#obikinpromptober2024

[human-rocket]

body worship

Had to get at least one prompt in for @paracosm-draw's Obikin Promptober!

[dinagastuff]

Teasing and the scars Obikin promptober days 3 & 4

@paracosm-draw

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 1 - Padawan Braid ☄️

Yipeeee, I officially declare the Obikin Promptober 2024 open 🥳

I'm very very excited to see if artists and writers will participate and I'm ready to share everyone's beautiful work 🥰

Enjoy this challenge and have fun, friends 🌻

[underacalicosky]

Anyone else obsessed with Obikin freckles? Thanks to @paracosm-draw and Obikin Promptober 2024, I was thinking about freckles all day.

And yes, I realize freckles was supposed to be a NSFW prompt, but I did this in a rush and didn't have the time to write something smutty. Sowwy.

Obi-Wan’s determined, brisk footsteps announce his arrival in the medbay before he appears in the doorway to the exam room where Anakin is being evaluated.

Kix has Anakin’s chin gripped firmly in one hand while the other gingerly presses a batch patch to his forehead, right above the vertical scar that clips his eyebrow. Without turning his head, Anakin glances from the corner of his eye and sees Obi-Wan exhale evenly as his shoulders relax ever so slightly.

Relief.

Had it been a sharp exhale while his posture straightened, it would’ve been frustration.

A slow exhale followed by a drop of his shoulders would’ve meant disappointment.

“General,” Kix greets Obi-Wan. “Almost done here.” He secures the patch with another layer of adhesive bandage.

Anakin remains silent as Obi-Wan approaches the exam table he’s perched on, legs dangling off one side.

“Concussion,” Kix states and shifts back. He nods at Obi-Wan before giving Anakin a tight smile. “Not your first, unfortunately.”

“Hmm, no,” Obi-Wan mutters.

Another long exhale of breath.

Resignation. With a hint of amusement.

After a quick calculation, Anakin thinks the chances of getting lectured by Obi-Wan have diminished significantly.

“So your discharge instructions should be familiar. Lots of rest. Including cognitive rest. Don’t be going over battle plans and overusing your brain,” Kix says and gestures to Anakin’s head. He rattles off a list of things that Anakin should avoid and symptoms to look out for. “And I will send all of this to General Kenobi’s datapad,” Kix concludes.

Anakin is about to protest when Kix speaks up again.

“Because you should limit datapad usage for the next three to four rotations.”

“So I can’t write the mission report?” Anakin asks carefully.

“Afraid not, General.” Kix confirms. “Comm me if you start experiencing any of the symptoms I mentioned earlier,” he says. He looks between them and nods. “You’re free to go.”

Once Kix leaves, Obi-Wan steps closer, a crease between his brows.

Worry.

“I’m fine, Master,” Anakin says.

Obi-Wan lifts his hand to brush a stray curl off his forehead, holding it back as he leans in to peer at the bandage under the stark white lights of the medbay. His lips purse, the furrow in his brow deepening.

Displeasure.

“Really, I’m fine,” Anakin insists.

Obi-Wan hums, unconvinced, and withdraws his hand. Unexpectedly, his thumb swipes across Anakin’s cheekbone. A gentle and light touch.

Anakin’s lips part in response, the breath stuttering in his lungs, eyes blinking rapidly.

Obi-Wan repeats the motion, slower, while his eyes narrow and the corners of his mouth dip.

“What— why…” Anakin breathes.

Once more, he caresses Anakin’s face, the pad of his thumb tracing a deliberate path. His expression remains the same.

Confusion.

Anakin watches as Obi-Wan studies him. His skin flushes at the contact, the scrutiny. His heart begins to pound behind his sternum.

“I… I never noticed…” Obi-Wan says softly. His gaze is locked onto Anakin’s cheek. “You have freckles.” He shakes his head. “How is it that I never noticed them before?” he wonders.

“They’re very faint,” Anakin says quietly, as though it was a confession, still staring into Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“Yes, but… it’s you… and they're so... I would’ve certainly noticed…” Obi-Wan trails off, leaving his thought incomplete, a deep pink spreading down his neck.

Something in Anakin’s stomach flutters.

Obi-Wan notices things about him.

Maybe not the way Anakin notices things about Obi-Wan. Not like knowing what Obi-Wan's thinking based on the set of his eyebrows. Or sensing when how tired his former Master is based on the slope of his shoulders. Or understanding that when he gives short, clipped answers in a high-pitched voice, it's because Obi-Wan's either really hungry or has to pee.

Maybe not to that degree.

But enough to feel off-balance when he's faced with something he hasn't noticed before about Anakin that he thinks he should've known.

Swallowing, Anakin reaches up and wraps his gloved hand around Obi-Wan’s wrist. Under the fingertips of his mechno-arm, Obi-Wan’s pulse races.

“Maybe they were just waiting for the right moment to be noticed,” Anakin says.

[voidseoul]

Obikin Promptober, Day 17: Body Worship

kinda late, but i wanted to do at least one of these! thank you kindly to @paracosm-draw for putting such lovely prompts together 💛 [and check out their full list of them here!]

(this is also posted over on ao3! if that’s more your scene)

tags: bottom anakin, top obi-wan, near death experience, premature ejaculation, overstimulation wordcount: 1.6k

– – –

When Anakin was released from the medbay, Obi-Wan was there and waiting, right opposite him in the hallway. There was a set to Obi-Wan’s jaw that gave Anakin pause for only a moment, but a shiver ran down Anakin’s spine all the same—a private thrill that kept him from shrugging off the hand settling at the small of his back like he normally would, letting it guide him up to his quarters while Obi-Wan followed beside in lockstep.

The bandages visibly wrapped around Anakin’s head might have been the only thing that saved him from being all but slammed into the door the second it slid shut.

