakin laughs along with him. “All the girls back home must have been heartbroken to see you leave.”

“But I’ve heard they love watching me go,” he jokes with a charming smile. If that girl--Robin--can do it, he can do it much better. “There’s really only one person for me though,” he murmurs, letting his smile die.

“Oh?” The interviewer asks, leaning forward with interest.

“But sometimes I wonder if they’re only using me for my body,” he says, casting his eyes down. “I love them. Heart and soul, everything I am. But when I told them, they just laughed.”

This is technically true. The first time Anakin had told Obi-Wan that he was in love with him, the older boy had laughed his confession off, saying he was too young to know what he wanted.

“Oh, to be young and in love,” the interviewer sighs theatrically. “So your plan is to win the Games and then win her heart when you get back home?”

Anakin makes himself look sad. Tragically sad. Like he can’t bear to go on.

“They came with me,” he says.

If the audience’s reaction to Robin’s fake confession was huge, its reaction to Anakin’s words is even bigger. Of course they think he’s talking about the girl. That’s exactly what Anakin had wanted. Now he’s the broken-hearted boy and she’s the vapid, self-absorbed bitch. She'll have a hard time finding sponsors now.

It’s very, very hard to hide his smile, a task made exponentially more hard when he sees Obi-Wan bury his face in his hands.

“It’s alright,” Anakin tells the interviewer, without taking his eyes off of Obi-Wan. “I’ll survive.”

[damnedparker]

an understanding

pairing: obi-wan kenobi x reader (gender neutral; no y/n)

warnings: buncha angst, sad obi-wan, deals with grief and loss

summary: as the two of you grow together, there is one constant of support between you and obi-wan; understanding, and the comfort of each other’s hands

also posted on ao3

this is kind of short but that’s okay. someone give obi-wan a hug

I.

“You took my spot.” You announced your presence, although you’re sure Obi-Wan already sensed it, as you had been standing at the entrance to the roof watching him for a few moments already. The both of you often came up to the roof of the Temple, finding your way up here when you were just beginning to be padawans, sneaking out at night together to get up to whatever shenanigans you pleased before someone inevitably caught you. From then on, you had learned to be more careful about it.

When Obi-Wan didn’t answer, his head still turned towards the night skyline, you came to sit next to him. You could feel the anxiety and grief radiating off of him. Another nightmare tonight. If he had even gotten any sleep at all. Not only could you sense his tired state, but he was also visibly shivering, but seemed to be ignoring it.

“Stars, you’re freezing, Obi,” you murmured, shrugging off the cloak you had fortunately thrown on before climbing up to the roof. You wrapped it around the both of you, squishing yourself against his side. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing,” He scoffed, uncharacteristically bitter. His eyes were glassy, clearly having cried already, and not far off from succumbing to his tears again. “I miss him. And I know I’m not supposed to be dwelling on it like this. I have to train Anakin and I’m not ready. I’m not ready to be a Knight. Everything is moving too fast.” You bit the inside of your cheek and wondered if he could hear your heart shatter for him. The Force had dealt Obi-Wan the worst cards in existence it seemed, one after the other, rushing him into the responsibilities of a Jedi Knight and the grief of the loss of a mentor all at once, and far too soon.

“I miss him, too,” you laid a comforting hand on his cheek, a tear slipping down and landing on the pad of your thumb. You gently rubbed it away, sighing. “Qui-Gon was so proud of you, Ben. He trusted you with his wishes because he believed you could fulfill them. He was confident in your competence and skill as both a Knight and a mentor.”

“How do you know that?” He whispered, screwing his eyes shut. Pieces turned to dust in your heart as you watched and felt your closest and dearest friend in so much pain. Pain that he knew he shouldn’t be letting consume him, which threw guilt into the whirlwind of emotions he was already feeling.

“I felt it,” you tilted your head at him in sincerity. “I heard it. Every time he spoke to you, about you. You were his son, as you think of him your father.” You slid your hand to his jaw. “No one would be ready for the position you’ve been put in. But, Obi-Wan,” you dropped your hand into your lap. “You can do this. If anyone can get through this, you can. You’re the best of us all.” Obi-Wan turned away, staring out at the stars again, his hand immediately reaching up to where his padawan braid had been just days before, now gone at his passage into Knighthood. Not knowing what to do, he rubbed his shaky palm against his pants repeatedly, trying to wipe off the clamminess that wasn’t there. Without thinking, you reached down to touch his hand. He immediately took it in both hands, beginning to play with your fingers, occasionally running his thumb over the back of your hand, which seemed to ease his nerves. “You’re not alone,” you took this moment to remind him. “I’m here for you, always.” Obi-Wan turned to you then, locking his eyes with yours in desperation. In hope. An understanding passed silently between the two of you as you pressed against his side, your hand still in his, and leaned your head on his shoulder. Care. And love.

II.

It was a cloudy night as you walked mindlessly around the halls of the Temple, which were empty and abrasively quiet. That did nothing but spur on your nervous headspace as you continued pacing, pulling your cloak, which was actually Obi-Wan’s, closer around you. You hadn’t given it back to him yet from your last mission together, where it had gotten chilly on the journey back to Coruscant, and he had given it to you as a blanket while you slept. Your thoughts trailed back to him, and a blush crossed your face at the thought.