I’m fine, sat at the tip of Anakin’s tongue, but it didn’t make it out. Lips sealed warm and fervent over Anakin’s own, twin hands cupping his jaw with a tenderness that betrayed the decades worth of calluses roughening them. Obi-Wan’s tongue gently licked its way into his mouth, each pass slick and hot and velvet; the touch of it just sensual enough to have Anakin weak-kneed. Small, pleading whimpers caught at the back of his throat.

Stars, he loved when Obi-Wan kissed him like this. Like he was the only thing that mattered in the galaxy. Like Anakin wasn’t some festering pit of dark.

(He loved whenever Obi-Wan kissed him. Period.)

An answering groan rumbled into Anakin’s mouth, contrasting those soft sounds looping between them on repeat. Faint, delicate, high-pitched, needy—those were the responses that Obi-Wan loved to pull out of him, even if his former Master rarely expressed as much openly.

Anakin had used to try to suppress them—hold them in his chest out of inexplicable embarrassment, pride bruising with each one that slipped past his lips—but Obi-Wan had been persistent, entirely too attentive as a lover to let such needless insecurities stand unchallenged. And Anakin was always going to be too sensitive for his silence to have been sustainable, regardless of his own lack of experience at the time.

He could already feel it building now: that telltale bloom of heat unfurling in his stomach, his body sagging back against the door. Obi-Wan crowded him in further in order to keep him upright, and Anakin released a grateful noise as a leg slotted between his thighs—firm, steady, perfect for Anakin to rut against with abandon.

It’d be a bit presumptuous on any other night, but not this one. Not after such a close-call like they’d just experienced.

Anakin’s hips jerked forward of their own accord, seeking out much-needed friction. Short, uncoordinated things. Little to no finesse. Just chasing a high. He would have as many as he wanted tonight—until he was thoroughly disassembled, shivering and brainless on the bed—until he said to stop. Obi-Wan would see to it.

The first one didn’t take long. It never did.

It was Obi-Wan sucking on his tongue, wet, filthy sounding, both thumbs sweeping reverently across Anakin’s cheeks which sent the preliminary jolt through his body. His hips stuttered and stalled. Anakin let that terribly tiny squeak escape from his mouth. Then he was coming into his pants like a fumbling teenager.

Obi-Wan kissed him through it, undeterred by the lack of proper reciprocation on Anakin’s end. He knew Anakin was all but useless after he came.

“That stunt you pulled yesterday was reckless, dear heart,” Obi-Wan whispered once they finally parted for air, both gasping, foreheads resting together. “You gave me quite the scare back there.”

Heart was the keyword in that sentence. Much the same as Obi-Wan’s hand trailing from Anakin’s jaw to his hairline. Fingers brushed as if by compulsion over the patch of curls there, still shorn a few centimeters shorter than all the other ones. They searched for that tangible reminder that Anakin could handle things on his own now. That Anakin’s safety wasn’t Obi-Wan’s responsibility anymore. Not truly.

Anakin leaned forward and brushed their noses together—a small bit of Tatooinian affection, one of the few customs leftover that he hadn’t minded carrying with him and adopting as his own. Obi-Wan found it endearing, but the way his Master smiled privately and repeated the gesture back to him would always make wedding bells sing in Anakin’s ears.

“I got the all-clear from Kix,” Anakin murmured back, accepting the slow, lingering kisses that began interrupting him as he spoke. “No permanent damage—I’ll be fine in a few days…” His breath hitched as a hand snuck beneath his tunics, slipping past the waistband of his leggings. “I’m, mm… I’m still here.”

Any sane person would hate being touched again so soon, but stability was never something Anakin had been able to comfortably claim as his. No, instead he let his head crane back, skull meeting the proffered padding of Obi-Wan’s palm before it could thunk against the door. A mangled, fractured sound leapt from his mouth. Anakin thrusted his hips helplessly into the expert grip stroking his softened cock.

“I had to carry you back, you know,” Obi-Wan said, trailing his lips down the column of Anakin’s throat, tonguing his pulse point. “Even minor head wounds can bleed so profusely, but the knowledge isn’t nearly as comforting when you’re limp and deathly still in my arms.”

Something jagged and sympathizing twisted in Anakin’s heart, picturing it.

“I’m sorry,” he expressed genuinely.

He hadn’t thought before diving off that collapsing bridge. He’d just known he couldn’t make it to the other side with the rest of their men in time. The Force had given him a push to the right, said go, and Anakin had jumped, landing in the raging rapids below; knocked out cold by the rockbed churning beneath the water.

And he’d survived. Those still standing around him once the bridge had inevitably crumbled, hadn’t. So clearly the Force hadn’t led him astray there.

“I don’t need you to be sorry,” Obi-Wan replied quietly, sinking to his knees. He tugged the tops of Anakin’s leggings down as he went, rolling them and his briefs down to mid-thigh. As he took that soft cock back into his hands, he gave Anakin a disarmingly raw and open look. “I need for you to have a pulse.”

Realization dawned. Anakin faltered a bit.

… He’d really flatlined again, hadn’t he? They didn’t even bother telling him whether it’d happened anymore.

“I’m…” Anakin worked his jaw as he fought back another reflexive apology. It still escaped him anyway. “I’m sorry,” he repeated uselessly.

Obi-Wan, for his part, offered him a commiserating type of smile—knowing and bittersweet.

“So am I,” his Master murmured. And then he was taking Anakin into his mouth, swallowing the shortened length of his cock with ease, uncaring of the mess still smeared all over it from just minutes ago.

This time, Anakin had the presence of mind to brace his own hand behind his head, letting it take the impact of his squirming. His body went from besieged and unwilling to forcibly tantalized. He felt himself grow heavy on Obi-Wan’s tongue, cockhead nudging into the back of his mouth, milked relentlessly by the passage of his throat.

Obi-Wan took his time with it, savoring it, but he didn’t bother holding back on Anakin’s behalf either. There was no point. He cupped a hand to the tight balls below; rolled each one with a firm but tender touch in his palm. The dull smacking from above got louder—Anakin mewling openly, tossing his head back repeatedly, as if that would help him process the sensation—like it could keep him from tumbling over that edge he was incapable of stepping back from.