Before you knew it, you had ended up at a certain familiar door in the hall of living quarters in the Temple. It was as if the brief passing thought of Obi-Wan had steered you in his direction out of pure instinct. You stared at his door for a long moment, and just as you raised your hand to knock, the door whooshed open to reveal the man that had crossed your mind only briefly, his shoulder-length hair tousled, clad in only some lounging trousers.

“Are you alright?” His eyebrows drew up in concern, clearly feeling your distress grow strong as you let your already withering walls fully drop around him. “Come here, dearest.” He pulled you into his quarters, leading you to sit on his bed with him, where a mug of tea sat on his nightstand, his holopad laying near his pillow. It was late at night, but it wasn’t a surprise that the man was still awake. It was a wonder how he functioned when he rarely slept. Before you could protest, he stood and began to pour you tea of your own out of the batch he had already made, pressing your own mug into your hands. You managed a small smile in thanks to him, a sip from the tea providing you comfort, but not nearly as much as his presence. “What’s got you pacing around the Temple this late?”

“I dunno, I—” you sighed, shaking your head. “This war, the council, the code, everything just feels like too much right now. I’m thinking things I shouldn’t,” you paused, running a hand over your face in frustration. “I don’t even know what I’m thinking anymore.” Obi-Wan laid a comforting hand on your back, urging you to go on. “I just can’t help but think all sides in this war are flawed, including the Jedi, and not just the council’s decisions. The code as well. Everything is just so—so completely twisted. And unfair. It’s tiring to see.” Tears burned at the back of your throat, thinking of all the injustice you had encountered, but not had the resources to fix over the first few months of the Clone Wars that had already transpired. Jedi were peacekeepers, meant to help, but how could there have ever been peace, even before the war, if so many societies were struggling to survive?

“I don’t disagree with you,” Obi-Wan mused, sliding his hand away from your back to rest on the bed behind you. He stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Nothing in this world is perfect, especially when concerning war. It’s good to have skepticism, it is what keeps things in balance.” He watched you fondly as you stared down at the warm mug in your hands, deep in thought as you mulled over his words. “We are doing what we can, and I know that sometimes it may not feel like enough, but sometimes that is all we can do. It is all that you can do, and you do more than most, darling. It is unfortunate, but even the Jedi cannot fix everything. You cannot fix everything.”

“It doesn’t feel like it, Obi,” you sighed, setting your tea aside next to his on the nightstand. “I just hate all of this.” You clenched your now empty hands in your lap, so tightly your fingernails pressed into your palms.

“It will be alright,” he told you softly, sincerely. “You are not alone.” Obi-Wan reached over and placed his hands over your fists, gently massaging them open. His warm palms touched yours, thumb running over the side of your hand to soothe you. You almost stopped breathing when he raised his head slightly, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. The affection warmed you all over, your stomach twisting in the most pleasant way. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” A smile crossed your lips as you nodded, remembering when you were padawans, and he used to sneak into your quarters at night when he couldn’t sleep, begging to share your bed with you. It was a miracle you never got caught.

Obi-Wan left briefly to put away your mugs, and you took the opportunity to slip underneath the blankets and get comfortable. He returned only a little after you had settled in, flicking off his lamp and sliding in next to you. There were a few unsure moments of stillness before you felt him nudge his body close to yours, and his front pressing to your back, an arm slipping beneath your neck, his other settling on your waist.

“Is this alright?” He murmured against your neck, and you whispered back your affirmation, settling into the warmth of his embrace. Your breathing began to slow and even out, matching his, where you could feel little puffs against your neck from where he had pressed his nose there.

As you began to drift off, you felt his hand gently slide down to find yours resting against your stomach. He pushed his fingers between the spaces of yours, giving it a gentle squeeze, and rubbing his thumb up and down the back of your hand in a soothing repetition.

III.

A strange silence filled the air as you and Obi-Wan settled into the small tavern room you were staying in for the night before you could find an appropriately discreet and permanent residence on Tattooine. So much had happened, but it was difficult to put any of it into words, and felt almost pointless to speak of, when you felt helpless in the aftermath of it all. Anakin, Padmé, the twins, the fall of the republic, the extinction of the Jedi Order. It was too much. How were you supposed to move on?

You swallowed the coming tears yet again, changing into a fresh pair of civvie sleep clothes you had managed to buy at a market you had passed on the way into town. You turned to where Obi-Wan was sitting, still as a statue at the edge of the bed, already dressed down in just his trousers for sleep. The silence continued as you sat next to him, close as can be, your sides touching as a form of comfort. Out of what now had become a habit when the two of you were alone, Obi-Wan grabbed your hand to hold. A melancholy smile crossed your face at the familiarity. You may have lost everything, but you still had each other.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan’s strained voice, holding back tears, cracked the silence of the dim room. “I’ve loved you since we were padawans. I need you to know that. I can’t seem to tell people that until it’s too late.” His voice cracked on the last word, and a jolt of bitter regret surged through his signature, so strong you could have physically flinched. 

“I know, Obi,” you told him softly, reaching up to run your hand through his hair comfortingly. “So did Anakin. You were a brother to him, just the same as he was to you.” You murmured, squeezing his hand in reassurance. More silence passed between the two of you, accented by occasional creaks of other patrons moving around through the thin walls. Ever so gently, you channeled a push of affection in the Force towards him, enveloping him in its warmth. “I love you. We’re going to be alright.” He finally met your gaze as you spoke to him, the both of you with silent tears slipping down your face. He took your face in his hands, running his thumbs over your cheeks. He leaned close to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“We’re going to be alright,” he echoed, sighing and trying desperately to steady himself, as much as he could. “As long as I am with you, I know we’re going to be alright.” He seemed to be reassuring himself just as much as offering comfort to you. You closed the gap between the two of you in a kiss, one that was far past overdue. It seemed to last forever, the two of you basking in the closeness of each other, the relief of finally airing your feelings, as well as being able to let a positive emotion free, let that take over rather than the overbearing sadness that weighed heavy on your mind, and was sure to make rebuilding your lives tough. But you could get through it. For each other. With each other. That feeling of certainty surrounded the both of you as you pulled away, although tinged with grief and loss, it was still reassurance just the same. You were not alone.

[thousandelf]

Pokémon AU no.2: how Anakin met Mustafar and Twilight

@tennessoui I hope this snippet is good?

Anakin, age fifteen, was sitting on his bed and having a staring contest with his starter Pokémon.

The little Charmander stared back unflinchingly, the flame on his tail burning a cheerful and healthy yellow.

“I think I’ll call you Mustafar.” He mused, reaching over to grab the bowl of berries he had picked on the way home. “You okay with that?”

The Fire Type chirped at him, jumping forward and took a berry from his hand.

Anakin smiled at his new companion, and Resolute, seeing his opportunity, jumped up the bed to welcome a new friend.

He remembered when his time for picking up a Starter came, his mother had been uncharacteristically hesitant about her support in his choice.

When he asked, Shmi Skywalker had admitted that she wished he could choose a Pokémon that was able to fly him out of danger at a moment’s notice.

“I remember something happened over in the Coruscant Region a few years back.” Her hands tightened around the Cinccino sitting on her lap, the Scarf Pokémon trilled softly and snuggled closer to her human. “The sky was torn apart by lightning and fire, and even through the shaky broadcast, I could see that there were children fighting.”

She looked up at him, brown eyes holding the universal fear mother had for their children.

“I know I can't protect you forever, but I want you to have the means to defend yourself, or at least get to safety.”

So when Anakin was presented with nine Pokémon to choose between, he picked the one that would eventually grow wings and took him to the skies.

“So.” Anakin said when his Pokémons finished splitting that berry. “Mustafar, I know Charmanders will usually grow to crave fighting, but you need to know that I can’t give you a lot of chances in that.”

Mustafar emitted a little growling noise that sounded confused, and Anakin reached out to pat his head as he explained.

“We want to be Pokémon Performers. So instead of battling, we will train for freestyle performing with some of the flashier moves you can learn, coordination with Resolute and others in the future. And if we ever get in trouble, you’ll probably be in charge of getting us out when you grow bigger.”

“So what do you say, Mustafar?” He took another berry and presented the azure fruit to the Charmander. “Are you in?”

Mustafar cocked his head, then let out an affirmative noise as he dipped his head and took the fruit out of Anakin’s palm.

“Alright!” Anakin grinned. “Welcome to the team, Mustafar!”

———

“This little fellow is in top condition. You took good care of him.” Ruffling Resolute’s fur, Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin. “I’m glad.”

Anakin was not blushing, it was just the heat of Tatooine getting to him.

“Hm?” Obi-Wan peered around him. “Where’s your Charmander? He’s usually around.”

“Ah.” Anakin’s good mood darkened a little. “He’s helping Mom with some housework, and questioning my life choices.”

“What?” The Daycare owner sounded incredulous, hand stilled in the Growlithe’s fur. Resolute whined a little, butting the man’s hand for more pats.

“I let him watch some of the Performing tapes I saved for reference, and I think he doesn’t want to do it anymore.” Anakin slumped forward onto the counter, moody about this and trying not to. “I don’t want to force him into this, but I don’t want him to feel left out either.”

And he wanted Mustafar with him, he was friend now, and he promised his mother this.

A gentle hand landed on his head, and Anakin did his best not to jump out of his skin as Obi-Wan petted him like he did Resolute only moments ago.

“I think you two will work your way out.” Obi-Wan said kindly, hand still in Anakin’s hair. “After all, you worked exceptionally well with the Pokémon under my care.”

“Infact.” The hand left his head and Anakin had to physically stop himself from whining like his Pokémon did. Now he finally knew why some residents in this daycare practically wrapped themselves around Obi-Wan and refused to let him go. That man had some magical power to relax the beings near him. “I think I have something that can cheer you up.”

Anakin lifted his head to watch Obi-Wan walk through the back door, and turned to Resolute.

“You think he would have suggestions for my performing outfits?”

The Growlithe woofed, an agreeing noise.

“I’ll ask him when I have a sketch then.”

“Here it is!” Obi-Wan appeared through the double door again, holding something to his chest carefully. “Darling would you mind moving over a little bit? I need some space to put them down.”

Anakin’s entire world shook on its axis, then Resolute straightened up and shuffled to the side.

Oh, right.

Obi-Wan placed the bundle he was holding onto the counter, and Anakin gasped when he opened the fabric wrapped around it.

“An egg?”

“Flareon gave birth to five eggs a week ago.” Obi-Wan stroked the brown and cream-striped eggshell with a fond look on his face. “She only kept three and was now pestering me about finding the other two a home.”

He looked up and met Anakin’s eyes. “Anakin, will you take this one?”

“Me?!!” Anakin stared at Obi-Wan, then down at the egg, then back up at Obi-Wan. “Obi-Wan I have no experience of hatching—“

“And I won’t leave you to flounder.” The man assured him, storm-blue eyes earnest when Anakin dared to meet them. “I’d seen you around the hatchlings, Anakin, I can trust you to take care of this little one.”