Thrumming, pulsing. Anakin shuddered, groaning low and open, the sound reverberating in his chest. He shook and spasmed against the door, and a bitter spatter of come was shooting off down Obi-Wan’s throat, weakened but still present, his balls aching in protest.

There was little speaking after that. Just practiced rituals and unspoken synergy. Once gently laid upon the bed, Anakin’s cock remained warm in Obi-Wan’s mouth until he’d sobbed, left twitching and drooling clear, sticky nothing onto a lapping tongue. Pressure sank into his body with a perfected rhythm, a pleasantly burning stretch—first fingers, then a cock—Obi-Wan using both to ring out whatever dregs of pleasure could possibly be attained via stroking that sweet spot along his walls.

Anakin was mindless, slack-jawed, a human body with a pulse and nothing else; just like Obi-Wan had needed him to be. Throbbing with proof that he was alive with each thrust of Obi-Wan’s cock into his puffy and overused hole, clenching desperately around the motion of it filling him up so full. When a string of curses drifted in one ear and out the next eons later, Anakin let himself be pulled into a frenzied kiss, mumbled affirmations of I love you, stay, please don’t go passing between Obi-Wan’s lips—and a sharp cry signaled the pulses of heat spilling into Anakin immediately after, dragging sloppy and messy and slick along his insides.

Solid weight draped over Anakin’s body eventually, lighter than he remembered, but everything else about Obi-Wan was the same: the way he cradled Anakin close, like he could hide him away from the rest of the galaxy if he tried hard enough; the soft, looping mantra of stay’s and please’s.

“I’m staying,” Anakin managed to reply at last, voice croaking. “I’m here, Master.”

The mantra stopped, replaced by trembling kisses to Anakin’s skin instead—anywhere Obi-Wan could reach with his lips.

Anakin stayed silent and let his Master pray. Maybe his pleas were what had kept Anakin alive each time; having someone more pious than he pleading his case.

It was of greater solace to cling to that reasoning, rather than luck. If nothing else.

[asteroidmiyoko]

I'm trying something!

This will be a continuous story, but each chapter inspired by the prompts for @paracosm-draw 's lovely Obikin month!

Thank you for making such a fun list!!!

[vaderwcn]

Cheating -- Obikin Promptober Day 18

Thank you to @paracosm-draw for creating the prompt list!

This is the sad kind of cheating, btw, not the fun and sexy kind.

------------------

the other woman (will never have his love to keep) - 3,509 words

Rating: M

Content: Cheating / Hurt No Comfort / Breaking Up / Suicide (this happens at the very end) / MCD

read on ao3 here

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Obi-Wan knows he should’ve seen this coming. Knows that he’s the stupidest, most trusting, most naïve Jedi in the whole damn Order. That, of course, Anakin could never be happy with just him. He had always wanted more, and love was at the very top of the list.

Currently, heartbreak feels a lot like being shipwrecked, he thinks. The hope of the water sending you to shore, to safety, to comfort, only to ram against the jagged rocks. During a thunderstorm. On a pontoon boat. Everywhere he looked, he thought he saw little daggers, each carefully pushing through his chest cavity with precision. It was almost as if Anakin had done it on purpose. It was as if he knew it would destroy Obi-Wan, yet they’d keep having to see each other in the Temple, on joint missions, sparing, and at meals.

What crime did he commit to make Anakin betray him in such a way? Had it been because of their slightly arduous relationship during his apprenticeship? He could turn over every stone, every leaf of the past thirteen years, and still find nothing. Most likely, it was something small and insignificant that Anakin took personally.

He sucks on his teeth as the door to his quarters closes. More signs of Anakin. Spare robes that Obi-Wan couldn’t get rid of nor Anakin would come back for, the caf that he liked that Obi-Wan couldn’t get rid of, his fucking toothbrush in the cup in the fresher. He went over to the robes, the tunic, the obi folded neatly on the couch and stooped to smell. It smelled of the generic laundry soap they all use but also something uniquely Anakin. A spicy, musky scent to it. He had become acquainted with it over the past couple of years.

It reminds him of every first.

The first kiss, which was when they were both undercover and Anakin, frankly, sucked at it and was about to blow both of their covers when Obi-Wan (already in love with his former Padawan) kissed him. The softness of Anakin’s lips, how even when the target left, he tried prodding his tongue into Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Then, their actual first kiss. They had just gotten out of Geonosis after the second time. Bloody and dirty and exhausted. Anakin admitting that he was scared that they were going to lose Obi-Wan. Which, of course, just made him laugh, much to Anakin’s dismay. That it would take much more than that to kill him. Anakin apologizing for caring about him and going to stomp away, when Obi-Wan grabbed his wrist and pulled him to him. “Ridiculous boy,” he murmured before kissing him again.

The first time they fucked. How Anakin had almost timidly admitted that he had never slept with a man before, and so Obi-Wan went slow, savoring every noise, look, and sensation. How it felt as they fit together. The way he had kissed his spine and the back of his neck and told him that Anakin was made for him. Obi-Wan sweet-talked him the entire time, praising him and telling him what a good job he was doing. Then they showered together and Obi-Wan was more than happy to take care of Anakin once more, shampooing and conditioning his hair and cleaning his body.

Which was then followed with the first time Anakin stayed in his bed. How he had to pull Anakin on top of him and how he rested his head on his chest and listened to Obi-Wan’s heartbeat. The sunlight was still coming through, just enough to illuminate his beautiful boy. He kissed the top of his head and murmured an “I love you” so quietly that even he doubted that he ever said it.

And, of course, the real first “I love you.” It had been said by himself. Obi-Wan doubts that Anakin could ever work up the courage to make the first move. They had been lying in bed, Obi-Wan on his datapad with one hand, the other running through Anakin’s hair while he sleepily tried to remain awake. It had just…come out. A sense of contentment so strong that all he could think about was taking Anakin away from the war, the Temple, from everyone. He had never said those words to anyone before, but they felt perfect when he said them to Anakin. The way Anakin had jolted his head, looking up at him with those wide blue eyes, staring at him for a moment before surging to kiss him and saying it back to him over and over and over again.

Obi-Wan had thrown attachment to the wind at that point. Figured it was worth it to break that one rule to have Anakin. Besides, it wouldn’t compromise his position in the GAR. And it didn’t. He knew he could lose him, but that was war. And he knew that he’d find Anakin again in the Force someday.

The only rule they had as they went forward was that he had to stop seeing Senator Amidala. Obi-Wan wouldn’t share Anakin in that regard. They had something only the two of them could understand, something that went far beyond just lovers. They had completed each other.

And Anakin had agreed. Promised he’d break it off immediately, then gave Obi-Wan his word that it was over. That he was all Obi-Wan’s. That he only wanted to be Obi-Wan’s.

When they were on separate missions, they were able to send a quick message through a secured line to at least check-in. If they were close enough, they’d holo-call. Even with Anakin’s figure breaking up due to the distance and his voice becoming distorted, he had at least gotten to see his boy.

But more than that, they had a bond that dipped into the Force itself—weaved its way through the entire galaxy. Something cosmic that tied them together. He could sense when Anakin was in trouble, no matter how faint the feeling was. Could feel his victories and happiness even while they were apart. They could look at each other, and an entire conversation could happen.

Anakin was part of his soul, the very fabric of his being. The fabric that was currently getting shredded every day since the fight. The fabric that was just scraps now. Their bond and looks and conversations remained, but Anakin wasn’t listening anymore.

It was early one morning; they were still intertwined. Dawn was breaking. Obi-Wan had gotten up to make tea and meditate when Anakin’s comm kept flashing. He had tried to ignore it, but he could see the flash of light even with his eyes closed. He had thought that it must’ve been important. Could be the Council calling him for a meeting about a new mission, so he had checked.

p.amidala: I miss you. Visit soon?

It was like a blaster shot to the stomach. Surely…it was just friendly, he thought. Maybe they had remained friends, and Anakin could undoubtedly have those. Of course, he’d rather he not be friends with her. In an instant, Obi-Wan found himself scrolling through backlogs and backlogs of chats. As innocent as just saying ‘hi’ to messages so explicit that he wondered when his Padawan had gotten so bold. They went forever, it seemed. Each one was like a little dagger until he felt himself bleeding out. Everything poured out on his floor.

He had to wake Anakin immediately and question him about it immediately. There must be, has to be, some answer. Some perfectly good reason. Something that wasn’t the obvious answer.

Anakin had tried to talk his way out of it but finally sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair and asked why Obi-Wan cared so much.

All his breath left him in one exhale. “I love you, Anakin,” he said. “I thought…” He had to look away. Anakin. His beautiful, perfect Anakin was starting to look like someone who was never his as if all of this had been pretending and acting. One extended undercover mission where Obi-Wan was the idiot who fell in love. “Break up with her,” he said a bit forcefully. He could still have him. He would take him back in a heartbeat. They could start anew again. It didn’t have to matter.

“Why?”

Had he not asked him to before? Obi-Wan thought he’d understand that they were exclusive and not to bring other people into their relationship. That this was just for them. Away from the Order and the war. He had…he had talked about whisking him away after the war—a vacation. “We were made for each other, Anakin,” he swallowed thickly, going to his knees by the bed as Anakin sat up. “Please, break up with her, and…nothing has to change between us.” Obi-Wan could have a short memory. He’d forget how his Padawan went behind his back and destroyed him. The fabric could be sewn back together.

“I think you’re making a huge deal out of this. I love both of you. I don’t understand why I have to pick.”

Of course, he knew Anakin could be headstrong, but he figured he’d realize his errors here that the rational part of his brain would tell him that what they have is far different from what he had with Padme.

When it was clear that they couldn’t come to some agreement, that Anakin did not care about the pain he was causing, Obi-Wan quickly went from begging to berating. How, of course, he’d never be good enough for Anakin. That he could barely follow the Code of the Jedi Order; how could he even follow one for a relationship? That he was childish. Immature. That Padme’s an idiot if she can’t see that.

Anakin threw it right back to him. How Obi-Wan always wanted impossible things from him, even as a child. That he was also breaking the Code by falling in love with him. How he was an idiot for building Obi-Wan up into the perfect Jedi when all he’d be was a pathetic man. Soon, the Council will see how wrong they were to grant him a spot and expel him.

And like that, he was gone.

Obi-Wan shakes his head, returning to the present rather than a fight that wasn’t all that long ago. He picks up the tunic and holds it tight against him, taking a deep breath. If he closes his eyes, he can pretend he’s hugging Anakin; if he pretends enough, he can hear him joke about sniffing his clothes.

Their bond works just as well as it always did. He can still tell when Anakin is safe and happy, when he’s depressed about something, when he’s on a mission, when he’s with Padme. Obi-Wan wasn't sure how he hadn’t picked up on it before. It was such a powerful emotion that he must’ve been delusional to ignore it. Obi-Wan tries to put in their bond and says that he’ll take him back, even now. That he still loves him, will always love him.

They don’t eat together, don’t train together, haven’t been put on missions together since the fight. His bed feels so cold without Anakin, the human furnace. And somehow, his bed feels too big for just one person. The most important person in his life is just…gone. The person he had dedicated his life to for over a decade. The person he raised. They became men together through the war. Anakin had thrown all of that away.

He is sure that Cody is annoyed because Obi-Wan finds himself being more and more reckless and taking more and more risks despite what his second-in-command thinks. Hears Cody grumble about how he didn’t realize he was working with Skywalker now. That makes it stop, and he’s back being controlled and measured.

One time, their eyes catch at the dining hall, and Obi-Wan gives him a small smile, a small lift of the hand as a wave, praying that maybe today Anakin will come back. Anakin breaks contact first and goes to sit by himself.