Then Obi-Wan smiled, an expression that lit up his entire face. “Maybe I’ll see him on stage with you one day.”

[spectral-musette]

I thought I had like a bunch of anon requests for Satine attending to Obi-Wan’s wounds, but turns out there’s only one recent one??? (Maybe I didn’t go back far enough, I got overwhelmed) Also maybe I was subconsciously craving the hurt/comfort too? We just don’t know.

Anyway here’s like 1200 words about Space Band-Aids.

...

           Obi-Wan stumbled his way into the shell of the building that the 501st had designated as their medical aid station, already tugging at the fastenings of his armor. He settled less than gracefully on the nearest cot, proceeding to drop his chest plate on the floor, strip off his bracers and belt, and begin shrugging out of his tunic and the close-fitting black undershirt. The hole in the back of it didn’t bode well for the severity of the blaster burn he couldn’t see, even if it was just a graze. So much for the energy-dispersing fabric; he dropped it disdainfully on top of his armor. The transport must’ve just left for the medical frigate, as the rest of the cots were empty, but he could hear some rustling near the stack of supply crates, which he assumed to be the medic.

           “Kix, you’ll be glad to hear that the Separatists are finally retreating,” he reported in the general direction of the movement. “I caught a little blaster fire, but nothing too serious. They did get my saber hand though, which is… unpleasant.” He examined the burn; it hurt like hells, but seemed mostly superficial. “Still, with a few bacta patches and a stim pack, I should be fit.” He peered more closely at the crates; the lack of response was beginning to unnerve him. “Kix?”

           A familiar but profoundly unexpected voice replied.

           “I’m afraid Kix went out with the troop transport to bring in casualties. You’ll have to settle for me.”

           Satine Kryze stepped into view, her golden hair lit by a shaft of sunlight from the ruined roof.

           Obi-Wan attempted to process the presence of the last person he’d expected to encounter on a battlefield in the Outer Rim. By the time he’d found his voice, he’d gotten to his feet and elected to ignore the fact that he was bare-chested, as trying to scramble back into his burnt and filthy clothing was likely to only result in further loss of dignity.

           “Satine.”

           She met his eyes for a moment, her fair brows drawing together in concern as she took in the obvious blaster wounds on his hand and forearm. She busied herself gathering the supplies he’d asked for and approached with a handful of bacta patches and a glowing stim cylinder.

           “What are you doing here?”

           “I was en route to Ryloth for a meeting of the Council of Neutral Systems, and our escort was diverted as reinforcements for your campaign and to provide medical aid. I was just making myself useful.”

           “Where are the Protectors?” he asked, looking around for signs of the royal guards.

           “They also made themselves useful,” she replied, voice a little sharp. “They’re aboard the medical frigate now.”

           He frowned. Trust a Mandalorian to be unable to resist getting involved in a pitched battle, even when their duties were elsewhere. “I’m sorry. Will they be all right?”

           “They’re not in much worse shape than you are,” she retorted, prowling around him to get a look at the burn on his back, “and at least they had the sense to let me sedate them.”

           “It’s just a graze. I think.”

           “Keep thinking that, if it helps.” She tore open the largest of the bacta patches.

           “And Kix left you here alone?” He tried to banish any dark thoughts of what might have happened to her.

           “Don’t blame Kix,” she countered. “I bullied him into it.”

           “Satine, that was rather foolhardy.”

           “And I was to, what? Let your men wait, bleeding in the mud, so their medic could protect me from a hypothetical threat? It’s not as if the Separatists are expecting me to be here.”

           “Battledroids are notoriously indifferent to sparing medical officers or the wounded, though,” he pointed out. “And they’re Anakin’s men, to be accurate.”

           “I didn’t come planetside until the retreat was in progress, and Kix didn’t leave the station until he’d confirmed that all the action had died down in this area. So you can stop telling me how foolish I am.” She applied the patch carefully, but he still winced slightly at the pressure of even her delicate touch against the wound. However, he kept very still and held his breath as she slipped her fingertips under the waistband of his trousers a little to smooth down the edges of the patch.

           “I didn’t say foolish,” he defended, when he trusted his voice again.          

           “Foolhardy. It’s the same, isn’t it?”

           “The action can be foolhardy without the person taking it being foolish,” he argued as she opened the next patch, taking hold of his burnt hand and rolling her eyes. “You’re still very good at this,” he told her, pointedly changing the subject.

           “Anyone can slap on a bacta patch,” she argued, shaking her head and applying it with exquisite care, her fingers tracing over his knuckles to ensure that the flexible material followed the contours of his hand and sealed securely.

           “Well, the GAR medics typically do slap them.”

           “I would too, if there was anyone else waiting for care.”

           “Somehow I still think you wouldn’t slap quite as hard.”

           “Don’t tempt me.”

           “What a blow to my vanity that, even in my half-dressed state, a slap is the contact you’re most tempted to bestow,” he teased.

           “I didn’t say most tempted,” she replied, her pale cheeks flushing rosy as she avoided his eyes and focused on examining the last burn.

           “So you didn’t.”

           Third patch applied with the same gentle touch, she stepped back to inspect him for further injuries. Satisfied that he was otherwise unharmed, she put her hands on his shoulders.

           “Sit.”