Obi-Wan tries to check in on Anakin by asking anyone else. He just says that Anakin is mad at him and wants to make sure that he’s okay. Each person has almost the same response: a shrug and that they have noticed little of a difference in him. Right. Anakin still had someone to go to. It wasn’t like he was the heartbroken, destroyed one. It was Obi-Wan who was easy to toss to the side and forget about.

They end up running into each other, and Obi-Wan smiles. “Anakin,” he says, voice almost breaking. Oh, how he wants to reach out and run a hand through his curls. However, something looks different about him. A new hardness to his face, more and more like a man rather than the boy he had loved.

Anakin’s facial expression looks bored, lips pursed together slightly. He even yawns. “Master Kenobi,” he replies before brushing past him.

“I hope you’re well,” he calls after him.

There is no reply

Time passes too slowly, but soon, it's two months with nothing. Every bone, every joint, and every muscle tells him to stay in bed, to forget about eating and the war, and to go back to sleep. It works a couple of times a week. When he doesn’t listen to his body, he goes through his day sad and goes to bed sad. It’s overwhelming and all-consuming. It’s a loss worse than death. Though it certainly makes Obi-Wan wish he was dead. What was his life without Anakin?

Before Anakin, Obi-Wan had thought about leaving the Order. He didn’t feel like he belonged, like he wasn’t good enough, and it was Anakin who changed all that—changed him. The only reason he was able to turn into the Jedi he is now is because he had Anakin. Anakin, who challenged and pushed him just as much as Obi-Wan, did the same to him.

Everything was pointless now. He didn’t care about the war; he didn’t care about the Council; he didn’t care about his duty. Which is why, after two and a half months, he asks for a break from official duties. Just for a couple of weeks. While hesitant to let their best general take leave, they eventually grant it to him.

And that’s precisely what Obi-Wan does. Sleep and sometimes eat. The best part is that no one ever comes to bother him because everyone is busy with the war.

After three months, he decides he needs to humble himself truly. Beg for forgiveness from Anakin. Tell him he can stay with Padme if he just comes back to him and that he’ll share Anakin happily. He’d be overjoyed just to have a small slice of him if it meant not waking up alone, Anakin resting on his chest, kissing him every once in a while.

Thankfully, Anakin answers.

“Can I come in?” Obi-Wan asks, trying not to get too eager. He’s sure that Anakin will take him back if it means having Padme and himself. If Obi-Wan begs for forgiveness like he knows, he’d want him to. He can almost picture the smile on his Padawan’s face, how he’ll laugh and accept him.

Anakin tilts his head and then steps out of the doorway wordlessly.

Obi-Wan follows him inside and waits for a greeting, question, or anything from Anakin, but it never comes. “I…I just want to say I am so sorry, Anakin, for how I behaved that morning,” he says, bowing his head. “I should not have let my anger get the best of me, shouldn’t have given over to that side.” Again, he waits for Anakin to say something but doesn’t, so he continues. “I miss you terribly. I miss your laugh, I miss sharing my bed with you, I miss having those quiet mornings together. I am more than happy to share you with Padme. You can love both of us, be with both of us. I shouldn’t have tried to force you to break up with her.” Another pause with no reply, so he gets down on his knees, head still bowed. “I’m here to beg for your forgiveness. I will do anything it takes to have even a small slice of you, Anakin.”

There’s a long silence, and Obi-Wan doesn’t even think about raising his head. He’ll stay like this as long as Anakin wants him to.

“You’re an idiot, Obi-Wan,” he spits out. “Pathetic. Begging for my forgiveness to just have a small piece of me three months afterward?” Anakin scoffs and Obi-Wan imagines he rolls his eyes as well. “A little too fucking late, don’t you think?”

He’ll let Anakin express his frustration and anger. “I know, Anakin. I was pathetic. I was scared to say something. But I need you.” Then, Anakin lifts his head with his thumb and pointer finger and smiles. This is it. Forgiveness. “Thank you. Thank you.” But when he finally makes eye contact, his mouth instantly dries up, and his smile falls off his face.

There’s a fire behind Anakin’s eyes. Like Obi-Wan just woke a sleeping Krayt dragon. “You tossed me out first. You started the fight. You called me childish and immature before insulting Padme’s intelligence.”

“I know, I know. But it was wrong, Anakin. I was wrong about it all,” he pleads. Surely, he can see the look in his eyes and tell that he’s being truthful. “I love you. I always have. I always will.”

Anakin takes a deep breath and then stands. “Padme’s pregnant. She doesn’t want me seeing other people.”

Obi-wan is positive that he misheard him. He skips past Padme being pregnant and right to the fact that Anakin’s listening to her about not seeing other people. He has made his choice. Padme had gotten to him before he did all those years ago. It was Padme that he had always been in love with. He was just…a stop along the way. “I…” He stands up. “I’m sorry.” And Obi-Wan quickly leaves his room. Anakin doesn’t come after him.

For the first time since breaking up, Obi-Wan allows himself to cry. Hot tears streaking his face, snot running out of his nose, his breathing coming in just short bursts and never enough. This is what he gets for becoming attached. This is why the Order warns against it. He deserves this for wanting to leave everything, the Order, Coruscant for Anakin. He wants to rip his heart out and give it to Anakin, anyway as if it was ever anyone else’s, including his own.

He should’ve known the other shoe would drop. He was never picked. Never anyone’s first choice. Why would Anakin, beautiful, incredible, perfect Anakin, ever pick him when he could have Padme? Beautiful, kind, and gentle. Padme, who probably always wanted to be a mother. Anakin, who always wanted a family of his own.

Of course, Obi-Wan had thought and hoped that he’d be enough. Anakin was right. He was pathetic. But all he could think about was his smile every time he praised him, every time he found out they got to go on a mission together, every time Obi-Wan would hold him close after fucking him into the mattress.

His life was over.

Nothing would ever feel right again. He couldn’t keep being a Jedi, seeing Anakin around. He couldn’t go on missions with him.

But what would he do otherwise? This is what he’d trained for his entire life. The Temple was his home. The Jedi were his family. But he couldn’t stay. No wonder no one wanted him as a youngling, a Padawan. He was destined for failure.

Obi-Wan looks over to where his lightsaber is resting on the top of his dresser. It’d be over before you know it, he tells himself. His hand twitches, but he doesn’t move. No one needs you anymore anyway, his brain tells him. Not Anakin. Not the other Jedi. Not the Council. He licks his lips and crosses the room, his heart beating so loud he thinks the entire Temple could hear it.

This weapon is your life.

That’s what he told Anakin in what feels like a lifetime ago. Before the war. Before they got together. But if it protected his life, then clearly, the opposite could be true as well.

He grabs it, and his hands shake as he turns it over. Points the emitter at himself. His finger hovered over the button. He’d only be missed for a moment. Everyone would quickly move on. It was the Jedi way.

He could find peace in the Force. Clarity.

It’ll only burn for a moment.

The saber had been designed for a quick death so as not to cause prolonged suffering.

Obi-Wan closes his eyes and puts one last burst of love into the bond with Anakin.

His finger presses the button, and there’s a white-hot heat for a moment. His body falls to the floor.

And then.

Nothing.

[dinagastuff]

This was day 1 and 2... and i haven't done more... yet. I wanted to practice the screentones.

@paracosm-draw

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - Uniform kink ☄️

Same, Anakin, same 😮‍💨

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 24 - Proposal ☄️

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 4 - Forbidden attachment + Scars ☄️

A little angst after all that smut

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 6 - Hug ☄️

Obi-Wan and his war criminal gremlin 🙄

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 2 - Holocall ☄️

Anakin is being a menace once again

[underacalicosky]

I've got Obikin hugs and sharing a bed on my mind today, thanks to @paracosm-draw's Obikin Promptober 2024. So I wrote a quick SFW ficlet (featuring accidental Anakitty).

“Anakin, no! Don’t—”

A blinding white flash and a crackling shockwave sends Obi-Wan and the rest of their expedition team careening backwards. His back collides with the cold stone of the cave ground as the air is punched out of his lungs.

Gasping for breath, Obi-Wan sits up. He grimaces.

“Anakin!” he calls, head pounding.

There’s no answer. Only grunts from the clones around him who have similarly been knocked backward.

When Obi-Wan’s eyes finally refocus, Anakin is nowhere to be found.

“Anakin?”

Obi-Wan scrambles to his feet. Wincing, he grabs his side as he approaches the dark robes, tabards, and tunic that Anakin had been wearing moments ago.

The holocron that Anakin had removed from its pedestal lay on its side next to the pile of clothes, still glowing.

Panic rises in Obi-Wan’s chest. Then he feels a familiar tug on the training bond that he and Anakin should’ve severed, but never did.

“Blrrrt?”

The pile of robes moves and Obi-Wan drops to his knees. Gingerly, he lifts the robe to find a scared, three-legged feline. Its fur is a dark, rusty orange, almost brown—an odd and striking color for a cat, but the exact same shade as—

Leaning in, Obi-Wan studies at the cat and the scar running down its right eye.

“Oh, Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbles.

~~~~~

“Mrrow.”

“Yes, I’m almost done,” Obi-Wan says.

There are about a dozen or so of Anakin’s vocalizations that Obi-Wan understands. The short, simple meow is his greeting. There’s the high-pitch trill when he’s excited about something, usually when Ahsoka arrives with a new handmade cat toy. A drawn-out growly trill means he’s hungry.

And then there’s the impatient mrrow when he wants Obi-Wan’s attention.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan taps at the screen of his datapad a couple more times and then shuts it down.

In the three rotations since The Incident, Obi-Wan has combed through every piece of information about the holocron that the librarians at the Jedi Archives could transmit to his device and has found nothing to explain Anakin’s present form or how to restore him to human form.

It would be another two rotations before they arrive back in Coruscant to hand the holocron over to the Council for investigation.

Rumors had spread quickly through the 501st that something had happened to their General during their excursion. To spare him any more embarrassment, and maintain morale on the Resolute, Obi-Wan and Ahsoka decided it was best for Anakin to stay sequestered with Obi-Wan in his quarters onboard the Negotiator after he’d been examined by the medical team.

Obi-Wan shuffles over to his bunk where Anakin had been waiting for the last ten minutes. With an exhausted groan, he lies down and closes his eyes.

Anakin emits a low purr as he positions himself next to Obi-Wan, body stretched along his former Master’s side while his furry head is tucked under his bearded chin.

Immediately, their bond is flooded with Anakin’s feelings.

Comfort. Safety. Warmth.

Both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka noticed right away that Anakin’s shielding had become faulty as a result of the accident. There were moments when Anakin would become overcome with worry and fear. Distraught over what might happen if they wouldn’t be able to reverse whatever spell the holocron had cast.

So when Anakin jumped onto the foot of his bed that first night, appearing lost and sad, Obi-Wan’s heart ached. He patted the space next to him, signaling for Anakin to sleep there.

After all, he’d done the same when Anakin was a lost and sad Padawan. He’d sworn back then that he wouldn’t abandon Anakin, and he sure as hell won’t abandon him now.

Obi-Wan tightens his arm around Anakin and places a kiss on his head, between his ears.

“We’ll figure this out,” Obi-Wan whispers. “I promise.”

And the cat hugs him back.

Obi-Wan falls asleep with a paw pressed against his heartbeat.

In his dreams, he’s inundated with love and devotion. The feelings are so intense and overwhelming that Obi-Wan’s flung back to consciousness.

Glancing down at the sleeping cat in his embrace, Obi-Wan realizes the dreams aren’t his.

He closes his eyes and drifts to sleep again, twining himself around a familiar golden thread that binds Obi-Wan to the one who is most precious to him, and wraps him in a protective blanket of comfort and affection.

~~~~~

More than a week’s passed and only a handful of people who have been sworn to secrecy know exactly why Anakin’s been placed on long-term medical leave.