           He complied, wearily dropping down to the cot and looking up at Satine. She slid one hand from his shoulder up to his hair and leaned down to kiss him, startling him with the immediate ardor of her mouth against his. The onslaught of sensations did more to deaden his pain than the bacta ever could - her hair still smelling of lilies, the scrape of her teeth against his lower lip, the press of her slender body against his bare chest as he caught her around the waist and tugged her down into his lap.

           She broke the kiss too soon, tightening her fingers in his hair.

           “I hate your damned war and your damned injuries, but I am very glad you’re alive, and if there wasn’t a transport full of casualties headed here right now, I would demonstrate quite unmistakably just how glad I am,” she whispered against his mouth.

           “Satine,” he managed to gasp as she stroked the backs of her fingers lingeringly along his jaw with one hand and let the other trail down his neck.

           “Speechless, for once,” she gloated, but her eyes were soft.

           The hum of engines approaching made the whole structure start to shudder, and she got to her feet, hands lingering on his shoulders for a fleeting moment. He looked up into her eyes, and the rising wave of affection and desire between them battered against his restraint and better judgment.

           “I should… go…” He groped for his clothing and armor on the floor.

           “Do you still want that stim pack?” she asked, picking it up from where she’d dropped it onto the cot.

           He shook his head. “No, I’m… quite adequately stimulated,” he assured her, his cheeks burning.

[frunbuns]

As the World Falls Apart

Read on Ao3

Padmé watches Obi-Wan rock Leia around the ship, willing her to stop crying. He shushes and coos at her as he gently pats her back. Nothing seems to work. He’s been trying for the past hour or so. Leia has a strong pair of lungs and doesn’t seem to be stopping anytime soon. Even as Obi-Wan practically begs her to stop crying. Nothing works. They’ve tried feeding her. They’ve tried changing. At this point she’s just crying for the sake of it. She’s sure of it.

Obi-Wan looks dead on his feet as he paces from one part of the cockpit to the other. His eyes are bloodshot, red and splotchy. Dark bags under his eyes. His clothes are scorched and burnt. Hair tousled. He’s limping slightly. She hasn’t said anything about it, but she assumes it’s from his fight with Grievous. He hasn’t smiled once since they got back from Mustafar - not even one of his fake ones he puts on sometimes. (Except when the twins were born, but even that smile, while fond and loving, had been filled with heartbreak.) In fact, he looks miserable right now. Like he’s on the verge of crying. He probably is, Padmé muses. Padmé kinda feels like crying too.

She had offered to take Leia off him, but he had refused. Told her to remain seated, a dozing baby Luke in her arms. It was typical of him, really. Obi-Wan had always been good at giving pieces of himself, even at the expense of himself. He had been like that as long as they’d been friends.

It’s strange. How it has merely been hours since the twins had been born. And now they were hurtling through hyperspace. Master Yoda had told them to go to Naboo with the twins and go into hiding. Obi-Wan would serve as protection and a teacher once Luke and Leia start showing force sensitive abilities. They’ll need to learn how to control it. Padmé is just grateful she’s not going to be alone, and she’s sure Obi-Wan feels the same. She is grateful for his company, no matter how miserable they both might be right now. At least it’s something.

She’s glad he snuck onboard the ship when she went to Mustafar. She’s not sure what would have happened if he hadn’t. She thought she could talk some sense into him. Obi-Wan had probably thought so too. Even after all he’d done she still loved him. She continued to love him, even if he broke her heart. Obi-Wan too.

Anakin had always said he and Obi-Wan were closer than most jedi. That they were like brothers. That Obi-Wan had been like a father to him. Looking at him now, there’s no doubt the love was mutual. And as a mother now, she feels like she gets him better than she ever has. All of Anakin’s stories about Obi-Wan. Their little misadventures.

They were like two halves of a whole, and Padmé can’t help but feel like Obi-Wan died with Anakin on Mustafar in some way. The Obi-Wan in front of her is almost like a shell of the man she knew.

She can’t imagine having to do what Obi-Wan did. It’s just not fair. But things are rarely fair. With the war rampaging the galaxy, sith lords at every corner. The galaxy has never been fair, but it could at least try for Obi-Wan’s sake. Padmé can’t imagine being only thirty-eight years old and knowing as much heartbreak as Obi-Wan does. She can’t help but admire his strength. That he’s still standing right now. Padmé honestly feels like she’s going to break any moment.

And if Leia doesn’t stop crying soon she might start crying too.

Leia’s screeching is ear-piercing. She’s red in the face from the sheer effort of it. Tiny fists balled into the fabric of Obi-Wan’s tunic, tears streaming down her small face. It’s a miracle she hasn’t worn herself out by now. Padmé sure would have.

God she hopes this isn’t going to be a regular thing. She’s not sure she can take it. And from the looks of things Obi-Wan doesn’t either. Taking care of twins is going to be enough work, but having to deal with twins and a screaming baby sounds damn near impossible. Even for two people.

R2 beeps in sympathy from where he’s piloting the ship.

Padmé closes her eyes, preparing for the impending headache she knows she’s gonna get soon. But then the screeching stops. It just stops. Padmé can’t believe her ears, but when she opens her eyes again Leia seems to have settled against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, eyes half lidded and body lax. Obi-Wan looks at her with bewilderment. As if he can’t believe it either.

A range of emotions crosses his features before he closes his eyes, in utter relief, and lets out a choked sound. Something like a sob. It’s an utterly pathetic and pitiful sound. Something that’s not very becoming of a Jedi master. But she finds that she agrees as she smiles at him. Wet and a little crooked, but relieved.