Stubbornly, Obi-Wan refuses to accept another mission until they’ve resolved the issue at hand, heatedly threatening to leave the Order altogether, if that’s what it comes down to. He ignores the look that Master Yoda exchanges with Master Windu.

After half a dozen visits to the Halls of Healing, countless meetings with the Council, there still doesn’t seem to be a solution.

“He’s so sad,” Ahsoka comments quietly one afternoon with Anakin cradled in her arms. She rubs her cheek on his head as Obi-Wan putters around his small kitchen preparing dinner for them.

“I know,” Obi-Wan responds.

He can’t bear to tell her about how Anakin’s bedtime purrs have become plaintive cries. How he buries his face into Obi-Wan’s neck as waves of anguish roll off him.

Obi-Wan forces himself to smile at both of them. He reaches over and takes Anakin’s front paw in his hand and squeezes it encouragingly.

“But we mustn’t lose hope,” Obi-Wan says. “We will find a way to fix this.”

~~~~~

By the third week, Anakin grows more despondent with each passing day. He curls himself into a ball and naps by the sunny window in Obi-Wan’s apartment at the Temple, waiting for him to return home from the Archives or meetings with the Council, ears perked up, awaiting good news that doesn’t come.

Anakin’s happiest when he’s sitting on Obi-Wan’s chest, purring contentedly while he’s being pet. Obi-Wan rubs his fingers under Anakin’s chin, over his cheek. He coos at him. Talks to him. Grins when Anakin presses their foreheads together. Obi-Wan stares into blue eyes that are shaped differently, but that he recognizes nonetheless.

Obi-Wan knows that it’s still Anakin in there. He’d know even without Anakin’s Force signature swirling around them.

The emotions that filter through their bond during Anakin’s dreams always start the same way. Golden and warm, brimming with affection. But they morph into yearning and longing. Then frustration. And finally despair and loneliness as Anakin’s front paw twitches in his sleep.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan hugs him closer, and for a fleeting moment, scolds himself for wishing that Anakin’s human body was next to him—lanky and solid and strong—and continues to push comforting thoughts toward Anakin.

But after a few nights, the depth of Anakin’s consuming grief brings Obi-Wan to tears.

“It’s alright, dearest,” Obi-Wan whispers to the sleeping cat. “I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He presses his face into Anakin’s fur and tries to hold back his sobs. “We’ll figure this out. I love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”

He dreams of Anakin that night. The way Anakin used to be. His bright eyes and sweet smile. His long arms enveloping Obi-Wan in a tight hug. His voice, whispering in Obi-Wan’s ear that he loves him.

And a feeling of peace settles over him. Obi-Wan is certain he’ll see that beloved face again.

By the time Obi-Wan wakes again, the furry head tucked under his chin has been replaced by soft, honey brown curls. The paw on his chest is now a hand, with its long, elegant fingers tangled in the fabric of his sleep shirt. The small feline form he’d fallen asleep next to transformed into that of a naked, human man.

“Master?”

In an instant, Obi-Wan’s arms are around him, crushing him to his chest as he breathes in the scent of his hair. Relief and joy vibrate across their bond.

“Anakin,” he breathes. “I’m here, dearest. I’ll always be here.”

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 8 - More intimate than lovers ☄️

Tags : oblivious Ahsoka, injured Obi-Wan, lots of fluff

~~~

“Get out of the way ! Kriff, move !”

The poor assistant who had the extravagant idea of crossing the corridor with a cart full of medical products - doing her job - at the same time Anakin barges in, gasps loudly and pulls on the handle of her cart with all her strength, avoiding the running Jedi from a hair.

“I'm so sorry, General !” She squeals in horror, but Anakin is already too far away to hear her apologies.

He sprints down the hallway, the soles of his boots skidding and squeaking on the smooth ground at every turn. He's almost out of breath when he storms in the landing hangar, eyes wide as he searches for one specific spaceship.

The Negotiator is parked in the middle of the hangar, the main door already opened on the bridge where clone troopers are offloading some heavy crates.

“Obi-Wan !” Anakin calls, slipping through the crowd while his eyes are scanning the ship’s surroundings for the older Jedi. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

Obi-Wan’s Force signature is very weak, too weak for him to locate him precisely, even when he tries to follow the thin golden thread of their bond.

“Damn it.” He swears when he can’t find him anywhere, panic slowly rising in his chest and curling around his lungs.

He runs to the bridge of the ship, searching for a familiar face, anyone who was on that kriffing mission and could tell him where Obi-Wan is.

“General Skywalker !” Someone calls for him from behind, making him turn around.

He’s relieved to be faced with Cody’s dark buzzcut and moon-shaped scar, someone who’s supposed to know where Obi-Wan is at all times. Someone so loyal Anakin trusts him with Obi-Wan’s life. Someone who knows him too. He doesn’t even need to ask questions, he just tilts his head to the left.

“He’s in the medical bay.”

“Thank you, Cody.” Anakin replies gratefully before running away to the new location.

He crosses the distance in less than five minutes, mumbling apologies every time he pushes someone on his way. Ahsoka is already waiting outside in the corridor, pacing left and right until she hears him coming like a tornado.

She winces and walks to him before he can storm in the emergency room, hands reaching out for him.

“He’s fine.” Is the first thing she says because she knows him so well. “You can't enter.”

Maybe she doesn’t know him that well after all.

“I don't care.”

“I know you don’t.” She rolls her eyes and grabs his arm when he reaches out for the door. “But you have to let the doctors do their job.”

“I need to see him.” Anakin breathes, removing his arm from his padawan’s grip, gently but firmly enough to warn her from not trying to stop him again.

Ahsoka considers him for a while, taking in his laborious breathing that couldn’t be blamed on his running only, his wide and scared eyes and the way his fingers twitched nervously, aggressively picking at the skin around his nails. He could have said he wanted to see Obi-Wan, but he didn't.

It’s a need. She truly realizes then.

“You’ll have to wait a bit.” She still says, gently taking his hand in his own. “I promise it won’t take long.”