But that’s not the end of it. It’s like the floodgates have finally opened - that the dam has broken - because Obi-Wan chokes back another sob. And another. And another. And then there are tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard. And he’s sniffling as he suppresses shudders in an attempt to not disturb the now calm baby.

“Obi-Wan?” she murmurs, just loud enough for him to hear her. “Why don’t you sit down. You must be exhausted.”

He nods. “Y-yes that— that— I’m so-sorry. I—” He gasps and hiccups as he stumbles over the words. It’s truly a pitiful sight.

She does her best to put on a warm and comforting smile. Even as her whole body aches, she stands up and walks over to him, careful not to jostle Luke too much. She’s never seen him like this before, and if her heart didn’t feel like it was already shattered into a million pieces it would break even more now. “It’s okay,” she tells him, putting a hand on his arm. His tattered sleeve full of burns and holes. “It’s okay.”

Gently, she guides him back to the pilot’s seat and he slumps down into it. His sobs subsiding into quiet sniffles and silent tears. Leia appears to have drifted off to sleep, thank the stars. Padmé isn’t sure she can handle much more at this point. She envies them. The twins. And their ability to just fall asleep as the world falls apart around them. They haven’t got a clue what’s happening around them. Everything is in shambles, and she’s grateful that they’re blissfully unaware of it all.

The ship rumbles beneath their feet. It’s a sturdy craft. Skillfully built and probably expensive, but awfully boringly decorated on the inside. It’s nothing like Padmé’s ships. But she supposes the jedi don’t really care for such.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan croaks after a while. “I mean it.”

Padmé raises a brow at him. “Why?”

“I failed him. I failed Anakin,” he says, voice tight as he avoids her gaze. the light of the stars dancing across his features and glimmering in his glassy eyes. “I should have realised something was wrong. He was my padawan. I should have known.”

“Obi-Wan,” she murmurs. “Palpatine groomed and manipulated him for years. It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. We did our best.”

“I shouldn’t have let him see him. I always knew there was something about him.”

The corner of Padmé’s lips quirk upwards. “I never liked him either,” she says. To which Obi-Wan smiles at her, albeit faintly and ever so briefly. At least it’s something.

Leia continues to doze on Obi-Wan’s chest, ear pressed to his chest where his heart beats below his ribcage. She looks so small with his hand almost covering up her entire back. She just wishes anakin was here. So he could enjoy his children with her. Like he should. But she supposes Obi-Wan will have to do. As far as she’s concerned, he is the next best thing. He did raise Anakin, after all.

Padmé breaks the silence. “So what does this make you then?” she asks, humour in her voice. “Grandpa Obi-Wan?”

She hears the jedi snort. “Surely I’m too young for such a title.”

“Oh yeah, old man? Pretty sure I heard your joints pop when you sat down just now.”

“You’re going to regret saying those words in ten years time when you’re my age.”

Padmé smiles, a real, genuine smile, for what feels like the first time in forever. She even chuckles a little. A little quiet and awkward, but genuine. When she looks at Obi-Wan he is smiling so wide it reaches his eyes.

They’ll be exiting hyperspace soon, but right now they can rest. Just her, her children and Obi-Wan. Some ragtag team for a family, but she doesn't really mind the idea of it. There’s just something missing.

Obi-Wan strokes Leia’s back so gently it almost looks like he’s afraid to break her. He watches her with such softness and adoration it makes Padmé’s heart swell. He has only known them for a day and he already loves them. Anakin would be ecstatic.

“I just wish Anakin was here.”

Obi-wan stops stroking Leia’s back momentarily, fixing her with a gaze she can’t quite deschipher. “Me too,” he murmurs. “They’re wonderful, Padmé. He would have adored them.”

Padmé nods, a sad smile on her face. “He would have.” Her heart aches at the thought of it, but she appreciates the sentiment. “I’m glad you’re here though, Obi-Wan. It means a lot that I’m not alone.”

“I’m glad too, dear,” he tells her softly. “I’m not sure what I’d do if— I mean—” He swallows thickly. “—Almost everyone I knew is dead. Mace, Bant, Luminara, Quin… Ahsoka. Oh god, Ahsoka.”

Padmé can almost feel the grief in the air. She wonders if this is what it’s like to be a jedi. To have one of those bonds that Anakin had talked about.

“I’m sorry too,” she tells him. “About the jedi, and the clones… And Anakin. I know you loved him.”

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and nods solemnly. He doesn’t need to say anything. She understands. She reaches out and grabs his hand where it lies limply in his lap. It’s calloused and scarred, but warm and gentle. Obi-Wan’s hand is warm and firm in her hand. A little bigger than hers, a little rougher. The hand of a jedi. Of a long life lived. Of a friend. A mentor. Even a father. She can imagine him ruffling a young Anakin’s hair with. Righting Ahsoka’s grip on her lightsaber. Shaking her hand at events. She gives his hand a squeeze and hopes he gets it. He does. He squeezes her hand back. They sit like that for the rest of the journey.

They exit hyperspace, the ship jolting slightly from it. In the distance Padmé spots Naboo. As long as she had lived on Coruscant Naboo would always be her home. And now it would be Obi-Wan’s too, she supposes. She looks over at him and finds him with his eyes closed. As if he’s asleep. She smiles. She can wait to wake him until they’ve landed. He could use the rest. She could too, honestly.