“It’s already too long.” Anakin groans, his signature hanging low like a menacing cloud around him in the Force.

“He's okay, Skyguy.” Ahsoka insists, intertwining her fingers with his own to prevent him from damaging his skin even more. “He was still talking when he was admitted. You know he's tough.”

“Maybe.” Anakin mumbles. “I should have been with him.”

“You can’t be with him all the time.” Ahsoka says patiently.

“Why not ?” Anakin huffs, and Ahsoka smiles before she understands it’s a real question.

“Because… Because you’re both really important for the Republic and we need you to lead our men. They can't afford to waste time by sending you both on the same missions every time.”

Anakin doesn’t answer but she can tell by his expression that he’s not satisfied with the explanation. She wonders how he manages to be separated from Obi-Wan so often on a daily basis. Not well apparently, given his current level of anxiety is through the roof.

She opens her mouth to reassure him when the emergency room’s door opens. A tall woman with very light blonde hair pulled tight in a perfect bun walks out with a fold in his hand.

“Ahsoka Tano ?” She asks, and Anakin uses this exact moment to slip through the door. “Eh, wait !”

“Sorry.” Ahsoka winces apologetically at the doctor. “He’s very worried.”

“Visitors are not allowed.” The woman says with pinched lips. “Is he family ?”

“Uh, kind of.” Ahsoka replies.

She thinks for a second about the right term to describe Anakin and Obi-Wan’s relationship and she realizes she has none. They’re closer than a Master and his former Padawan were supposed to be, more than friends, even closer than brothers. She never knew one without the other and she didn't wish to know.

“Kind of ?” The doctor lifts a delicate eyebrow, looking at her with a mix of skepticism and annoyance.

“Yeah, well. You should thank me for still having a door, because Anakin doesn’t bother with that kind of details when it's comes to Obi-Wan.” Ahsoka smiles and bypasses her to enter into the room.

The sight she finds makes her stop on the doorstep with the impression of interrupting something precious she wasn’t meant to see. Anakin is sitting on the edge of the bed where Obi-Wan lies with his forehead pressed against his, gently holding his hands as they whisper quietly to each other.

From where she is she can see that Obi-Wan is smiling, wide and bright in spite of the bandages around his chest and the blood covering one side of his face.

“Family, mh ?” The doctor’s voice resonates quietly beside her, making Ahsoka turn halfway.

“They’re very close.” She retorts, feeling defensive without really knowing why.

“I thought attachment was prohibited amongst Jedi.” The woman still continues but her tone is gentler than earlier, devoid of any judgement. “They look… Intimate.”

Ahsoka blushes at the implication and shakes her head.

“They’re not… It’s not like that. They just care a lot about each other.”

“Sure.” The doctor smiles before leaving her at the door to go check on the other patients of the room.

Ahsoka frowns, confused. She couldn’t find the right words to explain the very special bond between her two masters but it didn’t mean that it was like that woman implied. It couldn’t be. She would have noticed by now. Or whould she ?

She squints at the two Jedi still completely immerged in their own little world, talking to each other like they were all alone. She’s so used to this that she can't see it as anything else than Anakin and Obi-Wan’s normal behaviour toward each other. They’re constantly gravitating in each other’s orbit, looking for each other, touching each other, evolving like they’re in their own private bubble.

It can be annoying sometimes, sure. Especially when one of them comes back injured from a mission and she has to calm down and reassure the other. They might be a little bit obsessed with each other, alright. But it doesn’t hurt anyone, does it ? Caring deeply is not against the Jedi precepts, only unhealthy attachments. And when she looks at them what she sees, burning brighter than any star is-

Unconditional love. She thinks. That’s it. That’s what they have for each other.

Clearing her throat to announce her presence, she walks to them, witnessing the way they turn their head at the same time to look at her. Anakin’s eyes and cheeks are a little wet but he does nothing to hide it from her. She takes it as a precious sign of trust.

“So…?” She smirks when she sits on the other side of the bed. “What is the score this time, Master ?”

Obi-Wan snorts and winces just after, putting a hand on his ribcage.

“Three broken ribs.” He sighs. “Nothing a little rest can’t fix.”

“You forget about the concussion.” Anakin says, rolling his eyes. “And the fact that one of your ribs punctured your lung.”

“Details.” Obi-Wan mumbles. “I’m fine.”

He looks back at Anakin’s skeptical expression, face softening with such tenderness that Ahsoka looks away with a blush.

“I’m fine.”

“You say that each time.” Anakin grumbles. “And each time you come back even more broken.”

“Jealous that I wear scars better than you ?” Obi-Wan teases, making Ahsoka laugh.

“At least you don’t look like a stupid pirate because you fell on the freshener, Master Kenobi.” She sneaks in.

“You little sh-” Anakin starts but he’s stopped by Obi-Wan’s hand on his mouth.

“Language, Padawans !”

Anakin looks at Obi-Wan and does something that makes the older Jedi retrieve his hand quickly while a little blush spreads on his cheeks.

Weirdos.

“Alright, I’m very glad to see that you’re doing fine, Master.” Ahsoka says before getting up. “I’m gonna go finish Skyguy’s report because something tells me he’s not going to move from here before a while.”

Anakin, very maturely, sticks his tongue at her.

“Look how I am rewarded for my generosity.” She complains to Obi-Wan, and the traitor has the audacity to laugh.

But not for long because he's quickly reminded about his broken ribs. Some calls it karma.

“Thank you for coming, little ‘Soka.” The older Jedi smiles softly once he’s done wincing in pain. “And for teaching this one some manners about breaking doors.”

“No problem, Sir.” She smiles, giving them both a little salute. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As soon as she turns around she can feel their bond tighten again between each other in the Force. And if the reflection on the glass door makes it look like they’re sharing a quick, secretive kiss, it’s probably her imagination playing tricks on her.

[paracosm-draw]

Obikin Promptober 2024 - Art Gallery ☄️

Feat. @human-rocket @dinagastuff and myself ❤️