She misses Anakin already. Not the man she saw on Mustafar, but the man she fell in love with. The father of her children. The man that loved, and was loved in return. Her Anakin. Obi-Wan’s Anakin. Ahsoka’s Anakin. A man that was flawed, but good. A man that was kind. Her husband. Ahsoka’s master. Obi-Wan’s padawan. God, she misses him. Just the thought of him makes her heart ache.

They’ll be okay, Padmé thinks. Not right now. Maybe not for a while. But one day. She’s sure of it. They’ve survived so far. They’ve got each other. They just need a moment of quiet. Just a little moment. They’ll be okay. Just not right now.

[catsnkooks]

Mandalorian Elegy

Commander Cody x Obi-Wan Kenobi

summary: Obi-Wan heads to the Mandalorian countryside to aid the Fett family farm to escape the oppressive atmosphere of the city. He expects a few months of hard, simple labor, but his plans complicate when he finds himself falling for the simple hardworking farmer instead.

rating: G

word count: 1.9k

warnings: none for right now!

a/n: i got sucked into this bc @new-anon makes too good art.....i love it

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here it is on ao3!!

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Obi-Wan tugged his suitcase closer to his legs as he watched another car roll down the dusty road. It was only the third one he’d seen since he’d arrived and that was about, oh, thirty minutes ago. He didn’t mind the quiet; it was refreshing, actually, after so many years living in the city. Boga, his trusty service husky, sat beside him, watching the car disappear down the road. He stroked her head and she broke into a happy grin, her tail beating a rhythm into the concrete floor of the train station waiting area.

“What do you think, girl?” he asked her. “Quite different from the city, hm?”

Just then, a truck pulled to a stop in front of them, and a man jumped out of the driver’s side. He waved to Obi-Wan and he waved back.

“Are you Mr. Fett?” he asked, standing and shouldering his backpack.

The man laughed, and Obi-Wan decided right then that he quite liked it. “Please, call me Cody. Mr. Fett is my dad. Are you Mr. Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan smiled and held out his hand. “Yes, however, I must now insist you call me Obi-Wan.”

As Cody came closer, Obi-Wan studied his host. He was just slightly taller than Obi-Wan, dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt, the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off deep bronze tan skin. He had on a wide-brimmed hat, shielding his brown eyes from the sun. What Obi-Wan found most peculiar, however, was the thin scar that curled around his left eye.

Cody extended his hand and grasped Obi-Wan’s in a firm, warm grip. “Nice to meet you, Obi-Wan. I'm sorry I'm late. There was a little bit of an emergency. And who is this?” He knelt down beside Boga, who sniffed his upturned hand then smashed her face against it.

“That’s Boga.” Obi-Wan grinned at Cody’s laughter as Boga jumped into his lap to lick his face.

Cody stood again after giving a few more pats to Boga and motioned to Obi-Wan’s suitcase. “Is that everything?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Just the essentials.”

While Cody loaded Obi-Wan’s suitcase into the back of the truck (with just one arm, Obi-Wan noted, impressed), Obi-Wan took a seat in the passenger side, convincing Boga to sit in the middle. Cody climbed into the driver’s seat and, giving a reassuring pat to Boga, started the engine and drove them away from the train station.

Obi-Wan listened intently as Cody described the Fett family farm. They had a mix of almost everything: beef cattle, chickens, pigs, ducks, and a few horses. His younger brother, Bly, was dipping his toes into plant farming and had a sizeable garden and a greenhouse. It all sounded so homely to Obi-Wan.

In turn, Obi-Wan told him about his life in the city. He nodded along politely as Obi-Wan described his work with his organization, how he worked most of his life helping those displaced by war or other conflicts. He laughed when Obi-Wan described Boga’s favorite activity in the park; chasing the squirrels.

Soon, they arrived at a large farmhouse; wood paneling with a wrap-around porch, large windows, and a brick chimney at the back. A younger man with short-cropped blond hair stood in front of the front door. Obi-Wan assumed it was one of Cody’s brothers, based on their similar appearances.

Cody parked the truck and killed the engine, allowing Obi-Wan and Boga to step out. Boga hopped out of the truck and eagerly sniffed along the perimeter her leash allowed her. Cody grabbed Obi-Wan’s suitcase from the bed and motioned him forward.

“This is where I grew up,” Cody said. “It’s not much, but it’s home.” Obi-Wan knew he was trying to stay humble, but he could detect a little pride in his voice. He nodded toward the other man who was coming off the porch to greet them. “That’s my little brother, Rex.”

Rex scoffed and punched Cody in the arm. “Not so little anymore.” Indeed, they were about the same height and build. If Obi-Wan didn’t know any better, he would assume they were twins. Rex held out his hand to him. “Nice to meet you. I'm surprised you didn’t run screaming as soon as you met this idiot here.”

Obi-Wan laughed at their brotherly antics. “Oh, I'm quite enjoying myself so far.”

A boy popped his head out from the house. He had the same complexion and dark hair as Cody, though his fell in gentle curls down his face. He turned to yell into the house, “Dad! The city slicker is here!”

Cody sighed next to Obi-Wan while Rex went up to the boy and put him in a headlock. “That’s Boba,” Cody explained, looking exasperated. “You’ll have to excuse him, he has chronic teenager syndrome.”

Obi-Wan smiled and nodded sympathetically, remembering how Anakin was as a teenager. “Weren’t we all like that in our teenage years?”

Cody smiled ruefully. “I think I was a little more behaved.”

“No, you were worse.”

Obi-Wan looked up as another man stepped out of the house. He assumed this was their father, Jango Fett. He was perhaps a few years older than Obi-Wan, though a life of hard work and war had weathered his features to make him look much older. Obi-Wan could tell where the Fett brothers got their resemblance. He nodded to Obi-Wan and held out his hand.

“Jango Fett,” he said, succinct.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” Obi-Wan said, clasping his hand. “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

He wrinkled his nose at Obi-Wan’s epithet. “Just Jango is fine, son. Now, come on in and get comfortable.” He turned and made to go in the house, but first pointed a finger at Boba, who Rex had released from a headlock. “Be nice.” Boba just huffed and rolled his eyes.

Obi-Wan walked into the house. It was just as homely on the inside as it was on the outside. Simple wooden furniture and decorations indicative of a rural, farming lifestyle dotted around the rooms and a large staircase dominated the area, leading up to the second floor. Obi-Wan was shown to his room (right beside Cody’s so if he ever needed anything, he was handy) with Cody insisting on carrying up his luggage for him, and was told to come down to the kitchen for lunch when he was done.

Boga made herself comfortable on the bed while Obi-Wan unpacked their things. He put his clothes in the drawer and set his few knickknacks on it, arranging them to his liking. He pulled out his phone and plugged it into the outlet beside his nightstand, sighing at the lack of service. He would have to ask Cody later for the Wi-Fi password, but for right now, it was…freeing to be away from the hustle and bustle of the wider world. He set out Boga’s bed beside his own (though it would be fruitless because she always found herself on Obi-Wan’s bed eventually) and put on her harness, deciding to leave her leash unclipped and sitting on the dresser. She followed behind him as he made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Obi-Wan knew Mandalorian food smelled wonderful, based on his experience in Little Keldabe in Coruscant, but it was nothing compared to the smell of home-cooked food. His mouth watered and his eyes stung just a little from the scent of heavy spices in the room. Even Boga whined at the delicious smell coming from the stove.

“We thought we would start off easy with you,” Cody said, offering a plate to Obi-Wan as he sat down at the table. “Didn’t want to kill you on the first day.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I appreciate it.” He took a bite out of the dish and groaned. It had been too long since he’d had anything this good. The spice wasn’t overwhelming, probably very tame to Mandalorian standards, but it still warmed his face. He noticed Boba looking disappointed over his own plate, and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry; you’ll get me one of these days.”

Conversations flowed easily as they ate. Jango talked about the day-to-day duties around the farm while Cody explained the logistics. Obi-Wan told them about his organization, what they did, and how they could help while he was stationed here. Boba left halfway, complaining about boring adult talk, and said he was going to go find Din. When they finished, he helped Cody wash the dishes, listening closely as Cody told him about his newest project.

“I found her while I was looking for a lost calf,” he said. “She’s beautiful. Gorgeous color, nice build, and her mane is so soft. I don’t know if she belonged to anyone before, but she’s pretty wild. It was a miracle I could get her into the lot.” He motioned out the window with a soapy brush. “I want to get her saddle broke before the fair. She’s already taking the halter well and if she’s feeling good, I can lead her around. But she’s kicked me more than once if I try anything else.” He sighed and rinsed off a cup, looking forlorn.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I suppose things like this take time. But, if you're half as stubborn as she is, I think you’ll get it.”

Cody turned to Obi-Wan, surprised shortly before he gave him a small smile. “Thank you.”

Obi-Wan fought down the blush that he knew was invading his cheeks. He could not think about how adorable his host looked after Obi-Wan had complimented him. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Have you named her?”

Cody sighed again and shook his head. “No. Rex keeps telling me not to in case I can’t tame her. If you have any suggestions, I’ll take them.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “I'm sure I could come up with something.”

Suddenly, there was a crash from the other side of the kitchen. Both men whirled around and found Boga shamelessly cleaning off the leftovers. Obi-Wan shouted at her and pulled her out of the kitchen and outside while Cody laughed, clutching his stomach with a wet rag. Obi-Wan apologized but Cody waved him off.

“At least let me make it up to you?” he asked. “I may not have cooked many Mandalorian dishes, but I can follow a recipe well and I’ve been told I'm a good cook.”

Cody tilted his head, considering his offer, and then nodded. “Alright. But next time we put the leftovers up first.”

---

Later that night as Obi-Wan laid in his bed, listening to the crickets and frogs chirp outside of his window, he considered the events of the day. It was definitely…different from what he expected. Sure, he had done his research before he had even considered coming, but nothing could compare to actually experiencing it in Obi-Wan’s book. Part of him considered he’d spent too much time around Satine and her cohort.

He wrinkled his nose at that, turning around in bed and wrapping an arm around Boga, ever faithfully by his side. He had called her once Cody gave him the Wi-Fi password, as he knew she worried about him. He’d told her about the train ride down and his initial glimpse of the farm, how her description of her homeland hadn’t really prepared him for what to expect. She’d laughed and only then confessed that she actually hadn’t spent that much time in the Mandalorian countryside.

“But Satine,” he’d said, frowning “in your book you said—.”

She’d waved him off. “You know everyone embellishes a little in their autobiographies.”

Yes, he supposed he’d spent far too much time in the city. It would do well for him to be out here, in the fresh air and the vast fields.

And with farmers with strong, tan arms and brilliant smiles and dark hair that curled softly at the edges and eyes so deep, you could get lost in them.